† Everyone loves a SiNner †

Fever By Joan Swan Excerpt and Giveaway

2012-03-01T22:18:00.000-08:00

Book Blurb: Release Date: 2/28

Dr. Alyssa Foster will admit to a bad boy fetish…

But when she finds herself face to face with a convicted murderer with determination for freedom and an eye on her as his get out of jail free card, Alyssa knows she’s in deep trouble…. Not just because Teague Creek is a prisoner desperate for freedom, but because his every touch makes her desperate for more.

A man with a life sentence has nothing to lose…

Teague Creek has one shot at freedom, but his plan to escape with a hostage develops a fatal flaw: Alyssa. On the run from both the law and deadly undercover operatives who know of his strange abilities, he needs to avoid trouble, but every heated kiss tells him the fire between them could be just as devastating as the flames that changed him forever.

Excerpt:

The Legend family cabin came into view while Teague was still several hundred yards away. Relief crept in, but he tamped it. That sighting at the pet store made any sense of relief impossible.

Vasser. Lieutenant Colonel Jason Vasser. The man who’d interrogated Teague while he’d been in the hospital after the explosion. The man who’d sat in the back of the courtroom during Teague’s trial.
The fact that the guy was still hovering five years later brought all the strange circumstances surrounding Desire’s death and the trial swarming back to Teague’s already overwhelmed brain.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.
His instincts were leading him down a very ugly path. He’d spent years trying to figure out who had set him up and why. The thought it could possibly have been someone connected to the Department of Defense—or so the guy had claimed at the time—was just too enormous to contemplate.

As he scoured the area for signs of life, something dark and heavy and sinister hovered over Teague’s shoulders like a sooty blanket. He didn’t expect the cops to look for him here. At least not initially. And by the time they dug deep enough to consider this place a possible hideout, Teague would be in Mexico, sipping iced tea, while Kat splashed in the warm waves.

Vasser, however, was another story entirely.

He turned off the headlights and eased off the gas until the car was barely moving and turned into the drive. Stopping halfway up the snowy gravel path, he reached for the gun he’d stashed between the seat and the door panel. With his other hand, Teague flipped the lights on and hit the brights.

The little house appeared in a wash of halogen. No movement. No shadows. No sound. No footsteps or tire tracks in the snow. The porch sat barren. The forest green shutters closed and locked over every visible window. A little of Teague’s tension eased as he studied the familiar cabin. By the looks of the place, Quaid’s family didn’t have any plans to come back until the first thaw, sometime around May. And Teague didn’t feel the least bit guilty about using the cabin. Quaid would have supported this crazy-ass scheme one hundred and ten percent.

The thought of his long-time friend and fellow firefighter still pinched his heart even five years after Quaid’s death in the warehouse fire that changed the lives of every team member. But he pushed aside the pain, just like he did every day, because there was nothing he could do to change the past.

He left the engine running, the heater on, and climbed out of the SUV. The icy air stung his skin and scraped his throat. With the headlights illuminating the area, Teague held the gun down by his thigh and walked the perimeter of the building, flipped the breakers and found the spare key.

He made quick work of pulling the space heaters into the two bedrooms and the open living area, turning them on full blast before returning to the car. Alyssa was still asleep. He opened the door and nudged her shoulder.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty, I’ve got a real bed for you.”

She shifted, grimaced, moaned. Sympathy pains twined through Teague’s body. The first few days after an injury were always the worst, and he expected the infection to wipe her out before the antibiotics kicked in.

“I know,” he said as he tugged on her arms to turn her toward him. “You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

Her eyes cracked open, hazed and dull, then immediately fell closed. “Where are we now? Siberia?”

“Funny. Somewhere safe. With heat and water and beds and food.”

She struggled to her feet then swayed. Her hand fell against the car to steady herself and a shiver rocked her body. Teague leaned down, tucked one arm behind her shoulders, the other behind her knees and lifted. She relaxed against his body without complaint and laid her head on his shoulder.

Teague kicked the front door closed and carried Alyssa into the first bedroom. He dropped her feet to the floor and supported her weight with one hand as he drew back the covers with the other.

She fisted her hands in his shirt and kept her face snuggled against his chest. “Sleep with me.”

His breath froze in his lungs. Dick rose to attention. Muscles contracted. Heat raced beneath his skin. That hadn’t been the sweetest whisper he’d ever heard. The kind from his sweetest dreams. That had been his sick psyche, torturing him again.

“Please?” The test of his inner strength, his character, his moral fiber continued. “I hurt, I’m freezing, I…just…”

She sighed, the heat of her breath sliding along his skin. He curled his fingers in the covers to keep from curling them into her hair. Kept his body still to keep from rocking and rubbing against her.

“Make me stop hurting.” She turned her head, pressed her cheek to his chest and tipped her chin so the tip of her nose grazed his jaw. “Make me forget.”

Her hands roamed down his chest, fingers feeling along the muscle of his belly before finding their way beneath his shirt. His stomach muscles jerked. His struggling mind knotted. Warm palms, strong fingers. Rubbing, touching, enticing.

“I know you can,” she whispered against his throat.

Hell yeah. His dick throbbed. Demanding.

Her lips pressed. Kissed. Lifted. Moved. Pressed again.
His mind filled with those secrets he’d shown her earlier. The slide and dash of tongue. Nip and scrape of teeth. Brush and suckle of lips.Her hands slid around his ribs, nails scratching skin all the way to his back as she aligned her body with his.

Yes. Please. Yes.
No. Don’t. Stupid. Don’t.
His cock jerked hard. Possessed. Angry.

“Teague?”

A fist grabbed his heart and squeezed. For the love of God, why did she choose this moment to call him by name?
He dropped the covers, pulled her fully into his arms. Her hands slid up his back along his spine and a long satisfied sigh exiting her lungs. He closed his eyes, swallowed the regret thick in his throat and savored the feel of her slim, strong body against him. Beneath one hand the narrow waist, curve of spine, swell of hips. Beneath the other slim shoulders, graceful neck, silk fall of hair.

“You need sleep,” he said. “Not me.”

He had no idea where that had come from. Some small, sane sliver of himself. Surely not from the animal standing here ready to devour her.

“I know what I need.”

Damn but she was stubborn. He leaned away, pushed her back by the shoulders. As he expected, her gorgeous eyes were dark and angry and confused. Even hurt.

If regret could kill, Teague would have been brought back to life from all his ill deeds over the past twenty-four hours just to die the most hideous death of all in this moment.

He cupped her face, ran his thumbs over her cheeks. “But you don’t know who you’re asking to fill it.”

She compressed her lips in challenge. “Maybe I do. Maybe that’s what you’re afraid of.”

An arrow pierced Teague’s gut: bullseye.

He pointed at the bed. “Sleep.”

She turned away, dropped to the bed and curled onto her side, arms tucked to her torso, knees tight to her belly. Teague slid off her shoes and covered her with the comforter then pulled two more blankets from the closet and added them to the pile. When he was done, she was nearly invisible beneath the mound.

He left her there with mixed relief and regret. She was too damned perceptive. Too damned insightful. Too damned intelligent. Add to that gorgeous, sexy and freaking willing…and he had definitely taken the wrong woman.

Giveaway:

· A print copy of FEVER, US/Canada shipping.

· All comments are eligible for tour grand prize of either a COLOR NOOK or KINDLE FIRE. Enter: http://joanswan.com/giveaways/blog-tour-ereader/

Stone Relics guest post

2012-03-01T01:02:00.000-08:00

A letter from Detective Sergeant Misty Dunwood to her friend Belle.

Hi Belle,

How are you? Not long to your finals now. Cheer up; I just know you’re going to make it Belle. If it can happen for me, it can happen for you. Just fight it girl – fight. It doesn’t matter where you came from Belle, it’s what you know now that matters. And you can help so many Belle. Fuck it, a nurse saves lives every day. I mean, think about it, me a feral kid from the Gans, now partner- well temporary partner to a Chief Superintendent, Okay the hoods on the Gans call me the ‘hot crack bitch’, but that’s a compliment Belle, a fucking compliment. So you can do it.

Sorry I had to hurry the phone call yesterday, but things are really happening fast. I mean I’ve only been working for the Chief for two days and already he’s on my case. I couldn’t help throwing up at the crime scene. Honest to God, if you could have seen that poor girl’s body on the beach, the cuts, the snake bites and those fucking dead snake skins. And then at the Morgue, seeing her face pulled back over her skull was just too much, I felt myself going; I think I grabbed at the Chief as I hit the ground, and took him down with me. God it was awful Belle; we rolled on the floor, and then I vomited all over his suit – had all my chocolate fudge bar back. He dragged me out and got some overalls and wellies for me and then made me go back in again. Christ. And that’s another thing; my boss thinks I learnt to talk in the sewer. But, he knows I can’t help it and I am working on it. It’s fucking hard Belle, I mean it’s like I’ve got Tourette’s disease you know. What else can he expect? I was brought up in the Gan’s well dragged up really. You know what it’s like, a feral kid in the tenements.

Yeah, when I think of it Belle – Diamond Joe, a killer, Head of the Scorpions in the Hood, he was a like the father I never had – a real dad. People don’t realize how soft he can be. I’ll never forget the day he saved me, killed the John, who'd just carved slashed up my mum and was just going to ... well you know. Diamond Joe lifted me off my mum’s body; I mean I was only four years old, covered in blood, her blood, and he got it all over himself too, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was saving a prostitute’s kid. Mum was only a kid herself really. But, he saved me from the nonces and he didn’t want the filth to have me either, being put in some home – no mum – no dad – just forgotten. I can feel the tears right now you know – fuck it.

I’m just glad I was there for you all those years ago, I mean I was a rookie at the time, but thank God I found you. I mean that beast must have been over fifty and you – only ten. Diamond Joe killed him you know. Never told you that before but the way things are now it’s best I tell you. The beast never made it to court. Funny really, I started off as a runner for the gangs, dripping in drugs and here I am DS Mistral Dunwood.

I think God decided to give me a break. But, he’s always been there for me really. When I think of Paddy, the social worker persuading Diamond Joe himself, to give me up; I mean that was a big thing for our Diamond to do. I was his best runner, knew all the drugs, all the scenes, all the crack joints, but he had a heart; he gave me up. You know I look upon Paddy as my step dad now yet Diamond Joe will always be Dad to me. And you know they both came to the Police ceremony, when I was commended – me – commended for bravery. I was shitting my pants at the time, taking that guy down. He wouldn’t let go of the kid said he was going to cut her throat. It reminded me of when I found you Belle and me really.

You know writing about it, I actually love Paddy and Joan his wife. But then no-one can ever take the place of my Mum. She was only thirteen when she had me. If it wasn’t for Paddy taking me in, putting me through school and college, I would never have made it Belle.

And the same will happen for you Belle, God’s gunning for you right now. Just grit your teeth, study and carry on. You’re going to make a good nurse because you care, you’ve been there, had the pain, know what it’s all about. So keep your chin up. You’ll make it.

Getting back to the subject, have you heard of any snakes on the Gans, with all those tenements they could be anywhere. Tell the guys the ’hot crack bitch’ would like some tip offs.

See ya.

Love and hugs

Misty.

Thanks for stopping in today...check back later for my review on the book and for more on the book and Katy check out her author page.

Katy Walters author page

Tears of the broken

2012-02-11T18:10:00.000-08:00

Tears of the Broken

Book 1 in the Dark Secrets Series

by A.M. Hudson

Book Blurb:

Lies are the shadows of betrayal...the vampire will be the light.
When you love someone, there's nothing you wouldn't forgive.
But what about murder?
Ara-Rose will learn that life is fashioned from one tragedy after the next, and that sometimes, the truth people hide from you is nothing you could have imagined.
But Ara has secrets of her own, and she's willing to take them to her grave--a place David Knight will fight to keep her from.

Sounds like an awesome read will post a review later on. This week apperently time got away from me and my email decided to back up so i totally forgot I even had this book to review or read now that I do I will break it out and read it and let you all know what I think.

Mind over matter by S.J. Clarke book tour promo

2012-02-10T00:52:00.000-08:00

Welcome to my stop of the tour .

I will be posting a review later on

this weekend.

About the book :

Mind Over Matter

By S.J. Clarke

Rebecca McKenney grieved the loss of her daughter for three years. Now, a vision showing Sabrina three years older, suggests her baby is still alive, and the FBI agent who gave up the search is the only one who can help find her.

Special Agent Dan Cooper is haunted by a tragic mistake made early in the investigation of Sabrina's disappearance. Now to ease his conscience he agrees to help Rebecca search.

Together they fight inner demons, all to real bad guys, and an attraction neither wants to admit to. Each step closer to finding Sabrina is a step deeper into deception and evil.

Can Rebecca and Dan save Sabrina before it's too late?

Blurb of the book :

Rebecca knew from experience she didn't have much time left. A vision came at her, hard and strong...

The child’s face from the milk carton, about six or seven years old, hovered before her, similar yet different. Shivers wracked her body as she huddled in a corner, her long brown curls limp and dull. Smudges on her face spread when she used a dirty forearm to swipe away tears, and a cut bled through the tear in her dress. A flickering light illuminated the dark room, hinting at secrets in the shadows. The sound of water dripping, slow and steady like a leaky faucet, met Rebecca’s ears and her nose crinkled at the stench of urine and human waste. The child looked up. All trace of color drained from her face when a deep voice crept out of the darkness.

“It’s time.”

“Rebecca, did you hear me?” Ruby’s voice penetrated the fog surrounding Rebecca’s mind.

“W-What?” She lifted her head, taking in the dining room around her. The tourist family still sat waiting for their breakfast. “I’m sorry Ruby, what did you say?”

“You okay, hon? You were in another world there for a minute.”

“I’m fine. Really,” she added at Ruby’s doubtful expression. “Didn’t sleep well again last night, I guess.” She forced a grin. “Good thing you caught me before I nodded off and started drooling in my coffee.” The mention of coffee drew Rebecca’s gaze to the carton of milk again. The girl’s innocent face stared back. Something seemed wrong. Rebecca leaned in, reading the caption under the photo. Nicole Wilson; missing for six years, before Bree even.

“I hope you don’t mind that I helped myself to the milk,” Rebecca said, and explained what happened. “Didn’t want to be a bother.”

“Honey, it’s no problem at all, but you didn't have to do that.”

“Not to worry, it’s over and done now.” Rebecca looked down at the pancakes and fruit before her and knew little would make it past her lips “Breakfast looks delicious, as usual,” she lied.

Ruby looked over at the children’s order of pancakes in front of the empty seat across from Rebecca. She moved her gaze back to Rebecca for a moment longer, before nodding as if confirming something in her head. “Okay then. Enjoy.” Ruby picked up the milk carton as a bell dinged from the kitchen area. “Let me know if you need a refill on your coffee.” Smiling, Ruby went off to deliver the next order.

Rebecca’s stomach roiled at the thought of eating. Nausea and a headache overwhelmed her. She needed to get home where she could decipher what this vision meant. With Ruby monitoring her every move, coming up with a way out of the diner proved difficult.

Forcing another smile, Rebecca picked up her fork and knife and waved them in the air for Ruby to see. At Ruby’s disappointed frown, Rebecca cut the pancakes, and placed a small piece between her lips. Once Ruby smiled and turned away, Rebecca spit the bite out into a napkin. She spent another few minutes cutting and moving food around, hiding small bits under the second pancake. Pulling some money out of her wallet, she kept an eye out. As soon as Ruby went back to the kitchen for the next order pick-up, Rebecca threw the bills down on the table and made her escape.

Rebecca’s first deep breath came when she sat safe inside her car at the other end of Main Street. Home. She had to hold it together until then. Shoving the key into the ignition, she crossed her fingers, and then groaned at the dull grind that met her ears.

“Crap. Not today!” Rebecca cursed for putting off taking the car in to Joshua. Hands shaking, she tried again, holding her grimace until the engine caught.

The edge of another vision crept in while she pulled into the driveway. “Shit. One more minute, come on, one more minute.”

She fumbled at the keyhole, hands shaking too hard to fit the key in the lock. Rebecca crossed the threshold and fell to her knees as the pain sliced in again, worse this time. Never before had two visions come so close together. What the hell?

Rebecca’s world faded and in its place…

Sabrina appeared. Her baby. Sitting on the floor in a room of shadows, chin resting on drawn up knees. “Where are you Mommy? Why haven’t you come?” The shadows opened up, pushing forward to swallow both the light and Bree.

“Nooooooooo.” Rebecca came back tears streaming down her face and fell to the floor. Limp, she laid there, an arm thrown across her eyes. “So close.”

Rebecca rolled as her stomach revolted, giving up its meager contents. Pushing herself to her knees with the last heave, she drew the back of a hand across her mouth.

The memory of losing Sabrina burned in her mind forever, but these fresh images; God, they made it so much worse. Rebecca crawled the few feet to the still open door, shoved it closed and leaned against it, shaking with sobs.

The late morning sun shone through the windows when she refocused. Struggling to her feet, she took in the scene around her.

Clean this mess up, and then shower. You can deal with the rest later. Rebecca tossed the soiled clothes in the washing machine on the way to the bathroom.

Revived by the hot shower, Rebecca poured a glass of iced tea. She curled up in the big chair in the living room, rested her chin on her knees, and tried to make sense of the morning’s events. Break it down. Concentrate on one thing at a time. Tackle the vision at Ruby’s first.

Who are you, Nicole Wilson, and why are you in my head?

Stay tune this weekend for my thoughts on the book.

The Knight and Maggie’s Baby by Lisa Mondello review

2012-02-04T16:18:00.000-08:00

Synopsis:

Sometimes fate needs a little help…

Jonah Wallace knows what it’s like to grow up without love. Despite having more money than the Queen of England, his childhood was cold and stale as he grew up in boarding schools. He’s dedicated his life to helping homeless and displaced children find the love and support they need by creating the Haven House Foundation, work that resulted in him being knighted by the Queen.

Now that he’s living in America, his work is going along just fine…until his grandfather gives fate a little nudge by insisting he take a wife before he can inherit.

Coffee shop owner, Maggie Bonelli, is pregnant and the baby’s dad has gone AWOL. She knows too well the pain of growing up without a daddy. So when Jonah Wallace comes into her shop proposing marriage for a year, she takes him up on his offer, even if it’s only for a year. Live in a mansion and give her baby a name and a daddy to call his/her own. But can they keep their perfect arraignment strictly business…or will fate’s helping hand bring them love at last?

My Thoughts:

I loved this story it touched me on a personal level when aman who while he was desperate for hisown reasons really stepped up top the plate and took responsibilty for someone else. Maggie is one tough lady who has been threw enough but not only learned from what she went threw but she embraced it and made sure she gave back to others.Her stubborness shined threw in so many ways expecially when she refused to give up working. When things got dicey for the baby i was racing to se ehow it turned out.Jonah has alot of hang ups and some flaws that make his character rather redeemable. When he stood up and did what was right by the baby.It was all she wrote he became one of my favorite characters ever. I have to say I fell in love with him and Maggie. This book was a fast read my only complaint was that it had to end. This book gets the SiNners stamp of approval and two thumbs up awesome work!

Desperate Betrayal by Hildie McQueen

2012-01-31T13:55:00.000-08:00

I totally spaced my tour stop I apologize for that will have the review up later on this week untill then let me share alittle about the book.

Desperate Betrayal

By Hildie McQueen

Cynden Frasier (Cyn) is a member of a group of immortal warriors, the Protectors, assigned to protect humans in Atlanta, Georgia, the epicenter of a major uprising in demon activity. When Cyn is approached by a beautiful woman in a dirty alley, he is intrigued by the fact that she can see him for what he is, a terrifying demon slayer, and still dares to approach him.

Emma Blake, a half-demon, has to convince Cyn to help rescue her sister from powerful demons. Terrified that the Protector will kill her if he realizes what she is, she still goes against every instinct and approaches Cyn for help. Despite knowing that she is leading them both into territory so wrought with treachery, neither of them may survive.

Can Cyn and Emma overcome betrayal, the ancient rules that prevent Protectors from taking a wife, unless she is his one true mate? And if they do, will it even matter?
Available now at　

Excerpt from Desperate Betrayal

“Turn around.” His smooth voice flowed over her like velvet.

Emma tried to swallow but her mouth went dry. She turned to find he stood very close.

God help her, she’d never seen a more handsome man than the one who stood before her now. Her body screamed for his touch. She wanted to be with him, her skin against his. But she wouldn’t sleep with him as a form of payment.

What if during sex he sensed that she was part demon and killed her on the spot? But, then again, maybe he would kill her just for saying no.

She forced herself to remain calm, and placed her hand on his chest only to draw it back when the urge to caress him became too strong.

“Listen Cyn. I know most women throw themselves at you. I mean you’re extremely good-lo… but, I, – I am not going to have sex with you, right now. What happened before between us, out there in the alley was because of the rush from the adrenaline after your encounter with the demon…,”She stopped babbling, at a loss for words.

Cyn stood back with his arms crossed while he stared down at her, one eyebrow cocked. His lips curved into a crooked smile.

“I was going move the chair for you and ask you to come sit by the desk, so I could get some more information from you. But I see your mind is on other things.” He leaned in closer to her and his smile widened. “You said ‘not right now’, does that mean we’ll have sex later?”

Amazon　and　Barnes & Noble

2012-01-29T20:32:00.000-08:00

Vala: Agendas:

Cheyenne Loveless was just a boring sixteen-year-old girl. Then Denver Collins bit her and everything changed. Her plants start talking to her, she finds out she’s a Nymph, and a witch and the angel of death show up at her doorstep to take her away to the prestigious Vala School and Seminary. Oh, and she has no choice in the matter.

All she wants to do is blend in and return to being invisible, but the more time that passes, the harder that becomes. Plus she’s a daughter of the Divine, an exclusive secret society which rules the world of myth, and discovers she is a key ingredient to an ancient covenant created before she was born. A covenant that will reshape the order of the world.

Adjusting to a new school is difficult enough, but adding on everyone else’s hidden agendas is the icing on the cake. Cheyenne must learn to see through the lies in order to find her place — and possibly even love — in this new world.

My Thoughts: I couldnt put this down I had to read it all in one setting the characters blend so flawlessly it was well beautifully written and I love the storyline and the content. I do how ever now need to know more about Chey, Zes , Denver and the secrets Anj is hiding as well as the ones that the Devine are hiding and Jewl there are alot of things that left me wondering in this book but im hoping that they all will be revealed. It has been along time since I have been so engrossed in abook that I felt the characters were real and with me and I was apart of the story JF did that so well that I am an instant fan! I can't wait to read more. This for sure with out a doubt gets the SiNners stamp of aproval awesome work.

More on JF Jenkins check out Her blog/website

http://jfjenkinswrites.wordpress.com/

Grimoire

2011-12-24T20:43:00.000-08:00

Grimoire

Road Rash Holly and The Beast of Chaos: Tristan

"Help me!"

A distant hollar, that became apparent in the midnight darkness, by the dead white shine of pale flesh, amidst the headlights. As the fragile drawn brunette, with the weakening body, fell to her knees before the blue sedan. And even as the car slow to a stop. And the man climbed out to check on her, she stare into those lights. Staring as though she had been dead for sure. Only muttering for help once more. And then she collapse at the man's feet.

"Fucking crackheads in this city!"

He mutter. And yet, he remained hesitant to the thoughts of dragging her to the side of the road, leaving her to soak back to her own state of sanity, inside the rain. 'It might do her some good.. but still.' He thought. Then shaking those thoughts from his mind. He curled one arm beneath her back, the other tucking in her legs, so he could cradle her, as he carry her to the car. And once pulling the door in and setting her down in the backseat, he sighed watching her fall against her right side. Ignoring her as she mutter.

"Everyone. The demon killed them all."

"Holly..."

The man slammed the car door shut. And she could hear a voice softly toned, like a lover's whisper in her ears. And she jolted upward. Staring around a bedroom. Her bedroom. She tried desperately to recall what happend. Was there a chance, it was all just some twisted nightmare? Had everything she been through just been a trip? A mindfuck? Some sort of prank, surely.

"Lindi, you're going to pay for this!"

Holly crawled from her bed, and stomped down the end of the hall. To the last door with the faint red light that glow from a half-inch crack beneath it. And she banged her palm against the door. But heard no answer. So she shook the handle, but the door wouldn't open.

"Come on, Lindi. Let me in!"

When still Lindi would not answer. Holly grunted, and took two steps back before charging through the door, into the room. That's when she realized. That glow was not a normal light. The crimson stain of blood puddled from one end of Lindi's bedroom to the next, and following that trail. She found Lindi resting against the wall. Her head caved inward at the center, beneath the flat panel television, once hung so carefully to the ceiling, and supported by two metal rods, that were now embedded around Lindi's neck, making it impossible for Holly to pry the television away, and only further rought her misery, when she tried, and the bars cut along the neck taking Lindi's head with it.

"Oh my god. Lindi."

Holly dropped the television staring at the now headless corpse, and fell back to her ass. It wasn't a nightmare. It was happening again. Then she heard the whistle. It was coming toward her, from the stairs below. And she was too late. Reaching the doorway, the darkness of the flowing black robes, and the snow white porcelain mask beneath the hood staring back at her. Like deaths doll.

"Honestly, love. Ya disrupt the slumber o' the dead, to call me up. And ya act as though ya think. If even briefly, you'll be gettin' away from me."

The hood was drawn away. The mask removed. To reveal Tristan revelling in her sorrowful and pathetic state. The shining emerald glow peeking out from beyond dyed black hair, that found her lost in his gaze. Then he reach out, and touch his palm gently to Hollys shoulder. His accent drifting away with his serious tone.

"You are at an impasse. I have taken fates strings. And while they have weaved a specific course for you. You played with things, that were outside of your realm of understanding. Thus it is I, who hold you up now. And I say repent. Repent, or die."

"How? How do I undo what I've done?"

Holly questioned while she clinch her eyes, trying so desperately, to hold back the tears that she had boiling in from the corners to the center of eyelid, so painful it itch and ache to the core of her pupils. And then those tears broke away, hearing the laughter. A manical laughter that mocked her sadness.

"How? How do you think you atone for you and also for your friends? How do you appease a God like me? Decide do you deserve your punishment, or will another die in your place!?"

Holly broke into tears, and push past Tristan. Darting down the stairs, running as if he would be chasing right behind her, while he barely move. But rather spoke loudly, so that she might hear him as she ram her way out of the front door.

"Exist inna nigh'mare, kitten. Where black is white, white, black, da world is naw yer own. An' da company ya keep, shall perish!"

"Holly!?"

Another voice. Following that sadistic mocking laughter. This one more well known. It was her friend Mars. The nerdy and unkempt looking man who charge toward her from the opposite end of the street, making her stop in her tracks.

"What's the matter with you? Stop!"

Mars grabbed Holly by the arm, and forced her to quit as she tried to dodge around him and run. Then he pull her back in against himself. And commanded.

"Tell me, what's going on with you, Holly."

"It's the man from the book. The man he killed Lindi."

"Man from the book? Are you taking your medication?"

"I am not a figment of such a pitiful imagination."

Tristan's voice interrupted, and already Mars peer over Holly's left shoulder when she turned to look at Tristan aswell. Tristan was standing, rather, towering above the two of them, licking his thumb and brushing it against the sharp corners of the pages. Muttering.

"Mmm. Mhm. Leonard "Mars" Bello. You have touched the grimoire. Guilty."

"Excuse me? Who the fuck are you!?"

Mars emitted, his tone deepend with anger as he was called out by the stranger. But then Tristan lifted that thin-and-bone weilded pointer digit, and directed at Mars. And when he did, the scaffolding began to fall apart at the end of the corner, and the steel support beam swept down from right to left. So even as he continue to hold onto Holly's arm, it came down, and split him through the middle, tearing cleanly through the nerves and exitting the other half of his body leaving only the front of his body standing, until the nerve reaction forced the hand to unclinch from Holly's arm, then he topple forward toward her, and she flicked him away screaming as she bathed in his blood. And she ran for some time with Tristan stomping behind her.

It seemed as though no matter what she would do. He was right there. No matter how quickly she ran away, he was always behind her. Even when she took a detour through the alley that she knew none may walk at night. The gang territory. She hoped that their threatening presence might be enough to scare thie psychopath from her trail. But when tempted with the violence of those inhabitants of this dark alley. Tristan merely snap his fingers, and present himself with a blunt instrument. A baseball bat, with a metallic coating. And with no hesitation, the first man to approach was found to have his blood and brains scattered over the brick wall and garbage bin, and more as he continued to trail behind her through out the alley.

And she had almost given up hope of running. That is, until she came away from the streets, and upon the river. And crossing the water, cleaned away most of the blood, but left her crippled by the freezing cold. Still, as she turn her head, she realized Tristan stood facing her at the opposite end of the river, refusing to cross the bed of water. And she took this as her chance to get away. And there it was again. The blue sedan.

"What's going on?"

Holly question. But still she charged outward, feeling as though she were out of options, she crossed the hill, and ran from the dying grass, then stood weakly infront of the sedan, only this time even as the man push on his breaks. The car continued to speed up, until after he hit Holly. Then as it skid to a slowing pace, the rear design hooked the ankle of Holly's pants, and it took her behind the car until it burnt away her flesh, and when it finally stop, and she peer up in her near deathly state, she could see Tristan chewing on an apple, that had been soaked with her blood, so that it was dripping from beneath it, and into his palm.

"Abandon false hope, plaything. You cannot run from me."

And this was the image, and the words. That haunt Holly, she couldn't be sure exactly had happend. Her memory, completely destroyed. The once fragile and weak baby-soft flesh, now given a class of it's own, by the road rash covering half of her face. As she awoke, gasping, restrained to a hospital bed.

The Raven (Cont.)

2011-12-21T15:56:00.000-08:00

What is the meaning of reality? To identify things, only as they exist, as opposed to idealism. But who dictates what is reality? Does this state all things are fiction because these things, are unseen? And if that is the case, who gives man the right, to dictate what is real? The eye of the beholder. It is weak. It distorts, those things we should often see within ourselves. So.. why would it not lie to us, about the things in the corner of our eye? It's all too real, to some of us.

"Yeah, Doc. He's been having night terrors. In general, hallucinating things again. He's becoming violent. I tried to change the dosage like you recommended. But, he just keeps getting worse."

"Okay. Dawn. Just get Evan up, and bring him to my office. We'll see if we can't help him, today. Alright?"

"Okay. Thanks, Doc."

Dawn hung up, and sigh. Then she walked up the stares, creeking the door open, to find Evan sleeping soundly. Only stirring to smack her, as she touch his ankle. So she shook him once more.

"Get up, Evan. We have to go, you have an appointment with Doctor Kennedy."

"Get out of here!"

Evan demanded. But she jolt the curtains open, and gave him a push, so he jerk to his feet, stomping his heels, as if he might frighten her.

"I'm just trying to make you feel better, Evan. I want you to get better, and this is the only way."

"I'll never get be..."

Evan stopped, while buttoning his shirt in the hallway, and turned his head, when he started to shake. He could see the men that came out of the shadows in the hall. Their black suits. The darkness, he had identified for years now, as the men in black.

"That's it? Wasn't it? Trying to set me up mom!? Trying to give me over to the men in black!?"

"What are you saying, Evan?"

Dawn tried to calm him, but Evan grab Dawn around her neck, holding her infront of himself while he smash his other arm through the window.

"Don't mess with me. I'll die and take you with me, before they get me!"

Evan finished smashing the glass out, clearing it from the window. Then he threw Dawn to the floor in the hall, seeing her plow through the men in black, from the shadows, then he lept from the cleared window, landing with a thud, and twisting his ankle, but still standing. And Evan run from the house, out into the street. And as Dawn came from the house, chasing behind Evan, she stumble and crash against her knees, crying out.

"Please stop, Evan. I can't keep up with you anymore!"

Then another man, came from behind their neighbors truck bed. It was their neighbor Thomas. A middle aged gentleman, tall, long dark hair, and an icey stare, who grab hold of Evan's shoulder.

"You, stop there now. You're terrorizing your poor, poor mother."

The man said, peeking over Evan's shoulder. And for a time, everything around Evan was coming to surface, in brimstone, hellfire, and darkness. All these things, that had scared him senseless since he was a child. And still, there was something more frightening to him. The man holding his shoulder.

"Get your hand off of me, demon."

"Excuse me?"

Evan's eyes, narrowed like cat's eyes peering down a potential threat. The fear turning primal. And Evan's voice boomed, as he hollar at Thomas.

"Get your hand away from me!"

Evan punched the inside of his bicep, his grip loosend, and he fall away, but quickly retorted to stand infront of Evan again, and Thomas warned, his temper, growing short.

"You need to calm down, young man. You're pushing your luck."

But even as he now sounded more threatening. Evan still took a defensive stance, his hand extended, waiting like a snake to react. And he replied to Thomas.

"If you are so willing. I bid a bone, against your soul, heathen. It will teach you your place."

Then he inhail sharply, and exhail slow and gently. And when Thomas reach for him again, he drove his knee against Thomas' solar plexus. And then a second time, aimed higher, and lifting as it came in, to break a single rib. Then Evan grapple Thomas' neck, only briefly, and throw him with a vicious force against the concrete, splitting his head open, the blood pour, and Thomas lay unconcious, then Evan turned to Dawn, his mother, and he darken his own tone.

"Don't you ever, ever, come after me again. Or I will crush you, traitor."

Immortalis Series by Katie Salidas- tour stop

2011-12-14T22:00:00.000-08:00

1. Who is Katie Salidas?

I am Super Woman… Endowed with special powers and abilities, beyond those of mortal women, I can get the munchkin off to gymnastics, cheerleading, Girl Scouts, and swim lessons. I can put hot food on the table for dinner while assisting with homework, baths, and bedtime… And, I still find time to keep the hubby happy (nudge nudge wink wink). I can do all of this and still have time to write my novels.

Sorry… I can’t even write that with a straight face.

Lies all lies.

Here’s the reality. I’m a sleep-deprived, overworked, mom who just doesn’t know the meaning of the word balance. Writing is my passion and so is my family, so I try to do it all when I can. Needless to say that leaves me feeling pretty exhausted most days.

2. How long have you been writing? What inspired you to start?

I’ve been writing since I was little. I always loved to make up stories and characters. It’s just a part of who I am. My first official writing project, was a novel I attempted to write when I was 14. I had just finished reading the Vampire Diaries series and wanted to make my own teenage story. I had most of it written and then was told we were moving from Texas to Nevada. Sadly those pages were all lost in the move. Though that accident hurt, it didn’t stop me from writing. I don’t write YA style stuff any longer, but I do still write about vampires and other such creatures of the night. They’re just so much fun to work with!

3. What drew you to the paranormal genre?

I love vampires, werewolves, ghosts, and other things that go bump in the night. I remember as a kid, watching the old Dracula movies and being interested vs. scared. When I was ten, I read my first vampire book and never looked back. There is an escape there, in the supernatural world, it adds a layer to life that makes the mundane not so dull. To imagine other creatures, other beings living amongst us yet still hidden in the shadows was such an interesting concept.

4. Do you ever have problems with your characters doing what you wanted them to do?

All the time! LoL. I call that writer’s block. It’s also the reason I am a pantser. When I first started to write “officially” I thought I had to plot out every detail of my story ahead of time. Then my characters revolted! The refused to do what I had set out for them to do. That stalled my story and made me so frustrated at writing, I almost gave up. Then, I got some sage advice. Just relax and “free write.” I took a break and let myself write other things without a pre-planned plot. It was then that I learned I was a pantser. I don’t work well with strict rules and outlines. Now that I know that, my writing has become easier and my characters are more cooperative.

That’s not to say I never run into writer’s block. I still do from time to time, and there are many days where I have to scrap whole chapters because I have written myself into a corner. But, even with those stumbling blocks I’m still writing and creating.

5. While working on a story, do you type directly onto the computer or are there notebooks and plot ideas jotted down in various places?

Most of my writing is done on my laptop. I love the portability of it. I do, however, have a few notebooks lying around and I have notes on my phone as well.

6. What do you do when you’re not writing/editing/promoting or thinking about writing/editing/promoting?

You mean there is something else besides writing/editing/promoting? LoL.

Actually, all of my non-work time is devoted to family. I work so many hours on the computer doing just that, writing, editing, and promoting that they often feel neglected. Weekends are work-free time (otherwise the family would mutiny). And family dinner, movie night, and game night are a staple in our house.

7. What is your muse to help you write and keeps the creative mood flowing?

Katie: Music helps, but not just any music will do. I have to listen to something that can become a sort of white noise. Sounds strange, I know. When I know a song inside and out, I can listen without listening, and just hear the “mood” of it. That’s when I can use it. I often use music to set the mood of my scene.

If the music is too unfamiliar to me, my ADD kicks in and I end up listening to the words and learning the lyrics rather than just enjoying the feel of it.

We writers are weird, huh?

8. Who is your favourite character in the Immortalis series, and why?

My favourite character surprises people sometimes. It’s Nicholas. He’s a secondary character in the Immortalis series, but he’s slowly taking on a more prominent role as the series progresses. He’s snarky, he’s rude, and he rubs you the wrong way. But, ultimately, he’s a good guy. My favourite scenes are the ones where he and another character are arguing. Nicholas is always right, but he has to be a jerk about it.

9. How would you pitch the Immortalis series to someone who has not heard of your books before?

My favorite line is actually the tag line to my first book. “Becoming a vampire is easy. Living with the condition, that’s the hard part.”

You might have read books about vampires, but how many of them took you step by step through the emotional turmoil of what that change actually entails? In Immortalis you’ll see a normal, everyday girl lose everything as she becomes a creature of the night. But it’s not all doom and gloom. Sure, there’s a learning curve there, but if she can overcome it, both she and you, the reader, will find that it can be pretty sweet!

10. Can you tell us a little bit about the world that the Immortalis series is set in(if you did not cover that already in previous question that is)?

The Immortalis series is set in modern times. Books one and two are set in Las Vegas Nevada, which, by the way, is the best city out there for creatures of the night. Book three, Pandora’s box takes you to Boston. There you will learn even more about the world of unnatural creatures and some of their origins in Ancient Greek Mythology. What I wanted, was to show you how easy it would be for these creatures of the night to actually exist and oftentimes co-exist within normal society.

11. What Other Projects can we look forward to reading from you?

Book 4 is in the works right now and I hope to have it out by spring 2012. I can’t give too much away, but suffice to say the cliffhanger of book three will be resolved

Thanks for reading, and if you want to check out my work, you can find me at

http://www.katiesalidas.com

Immortalis Carpe Noctem (Book 1)

Becoming a vampire is easy. Living with the condition... that's the hard part.

Bleeding to death after brutal mugging, twenty-five year old Alyssa is rescued by the most unlikely hero: the handsome and aloof vampire, Lysander.

His gift of immortal blood initiates Alyssa into a frightening, eternally dark world filled with: bloodlust, religious fanaticism, and thousand-year old vendettas.

With Lysander as her guide, Alyssa will have to learn what it takes to survive in the immortal world. She'll have to find the strength to accept her new reality and carpe noctem; or give in, and submit to final death.

Hunters & Prey (Book 2)

Becoming a vampire saved Alyssa from death, but the price was high: the loss of everything and everyone attached to her mortal life. She’s still learning to cope when a surprise confrontation with Santino Vitale, the Acta Sanctorum’s most fearsome hunter, sends her fleeing back to the world she once knew, and Fallon, the friend she’s missed more than anything.

Alyssa breaks vampire law by revealing her new, true self to her old friend, a fact which causes strong division in the group that should support her most: her clan.

Pandora’s Box (Book 3)

After a few months as a vampire, Alyssa thought she’d learned all she needed to know about the supernatural world. But her confidence is shattered by the delivery of a mysterious package – a Pandora’s Box.

Seemingly innocuous, the box is in reality an ancient prison, generated by a magic more powerful than anyone in her clan has ever known. But what manner of evil could need such force to contain it?

When the box is opened, the sinister creature within is released, and only supernatural blood will satiate its thirst. The clan soon learns how it feels when the hunter becomes the hunted.

Powerless against the ancient evil, the clan flees Las Vegas for Boston, with only a slim hope for salvation. Could Lysander’s old journals hold the key? And what if they don’t?

And how welcome will they be in a city run by a whole different kind of supernatural being?

Werewolves…

To purchase the Immortalis books (In print and ebook):

Amazon USA

Amazon UK

Amazon DE (Germany)

Barnes & Noble

Smash Words

Where To find Katie On the web

http://www.katiesalidas.com/

Facebook
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Katie-Salidas-Author/214780936916

LinkedIn
http://www.linkedin.com/profile?viewProfile=&key=58814031&trk=tab_pro

Twitter
http://twitter.com/QuixoticKatie

Tour Wide Give away

Click Here

The Raven

2011-12-13T02:35:00.000-08:00

It is not solitude that is maddening.
It is the silence. For what happens,
when these four walls, are undone?

A hell. Unlike the written word. Rather, futuristic, and other worldly in it's nature. There was no molten-lighting. But instead only lit by the dim green and blue glow of technology, far surpassing human devices. And from it's depths. Where it could be seen much like any community, albeit, one so lawless. One prison stood out. A pyramid of white.

Far cries, wailing, from inside. Bodies passing mindlessly. The tainted, lacking their care of attention. Hardened criminals, that still cringe, if they dare time the pyramid of laser security, and step close enough to hear the goings on, that resonate from the wall, behind the head of a dragon, where the eerie and very much living breath of these four walls pour out through their white lights, and surround the perimeter in a haze of fog, thick, like smoke. A prison for the most prized possession of Lucifer. A wonderland of horror shows. Dynamite, in a small box.

Moving beyond the gates of the outer wall. An inner barricade. The stone only over casing an iron-box. The tomb with a scripture. "Here Lies Raven." And casting open the iron doors, that keep the beast caged. A malnourished, behemoth of men, with eyes, like crimson mirrors, reflection and blood in one. His stomach sucked so tight, every beat of his heart, rhythmically pulse the flesh through to his waist. As he pull on his chains.

"Feed me, god damn it!"

No room for a gray-line here. The guards motioned one in after the other. While most surround him with their toys at their ready. Preparing for the worst. Two of them took position behind him. While the last two in drug the one they identified as "The Whore" behind them, and drew her to her knees, before Raven. Then, he grunt, he snarl, and he thrash against his binding chains.

"Food!"

The two behind him, undid his binding, and before they could move back under the watchful eyes of the others. Raven was upon the whore. Her body drawn back, smashed, skull broken on the floor. While he ravage her from the inside out. Scouring at the muscle behind the flesh, and pulling it apart so that it string away in his fingers, like wet sand. And, when they felt he had enough, they sent the two back in to restrain him by reeling his chains back into his binding. And drag what very little left remained, of the whore, now with nothing above the center lining of her belly button, and they turned their backs, individually bowing out, one after the other, with the last two dragging her carcass.

Eden has new products for bath and body and storage yAy!

2011-12-03T23:30:00.000-08:00

Today I am soo excited to tell you all about edens new additions in storage and bath and body. I am so excited that they carry a vast amount of products to purchase that are for everyone. First let me tell you I own alot of the eden logos like the beachtowel, the shopping bag and the teeshirt And I love them and use them to promote eden often.

They have a new line of bath and body products I can't wait to buy some and try them out and some will make awesome gifts for christmas or anytime of the year. I have afew people on my gift list that doesn't get in to the sex toy line or any of that so I am glad eden now has bath and body products for them as well.Check out the new products discover old products.

Beauty and body

They also carry adorable storage hide away pillows three different ones. I own the first one and I use it alot just to hide varioues things usually my keys since I lose them so often.It is pretty good sized and could hold the unmentionables as well and no one would ever know for sure. It is soo soo soft too . I love this pillow and plan on buying more and have baught them as gifts for people and have only heard great things from them about it. Now I want to own both of the other ones as well they are sooo adorable. The cutest throw pillows I've seen .

Pillow 1

12x12

Pillow 2

8x9

Pillow 3

EdenFantasys, an online retailer of sex toys, provided me with a gift card in exchange for this post. All opinions are my own.I could go on and on but I won't about eden and all of their products my best advice is to check it out for your selves.

Reaper Two-Six review

2011-11-30T03:28:00.000-08:00

The world is suffering from the effects of out-of-control terrorism. Governments are spending huge amounts of precious capital for the safety and security of air and rail transportation as well as inspections at all sea ports. The global economic effect is crippling; countries struggle to manage commerce, international trade, business growth, job creation and tourism. The world’s economy is on the brink of collapse. The Global Defense Organization TM (GDO) has been created to be a cost effective multinational elite group that monitors, infiltrates and eliminates terrorist activities within all supporting countries. Known only as Reaper Two-Six TM, this secret 48 member squadron has quickly earned a reputation for precisely eliminating terrorist threats, in the air and on the ground. Why did China and Columbia oppose the creation of the GDO? Are they connected to global terrorist cells? Are they secretly financing the sale of weapons? The Reaper’s greatest challenge is now upon them; infiltrate China and Columbia to discover their real intentions. Through a series of electrifying and heart-stopping missions, see how the Reapers use their skills and advanced technology to put fear back where it belongs, in the minds of the terrorists, not in the minds of its citizens.

Where to buy the book

Amazon

Robert Grand's website

My Thoughts: Military related books never are my cup of tea for some reason this one appealed to me at first then it fell sadly short. I didnt enjoy reading this book I tried and just couldn't finish it. Maybe others may like it and well thats all well and good but in my personal opinion it was a waste of my time. The characters needed more development. Should of spent more time developing in depth characters first then writing the book.

The Foxworth Coven book one and two by Kayden Mcleod review

2011-11-30T00:22:00.000-08:00

Death of Innocence

Book One of the Foxworth Coven Series

By Kayden McLeod

Genre: Erotic Paranormal Romance

(Vampires, Deities, M/F)

Hate Rating: Three

Warning: Some violence, off-scene rape

Publisher: Solstice Publishing (Solstice at Night)

Price: $4.99

Buy the Book

Summary:

Even unconditional love cannot always banish an eternal nightmare

The Foxworth family has blazed a trail through human and vampire history alike, changing the ways of both races in Canada for all time. The Council has demanded a full report for the long and twisted tale of how the Surrey Coven had come to be the most powerful and feared; an assemblage that anyone would question before coming up against.

The Leader of the Surrey Coven, Canya recalls how her family came to be. A story filled with pain and heartache, until she meets Gregory Foxworth: a debonair CEO to the family shipping company. Gregory remembers taking her away from a life that shocks him, hoping to shelter and love her. But little does he know all he has done, was make her a target for a sadistically warped man. One who will have her and his own personal brand of vengeance. Sometimes, a grudge is forever.

Natural Urges

Book Two of the Foxworth Coven Series

By Kayden McLeod

Genre: Erotic Paranormal Romance

(Vampires, Shifters, Deities)

Word Count: 76,561

Hate Rating: Three

Warning: Some violence off-scene rape

Buy the Book

Summary:

Love conquers all...and evil seeks to destroy it.

Arcadia Foxworth has no idea what destiny has in store for him. He thought his life as an elite Council Hunter of Rogues was his perfect career choice. But little does he know his fate truly lies in one little powder keg, Korbin Callows. She’s beautiful, graceful—and a stripper.

After having woken up, remembering nothing about her old life, Korbin had to pull herself together and make tough decisions to survive a harsh world. And now people she doesn’t even know are out to kill her. She finds herself relying on Arcadia to maneuver the new dangers presented to her, as she starts to recall who she really is. A powerful being that could make every vampire in British Columbia fall to their knees, including Arcadia.

My Thoughts on both books

These Book draws you in from the first word reading. It gives you a whole new spin on vampires. Canya and Gregory's ,Arcadia's and Korbin's story is beautiful and sad at points.Kayden spun a story so real it felt like I was there experiancing every triumph and every saddness the adventure the rights and wrongs. Canya is so brave and beautiful and strong a true heroine that even with her up bringing she rose above that. Gregory is strong and good and all the flaws that make him so real . Ana and Henry you cant help but love them truelly and whole heartedly. Arcadia and Korbin hold a special place in my readers heart as well.Reading their story was just as touching and beautiful.The foxworths are just the family you wish you were a part of threw and threw. these books will be on my keeper shelf for years to come. They definantly get the SiNners stamp of aproval.

About the Author:

Kayden McLeod lives in beautiful British Columbia, and is the author of the M/F Paranormal Romance and erotica series, The Coven Series, which consists of three Covens; The Foxworths, The Cornwalls and The Jerichos. She also dabbles in a multitude of other genres that are in the works, like BDSM, Ménage, M/M and Horror. As well, Kayden is a freelance Graphic and Cover artist, a Cover Artist for XOXO Publishing, and an owner of Otherworlds Publicity and Siren Book Reviews.

Connect with Kayden online:

Website: http://kaydenmcleod.com/

Blog: http://kaydenmcleod.blogspot.com/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1848048830

Facebook Group: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Kayden-McLeod-Author-of-the-Coven-Series/181298315224950

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

Deviant Art: http://kaydenmcleod.deviantart.com/

The Making of Avristar Part 7

2011-11-22T05:11:00.000-08:00

Traditions

There are a few traditions I mentioned in the tribes segment but it’s worth mentioning them again.

Marrying the land. This is something that the Children of Avristar who are suited for the priesthood, the brotherhood or the sisterhood are expected to do. It’s a call to duty, one that trumps the call to oneself. Think of it as patriotism, fighting for your country, representing your country, etc. etc. Back in ancient Ireland, a true king was one who married the land, who was chosen by the land, and was therefore its sovereign.

Sovereigns of Avristar are chosen by Avristar. In this case it’s Lord Istar and Lady Atara. I went with Lord and Lady to avoid the King and Queen wordage. I’ve played A LOT with words with this book, what I’ve wanted to call people to stay consistent, and this is how it’s all turned out. The Lord and Lady of the land are considered the highest positions other than the spirit of the land itself. They are there to protect and guard the land and to monitor its inhabitants.

With all the trouble Kaliel and Krishani cause you’ll see why and how this is important later on.

Elvens don’t fall in love. This is something I actually forgot to mention in the earlier versions and it later became clearer. Both Kaliel and Krishani are elven, elongated ears, pale white skin, white hair (Kaliel) and impossibly tall (Krishani) The way an Elven heart works is simple, duty first, marriage when the land grants it. Usually what happens is elvens marry through arrangements by the land itself. If Avristar provides a mate for them, they accept it as a gift.

Avristar doesn’t exactly give Krishani to Kaliel or vice versa, causing yet another problem in this little utopian world.

The Journey to the Great Oak. On Avristar, the trees have a voice, the animals chitter chatter, the winds whisper, everything is so alive (think Chronicles of Narnia, Prince Caspian) The Great Oak is the oldest tree in Avristar and its wisdom is beyond measure. There’s not much else known except that the Elders take guidance from the tree just as much as they take it from Avristar herself. Each of the adepts (kinfolk) from Amersil and Evensess have to go to the Great Oak to receive their parable. They have to figure it out by their 21st birthday when they are expected to marry the land and go to the Lands of Men.

Age of maturity on Avristar is 21 technically, but some of the kinfolk have taken as long as 24 to figure out the parable.

Immortality. Elvens, feorns, fae, shee, centaurs, everyone on Avristar is immortal. The type of immortality is longevity. They are impervious to death so long as they don’t get their heads chopped off or something fatal like that. They won’t wither and die out. It’s very rare and unheard of for death to occur in Avristar.

Krishani being the Ferryman and having dreams about death after being brought up in a land that’s never suffered the pain and grief of death, is another aspect of the story to throw yourselves into.

War. Avristar is a Land of Peace. You’ve heard me discuss Lands of Men, Lands of Beasts, Lands of Immortals and Lands of Chaos, well, Avristar is a Land of Peace. This means that there is no civil war, no conflict, no battles or long standing tension with other realms. They are in peace with everything around them, and one with the universe. The only enemies they have are enemies that are common to every other land across the stars. In FLAME OF SURRENDER it’s been thousands of years since the Valtanyana were locked in Avrigost and their threat removed. (Sure go back to HP, go back to Voldemort why don’t you?)

And that’s it. I think you know everything about AVRISTAR that I know, and I hope that you can fall in love with the place as much as I have.

Recap of the first 6 of this blog post series

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

The Making of Avristar Part 6

2011-11-21T03:29:00.000-08:00

Tribes

There are a few tribes on AVRISTAR, and they are divided into two types really, the kinfolk and the elders.

The kinfolk when born to the land; are distributed between the three of the provinces of AVRISTAR, Evensess in the south, Amersil in the west, and Araraema in the east. (Go ahead and think Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin and Hufflepuff, it helps the concept along.)

EVENSESS is filled with mixed kinfolk, elvens, feorns, and fae. (I’ll explain what a feorn is later) They’re taught by 9 elders that live in the woods. The thing about Evensess is that it’s natural and it’s magical. It’s where the kinfolk learn to become landkeepers, lorekeepers, seers, healers, weavers and messengers. There’s a strong stigma in Avristar that the kinfolk will marry the land and travel to the Lands of Men, this is their way of life (call it dystopian if you want to while you’re at it, this isn’t some utopian island, it just seems that way, but nothing is as it seems in my books.) The kinfolk after fifteen summers go to see the Great Oak who gives them a parable that will spell out their future. The Great Oak is always right; there is no escaping its words. Most kinfolk are able to live with the words of the Great Oak, they follow them to a tee, and nothing of importance happens in their lives.

But Kaliel isn’t only a Child of Avristar, she’s not only a Kinfolk from Evensess, she’s a flame that this changes things for her.

In AMERSIL there is the Brotherhood. These are the handpicked apprentices of Lord Istar, or the best of the best. They’re all boys, and they all have magnificent abilities. They’re taught to be judges, warriors, and peacemakers. Their journeys to the Lands of Men are seen as triumphs. They’re taught weather manipulation, elemental manipulation, including how to grow seeds, how to move mountains with their minds, and how to create fire with their minds. They’re strong, aloof, private, and mysterious. They also receive parables from the Great Oak.

In ARAREAMA is the Sisterhood. This is where I let all of the myths and legends about Morgan Le Fay and the fae people exist. The Sisterhood is exactly down that line, glass like faces, beautiful paper thin wings; and a mysterious tradition that neither Kaliel nor Krishani knows a lot about. (Crafty of me huh?) But these girls DO come to the Fire Festivals in Orlondir and that’s the important thing.

On the other side of things, the kinfolk are sometimes allowed to marry each other and settle down in the villages in Orlondir or Nandaro. It would be hard to have a world where nobody got married to each other, and everyone married the land and then left. There are tribes of Kiirars (lorekeepers) in the northern province Nandaro, and all sorts, centaurs, shee, elvens, you name it, it probably exists in Nandaro. In Orlondir there are villages like Hawklin which are predominantly made up of feorns.

I really don’t believe that the entirety of AVRISTAR will ever be explored in full, but that’s the beauty of it, some things remain mysterious.

And tomorrow I’ll go into more detail about some of the traditions I’ve briefly mentioned here.

If you missed the first 5 parts check them out here

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

The Making of Avristar Part 5

2011-11-20T00:02:00.000-08:00

Spirits of the Land

This topic always makes me feel alive because of all the significant plot points that were tied to the spirits of the land.

There are two spirits of the land on AVRISTAR. If you’re unfamiliar with spirits of the land, you really need to get a hold of Soulcraft by Bill Plotkin as he explains the voice of the land in an incredibly beautiful way.

Spirits of the land have existed in almost every culture from the Celts, to Native Americans, to Australian Aboriginals. The cultural backing behind spirits of the land is the same everywhere, the land itself is alive. It’s a living, breathing entity.

In FLAME OF SURRENDER, AVRISTAR herself is a living island. Her breath is the wind, her tears are the rain, her body is the land itself, and so on and so forth.

Usually when there is a spirit of the land, there is a medium in place that channels the spirit. In AVRISTAR’s case, it’s the GATEKEEPER.

The second spirit of the land on Avristar is AVRED. He’s the male spirit of the land, and again, in his case, the SHEE speaks for him.

As with anything you can imagine that AVRISTAR is the female voice of the land, and AVRED the male. They work opposite one another, they’re NOT in harmony and this again, creates additional conflict and drama in THE FERRYMAN AND THE FLAME series.

Also, in case you’re wondering why I didn’t talk about the Great Oak, he’s a tree, and all the trees speak, and they’re not really considered spirits of the land itself, I consider them more like ents.

Tomorrow we’re going to talk about the tribes in Avristar . . .

if you missed part 1-4 heres the links to them

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

The Making of Avristar Part 4

2011-11-19T00:41:00.000-08:00

Across the Lake

In the first draft, I didn't know much about what was beyond the lake, but after six years of being with this manuscript I can tell you pretty much everything about the universe my characters live in.

For one, it's divided into four sections, AVRISTAR not only being the name of the island, but the name of the quadrant. I've broken down the quadrants for you, although my characters don't talk much about the other quadrants until book 3, you know, need to let this info out like air from a balloon, slow and steady, not info dump.

I've tried to find a way to explain planets without saying planets or realms because of the obvious sci-fi and fantasy connotations behind it. How my characters ended up explaining it is, “the lands scattered across the stars”. So, readers should be able to pick up the fact that AVRISTAR is a mystical island that exists physically, but not physically (please study Quantum Physics) on each of these Lands of Men, and that the right phrase will take the traveler through the mists and to that Land.

In the AVRISTAR quadrant there is the island and there are the seven Lands of Men. Their names are: TERRA (Earth), NIMPHALLS, AMALTHEIA, ARATHIA, MATAKASHA, RONANNON and SEVENTIA.

Again, the island of AVRISTAR exists physically on each one of these seven planets. The only difference is the magic that takes the traveler there.

In AVRISTYR, there is the main land, plus five Lands of Beasts, ANGRENOTH, CAM'WETHRIN, VELDEMAR, ARACHNIA, LAKEMNIA and then two extinct lands, HADWEN and SHEZZICK. Whether my characters ever talk about these places is irrelevant, but this is where the lesser villains hail from in most cases. These Lands of Beasts are just that, monsters, things that go bump in the night, etc. etc. I usually think all manner of nasty creatures.

In AVRIGARD there is the main land, plus eleven Lands of Immortals, NAZOLE, TALANISDIR, METAPHIS, AZAROTH, WINDELLA, SALLAS, REMNIA, DRACONIS, CRYZOLE, ZANANDIR, PERFIAS and SOMTOMA. There is one extinct realm from this quadrant, TEMPIA. My MC's first mentor Desaunius is from TEMPIA. Mallorn, my MC’s last mentor is from TALANISDIR. The beings in these lands are often thought of as immortal, they're dragons, elvens, shee (smaller faeries) or fae (full humanoid faeries) and they live a long long time.

In AVRIGOST there is nothing. There is the land that was exiled to the quadrant, and nothing else exists there other than that which cannot be used. It’s a chaotic realm, floating stones, always daylight, souls trapped and unable to go anywhere. Think, the worst place ever, a forever that stretches on, time that doesn't move, cycles of life frozen. It's a wasteland. This is where the Valtanyana are locked away, their former glorious forms reduced to dust.

And this is mostly in my notes now, I have woven parts of this universal knowledge into the storyline, but I haven't harped on it. The nice thing is when my characters need to go somewhere, I just pick a place on the chart and then create the settings as I go. For instance, in FLAME OF JUSTICE, Krishani goes to AMALTHEIA. It's got a blue sun, and no color, everything is shades of gray. And there were corn fields that led to a large fenced in village, with clay houses and dry soil. That then led into the hills, which were like the Badlands, all colored sand that could be formed into sand castles, and then crumble away.

I do different things with landscapes when I can, but I try to stick to traditional folklore. I don't want my readers getting too caught up with the setting, but because my characters have a relationship with the land, my readers need to have a good sense of it too.

And changing it up every now and again never hurt.

Tomorrow we’re going to discuss Spirits of the Land, which makes me squee!

if you missed part 1-3 heres the links again

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

The Making of Avristar Part 3

2011-11-17T23:05:00.000-08:00

Landscape

This was both difficult and easy. I again, instinctively took from mythology, from the folk tales that I loved the most, and I weaved them together. I didn't include things I thought were cheesy, only things that could be connected to my characters.

In my books, the relationship between the characters and the land is paramount. I've read three books on ecopsychology which is all about our relationship with the land and how that affects us as people.

In EVENSESS, there are thick vibrant forests full of vegetation, trees so big they're like stone walls, trees that talk, knee high grasses, herbs growing wildly everywhere, along with flowers. There are animals in the forest that are friendly, squirrels, sparrows, owls, canaries, rabbits, frogs, goldfish, and deer.

In AMERSIL, it's the same landscape, but there are evergreens, and more cabins, and there's a field with shorter grass.

In ARARAEMA, there's thinned out trees, and more vegetation, and unknown things because my characters never go there.

In ORLONDIR there are apple trees everywhere, and a few birch and maple trees. There are the orchards, the rolling fields to the north, Mount Tirion, the waterfall, some perfectly cut hedges, rainforest like vegetation on the south side of the mountain, and then the villages scattered about the land.

In NANDARO there are evergreens, a creek, mounds, maples, red cedars, birch, hazel, elder and oak trees. There's more tropical vegetation closer to the northwest, where there are also villages of tribes. NANDARO also remains somewhat unexplored.

Surrounding AVRISTAR is the lake, a lake that stretches on and on and leads to nothing without the magic words to make the Lands of Men appear. There's a mist that settles over the lake, and the only way to leave AVRISTAR is through the mist, on the wooden long boat with a gargoyle at the helm.

Tomorrow we’ll discuss what exists Across the Lake.

Incase you missed the first two parts

Part 1

Part 2

The Making of Avristar Part 2

2011-11-16T22:06:00.000-08:00

NamesI was really apprehensive about calling the place Avalon. I knew that Avristar was an island like Avalon, but not Avalon. It had to be my island because if it was Avalon, then people would be all confused thinking about King Arthur, and my story had nothing to do with King Arthur.

My first instinct was to go to Tolkien. I didn't know how stereotypical that was back then. I grabbed the Tolkien dictionary and began naming things based on what was cool. The island became Istalindir, the provinces were Soronuume, Telumendil, Menelmakar, Alqualond and Nandaro.

I didn't do a lot with the land outside of Avristar, I just began writing. I had character names that literally came from my countless meditations, Kaliel and Krishani, Desaunius, Pux, and then I stole some more names from Tolkien for the rest, most notably, Atara, Istar and Mallorn.

It wasn't until 2010 that Sue Dawe told me about the whole Tolkien thing being unoriginal. She said I had an original story and that the Tolkien language was mucking it all up.

From that point, I went back to my guides. I suck at making up names so I worked with THE Kemplan (don’t laugh at me, I actually have a guide named Kemplan and he IS a librarian), and we worked out names for everything. I now have a notebook full of names, places and groups.

Istalindir became Avristar, the provinces became Evensess, Amersil, Araraema, Nandaro and Orlondir. The names didn't change much, Luinil because Luenelle, Melyanna became Melianna, but these are secondary characters that don't matter as much. Atara, Istar and Mallorn stayed the same because the names suited the characters so well.

Thankfully Kaliel and Krishani didn’t come from Tolkien, they came from meditation and so those names never had to change and in my opinion, they weren’t names I ever would change because they also suit who the characters are.

I didn’t go for common names because they’re too common. I tried to stay away from long names unless they had a nice ring to them. I tried to spell every name phonetically. Most of all I tried to make the names suit the character.

Tomorrow we move on from names to the landscape that can be found in Avristar.

If you missed part 1 go HERE

Guest Post with Gerald G. Griffin

2011-11-16T22:02:00.000-08:00

Please welcome Gerald G. Griffin

Who was your biggest supporter while writing your book? Please tell why.

Anwin Valentine was my biggest supporter. An avid reader, Anwin praised the developing novel as unusual and close to the bone; a sensitive and compelling narrative, exciting and highly entertaining, with a captivating love story --- continuously reminding me that the novel was far better than many books she had read. She provided feedback and editing on every chapter as it was written, from rough draft to polished finish, including some suggestions on decor and appropriate fashion.

"This novel has real depth!' she often encouraged, many times adding, "It would make a wonderful movie!"

With such encouragement I pressed on. Meanwhile, Anwin, at every opportunity, raved on about the novel to her family, friends, acquaintances --- practically anyone who would listen. She even mailed drafts of the novel (when it was still not in final polished form) to her many friends around the world. waiting in anticipation for their positive response to what they had read. Whenever she did receive a positive reply from one of these overseas friends, she smiled buoyantly over her friend's agreement with how she felt, as was the case when she received the following e-mail from her friend, Bill Dixon, in Great Britain:

"I am reading Griff's book at present. I have read thousands of books but I've never had the author in such close contact. Enjoying it immensely! Can't wait to find out the outcome. It will of course be made into a movie/TV series."

"See, what did I tell you?" she said when when telling me about Dixon's e-mail. "You're an enormous talent! The world should know about your book. It should be in every library, in every bookstore, at every airport."

When I returned to writing my book, I kept these words in mind.

more info on Gerald and his book go HERE

Of Good And Evil review

2011-11-16T21:41:00.000-08:00

Of Good and Evil: A Novel by Gerald G. Griffin

Ron Sheffield, a gifted but tormented Green Beret, plagued by suicidal guilt because of his “special” abilities, is discharged from the army for going “crazy.” Immediately, he is brutally beaten and shot by the Mafia, and is hospitalized near death. His life is dramatically saved by Amber Ash, who also possesses “special” abilities, and from there the two are propelled into harrowing ventures against mobsters, terrorists, and and a government cell out to kill them over Iraqi documents Ron possesses from his army service. In an ironic twist, Ron becomes a Mafia hit man to save his sanity, targeting only fallen mobsters. This brings Ron and Amber into contact with the powerful and humane gifted secret society, Eros; this contact eventually actualizing Ron’s mental gifts to a point beyond his imagination. Ron is confronted with the imminent nuclear obliteration of a major American city by a suicidal terrorist cell that only he can stop. But against impossible obstacles, will he be able to do it in time?

Of Good and Evil: A Novel

Author: Gerald G. Griffin

Genre: Fiction – Thriller/Suspense

Published by: Eloquent Books (July 27, 2010)

Age Recommendation: 18+ For Mild Sexuality & Some Violence

Format: eBook & Trade Paperback

ISBN13: 978-1609760144

Number of pages: 342

Where to buy and all other info on this book and the tour go HERE

My Thoughts:

I started reading this booka nd it drew me in from the first line. Whats not to like violence and hitmen and mobsters. It was a well written peice while I enjoyed it and would recomend it for others I will say this it isn't my norm of reading material .I usually don't read millitary based works but for some reason this one drew me in. Griffin pulled off what most cant and thats hold my attention with the military elements so that gets major props. There isnt anything bad I can say about this book it was a great read. And does get the SiNners Stamp of approval.
So Go check it for ur self.

The Making of Avristar Part 1

2011-11-15T22:17:00.000-08:00

Please welcome Rhiannon Paille Author of FLAME OF SURRENDER (The Ferryman and The Flame #1) with a 7 part blog stop with The Making of Avristar

Inspirations

When I sat down to write the first draft of FLAME OF SURRENDER, I wasn't a writer. I was a girl that got through English 1 and was taking her Bachelors in Metaphysical Science. I didn't know all the cool stuff about writing.

What I did know was that I wanted to write a story that took place in the other worlds. I had been studying at the Grove of Dana College in 2005 and through that program I became very familiar with the other worlds. A lot of my assignments required meditation, astral projection and immramma to the other worlds. I know you might not be familiar with immramma but it’s basically a very deep meditation.

The place I visited the most was Avalon. You can decide for yourself if it’s a real place or not, but I will always believe that it’s real. For me, Avalon was like an arm’s length away from Earth. It was across the lake, through the mists and hidden. It was known for its apple trees, rolling hills, and mysticism. It was known for knights and King Arthur and Camelot and Morgan Le Fay and Faeries and that was why it was inspiration.

I didn’t write a book about Avalon, I wrote a book about a place that was like Avalon but had a lot more elements that appealed to me.

Tomorrow we’ll look at the names that I chose for my paradise.

Edenfantasys and the products I love

2011-11-13T17:48:00.001-08:00

I don't write a whole lot of reviews on here for Eden and I really Should. There are alot of sex toys I just love. Not just their bath and body lines or their cute costumes . But today im going to give special ode to their dildo and vibrator lines. I have a love for them really I own some I even buy some as gifts for my sister well she picks them out I buy them but its win win really. Today tho I want to give a special review of one of my favorite products. The Astrovibe capicorn.

I love this toy. When I first baught it I never thought I would like it as much as I do was actually baught more as a whim when my sister picked out her sign vibe yano following the crowd and all of that. But really it was and is an awesome perchase I have used it so often its my first pick dildo and vibe. The viberation isnt too hard or too light or even too buzzy its just right and hits the spots you want it to hit with out any trouble, the silcone of the toy is flexable so it can bend and you can stimulate your g-spot rather nicely. I do how ever wish the cntrolls were placed in a different location but I relaly havent had too many slips when I get going where the vibrations are too strong or not strong enough. I love that the girth isnt too much but isnt thin by any means. The length is 8 inches definantly worth every penny I spent just on the size alone. Im not exactly a size queen but this one fills you up and gives you the slight stretched feeling some love.

Cons to the toy: The batteries fit in the bottom so if you dont have it screwed in right it wont work and can sometimes fall out if not screwed on tightly enough. controlls on the bottom, and isnt water proof and alil but tedious to clean

pros to the toy: The price , can collect them all,Silicone, flexable, nice intence vibrations

All and All I give this toy 4 stars would give it a half star but well me i dont do halves. But definantly a toy you should look in to buying.

Disclaimer : I am an Eden Ambassador and do recieve gift cards for testimonials but these are my own honest opinions of this product and any other

Under the Neon Sky Guest post with Jay Rankin

2011-11-03T00:37:00.000-07:00

Please Welcome Author Jay Rankin to our little spot on the web.....

What sets your book apart from other books in the same genre?

I did quite a bit of research to see what other types of Vegas stories were out there. I found books written by bartenders, hookers, mobsters, casino owners, gamblers, and lots of how-to books but nothing written by a present day doorman working for a major Strip hotel. I think what really sets my book apart from others is the unique perspective I bring. Through my eyes, the book covers what it’s like working on the other side of the fence in a service industry where the customer is always right even if the guest hasn’t slept, crossed all boundaries, lost money, and has been drunk for two days straight, he’s the guest and I had to learn how to be nice in the face of a human gorilla who is in a bad mood. Not much is written about what employees go through in this industry. The book begins with the night Mike Tyson bit off a piece of Evander Holyfield’s ear and what ensued in the aftermath. It was the most riveting night of my career as a doorman. The story also brings to light what it’s like living in Las Vegas. It’s actually a great place to live with tons of excitement, but it is also a place with an undertow that can pull you down. Although I wrote a memoir, this book reads like a novel with a beginning, middle and end. There’s a strong storyline with characters that all play strong and vivid parts in my story. I tried to be as visual as possible. I wanted the reader to not just see what I was writing, but hear it and smell it. As someone who loves to people watch and who received a Master’s degree in psychology, I saw a lot and believe I wrote a very different Vegas story.

Looking for more info on Jays book? Well Look no further click HERE

Legacy he niteclif evolutions review

2011-10-31T20:08:00.000-07:00

Legacy: The Niteclif Evolutions, Book 1 by Denise Tompkins

When Fate makes you her bitch, accept it and adapt. Or die.

Looking back on the wish she made on Midsummer’s Eve, Maddy Niteclif should have been more specific. She only wanted to escape the shadowy nightmares that plagued her nights, not to be thrust into a completely altered reality.

If a strangely familiar, sexy dragon-shifter named Bahlin, who causes a never-to-be-mentioned-again fainting spell, isn’t enough to make her question her sanity, his insistence she’s the Niteclif ought to do the job. Prophesied super-sleuth of the supernatural world—a world that desperately needs her help—isn’t a job she’s remotely qualified for no matter what her family tree says.

Catapulted into a very different London ruled by dark mythology, mystery and murder, Maddy makes a few startling discoveries. Paranormal creatures exist. Getting shot really sucks. And her body responds remarkably well to dragon magic—in more ways than simple wound healing.

But in this kill-or-be-killed world, reality bites. And Maddy must choose to go back to what she knows…or stay and fight for the man she knows she can’t live without.

Warning: This book contains a shape-shifting dragon with a Scottish accent, modern and archaic weapons, global inter-species politics that make democracy seem mild, some very steamy sex underground, a severed head, murder, and…oh yeah…a woman caught in the middle of it all.

Time becomes irrelevant to the immortal.

But to one human woman, every second counts.

Legacy: The Niteclif Evolutions, Book 1

Author: Denise Tompkins

Genre: Fiction – Urban Fantasy/Paranormal Romance

Published by: Samhain Publishing, Ltd. (October 18, 2011)

Age Recommendation: 18+ For Mature Content & Explicit Sexuality

Format: eBook

ASIN: B005IZUXZE

Number of pages: N/A

My Thoughts on this book : First of all I have to Say Ima la bout all things dragon related I heart them so when I got to read this book deff was right up my ally. Hot shifters and a stubborn human woman yeah deffinantly awesomeness. I couldnt put down this book Denise wrote an awesome beautifully scripted book. It gets my two thumbs up and I cant wait for the next book.

to find out more about how to get this book and other info go HERE

Excerpt of From Russia with Blood

2011-10-24T04:57:00.000-07:00

Instantly he was right next to her. One hand gripped her shoulder and yanked her backward. His other hand held something that flashed brightly. There was a loud echoing sound.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
Gunfire. He’s got a gun!
Larissa stumbled away from Ian. She saw the speeding auto tear down the center of the road. It swerved toward her as she ran.
There was a dark alley immediately behind her. She sprinted into it. It looked narrow. She didn’t think a car could follow. She hoped it couldn’t.
She was ten steps down the alley when she heard a huge crash behind her. She felt it too and half stumbled for a few steps. Larissa whipped her head around and saw the car with its hood crumpled around the corner of the alley. The headlights were flickering and the horn blared.
She slowed a little bit. The car horn stopped blaring. The driver’s side door opened with a crunch and a large man in a dark suit kicked his way out. He staggered into the mouth of the alley clutching his forehead. Larissa saw blood oozing from a cut on his scalp. Then she saw the gun in his other hand. The man raised it at her.
She stood frozen. Was this it? The moment her dreams had warned her about?
Pop! Pop! Pop!
It was the same sound as before. Sharp and loud like fireworks on the Fourth of July. The man hadn’t fired. He stumbled and then fell awkwardly to the ground. She’d never seen a dead body before but she knew that man was dead. He lay in such a twisted manner there could be no doubt.
A shadow approached the alley.
Larissa tore herself from the spot and ran.
She looked back once and saw a tall figure enter the alley. She was on the verge of recognizing him when she smacked into something large and heavy.
Two burly men had jumped out of the shadows and she had run right into their arms. She screamed with all her might as they lifted her off the ground. She kicked and flailed around.
“Is this her?” asked one man in a rough voice.
“Who cares. Shut her up!” came the answer.
A hand like sandpaper clamped down over her mouth and smothered her screams. She saw the black metal of a gun barrel. It hovered above her forehead. She bit down hard on the hand but it wouldn’t let go, even as her teeth tore through the skin.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw the tall figure streaking down the alley toward them. It was Ian. He was moving faster than any man she’d ever seen. It didn’t seem real. She’d been to the Central Park Zoo once. There she’d seen a snow leopard dash across its enclosure. It moved so fast and so fluid, like lightning. That was what it was like watching Ian move. There was nothing human about it.
Her attackers dropped her. She fell on her butt as Ian collided with the two of them like a train. There was a flurry of blows. One dropped to the ground. He crumpled like the man at the mouth of the alley and Larissa knew he was dead.
She backed away from the fight. Broken glass and other bits of debris scraped and cut her hands and rear end but she barely noticed. She was too busy watching the fight. What little fight there was.
Ian seized the other man. The brute was nearly twice his size but Ian held him tight and forced him to his knees. They were standing over a sodium lamp and by its pale light she saw the fangs gleaming inside Ian’s mouth.

KiKi Howell Release day Blitz Meredith's Play list

2011-10-17T03:35:00.000-07:00

An emotionally charged quick read.

Meredith’s Playlist

Description:

These are the songs Meredith listened to on her way to work the day her ex, David, showed up on her massage table. It was quiet an eclectic mix of break-up songs she had on her iPod: from angry to over you, from sad and slow to heavy metal, from oldies to new, they all struck a chord in her broken heart.

Give them a listen and you will see why she would have a hard time letting him back into her life.

Then read, Working Out The Kinks, to find out what exactly David has planned to win her back.

Giveaway details:

Kiki is giving away one ebook copy of any book from her backlist including her new release Working Out the Kinks

Click Here to enter

Working Out the Kinks By Kiki Howell

2011-10-16T11:57:00.000-07:00

About the Book:

Making an appointment with his ex-girlfriend under a fake name, David buys himself one hour to get her attention. Hoping to apologize and remind her of their time together, he intends to do whatever he has to in order to make Meredith, a practicing Wiccan, forgive him for being idiot enough to have listened to those around him which meant choosing his political aspirations over love.

Meredith is resistant to let David anywhere near her heart again. Desperate, David plays all his trump cards and suggests a sexual magick ritual which incorporates the BDSM lifestyle he and Meredith used to experiment with. The methods he uses may be unconventional, like sensory deprivation and sensation play intended to build trust and to achieve altered states of consciousness. But David is more than willing to do whatever it takes if he can just get Meredith to agree.

MY THOUGHTS:

This was awesome it was a fun fast short read. The story behind it really hit home for me. David and Meredith had a long road full of choices that were made that shouldnt of been.David's character really was awesome and I fet for him o n a deep emotional level expecially since I been there with the breaking up for teh wrong reasons. But in the end it worked out the way it should. My only complaint was this book was tooo short and now I want More. Kiki really hits home lov nd redemption and following your own path not one set out for you. I have to say tho that it would be seriously sexy to be taken with out a choice. Thats All im saying. Awesome Job Kiki!

This gets the SiNners Stamp of proval!

Guest Post by Fiona Dodwell

2011-10-12T11:02:00.000-07:00

It's All In The Mind

When I first conceived of the idea of writing Obsessed, I was in the middle of reading some online comments about the supposed existence of spirits. The debate is an age-old one: do we exist after we die? Do we possess souls? Do spirits haunt people, haunt properties? These questions have stood the test of time – but we have never, truly, found a satisfactory answer.

One thing that did strike me was that many people who claimed they were sceptical had a strong case: there are genuinely strong – and very rational – reasons to explain away events that some might perceive to be paranormal. Obsessed began with this question: what if the sceptics, what if those level-headed and academic voices of reason that dismiss such claims of life-after-death, are wrong?

What if, sometimes the rational reasons we use to dismiss the paranormal are actually just wishful thinking?

Obsessed is a ghost story essentially about this. My character, James Barker, witnesses a gruesome suicide and soon after, begins witnessing visions of the dead man – in his home, in his everyday life. Is James being haunted? Frightened by the events unfolding, James visits a therapist who tells him he is suffering with post-traumatic stress. However, as time moves on, and as the eerie and uncomfortable happenings increase, James has to ask himself this: should he trust and rely on the voice of rationality and reason, or could he be seeing the spirit of a dead man?

Can the dead return?

If the idea of exploring these things interest you, I hope you enjoy Obsessed. I feel the parallel between James and his therapist's version of events in my story can pull in the most ardent sceptic and the most staunch believer. I feel there is something for everyone in this story.

At the end though, I leave the reader to ask of themselves this question, and it is their response that can shape their feelings about the book: do spirits exist?

~~~ Thank you for stoping in today Fiona! The book is Amazing so people really go get it ! ~~~

Obsessed trailer Link

Interview with Jamie Haden (and contest entry for tour wide contest)

2011-10-09T11:00:00.000-07:00

Tell us about your current release.

Hi and thank you so much for having me today. My current release Spirit Seeker is about the life of sixteen-year old Talisa Santiago. Life is strange and difficult for the granddaughter of a shaman. Talisa was born in the desert underneath the full moon in January—the wolf moon. However, she left the desert with her mother when she was a young girl. She remembers bits and pieces of her past but it isn’t until she and her mom move to a remote barrier island off the coast of North Carolina that she feels fate has finally called—secretive and mysterious he stands alone on the edge of the bank. Her friends tell her to stay away; she hears rumors that he is dangerous. Still, she can’t resist. Whether Talisa realizes it or not, she knows a thing or two about boys like Jag Chavez. Fate is funny that way.

For the first time in her life, Talisa meets kids just like her—Native Americans who know the way of the spirit. The closer she gets to Jag, the more she realizes he is hiding a dark secret. He may have the markings of the Thunderbird, but he is named for the powerful Jaguar. Together they embark on a journey that will haunt her forever.

Tell us about your next release.

Secrets, communications with the spiritual worlds, dangerous desires, and deep-rooted beliefs are the back drop to Illuminate—Alive, she cried, the story of Native American shape-shifters.

Some say the concept of rebirth is simply a metaphor for living a better life, a holier life. For seventeen-year old Talisa Santiago, such a resurrection is anything but a metaphor. It is her reality.

Talisa knows she can communicate with the spiritual world. She is the granddaughter of a shaman and going between two different worldly dimensions is something she realizes she is destined to do. However, what she doesn’t count on is what fate has in store for her.

After surviving the first hurricane of the season on the island where she lives, Talisa learns that her life is in grave danger. She must leave immediately and retreat to live with a secretive clan of Indians on a remote reservation deep within the Great Smokey Mountains.

Her blood brothers, three shifters who have the desires of both man and animal surround her, promising everlasting friendship and protection. Now, Talisa will put her life in their hands, depart from her mother, and begin the journey of a lifetime. However, the majestic mountains hold many secrets and danger lurks in the night. There are evil tricksters everywhere that want her dead. As Talisa falls prey to the confusion of her own burgeoning sexuality, she unleashes an untamed passion that may get them all killed.

Illuminate—Alive, she cried, is complete at 94,000 words.

Where do you dream of traveling to and why?

I would love to go back to Europe but this time with my daughters. The last time my husband and I traveled abroad, we were alone. We are planning to go back in the near future and take the girls to Italy, France, and of course, Spain. My husband would love a second home in The Netherlands.

Does travel play in the writing of your books?

Certainly, travel plays a large role in my books. Physically speaking, Talisa is from Mexico and travels to different bodies of water before moving to Silence a remote barrier Island off the coast of NC. However, the Spirit people in Spirit Seeker are all able to travel within, and journey into other worldly spiritual dimensions.

Has someone been instrumental in inspiring you as a writer?

Growing up my father was my greatest inspiration. Now, my daughters inspire me to write. I wrote Spirit Seeker for them.

What was one of the most surprising things you learned while writing your books?

I am really at peace when I at home.

Who are your books published with?

My novel Spirit Seeker is published with Pill Hill Press. My editor Jessy Marie Roberts is fantastic! It is really a dream come true to work with such amazing people.

What do you think makes a good story?

Honesty.

Tell us about your family.

I am a stay at home mom raising three young daughters. My little girls are my greatest inspiration. My husband David and I met in college when we were 18. We eloped when we finished graduate school and ran off to the The Great Smokey Mountains. We’ve been married now for 18 years. He is my best friend.

What book are you reading now?

I just started Jane Eyre on ibooks.

What songs are most played on your Ipod?

Everything Bob Dylan.

What is your favorite meal?

I love pesto! My favorite is pesto salmon with pesto veggies and pesto bread. (My daughter’s secret recipe!) I could eat salmon for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Second is Fried Green Tomatoes.

What are you passionate about these days?

Wine. My husband and I have a couple of cellars and we cave red wine. My favorite wine of all is Burgundy, Bordeaux, and Barolo.

What do you do to unwind and relax?

I love to hang around the pool with my family and enjoy good food and wine.

Do you have any suggestions for beginning writers? If so, what are they?

Read. Read. Read.

Do you have a milestone birthday coming up? If so, how are you approaching it?

Oh my, I am now in my forties. Forty three to be exact. However, I actually love my age, and feel the best that I have in years. I walk everyday with my husband and do lots of yoga and meditation.

Tell us about your favorite restaurant.

I know this sounds silly but my kitchen is my favorite place to eat. My husband is an amazing cook.

What makes you happy?

My daughters.

Say your publisher has offered to fly you anywhere in the world to do research on an upcoming book, where would you most likely want to go?

Italy, as long as my daughters could come, I’d go in a heartbeat.

Where are your fans most likely to find you hanging out?

In my backyard by the pool or at the beach.

Do you have a Website or Blog?

My website is www.jamiehaden.com

Do you have anything specific that you want to say to your readers?

Thank you for hanging out with me today!

Like the Spirit Seeker Facebook page

Follow Jamie On Twitter

Follow Jamies Blog

Click the link for the give away And leave a comment on the tour stop

Enter Here

Up a Dry Creek guest post and give away

2011-10-05T00:01:00.000-07:00

When Sparks Fly

By Avery Flynn

I love strong heros and heroines butting heads. Tracy and Hepburn. David and Maddie from Moonlighting. Sookie and Eric in True Blood. And, of course, Rhett and Scarlett.

There is nothing better in the world than two alphas facing off against each other. I love a strong woman and a tough man. Two alphas bring an extra umph to the high stakes tightrope act of falling in love. They’re fun to read or watch as they duel and plot to best the other, only to find their schemes have drawn them closer together.

All of which brings me to Claire Layton and Jake Warrick from my debut romantic suspense, Up a Dry Creek. When Claire appeared in my head one day as I drove down the road, I knew she was my girl. Same with Jake. They’re just right for each other. They’d mow over anyone who wasn’t an alpha. Take, for example, the following exchange after Claire loses her temper and soaks Jake with a spray hose. Jake if forced to take off his sopping wet shirt (oh, darn).

***

“I have to tell you, it’s one of the more direct ways a woman has worked it so that I had to take off my shirt.” He bent his head down toward her. “I didn’t realize you country girls were so forward. Now, I don’t mind you getting me wet, but next time, just ask.”

Biting her lip, she fought the urge, again, to kick him in the shin. God, he was irritating. And enticing. And yummy to look at. And… oh God, this man erased all thoughts except those that involved him naked on her bed.

She flashed him an insincere smile and batted her eyelashes, hoping he wouldn’t notice how her nipples had hardened. As if she’d said the words out loud, his gaze locked in on that exact part of her anatomy. Damn. They actually got harder.

She crossed her arms in front of her breasts. “Oh, I think once was enough. You know us country girls just aren’t used to your big city ways.”

“I could teach you about all things big.” His wicked grin promised she’d learn a lot.

Electricity sparked between them, sank into her skin and settled low in her belly. “I’m sure you’d like to, but I’m not looking for a teacher.”

That silenced him. He dragged his gaze from her toes to her eyes in slow motion. His hot perusal burned her skin as it traveled up her body, lingering on her breasts before stopping at her lips. A wolfish leer lit his face.

“I’m more than willing to be a student, if that’s what you’d prefer,” his voice rumbled.

***

See what I mean? They are total alphas hot for each other. The question is, will they be able to overcome the obstacles placed in their way by a psychotic killer (and themselves) to realize they belong together?

Author Contact Info

Website: http://www.averyflynn.com/

Blog: www.averyflynn.com/Avery_Flynn/Lets_Chat/Lets_Chat.html

Email: avery@averyflynn.com

Twitter: @averyflynn

Facebook: www.facebook.com/pages/Avery-Flynn/177161972329973

Buy Links

Evernight Publishing:

http://www.evernightpublishing.com/products/Up-a-Dry-Creek-by-Avery-Flynn.html

Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/Up-Dry-Creek-ebook/dp/B0055UZ9UG

B&N:

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/up-a-dry-creek-avery-flynn/1103948714

Smashwords:

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/66844

CONTEST:

To Win copy just leave your email addy winner announced at the end of tour.

Next tour stop is http://www.deepintheheartromance.com/

Special note to my readers

2011-09-30T15:26:00.000-07:00

Im posting some tour posts early why you may ask well its simple I am moving so I want them up before I miss the post date so bare with me when I come back I will post a lls orts of reviews and lete veryone know who won my give aways Ive had afew over the last few months so ill announce the winners then as well. Ty for the follow and the visits and comments when you make them you all truelly rock !

Art from inside Time Of The Fairies

2011-09-30T15:24:00.000-07:00

The Stunning cover for the book

Another Beautiful image.

More stunning then the last

The End of the world

Aestine

Every one of these are just a sample of how beautiful this book is reading it I paused just to stare at the art.Every picture is more stunning and vivid then the last.

Seriously people you realllyyyyy need to check out this series.

Time of the Fairies review

2011-09-30T15:16:00.000-07:00

Title: Afterlight: End of the World
Author J. Corsentino
ISBN 978-0-578-08548-7
Size 98 pages
Genre: Full color fantasy art novel

Part 1 Time of the Fairies

Time of the Faeries: Afterlight is a four-part graphic novel series that explore the origins of the Faeries, the evolution of Angels and Vampires from a common Fae ancestor, and their own unique adaptations to the modern world. It follows the alliances and tensions that develop between these three species as they struggle to protect human civilization or shape it to their will. The Afterlight follows several lines of cause and effect, revealing possible versions of the Apocalypse at the hands of all three species.

In the first book, Afterlight, End of the World, we begin at the end with the Angel Apocalypse: a dying Earth, ravaged by war, now hosts only a few scattered pockets of humanity. These last survivors are being hunted to extinction by starving Angels, their energy consumed so that the Angels might live. Below ground, a small band of shape-shifting male faeries called the Phelans struggle to protect the last collection of human life in Los Angeles and a mysterious young girl who may hold the key to their survival. Above ground, as the winged forces amass to complete their genocide, a lone Angel named Halyon struggles to understand what went wrong, and why her race now hunts the very people they were charged to protect.

Excerpt

The 8 page Prologue is available at http://www.freado.com/read/10047/time-of-the-faeries-afterlight-end-of-the-world in digital book form.

Links

http://www.timeofthefaeries.com (official website)

http://www.facebook.com/timeofthefaeries (fan page)

http://www.twitter.com/timeofthefaerie <----no trailing S at the end (Twitter)

http://www.timeofthefaeries.com/store (online store)

http://ow.ly/5WzGZ (Order The Afterlight on Amazon.com)

youtube videos you can include:

http://youtu.be/s3jJ_HL1TMA

http://youtu.be/hlpmw7QbKGM

About the art:

http://youtu.be/mJVthMssaoA

http://youtu.be/e6tPPn-QCpw

http://youtu.be/eoWyME-_G84

Joseph Corsentino

Artist/Author

Joseph Corsentino is a storyteller at heart who chooses photography as his medium. He took his passion for Science Fiction and Fantasy to Los Angeles where he began Time of the Faeries, an epic retelling of the faerie mythology. His stunning, ethereal, and realistic faeries, angels, and vampires can be seen in private collections and magazines all over the world. His first book, published by Imaginosis Publishing, is a prologue into the Time of the Faeries universe. Joseph is currently completing the four-part Afterlight graphic novel series and making appearances at conventions such as Dragon*con.

Some Career Highlights

2007 Time of the Faeries published by Imaginosis Publishing

2007-2011 Artist Guest and Artist Guest of Honor at Faerieworlds Festival

2009-2011 Artist Guest and Artist Guest of Honor at Faeriecon

2008 Artist Guest of Honor at I-Con New York

2008-2009 Artist Guest of Honor at Xanadu Las Vegas

2010 Best Photography Dragon*con Artshow

Sample Interview Questions (you may use these at your tour stop)

What is Time of the Faeries?

Time of the Faeries is an epic re-imagining of the faerie mythology, bringing gritty reality

into fantasy. Currently, it is in the form of several books, and lots and lots of beautiful

artwork based on photography and Photoshop.

Time of the Faeries, over the years, has developed into a massive storyline, taking us

into a post-apocalyptic future and a not-so-idyllic past.

What is The Afterlight series?

The Afterlight Visual Novel Series combines digital art and narrative to create an epic

four part tale, delving into the evolution of the new mythology.

What made you write Time of the Faeries: Afterlight?

Time of the Faeries grew quickly and spans 10,000 years of the past, present, and the

future. As the story matures, I realized that it’s too big to be told in just one art form,

one image at a time. Instead, it began to take the form of a novel series grounded in

artwork. The Afterlight series is actually only the first series in the entire mythology

already planned and drafted.

Where are the faeries?

The first book, Afterlight: End of the World, begins with the apocalyptic end, with angels

hunting the last humans in existence. There are no faeries mentioned outright in the

book! I started the story with this bleak future to show what the world would look like

without faeries. Once the faeries arrive, then the fun can commence!

Why did you choose to make the angels the bad guys?

Someone had to be the bad guys, and many people will be mad that I chose the angels

to be bloodthirsty killers. In the mythology, they represent the dogma of unchanging

religion and the narrow mindset of “don’t rock the boat.”

What are your future plans for the series?

We are focusing on completing the four-part Afterlight series. The first, Afterlight: End of

the World, is published and released. We anticipate that the second in the series,

Afterlight: Last Gleaming, will be published Winter 2011.

How do you create your compositions?

My artwork is based on a collaboration with the people who model for me. First, we find

a person with the “spark” or characteristics that we are looking for. We invite them to do

a photoshoot with us, dress them up, then spend a few hours shooting and building a

character. Finally, it’s time for me to sit at a computer for hours and days building the

magick and background using Photoshop as my artistic tool. It is an intense process for

me and the models.

Who are your favorite artists and authors?

I am a Sci-Fi movie fan. My heroes are J. Michael Stracynski, Joss Whedon, Ron

Moore and Brian Fuller and other film storytellers. Visually, I am still inspired by Luis

Royo and Brom, sexy and moody art.

Do you believe in faeries?

I do believe in faeries! I believe in the faeries of today, the modern, urban faeries, the

people we meet at important juncture in our lives that sets us on a new path, the

conversations at 3 a.m. that starts us reflecting, the serene girl out of the corner of our

eyes with that something special about her…Yes, yes I do believe in faeries. Come play

in my universe and you will too!

Tell us about yourself and what draws you to fantasy.

I’ve been a photographer for over ten years now, but got into fantasy photography about

eight years ago. With a group of friends, I used to run around Long Island, NY taking

photos and having fun. At one particular photoshoot, we shot a dozen faeries, creating

individual wings and costumes for everyone. From that single photoshoot, I was

inspired to create more fantasy art. Years later, Time of the Faeries evolved.

Me personally, I’m a media geek, more drawn to Science Fiction than fantasy, the more

epic, the better. District 9 has really inspired me to take a deeper look at my concept of

a street faerie. My walls, shelves, and table tops are lined with Transformers figures

and always have. I’m a fan. I guess that’s why I create art, because I enjoy this stuff!

What do you hope people will take away from your mythology?

On a trip to Tiajuana, Mexico, I got lost and found myself in the red light district, streets

lined with young girls prostituting themselves. Their desolate poses as they stand there,

waiting, struck me so deeply that I created the idea of the street faeries, creatures of

magick lost in our urban lifestyle. What I hope people will draw from Time of the

Faeries is that magick is there in our world, even in the grittiest of places. But at the

end of the day, it's about people doing the work, not relying on fantasy or magick. --- It's

about people working as people to evolve and create and better themselves and the

world around them.

My Thoughts :

I have to say I was truely Blown away by this book its a work of art truelly. This story is beautiful and vivid and awesome worth the read and to own. I now want the full series to grace my shelves! Every word and image is beautiful and and every image more stunning then the last> Joseph Corsentino did an awesome job .

Gypsy Knights Promo and Excerpt

2011-09-30T15:01:00.000-07:00

Fourteen-year-old Durriken Brishen has lost his parents, his grandfather, and though he doesn't know it, his Gypsy culture's dangerous gift.

Taken in and raised on the rails by the first woman to pilot a freight train, Durriken has one remaining connection to his Romani roots: a small wooden box that hangs from the hammer loop of his overalls.

The last gift he received from his grandfather, the box contains the world's first chess set. But a piece is missing: the Red Queen. According to Durriken’s family lore, the complete set awakens the power of Tărie, a mercurial gift that confers unique abilities on each new Master.

When a suspicious fire erupts in the Chicago rail yard, Durriken's escape produces an uneasy alliance, though not without its silver lining. Dilia is a few inches taller, several degrees cleverer, and oh yes – very pretty. While Durriken is uneasy allying with a girl whose parents were convicted of sedition, there's no doubt she is a powerful partner. And while it's not immediately clear to either, her own Guatemalan culture and family history are deeply entwined with the ancient Romani mystery.

Jumping box cars, escaping riverboats, deciphering clues, crossing swords with the brilliant madman Radu Pinch – with great American cities as its backdrop – Gypsy Knights is the page-turning saga of Durriken Brishen and his quest to rediscover his past.

Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/Gypsy-Knights-Saga-ebook/dp/B0051VRLRS/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1312118862&sr=8-1

Barnes and Noble:

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/gypsy-knights-two-brothers-metz/1031249018?ean=2940012599803&itm=1&usri=gypsy%2bknights

Goodreads:

http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/11558161-gypsy-knights

Two Brothers Metz Bio:

The Two Brothers Metz are happily settled in the rolling valleys of Western Pennsylvania – where they are hard at work on the second installment of The Gypsy Knights Saga.

Twitter:@twobrothersmetz

Email: twobrothersmetz@gmail.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Two-Brothers-Metz/212578882096369
Chapter 11

The Lure of Tárie

July 24, 1965 – Chicago, Illinois

Durriken stuffed the letter into his pocket, slammed the yellow suitcase shut, and wheeled

to face Dilia.

“Well?” Dilia asked.

“Well what?” said Durriken.

“Well, what is that letter? Well, why did you run away? Well, what the hell is going

on?”

“Right, good questions,” said Durriken. “See you around.” He backed away, keeping his

eyes locked on Dilia’s, then turned and walked swiftly down the hall.

“That’s not the way out!” called Dilia. She sighed and darted down the hall after him.

Durriken heard Dilia’s footsteps dogging his tracks. He sped up, turned a corner, entered

a stairwell, descended a flight of stairs, and opened another door. Durriken broke into a trot and

sped down a basement hallway, the yellow suitcase bumping against one leg, his chess set

against the other. Dilia’s steps echoed close behind.

“That’s not the way out,” she called again.

He slowed and stopped.

“Okay, what – do – you – want?” Durriken asked in clipped staccato.

Dilia’s hand slid to the collar of her dress. What she wanted, Dilia couldn’t tell him. He

had the chess set, whose Red Queen – her Red Queen – had shown her visions of the two of

them, but yet something in the pit of her stomach warned her not to tell Durriken about her chess

piece. Not yet.

“You need help,” she said at last, remembering the startling vision of the sailor boy on

the burning mast who might have been his twin.

“I’ve been in worse scrapes. I’ll be fine.”

“Fine? You can’t even get out of the school. You just ran into the basement.”

“Look, I’m flattered you want to help – and I’m sure you’re a very good helper – but I

don’t need any help,” said Durriken.

“Where’d you get those chess pieces?”

“What?” shouted Durriken. “What the hell do you care about the…”

The sound of a door slamming echoed down the hallway. Durriken froze. Dilia grabbed

his arm. He pulled it away with an angry jerk.

“Get off me,” he said, baring his teeth.

“Shhhh!” Dilia admonished. She grabbed his arm again, and pulled him down the hall

and around the corner. She yanked Durriken into a deserted office and closed the door behind

her.

“What’s your problem?” he said loudly.

“Shut up!” hissed Dilia, clapping a hand tight over Durriken’s mouth. Durriken’s heart

beat wildly and he struggled to breathe under Dilia’s warm hand, dizzied by her scent of fresh

laundry and spring flowers.

A metallic tapping, like blows of a distant hammer, began to grow louder. They could

make out shuffling footsteps and the distinct tapping of a cane on the linoleum hallway floor.

Durriken and Dilia inched backward, deeper into a dark corner of the office, furthest from

the door. The metallic tapping drew nearer, echoing like the beat of an evil heart. Tap. Tap.

Tap.

Their imaginings of the man in the hall grew horrible as the seconds dragged on.

Periodically, the footsteps stopped. A nearby doorknob rattled. Then he moved on. Searching.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Finally, the tapping slowed and stopped as a hunched shadow darkened the window of

their door. Durriken and Dilia held their breath as the doorknob rattled. Angry muttering slid

under the doorway as the man in the hall rammed the locked door with his shoulder. He cracked

his cane on the floor in frustration. The phantom retreated from the door, swirled his cape

around him, and started down the hallway. The tapping resumed, quick with anger, and faded

down the corridor, back toward the stairs.

Durriken and Dilia listened breathlessly as the stairwell door squeaked open and hissed

slowly closed as the last cane taps drifted through the close underground air. Dilia took her hand

from his mouth.

Durriken walked to the door and put his ear to it. After a long pause he tried the

doorknob – locked. He dropped his suitcase and turned on Dilia.

“You trapped us in here,” he said.

“You were trapped before,” said Dilia. “This hall’s a dead end. He would have found

you.”

“And what if he had?” asked Durriken. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I just thought…I could help,” said Dilia.

“Good thing you’re not trying to help in a hospital,” snapped Durriken, “all the patients

would be in the morgue.”

She walked over to the desk, picked up the receiver to the telephone, and started dialing

numbers.

“What’re you doing?” asked Durriken.

“Since, you haven’t done anything wrong, I’ll just call the school and somebody will let

us out.”

Durriken took a quick step and yanked the cord from the wall. Dilia’s full red lips parted

in a triumphant smile, her white teeth sparkling against her dark skin. Durriken wheeled, fists

balled, his short, muscular frame heaving with sharp breaths. Dilia straightened her back and

tensed for a fight. She stood a head taller.

“Sit still,” he demanded. “I know you want to help, but just let me think for five minutes

before you start helping again, okay?”

Dilia brushed past him and retreated to a dark corner. Durriken thumped his back against

the door, and slid down to the floor. He sat cross-legged and ran his hands back and forth

through his hair. Composing himself, he pulled the envelope from his pocket. He slid a finger

along its edge, pressed the yellowed paper to his nose and inhaled deeply.

Durriken slipped a finger inside a corner of the envelope flap, and gently pried it open.

Dilia emerged from the shadows, and sat on a corner of the desk, watching Durriken.

When Durriken tore open the envelope, a small plain key stamped with the number 1007

fell into his hand. He slipped it into the top pocket of his overalls and pulled the letter from the

envelope. Dilia looked on curiously, left to guess at the emotions swirling inside Durriken.

The paper was water-stained and faded with time. Durriken’s eyes scanned the letter.

April 15, 1960

Dear Durriken,

I hope this letter never needs to find you. If it does, that means that I am gone and you are

alone. I love you and I’m sorry I had to leave so soon. It was my time.

There is a difficult journey ahead. You are strong and your heart is true, but your path

will not be easy.

I have not always been as strong as I would have liked, but I am strong with Tárie. So

are you, though you may not know it yet.

Tárie has shown me that my time here is limited. While I can’t see what the future holds

for you, I know that this letter will not find you until you are ready. You are probably a man

now, or soon will be.

The night of your sixth birthday, your father and grandfather had a terrible fight about

Tárie. They never spoke again. After that day, your Grandfather Brishen was dead to your

father. So your father and I told you he had died. I did everything I could to heal the family, but

your father and grandfather were too proud. My greatest regret – after having to leave you alone

so young – is that I was too weak to change their minds. They put their beliefs and their pride

before their family, and I didn’t stop them. Do not make the same mistakes, Duri.

I planned to tell you the truth as soon as you were old enough. This letter ensures that

you will learn your family history, and who you were meant to be, even if I am gone.

To succeed, you must accept a heavy burden. You must find your Grandfather Brishen

and learn the old ways. Study Tárie. Feel and understand. Your grandfather needs you near

him. Only you can save him and only he can show you who you are.

I write this during dangerous times. Things can only have gotten worse, so I am taking

every precaution. I cannot see what dangers surround your grandfather, but I sense they are

grave.

Promise you will find your grandfather. He loves you. Just as your father does. And

just as I do.

More instructions await you in a safer place. Remember a day when you and your father

went alone. Follow the money. Ask for a man named King. That is all it is safe to say here.

All my power goes into you.

Love,

Mom

Durriken wiped his eyes, crumpled the letter, and jammed it back into his bib pocket.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” said Dilia.

Durriken’s heart was an open wound. Every sentence, every thought, every pen stroke in

the letter salted the gaping hole in his chest where his heart had been ripped out and thrown, still

beating, on the office floor. The lights in the hallway clicked off one by one and the basement

sank into darkness.

Durriken rose, walked around behind the desk and picked up the desk chair. He walked

back over to the door, raised the chair over his head and smashed it through the glass window.

The smell of rotten flowers filtered in from the hallway.

“I need your help,” he said to Dilia at last.

Dilia put her hands on her hips.

“Not until you say…”

“Please,” said Durriken.

“What’s this all about?” she asked.

“This may sound silly, but it’s all about my chess set. And my family.”

“And Tárie?” she said.

Durriken dropped his suitcase and eyed Dilia suspiciously, he was certain she had not

seen the letter.

“How do you…”

“I told you. You need my help,” she said.

“It’s my…I need to find my…” Durriken faltered. “I need to get to the railyard. Please.

Help me get out of this school without having to answer any more questions – to anybody.”

“Follow me,” she said.

* * * * *

Twenty minutes later, Dilia poked her head out of a back entrance to Bulliard. She

scanned left and right, then stepped out and motioned for Durriken to follow.

“Thanks for your help,” said Durriken.

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ll give you a shot at the trophy again next year.” He took a few quick steps down the

alley, turned and walked away backwards. He lifted his yellow suitcase, trophy inside, and

tapped it. “Until then,” he said, doffing his cap.

“Where are you going?” she asked, starting to walk after him.

“Salt Lake City,” he said, quickening his pace.

“Great! I’ve never been,” she said. “Why are we going there?”

“We? Listen, you helped me, and I thank you, but there is no we.” Durriken began to

trot in reverse, opening a gap between himself and Dilia.

“Look, I know you don’t want to hear it, but you need help. My help.” She quickened

her pace.

“Maybe,” he said, backpedaling at full speed, “but we’ll never know.” Durriken turned

and disappeared down a side street.

Dilia raced down the alley and turned onto the side street, but Durriken Brishen had

disappeared without a trace.

Guest Post by Gregory Marshall Smith

2011-09-27T12:39:00.000-07:00

Guest Post by Gregory Marshall Smith

Going Old School

When people look at my new novel, Hunters, they inevitably ask one question:

“Who the hell is this guy?”

After that, the question most asked is why I’ve bucked the trend. Vampires are supposed to be sexy and romantic now. Anita Blake has a child with a vampire. The vamps on True Blood and Vampire Diaries are setting hearts afire, even as they slaughter deputies and make TV personalities commit suicide. A peek at the YA shelf at the bookstore shows scores of vampire and urban fantasy.

So, why is my novel painting the vampires as bad guys for the heroes to turn into Hominus flambé?

I’d guess that the simple answer is that too much of anything is bad.

It’s a fact of life that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. However, it’s also true that, in the publishing and movie worlds, imitation is the fastest way to a quick buck. And, with online publishing, it could be viewed as worse than ever.

Oh, I know that there are some authors out there who are still putting out books with traditional, old school vampires but they can’t get space on the shelves or online like the Stephenie Meyers and Laurell K. Hamiltons of the world.

And it’s spilling over into other paranormal realms. We’ve been inundated with sexy demons, angels, and archangels and such. One of the newest television shows is Secret Circle, sort of Pretty Little Liars meets Practical Magic.

Charmed and Angel transformed those bogeymen who once turned our dreams into nightmares into objects of our fantasies and affections. Even Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, switched sides to give Buffy a romance with Angel and Willow a boyfriend who was a werewolf.

In some ways, I can see these books and shows as veiled attempts at acceptance. Not everyone fits so nicely into the pigeonholes society creates. People want to be themselves, but, eventually, they get lonely, so they want someone who accepts them and their quirks.

As for me, I’m interested in balance. Sort of like the guys in Supernatural, though, I swear, if those guys come back from the dead one more time...

To be honest, I grew up with those old Universal vampire movies like Dracula, House of Dracula and House of Frankenstein. And don’t get me started on those wonderful Hammer Studios movies (with condolences to the August passing of Jimmy Sangster, who wrote many of Hammer’s best movies including Dracula: Prince of Darkness and Brides of Dracula).

In Hunters, my vampires own the night, controlling society much like a Mafia-style clan. Ever hungry for power, they seek to form an alliance of 16 of North America’s top master vampires. Who could possibly stand against that, especially when the man creating it -- Louis Riordan -- has the services of Lin Tang, a lethal enforcer with serious martial arts and sword skills, along with a powerful secret?

A brave band of humans, that’s who. They include Jesus and Dolores Montoya, who had to kill their own daughter who had become a vampire ravaging the countryside; Marcus Van Niekerk, a South African mercenary, who has seen vampires do their vile deeds the world over; Dr. Ravi Patel, a doctor who believes he might be able to create a cure for vampirism; Heidi Nguyen, who unwittingly becomes a creature of the night and a guinea pig for Patel, and Cantrell Ryker, a man who literally returns from the dead and is Lin Tang’s arch enemy.

Outnumbered and outgunned, with dissension in their ranks and a traitor in their midst, they’re willing to sacrifice themselves and all that they hold dear to destroy the vampire menace once and for all.

In the overwhelming tide of the new vision of vampires as acceptable, I want to make sure the old traditions remain. And, with the way society seems to be crumbling under this onslaught of new ideas, it might not be bad to look back and remember how it used to be done.

Why?

slight break from blogging over now

2011-09-27T12:18:00.000-07:00

Hi my fellow SiNners! I took a break family comes first and all I am also still in the process of moving But I have a few guests posts that id love to share with you and a few contests as well. Reviews will be posted in a couple of weeks so staytuned for that as well. And ive been reallly lazy and I have abuncgh of contest winners to announce and I will get to that as soon as I can I hope you enjoy the guest posts the excerpts and the give aways

Untill next time my lovely SiNners

Cowboy and the vampire interview and give away

2011-09-20T00:05:00.000-07:00

Joining us today from the pages of The Cowboy and the Vampire is Lenny, a survivalist and improvised weapons expert with some peculiar political views. He’s the long-time friend of Tucker and is now deeply involved in making weapons capable of dispatching the undead.

Hello Lenny, welcome. What did you bring with you today?

This? It’s a reverse surveillance tracker I made out of an old cassette recorder, a GPS unit and an electric toothbrush. I want to be able to monitor whoever it is monitoring this conversation to find out where they are broadcasting from.

Lenny, is fair to say you are a conspiracy theorist?

Not really, no. “Theorist” implies that it’s hypothetical. There’s nothing in doubt here. I prefer to think of myself as a conspiracy realist.

Can you describe a few of the plots you think are real?

You’d like that, wouldn’t you?

Pardon me?

I mean, you’re part of the mainstream media. You’re in on it. You have your role to play, keeping us distracted and uninformed, and you’re doing a great job by the way, but I know you’re in on it. You’re all in on it.

What is “it,” exactly?

Only the single largest transfer of wealth since the Civil War — which was manufactured, of course — and the resulting rise of the robber barons.

And the wealth is being transferred to … ?

You are really going to make me say it, aren’t you? Off planet. The wealth is going off planet. They need our gold to survive. Every few hundred years they run out. They can’t grow it on their home world. Think about it, gold used to be so plentiful here. The Aztecs used it like we use paper. Now it’s a “precious” metal. Hard to find. But it’s been incubating and it’s ready to harvest again. And Wall Street of course was created to concentrate wealth away from humans so they can use it to buy all the gold up again. It’s being loaded into space freighters as we speak and shuttled off the planet.

All right. How long have you had such arcane insider knowledge?

I was in the military for a while with deep clearance and I saw a lot of things, things that would blow your mind. Rowell, grassy knoll stuff. I worked in a top secret weapons research lab. Probably would still be there but I was exposed to some neurotoxins, low levels. It was an “accident.” Nothing to worry about, I felt fine, but they weren’t willing to risk it. I slipped away before they could lock me up in military prison. I moved as far off the grid as I could find: LonePine, Wyoming.

That’s how you know Tucker?

Yeah. We’ve known each other since the third grade. He’s a good guy. We lost touch when I was gone, but picked right up again when I came back. Sometimes we meet up at the firing range, other times he comes by the place and we have a beer. You know he’s dating a Vampire. That’s a little weird. I don’t see him as much during the day any more. Can’t say as I blame him, she’s a real looker — June, if you’re reading this don’t get all wound up, she’s nothing compared to you — but pretty high maintenance what with all the Vampires chasing after her. You know, I never would have guessed there was such a thing as Vampires before all this, but it makes sense.

How so?

Think about it. A powerful group of strong, ruthless, immortal creatures that feed on humans? No surprise they’ve been behind the scenes orchestrating events to their liking all these years. They’ve been called a lot of things: Illuminati, Secret Council, Star Chamber, Hall of Elders. It’s clear if you look at the history books, someone — something — has been shaping our progress. Something besides aliens, I mean. At least I know Vampires can be killed. I’m not so sure about aliens, not yet anyway.

What sorts of weapons have you been cooking up for Tucker?

Nothing too fancy. At first we didn’t know what would kill them. Wood? Fire? Holy water? Garlic? Some combination? We were kind of working blind. All we really knew for sure was that sun was terminal. We messed around with some different ideas, but in the end, the classics ruled the day. I sharpened up some dowels on the lathe and then seated them down in 12 gauge shells with a little copper sheath on their butts to keep them from splintering. You can just drop them down into a sawed off double-barrel. And then I made up some thermite grenades to scorch them. All that other stuff, the holy water and the garlic, that was all just worthless. I don’t think we’ve seen the last of them sons of bitches though so I’m working on some new ideas. A pneumatic crossbow with hardwood bolts. Single shot zip guns small enough to fit in your jacket pocket, but able to stick a number two pencil through a sheet of ply board from 15 feet. Imagine what that could do to a Vampire.

What’s the future looking like for you?

I’ve got a bad feeling. A worse feeling than usual. I’ve been spending a lot of time outfitting my fallout shelter. Stocking it up with lots of food, weapons and supplies. I’m kind of thinking about going underground for a little while, just until things calm down a little. I actually kind of like living underground. The radio waves can’t reach you. And June can work wonders with freeze dried eggs.

About the book:
The Cowboy and the Vampire brings together two iconic characters — cowboys and vampires — and crashes them together in a story about true love, culture clash and evil plans to take over the world. There’s also a healthy dose of laugh-out-loud humor, a rich portrayal of life in the modern West, a fresh new take on the Vampire myth and a truckload of improvised weapons.

Learn more:
http://www.cowboyandvampire.com/
www.facebook.com/cowboyandvampire

Twitter: @cowboyvamp

About our latest projects

We are hard at work on Blood and Whiskey, the first in a trilogy that picks up where The Cowboy and the Vampire ended. It will be out in early 2012.

In the meantime, check out the novella Red Winter, by Clark, edited by Kathleen, released exclusively as an e-book:

Summary of Red Winter: Sheriff Early Hardiman has seen a lot of bad things in his life, but nothing could have prepared him for the first Vampire to visit the Old West. It’s 1890 and winter is closing like a noose around tiny LonePine, Wyoming. Fans of The Cowboy and the Vampire know LonePine will see its share of Vampires 120 years later, but in 1890 the appearance of the fearsome Jericho Whistler — with an unquenchable thirst for blood and unwilling to die — created a new kind of terror.

Giveaway Details:Giveaways

include 1 signed first edition of the original publication from 1999 and

5 signed copies of the current paperback edition Open to US Shipping

Winners will be chosen from all of those who enter via the form,

leave comments at each tour stop for bonus entries you can also enter at each tour stop

Guest post about Location by Tanith Davenport

2011-09-15T22:02:00.000-07:00

Location, location, location

A question I’ve been asked several times, by both friends and industry professionals, is “Why did you decide to set it in America?”

It’s a fair question, since I live in Yorkshire and have never been to the USA (although I plan to rectify that later in the year with a trip to New York, where I intend to see all the sights, visit all the shops, and find out what a KFC pot pie tastes like). But The Hand He Dealt follows a sorority girl and a college football player, which meant an American setting. And no end of grief.

For one thing, writing a story set in another country involves more research, especially since my characters are university students. I had to wrap my head around the Greek system, the college credit system (I’m still not sure I fully grasped that), football scholarships, gambling laws and not drinking under the age of 21, even if none of the American students I knew remained abstinent that long.

At the same time, I had to keep the location suitably vague, because while I knew in my head where my campus was and which university I was using as a basis, I didn’t want to make any mistakes with street names and campus buildings – even if the fact that Astra works in a casino and studies gaming management does rather narrow it down.

And then there’s the issue of voice. A novel set in the US with an American protagonist can’t be written in an English voice, but at the same time I didn’t want to end up sounding like Dick van Dyke had stepped out of Mary Poppins and brought his fake American cousin. I spent long hours catching and correcting every incidence of “arse” and bemoaning the fact that so many of our more entertaining swear words were off limits.

The Hand He Dealt is my first novel set outside the UK, but won't be the last - where the next release will be set will remain to be seen!

Author Bio:

Tanith Davenport began writing at the age of sixteen as a way of utilizing her ability to drift into daydreams at any hour of the day or night. Her interests range between rock music and modern cinema to medieval literature and classical singing. She loves to travel and dreams of one day taking a driving tour of the United States, preferably in a classic 1950s pink Cadillac Eldorado.

“The Hand He Dealt” is Tanith’s debut novel and was released by Total-e-Bound Publishing on 13 June 2011.

http://www.tanithdavenport.blogspot.com/

The Last Rising by Rachel Firasek review

2011-09-15T01:52:00.000-07:00

CURSE OF THE PHOENIX - Book One

Title: The Last Rising

Author: Rachel Firasek

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Length: Novella

Release Date: September 2011

ePub ISBN: 978-1-937044-28-2

Mobi ISBN: 978-1-937044-29-9

http://www.entangledpublishing.com/the-last-rising/

Book Description:

After paying two millennia’s penance to Osiris, world-weary Phoenix Ice has had enough. Saving souls without any hope for her own redemption isn’t how she imagined spending eternity. Fed up, she decides her next death will be her last. But when she sacrifices her own life for a sexy Texan in a catastrophic plane crash, she has no idea the consequences will be so great…or that she’ll end up back in his life for her next assignment.

Now that Turner Alcott has survived the worst, finding a wife and mother for his son matters more than ever before. When the mysterious Ice comes into his life, Turner knows she’s the one—but love is the last thing Ice wants. If he wants to win her heart, Turner must teach Ice how to forgive herself, and prove that love is the ultimate sacrifice.

My Thoughts:

At first I wasnt sure I would like this book. The concept was awesome and the opening I was a little in the mind set oh another stranger meets book but then it just pulled me in. Gripped me and swept me up and never let go I didnt even want the book to end I have to say tho The Phoenix is one of my favorite mythical creatures they are so beautiful and teh story behind it with the penance really it is so fitting. Her love for Turner and Brodie and the girls really it was heart warming and beautiful this story seriously is awesome and it deff is one I would recomend to everyone while it is a fast read its well worth it. This book gets this SiNners Stamp of aproval two thumbs up

Guest Post By Rachel Firasek

2011-09-15T01:30:00.001-07:00

The Beauty is in the Death...

He reaches for her, wrapping his fingers around her shoulders and drawing her into his arms. “I’d die for you.”

STOP! REWIND!!! (Remember that movie back in the 80’s, Two of a Kind? This was my favorite part. STOP! REWIND!!!

Okay, my tangents over, back to the story. When you’re reading a powerful romance and someone says, “Don’t you know I’d die for you?” What do you as the reader think? Do you roll your eyes? (My reaction, unless it’s done right) Does your heart flutter a bit? (Only if Gerard Butler is saying it and he’s half naked like in the movie 300. Yum! )

But, what if the choice was taken from you? What if you were forced to die for someone else over and over again? And not only do you die constantly, but it’s for complete strangers that you’ve either never met, or only briefly met. Could you handle this? Would you love your duty as the death snatcher?

Do you love anyone enough to die for them? Could you?

In The Last Rising, I’ve taken a woman who’s tired of her life and completely at a loss of emotion and thrust her into a cycle of never ending death. She’s tired. Alone. I’ve completely broken her. The only salvation she has is that someday the god controlling her existence may let her have an eternal peace. A true death.

There is a beauty in dying, passing from this world to the next, but only if you are truly living. Live life so that the passing means something. Love like it’s your last day here on Earth. And spread the word that the pheonix lives forever inside the memories we leave behind.

~~Rachel Firasek, creator of memories…

How I Became a Killer Guest postand give away (The Arranger Tour)

2011-09-13T22:06:00.000-07:00

Please welcome Paul Madsen from L.J. Sellers Book The Arranger to the blog today!

Dear Readers

My name is Paul Madsen, the year is 2023, and I’m a software maintenance tech for the US federal government. I work in the new Personnel Department that was created after the massive cuts to government in 2017. I live alone with my dog, Lilly, I have dinner with my foster mother once a month, and I’m an active supporter of Transitions, a foundation that helps foster children who age out of the system. My life was simple, but lonely, until I was assigned the creation of the replacement database, a trove of information that proved irresistible to me.

Yet it wasn’t just access to the information that set me off in a completely new direction. It was the concomitant attention of a beautiful co-worker named Camille. She flirted with me and gave me a glimmer of hope. You really can’t blame me for falling for her. Any guy would. But I started to think I had a chance with her…if only I could make a few changes.

Those changes involved cosmetic surgery, a prohibitively expensive luxury for a federal tech guy. Improving my looks was something I always wanted but never thought I could afford. Then suddenly I had access to valuable information, and I realized I knew how to sell and manipulate that data. Camille gave me a strong motivation to make it happen. So I went for it.

The arrangements seemed harmless enough in the beginning. I picked employees who needed to be fired anyway, and I sold their jobs to someone who wanted the pay raise and the high-end med card. Sending the emails and meeting the targets for the cash drops were the most terrifying and exciting things I’ve ever done.

The cash bought me a new face: a nose job, a chin implant, and caps on my teeth. You should see me now. I don’t cringe when I look in the mirror any more. But there aren’t many mirrors in prison, so my new face won’t mean much if I get caught. For right now, I like the way I look and people notice me, but I’m not sure I like who’ve I’ve become.

I worry that I’m going to regret all of it. (Except the sex with Camille.) I never meant to hurt anyone. Along the way to getting what I wanted, I experienced some painful personal setbacks. I didn’t realize how much the grief had changed me until it was too late. I hope you’ll read my story and understand how I got here…and not hate me for it.

Sincerely, Paul

The Give Away

1 e-copy of the book

Rules

The Arranger about the author and the book

2011-09-13T17:14:00.000-07:00

The Arranger: A Futuristic Thriller by L.J. Sellers

The year is 2023 and ex-detective Lara Evans is working as a freelance paramedic in a bleak new world. She responds to an emergency call and is nearly killed when a shooter flees the home. Inside she finds the federal employment commissioner wounded, but she’s able to save his life.

The next day Lara leaves for the Gauntlet—a national competition of intense physical and mental challenges with high stakes for her home state. She spots the shooter lurking at the arena and soon after her contest roommate turns up dead. Who is the mysterious assailant and what is motivating him kill? Can Lara stop him, stay alive, and win the Gauntlet?

About The Author

L.J. Sellers is an award-winning journalist and the author of the bestselling Detective Jackson mystery/suspense series: The Sex Club, Secrets to Die For, Thrilled to Death, Passions of the Dead, and Dying for Justice. Her novels have been highly praised by Mystery Scene, Crimespree, and Spinetingler magazines, and the series is on Amazon Kindle’s bestselling police procedural list. L.J. also has two standalone thrillers: The Baby Thief and The Suicide Effect. When not plotting murders, she enjoys performing standup comedy, cycling, social networking, and attending mystery conferences. She’s also been known to jump out of airplanes.

Stay Tuned tomarrow for the guest post and give away

This Bird Flew Away guest post and give away

2011-09-12T22:02:00.000-07:00

Please welcome our special guest today Mary Connelly from This Bird Flew Away and the lovely Lynda Martin

Dear Beverly,

Okay – an interesting request. I’ve already done an interview with Jack, so this time I chose to write from Mary’s point of view. Hers is the unenviable position of trying to parent an uncontrollable girl – something many foster parents may have experienced. (I know I have.)

Thanks

Lynda

The Joy (?) of Parenting by Mary Connelly

The last chapter of This Bird Flew Away is mine. I got the last word – for once. It was 1986 and I had just enjoyed my fifty-third birthday, which would make me all of 78 today -- if I had been a real woman. That’s the great thing about being a character in a book; we live on in perpetuity at the last age you saw us. Anyway, if you read the book you know I sum it all up letting you know where everyone stands.

Which was only fair, as it really is my story in the first place. I was the one watching it all unfold, unable to do anything to make things as they should be, no matter how hard I tried.

For years, I despaired of ever having a family. After 20 years of marriage, my husband died, leaving me childless. Everyone knew how much I wanted children. I consoled myself by being the best Aunt I could to all the young Connelly’s, always ready to take them in, to listen to their troubles, give them an understanding ear, or even a place to get away. That’s how I befriended poor Jack, back when he was a lanky, ungainly boy, always under his father’s fist – at least in the old days, the drinking days. As he grew up, we became the best of friends.

So when Bria came into our lives, I easily fell into that role again. She needed someone so much. I’d watched the little girl from the time she was three, poor thing, born to a mother who hadn’t a lick of sense in her head. She was left with me time and again over the years, when she wasn’t with some aunt up in Canada, that is. Tore my heart up to see that sweet child passed round like an unwanted puppy.

Jack helped me, like the good friend he was. At first, it tickled me pink how that little girl took to him, the hulking, awkward young man wrapped round the finger of a chubby little girl with a mop of red curls. His dad made it all a big joke and laughed at him for it, but I thought it sweet.

Then she was gone for three years, and when she came back, I knew in an instant something was wrong. So of course, I sent Jack to find out what. I think that’s when it all started… No, I’m not going talk about that.

For a while, I thought I’d get to keep her this time. And when her baby sister, Tara, was born, she came into my arms right from birth.

Darn near killed me when that flighty woman, their mother, took them off, Bria not yet eleven and Tara still a baby. Jack said there was nothing we could do about it; I had no legal standing. Then, later, finding out about their unhappy lives, and Bria disappearing, it broke my heart.

If only they’d stayed with me then, none of it would have happened. Our lives would have been very different. But “would haves” or “could have beens” are cheap as beans. No point in dwelling on them.

By the time I had them safe at home again, I was faced with a very different Bria than the one I’d known. They warned me when I took her home, those social workers, that I’d be facing some tough times with her. Tara, they said, was still young enough to be more or less untouched, but Bria – she’d be a challenge.

Mine was not an easy role. I might have been the mother figure, but I was not the mother. I wasn’t even her legal guardian. Jack was; a fact she understood and never let me forget. Exactly why he did that, I couldn’t tell you. Ask him. At the time, all I cared about was getting her back and didn’t think about it. I should have.

Still, I did my best.

Some of you have written that I didn’t do a very good job. You might be right.

Still, in my defense, let me ask you one question. How many of you have been a foster mother to an abused teenage girl? Hands up.

Just as I thought. Not too many. So, apparently, most of you think it’s just like parenting your own kids. It isn’t.

A girl like Bria, forced to become self-reliant at an early age, who’d lost all trust in adults – well most of them. She always did trust Jack – and had learned to make her own decisions, not do as she was told, and with a stubborn streak a mile wide which I admit probably helped her survive, did not just settle down at the age of thirteen to return to a child-like state.

As far as Bria was concerned, one person and only one person had any say in what she did in her life and that was Bria. She’d sit and listen to me quietly and politely when I voiced my thoughts on what she was doing, but I might as well have been talking to a tree. Her mind was already made up and nothing I had to say was likely to change a thing.

The more I talked, the more closed off she would become. Her eyes grew inward looking, dull and with a “drop dead” expression to them. Her face hardened, set in a mulish way I learned to dread. Nothing I said reached her. I’d hear my own voice and think “Oh shut up, woman. What’s the point?” We fought. Oh yes, we went at each other like two alley cats, but I always stopped short of “laying down the law – or else.”

Why? Because I was afraid to go there. I knew that meant I’d lose her completely and although she didn’t know it, she needed me so much.

A child whose emotions have been so battered, who’s been traumatized like that doesn’t form the kind of attachments your own children do. They can walk away without a backward glance. And will. They don’t understand others’ feelings, being so wrapped in their own. It’s as if the people in such a child’s life exist only insofar as they affect that child.

It takes a special kind of love to raise a foster-child with that kind of history – so very one-sided. It’s not for everyone. All you can do is love them, stick around to pick up the pieces now and then and hope that time and maturity will heal them. At the best, you hope you will one day be friends.

So don’t come down on me and tell me what I should have done, not unless you’ve been there.

[The author, Lynda M Martin, fostered a number of troubled teenage girls, most of them survivors of terrible abuse.]

This book is a beautiful story one I recommend to everyone.
To follow the rest of the tour click HERE

Contest

1 lucky reader will win an

e-copy of the book.

Rules

leave ur email addy

The Equinox excerpt and give away

2011-09-10T02:57:00.000-07:00

Excerpt from: THE EQUINOX

Chapter 10 - Misery

***

“I can’t believe he’d be this irresponsible,” Olivia exclaimed.

John was now standing in the doorway to their son’s room. “What?”

Tap. Droplets of blood fell to the hardwood floor rhythmically from the two bandaged fingers on his right hand. The gauze was already soaked, sopping with claret, and every three or four seconds it released a fresh droplet. Tap.

He couldn’t hear the splash of blood: his focus was on his wife, who stared at him defiantly.

“Who are you talking to, Olivia?”

Tap.

“I specifically told him to clean up his room before he went out, John, and I have had enough of being ignored.” She stared right at her husband – but she didn’t see him.

Tap.

“Olivia.”

“You’ve got to talk to him, John. Set him straight.”

Tap.

“Olivia.”

“- tell him that he can’t cut corners –”

Tap.

“Olivia, Tommy is gone. We buried him two days ago,” John croaked.

But she kept going. “-like this. He’s been getting away with too much, John.”

Tap.

He moved forward and took her by the shoulders. His right hand left a bloody mark on the shoulder of her robe.

“He’s dead, Olivia! You were there! We buried him. Please stop this: I can’t do this alone.”

Tap.

She fell silent, his words finally breaking through, her face dawning with comprehension – and then she started to scream.

“Stop it!”

John drew up his hand, ready to slap her, an arc of blood spattering on the World Series Pennant that hung above Tommy’s computer desk.

Then she said something that stopped him.

“He came out of me,” she cried. “He always listened to you and loved you more, but he came out of me. I carried him all those months, Johnny. I loved him just as much as you, but he loved you more.”

John Parkins stood frozen, his eyes welling up with tears. Then he dropped his hand in shame and pulled her toward him.

“He loved you too, sweetheart. Every boy loves his mom.”

“I want my baby back, Johnny! I want him home!”

“He’s gone, Olivia. I’m sorry. It’s my fault! I should have taken the day off. It’s all my fault!” he cried. “He’d be alive right now if I had been a good father!”

“He came out of me, he was my baby and I want him back!”

They held each other in the emptiness of their son’s room, drowning in despair. Surrounded by the memories of what was taken from them, little league pictures, baseball trophies, and from all sides pictures of their smiling little boy. Gone forever.

The Give Away

1 copy of the book

epub, Kindle, pdf (readers choice).

Leave an email addy.

I will have the review up later today

Mj Preston cover love and awesomeness

2011-09-08T19:45:00.000-07:00

MJ Preston is considered by his neighbours to be a bit on the eccentric side. He never puts up Christmas lights, yet during Halloween his yard is adorned with, gravestones, severed limbs, chainsaw wielding maniacs and giant spiders.

An ardent fan of the horror genre, he has been writing since he was a kid. In his early 20's he wrote film reviews for his hometown paper and while serving in the military he penned articles for more than few military newspapers.

In 1999 he founded the newsgroup Canadian Veterans' Alliance which championed the rights of wounded soldiers. This caught the eye of politicians and news media which landed him on the CBC's talk show TALK TV with Anne Petre.

In late 2009 he decided to dust off a half-finished manuscript he started well over a decade before. Originally written on an Olivetti typewriter the manuscript titled: THE EQUINOX came to life and was published in July of 2011.

Along with writing MJ Preston is also an artist using the computer as his canvas and creating digital art that is.. You guessed it, somewhat on the macabre side. From floating mystical orbs, to hungry intestinal eating ghouls, MJ Preston wields the virtual paintbrush of a proverbial madman.

He states, "I like to look at the darker side of human nature, pick at the things that bother us and see what lies beneath the surface."

Living in Canada, MJ Preston is now working on his second novel and producing a graphic series he calls: The Fourth Horseman.

Like a demented child, he waits excitedly for October 31st.

His websites are: http://mjpreston.net http://mjpreston.ca

Links to MJ Prestons Websites-Blogs-Videography-Artwork

I just love this cover the reds it is one of my favorites..

MJ Preston – The Equinox

This site is dedicated to the novel the equinox and includes video, artwork and information about the novel. Included in this site is a pictorial called The Dark Gallery which holds a large cache of artwork created by MJ Preston during the writing of THE EQUINOX.

The Black Galleries

Featuring the dark artwork of MJ Preston and a blog known as the Sketchbook Memoirs

The Dark World of MJ Preston

A relatively new blog where MJ muses about his writing and the characters he writes about.

MJ Preston’s Youtube Channel

Videos created by MJ Preston that feature trailers for the Novel and animations and artwork relating to the book. All of the video found on the youtube channel can be accessed through MJ Preston – The Equinox

MJ Preston’s Facebook

MJ Preston on Twitter

Stay tuned tomarrow for a excerpt and give away of this book

Starcrossed: Back To The Books Giveaway Hop

2011-09-07T14:10:00.000-07:00

Starcrossed: Back To The Books Giveaway Hop: Back to the Book Giveaway Hop Hosted by I Am A Reader, Not A Writer & Buried in Books THE PRIZES For this giveaway, we will have two pr...

only a few hours left to enter

All I ever read is haveing a 100 follower give away

2011-09-05T18:29:00.000-07:00

Go check it out its a book ive been wanting to read

http://books.nicoleabouttown.com/2011/09/03/100-follower-giveaway/

congrats on the 100+ followers!

SpadesHighReads: GIVEAWAY: 800 FOLLOWERS CELEBRATION!! Rafflecopter...

2011-09-05T15:24:00.000-07:00

SpadesHighReads: GIVEAWAY: 800 FOLLOWERS CELEBRATION!! Rafflecopter...: Lets celebrate with a giveaway for hitting 800 Followers!! Yea? Woop Woop!! So, I'm celebrating my 800 followers by hosting a giveaway by h...

I love this blog!

Elemental Series: Back to the Books Giveaway Hop!

2011-09-04T15:28:00.000-07:00

Elemental Series: Back to the Books Giveaway Hop!: check it out dont forget to leave an email addy in the comments

Gift of Illusion Excerpt and give away

2011-08-30T23:17:00.000-07:00

Title: The Gift of Illusion

Author: Richard Brown

Paperback: 258 pages

Publisher: CreateSpace (May 16, 2011)
Language: English

ISBN-10: 1461147328

ISBN-13: 978-1461147329

Book Description:

Something wicked has returned to Elmwood, and it longs to continue the study it began over a century ago. It's looking for volunteers, but few seem worthy of the gift. Isaac Winters might be the one. He's a detective with a damaged past, and something to prove. Still haunted by his wife's murder sixteen years earlier, Isaac has thought more and more about turning in his badge. Over the years, he's seen the worst mankind has to offer. Until now. A strange fire has consumed the life of a young girl. But she won't be the last. There are no witnesses and no evidence except a small stone figurine, a gateway to the past. Accompanied by a partner with questionable experience, Isaac must discover and defeat this faceless villain before it takes from him the greatest reminder of his dead wife. Their daughter.

Excerpt from The Gift of Illusion

Prologue

__________

What was the worst day of your life?

Well.

Having trouble?

You're not alone. The average life can span over twenty-six thousand days, give or take, thus for most of us narrowing down one particular day as the absolute worst could be an exercise in the impossible.

Isaac Winters had an answer. No problem.

January 17th, 1995 was the day, the worst.

Isaac had stayed up late to finish another round of paperwork due the next morning. While his wife and daughter slept upstairs, the thirty-year-old police officer sat within a small office on the first floor, slouched over a stack of forms, barely able to remain productive. As he struggled to keep his attention on the documents, scribbling a note here, jotting a name there, Isaac drifted away. His head hit the thick stack of paper with a thump and then quickly sprung back up. He leaned back in the black swivel chair and flexed open his eyelids until the back of his head throbbed. The pain felt like his brains were being sucked out of his skull through a straw. He massaged his temples in a slow, clockwise motion. The comfort of his bed waiting above had summoned him, and after a long, difficult fight, he finally surrendered.

Isaac headed upstairs. First, he checked on his nine-month-old daughter, Amy, and then tiptoed into his bedroom, careful not to wake his wife. Linda Winters slept on her right side with her hands snuggled between her cheek and pillow. She was wearing a white silk nightgown Isaac had given her the previous night.

“Do you like it?” he had asked, after she had torn off the red bow and beheaded the gift box.

Linda had smiled and then said exactly what he had hoped she would say.

Nothing.

Then they’d made love for the last time.

Before lying down, Isaac peered out a small window above his nightstand. A large, naked oak tree on the side of the house shook and parted with a few small branches. The wind had picked up over the last hour and showed no sign of calming any time soon. A distant thunder hummed as a sudden flash of lightning brightened the room.

The storm was approaching fast, and soon Isaac would be kneeling in the middle of it. But it wasn’t until he leaned back and closed his eyes that he heard the shatter of glass, followed by the baby crying.

Eyes open.

A sudden unease swept through him and rushed outward to his appendages like a legion of tunneling worms. His fingers and toes itched as the worms struck his skin like a collection of jabbing needles. The temperature in the room seemed to drop by innumerable degrees, spawning a crawl of small bumps across his body.

He sat up. Still. Hesitant.

2

Why the hesitation?

It wasn’t a familiar feeling, not for him, not in his line of work. It wasn’t accepted. The ability to think fast and act sharp was crucial for anyone in law enforcement. Still he hesitated, if for not more than a few seconds, while the cold sweat gathering on his brow thickened.

He hurried out of bed and removed a loaded nine millimeter from the bedside drawer. Then he woke his wife and told her to lock the bedroom door, call 911, and stay quiet until he returned. Linda didn’t bother to ask why; the gun in her husband’s hand was all the answer she needed. She did as he ordered and locked the door after he left the bedroom.

The baby’s cries increased.

Isaac inched through the dark upstairs hall, holding the gun out in front of him with his right index finger cradling the trigger. As he came to the staircase on the left, he pressed his back against the inner wall and sidestepped the remaining distance. Then he rolled from behind the corner and pointed the black firearm down the length of stairs.

Clear.

With the stairs behind him, he opened the door to Amy’s room and hurried over to the crib. She appeared to be fine, like him, she had just woken suddenly. He twisted the knob on the mobile suspended over the crib then listened as Brahms Lullaby chimed and the small stuffed giraffe, elephant, and tiger slowly revolved counterclockwise.

Amy quieted.

Lay thee down now and rest, may thy slumber be blessed.

He turned the small screw lock from inside the door before shutting it. Then he walked back to the center of the hall and crept down the old wooden staircase. A subtle peeling sound, like tape being removed very slowly, came with each lift of his bare feet from the hardwood. When he reached the second stair from the bottom, he saw a giant shadow dance across the opposing wall of the living room. The shadow stopped for a brief moment and then smoothed into the darkness.

His hands were now sweating and the gun felt slick and heavy. He turned left from the bottom step and saw the broken window in the dining room up ahead. Many large fragments of glass lay on the dark brown carpet beneath the windowsill. The white curtains over the window shuddered with the force of the gusting wind. Outside, lightning struck, and a heavy rain began battering against the roof.

As he stepped past the stairs, his eyes still focused on the broken window, Isaac heard a slight click sound come from the left of him. He knew the sound. It was the sound of a hammer being cocked back, a cylinder rotating.

He twisted to his left and pointed the 9mm into the dark crawl space behind the stairs. He didn’t move or blink, nor did he breathe. His index finger quivered on the cold, oily trigger of the gun.

What are you waiting for?

Before he could act, a brilliant flash of light robbed his sight, and an enormous wave of pressure (like the force of two storms colliding) pulsated through his body. Falling backward, he heard nothing, not rain, nor thunder, just silence—peaceful and undisturbed.

Upon hitting the floor, a sharp pain clambered up the ladder of Isaac’s

3

spine to his left shoulder. Without thought, he sealed a hand over the broken skin. Seconds later, two large boots walked into his sight, and when he looked up, he saw the .38 caliber revolver pointed at his head. Lying on his back, Isaac could see directly up the silver barrel; it seemed a mile wide and many oceans deep.

Apparently satisfied, the intruder pulled the revolver away and turned toward the staircase. On the stairs, his soppy boots thumped and whined against the wood.

Isaac got to his feet, saw the black pistol lying on the floor a few feet behind him, and staggered over to pick it up. Then he walked to the staircase, leaned on the handrail, and applied more pressure to his left shoulder. At the top of the stairs, the dark intruder looked both directions down the hall, and then turned right.

He’s heading for my bedroom, for Linda!

Isaac hobbled up the stairs, gripping the wooden handrail. From above, he could hear banging on the bedroom door and his wife desperately crying out.

Isaac! Isaac! Help!

Hearing her scream only made him try harder to push his bleeding body up the stairs.

When he finally reached the upstairs hall, the banging had stopped, along with Linda’s cries. All he could hear now was the final verse of Brahms Lullaby concluding.

Guardian angels are near, so sleep on, with no fear.

The bedroom door was wide open, the broken handle hanging loosely from the wooden frame. Muffled sounds escaped from the room.

He was almost upon the open doorway when he heard the bedsprings quake, followed by the terrifying shriek of his wife. The scream felt like it had been amplified two hundred times before it reached Isaac’s ears. Then the gun went off.

But it wasn’t his.

Isaac trembled as the gun fired one, two, three, four times, and with each shot, he felt the wound within his chest ache and wrench as though a hand was burrowing inside the round, bloody hole one stiff finger at a time. Once inside, the hand formed a fist around his heart, and squeezed.

Amy began crying again from down the hall. The lullaby had finished on an off note, overpowered by the passionate swell of gunfire.

When the intruder came through the broken door, his face spotted with blood, Isaac was waiting for him. “Drop the gun!” he yelled.

The intruder was noticeably startled by Isaac’s presence in the hall. He had expected Isaac to be dead. He had the .38 caliber revolver lowered at his side, one bullet left in the cylinder.

"I said drop it!”

"I can't. I still have work to do."

Isaac clutched the 9mm tighter and took a deep breath. Tears ran down his face, though he didn’t even realize it. “What have you done?”

“I think you know,” said the intruder. His voice was flat and emotionless. “Don’t you?”

Isaac drew in another deep breath. “Why?”

“You ruined my life. Now I've ruined yours."

4

In the background, nine-month-old Amy continued to cry and cry. She wanted her mother.

The intruder sneered. "Only one thing left to do."

Isaac agreed. He pulled the trigger and fired a bullet into the chest of his wife’s murderer. Then he fired two more. The blaring sound reverberated across the upstairs hall.

The gunman staggered and then fell backward to the hardwood floor, convulsing violently, blood draining from the multiple holes in his chest.

Once he was sure the intruder was dead, Isaac began limping toward the bedroom, smearing blood against the wall as he extended his left hand outward for support. He dropped the pistol in the doorway and looked over at his wife’s body sprawled across the bed. Linda’s arms lay against the headboard, elbows bent, palms up. Her right leg dangled halfway off the bed and her head faced the small square window.

Isaac carefully stepped over the broken door and closer to his wife. He grabbed her hand and touched her cheek, trying not to look at the expanding red holes in her white nightgown. Linda’s green eyes stared toward the window, vacuous and inactive. Her mouth hung open, poised for a scream that would never surface. Somewhere in his mind, deep within some nightmare of contemptuous, eternal memory, Isaac could still hear her final scream echo, and the deafening blast of emptying shells.

He knelt next to his dead wife, bowed his face in the messed sheets, and wept. Without looking up, he reached for Linda’s hand, still warm, and squeezed it in his own. Minutes later, he heard the droning of police sirens over the thundering rain. He slowly sat up, released his hand from his dead wife’s, and whispered, “I’m so sorry, honey.”

He left the bedroom, stepped over the fractured man lying in a blood puddle in the hall, and hobbled down the stairs. He thought of going back up and getting his daughter, who was now fast asleep, but he lacked the strength needed to break down the locked door. He was closer to death than he realized, yet not as close as he would have preferred.

He fell to his knees in the middle of the front yard with his hand still pressed tight against his heart. A punishing rain drummed down on him, cleansed the blood and tears, but the pain remained. The bullet buried in his chest—he hardly felt it. The true source of pain lay far beyond the physical, eating away at his conscience.

How could I let this happen? How?

Three police cruisers pulled up at the side of the house. One officer hurried over to him and asked, “What happened?”

At first, Isaac couldn’t speak. Then he began sobbing. “Linda. Oh God! Linda.”

5

Chapter One

__________

1

Lori Ackerman heard her mother calling her name.

She chose not to answer.

It didn’t make her proud. Disobeying her mother was not something she wanted to do, but she had no other choice. She couldn’t take it anymore. The constant teasing and taunting by her schoolmates became harder by the day, and the ride on bus number 254 every morning and afternoon was by far the worst. Sometimes she wished she could just disappear.

While her mother stormed up the stairs angry as all hell, Lori tried to think of an excuse—one better than all the others. She could fake a cough, say her tummy hurts, but mom wouldn’t believe it. She never did.

What else was there? The truth?

Carol entered her daughter’s room with all the force of a tornado.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Lori stood in the corner of the bedroom looking out the window, watching bus number 254 slowly accelerate down Maria Avenue. A thick fog of gray exhaust expired from the tailpipe as the bus rolled along the street, further away. She could see faces through the plastic windows. Some were faces she knew, some were faces she had dealt with, or could deal with, and some were faces that dealt with her. None of them mattered though, not anymore. Poof! Just like the wind, gone.

“What’s your problem?” her mother continued. “I’m really tired of this.”

“I don’t wanna go to school,” Lori said, not turning from the window. Her eyes were still fixed on the road, the now empty road, and the last breath of exhaust drifting upward from where the bus had passed.

Carol stepped further into the room. “I don’t remember giving you a choice.”

Lori could feel the tears swelling in her eyes again. “You don’t understand,” she said, her voice cracking, the words muffled by her sobs.

“There’s nothing to understand, Lori.”

Lori turned from the window. She was slightly pudgy for an eleven-year-old (an ugly fat ass as the school kids would say), though she had quite a cute round face and long blond hair with glowing strands of natural orange.

“You’re not there. I am!” she yelled. “You don’t go to school. You don’t get told everyday of your life how stupid you are, or how ugly you are. You have friends.”

“You have friends, too. What happened to Jennifer Wells?”

“Jennifer doesn’t like me anymore,” Lori said. “She started hanging out with these other kids and now she doesn’t have any time for me. Last Wednesday on the bus she said she couldn’t be my friend anymore.”

“I’ll have a talk with her mother.”

“No!” Lori screamed. “Don’t embarrass me, mom. I don’t care. If she doesn’t like me then I don’t like her either.”

6

“Well, I don’t know what you want me to do.”

Lori dropped to her knees and clasped her hands together.

“Mom, please! Just this once, I promise. Please don’t make me go to school.”

She looked up at her mother and waited for a response. She feared the worst and felt it coming. What else could she do? She told the truth, wasn’t that enough?

Carol stepped closer and stared down into her daughter’s eyes. The tears had ceased but the aftermath of the storm left big red circles around Lori’s eyes and streaks of dried tears plunging down her chubby cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Lori,” she said. “But you have to go to school.”

Lori fell to the floor and shielded her face with her hands.

“Now hurry and grab your book bag and meet me down at the car.”

2

Lori crept out the front door and walked down the steps toward the blue Ford Escort with all the energy of a corpse. Her book bag dragged her down with the weight of a half dozen textbooks and folders. She glanced up from the cement walkway and saw her mother sitting in the driver’s seat looking back at her. When she got into the car, she threw her book bag down on the floor and slammed the car door shut. It was the first time she had ever done that; her mother didn’t seem to notice though, or had pretended to not.

Carol started up the car and backed out of the driveway on to Maria Avenue.

It took anywhere from five to ten minutes by car to get to the school, depending on the traffic. The Ackerman’s lived on the corner of Maria and Mockingbird. If you turned left on Maria Avenue and followed it down you would shortly run into a four-way intersection where Maria meets Fairway Blvd. If you continued down Maria past the light, you would eventually end up in the boonies, lots and lots of nothing but deserted land—fields and forests. If you turned right on Fairway, you would pass right through the center of town. The used car lot where Lori’s father worked six days a week, Monday thru Saturday, sat right on the edge of town next to a mechanics shop, and given the record of Frank’s Economy Cars, the relationship was quite convenient. If some customer came in bitching about the transmission falling out of the car you sold them last week, you’d know right where to point them.

What did you expect for a grand, lady? A Mercedes? Sorry, but as the old saying goes, you get what you pay for, and you paid for that piece of shit.

The Escort rolled up to a red light. Lori looked out the passenger window at a small park on the corner of Maria Avenue. She enjoyed going there and getting lost in her dreams, though she didn’t get to go often, her mother was usually too busy to take her and would never approve of Lori going by herself, not with the park so close to a major road. Still, seeing the park always brought a smile to her face.

The public library was four blocks down on the right. Carol volunteered a few days a week. She sponsored special events like book readings for children or guest speakers that kept her busy planning. Last Friday, the

7

Mayor came and talked to a group of first graders about the importance of reading. They seemed lost, but at least he read a book to them. Elmwood Middle School, for grades fifth - eighth, was just a few blocks past the library. Lori was halfway through the fifth grade.

When they reached the school, Carol drove around the circled lot in front of the main office and pulled up behind a row of SUV’s parked at the curb. She put the car in park and picked up her purse from between the seats.

“What are you doing?”

“You need lunch money, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay then,” Carol said, handing her daughter a couple of balled up dollar bills. “Now you’d better go. You're already late.”

“Are you gonna pick me up from school?”

Carol sighed. “We’re not going to make a habit of this, okay? I gave you a ride to school. You can ride the bus home.”

Lori beat her fists down on her knees in frustration, bowed her head, and then quickly perked up as an idea came awake inside her. “Hey, what about Dad?”

“He’ll probably have to work late.”

“Mom,” Lori whined, as the idea went back to sleep.

“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to take the bus home. I’ll be at the library for most of the afternoon, so Mrs. Mills will watch you next door. ”

“Fine,” Lori pouted.

She opened the car door, jumped out, slung her book bag over her shoulder, and, for the second time, slammed the door shut.

3

When the final bell rang, it was like music to her ears.

Three o’clock finally came.

Even though it was a relatively good day in comparison to recent ones, the hardest part was still to come. She still had to survive the fifteen-minute bus ride home on number 254, and nasty Tommy Williams.

Lori had managed to stay away from Jennifer Wells all day in class, and even though Jennifer rode the same bus, Lori did not expect any trouble from her. Jennifer didn’t hate her after all; she just didn’t want to be friends anymore. But Tommy Williams was a different case all together.

Tommy was a typical bully, tall and overweight for his age, with small eyes and tubby, flushed cheeks. He was a walking wall with an obscene mouth; no word or combination of words was off limits. He would say whatever whenever to whomever, and while most of the other kids didn’t like Tommy either, Lori had to hate him the most. Occasionally, he would sneak up behind her on the bus and plant fresh boogers in her hair. He was a gardener of the gross. Though, thankfully, this came as a rare occurrence, as the urge to eat the crusty nose candy was usually much stronger than the urge to share. Needless to say, these actions and numerous others didn’t win him many friends, but Tommy didn’t care what any of the other kids thought of him anyway, his only goal was to beat up on the smaller kids. He especially liked to pick on girls, and Lori was probably his favorite.

8

Lori walked down the hall toward the bus loop with her books upon her back and a large sheet of tan construction paper in her hands. Today, Mrs. Lawson (her fifth grade art teacher) had the class working with acrylic paints. Lori painted a portrait of her family gathered together at the park with their arms around each other, smiling. She put a big yellow sun in the background beyond a few skinny green trees. Her teacher thought she had done an exceptional job. Lori was proud, too, and couldn’t wait to show her mom and dad.

When she reached the bus loop, Lori headed down the sidewalk reading the large white numbers on the side of each bus looking for number 254. About six buses were lined up in a row. Number 254 was fourth in line.

Mr. Davis drove number 254. This was his first year and the kids (all twenty-five of them) made him feel at home real quick. He was a single man, only twenty-nine years old, and wasn’t used to being around large numbers of children. He tried for the most part to ignore the rats and just pay attention to the road, but that could be difficult sometimes, especially with devils like Tommy Williams running up and down the aisle cursing and throwing things at the other kids, at him.

Lori stepped on to the bus and rounded the corner. Six kids were already on when she sat down, including Jennifer Wells, who was talking with the popular kids that in just days had become Lori’s replacements. It made her sad to think that their friendship was over. They had been best friends since they were five. They used to play all the time at the park when her mom would take them. Never again. Image has a hunger for tearing people apart, and makes no apologies for its ruthless appetite.

Speaking of appetite, here comes Tommy Williams.

Lori grasped her portrait tighter and held it down between her knees. Mr. Davis pulled on the lever and opened the bus door. Tommy climbed on and ran to the back of the bus, passing Lori along the way, and sat down next to Peepee.

Peepee was Tommy’s best friend, but everyone always said that Peepee only hung around Tommy because he was afraid of being beaten up. Peepee would never admit to this, for obvious reasons (like not wanting his teeth knocked into the back of his throat), but it was what everyone thought.

Joseph Milburn was actually his real name, a fine, respectable name, but Peepee quickly became his nickname after the first chain of uncontrollable bladder incidents two Christmas’s past. Jolly with joy, was Jerry, the seventy-two-year-old school janitor ever busy during that holiday season.

Peepee was short and skinny, smaller than the average twelve-year-old. His freckled face and dressy clothes made him an ideal target, a born nerd. Tommy only took to Peepee after he realized he could get something out of the relationship. If Tommy wanted to play a prank on somebody, he would almost always get Peepee to do the dirty work.

Peepee, I dare ya to lift Molly’s dress. I dare ya to spit in Davies mashed potatoes. I dare ya to piss under the table. Come on. What are you afraid of, shithead?

Zip.

Janitor Jerry, bring a mop to the cafeteria, and no stalling, old man.

Bus number 254 pulled out of the school parking lot and turned left on Fairway Blvd. Lori had escaped riding the bus to school, but the ride home

9

was always the worst. On the ride up only one stop lay between her house and the school, but on the way home the bus would take the opposite route, leaving seven stops ahead of hers. Unfortunately, Tommy’s was the ninth.

The bus approached the first stop. Six kids got off.

Lori couldn’t help but think that as the bus slowly cleared of kids, she would be more likely to be noticed by Tommy.

With the second and third stops now in the past, the atmosphere on the bus shifted. Twelve kids had exited into the bowels of homework leaving the bus half full and half quiet, and even though Tommy was still loud and seemingly unaware, Lori slouched down in her seat just a little more.

The ride home was halfway over. The next two stops would dispose of another four kids leaving just nine remaining for the last four stops. Among those nine: Jennifer Wells, Peepee, and Tommy Williams.

When the bus reached number six, Lori felt her heart take cover in her stomach. Number six was, of course, Peepee's stop, which meant the end of Tommy’s preoccupation and the beginning of boredom, and Tommy didn’t like to be bored. With Peepee gone, and the bus now quiet, God only knows what Tommy could be up to. Lori wasn’t about to turn her back to check though, she had gone unnoticed this long, no point in ruining it by doing something stupid so late in the game.

Fate would have it another way.

Just seconds after the bus pulled away from stop six, Lori heard scuffling in the seat behind her. She hadn’t dared to look back but assumed the seat was empty for some time now. Her fear of Tommy had become so acute she could almost smell him.

Was that his breath upon her neck?

The very thought made her skin crawl. Perhaps it was all just her imagination getting the best of her.

Sure, just her imagination.

Lori tried to take a deep breath, but before she could completely expel the air from her lungs, someone tugged on her hair from behind. She jerked her head up and turned around. Tommy laughed and pointed his fat finger in her face.

“Leave me alone, Tommy.”

A crowd began to gather around wondering what was so funny. Mr. Davis looked in the rear view mirror and shook his head.

“What’s the matter?” Tommy asked. “You didn’t think that was funny?”

“No, now leave me alone!”

Lori turned back around.

The bus came to a stop at number seven and much of the crowd dismantled. Jennifer Wells also left and gave a short glance back at Lori through the bus window before disappearing into her house.

Lori tried desperately to ignore Tommy who was now flicking her ear lobes and slapping the back of her head. Her stop was next, and she counted the seconds.

Tommy sat up, done with the flick and slap fest, and peered over her shoulder. “Hey, what’s that?” he asked, pointing at the painting Lori had made in class.

“None of your business.”

10

“C’mon, lemme see it.”

“No, Tommy,” Lori said, tightening her grasp on the portrait.

The bus turned on to Maria Avenue.

“Fine,” Tommy yelled. “I’ll just take it then!”

As the words left his mouth, the paper left Lori’s hands. Well, all of it but a tiny scrap from the corner. Now only half of the bright yellow sun lay between her fingertips.

Lori turned around and screamed, “Give it back, Tommy! Give it back!”

Tommy waved the painting around in the air, out of her reach.

“Awe, what do we have here?” he remarked in a childish voice. “Is that your Mommy and Daddy?”

Lori continued to scream at him, but it wasn’t doing any good.

“Oh, and look,” he continued, pointing to the picture Lori drew of herself. “Is that the family pet?”

“Please, Tommy,” she begged. “Give it back!”

The bus slowed down at the corner of Maria and Mockingbird. Stop number eight had finally come.

“Okay,” Tommy said. “I’ll give it back.” The fat kid ripped the construction paper into five pieces and threw it in her face.

Lori rushed to pick up the pieces that fell on the seat. Although she tried to fight them off, the tears came.

“Oh, what’s wrong?” Tommy asked, laughing. “Got something in your eye?”

“Shut up!” Lori screamed.

She grabbed her book bag and ran off the bus with a stream of tears running down her face and the last remains of her family portrait folded in her trembling hands. The last thing she heard before the door of the bus closed was Tommy’s laughter; it stayed with her even after the bus was long out of sight.

She stood on the sidewalk at the corner of Maria and Mockingbird and stared at her house. The driveway was empty. Her mom and dad weren’t home yet.

She wiped the tears from her eyes with her shirtsleeve and flipped through the torn pieces of her painting. How could something she had worked so hard to create be destroyed so easily? Her mom and dad would never get to see what she had made. No reason to be proud. Sure, she could tape it up and still give it to them, but the feeling wouldn’t be the same. Something died with that painting, something irreplaceable.

4

The sky darkened.

A sprinkle of rain fell.

Thunder.

Lori dropped the torn pieces of construction paper on the sidewalk and walked down Maria Avenue toward Fairway. Along the way she thought about how mad her parents would be if they knew where she was going. On the days her mother volunteered at the library, Lori would stay with Mrs. Mills next door until her mother came home.

Not this time, Lori thought.

11

She didn’t care anymore about the consequences. Any punishment her parents could dish out would never make her feel sorry for it.

By the time she reached the small park at the corner of Fairway, the light rain had stopped completely, or had perhaps decided not to follow her down the street. Florida could be like that sometimes, raining on your neighbor’s lawn but not yours. It was one of the strangest things to witness if you happened to be around at just the right moment.

The traffic was heavy down Fairway. Rush hour approached as hundreds of eager people retreated from their job life back to their home life. This was the time of day that was the most dangerous to play near the road. Lori knew her parents would be furious if they caught her, and in an odd way, it made her smile. Negative attention is better than no attention after all, and she had been getting a lot of the latter lately.

The park was a half-acre in size, though most of the land was just thin flat grass. There was, however, a small slide, two cement barrels, a set of monkey bars, and every young girl’s favorite, a swing set.

Lori sat down on the only usable swing. The other swing had been wrapped over the top bar numerous times and dangled from a single chain like a dead man hanging from a noose, rocking back and forth. The neighborhood boys had obviously manhandled the swing. Young boys always seemed to have a unique fascination with destroying things. It didn’t matter what, whatever was in sight, and if nothing were around, they would usually turn on each other.

She swung back and forth on the swing and watched the cars idle by on the road honking their horns at each other, letting out some of the balled up frustration from another lousy day at work. It felt good to run away from her troubles and let the wind fly wildly through her hair.

After a few minutes, she built up enough speed and height to attempt her first jump. Her mother would never let her jump, she said it was too dangerous, and oftentimes told a story of some kid who used to live in the area that had supposedly died years ago from jumping off a swing. Poor boy had broken his neck, the story went, or cracked his skull, or something of the sort. The story changed slightly with each telling, reworded, much like a preacher might inscribe new meaning into the Bible to better convert a new age of skeptics. She often wondered if there was a book, or volume of books, all parents were required to read filled with these little horror stories; stories likely compiled by many scared parents in an effort to scare other parents from allowing their kids to be kids. If so, the scare tactics weren’t working, not at all, and Lori would sneak a jump in when her mother’s back was turned.

See, mom, I’ve never broken my neck. I’ve never cracked my skull. I’ve never even broken a bone, so there! I’m not going to die either—nope, no way I say. I’m going to live forever and ever and ever.

Two conditions made for a successful jump: length and landing. Length was most important though, the farther the jump the better. No honest judge ever deducted points for a twelve-foot fall on your ass. In fact, falling could be fun sometimes, all the other kids had a good laugh, and except for the unfortunate scrape here and there, you would most likely be laughing too.

Lori swung a few more times for good measure then pulled back on the

12

chains and leapt off the swing. When she landed, her feet slid into the sand causing her to lose her balance and fall backwards. She laughed, stood up, and brushed the sand off her jeans.

If only mom could have been here to see it.

She walked back over to the swing, counting the steps along the way. She had jumped about eight feet off the swing, not bad, one of her better jumps, especially considering she had almost landed on her feet.

Now it was time for a second jump, time to achieve her best jump ever.

5

Over an hour had passed since Lori stepped off the bus. She knew it was probably about time to head back, her mother would be finishing up at the library, but there was just enough time left for one final jump.

For this jump, she spent extra energy building up plenty of height and speed, and by the time she let go of the chains, she was already out of control.

In the mid air plunge, her body drifted forward and to the right causing her to land face first in the grass at the edge of the swing set. A rush of pain hit her all at once, but surprisingly, her head didn’t hurt. She had managed to block most of the impact with her hands, but her right knee hurt a little.

She turned over and sat up to look at her knee. There was a ragged cut in her jeans about an inch long on the top of the kneecap. A little blood began to trickle through. Then she cried like every young kid does when they find out they’re bleeding.

Lori stood up and looked around the ground searching for what had cut her. A gray object stuck out of the sand near the edge of the grass. She picked it up and wiped away the yellow specs from the cracks.

The object looked like a miniature statue, a figure of someone carved out of dark stone about three inches tall. A large cloak draped over the body from the head to what was left of the feet. The hidden figure's arms were perched out in front of it with its palms facing upward, as though it were carrying something invisible.

Once she had all the sand brushed away, Lori had stopped crying completely. She forgot about her knee and the pain and gazed madly at the odd figure lying in her hands. Her eyes were transfixed upon it. One could easily begin to believe she, too, had turned to stone. From somewhere far off in the distance, she heard a voice. A voice she thought she recognized, screaming her name, begging her to come back home.

6

“Lori!” Carol yelled. “Answer me! What is the matter with you? You know you’re not allowed to go to the park alone!”

She stopped yelling for a moment and just stared in bewilderment at her daughter. For a brief second, she could see right through her, as though Lori had disappeared.

When she blinked her eyes, her daughter returned.

7

13

Lori couldn’t feel her mother pulling her to the car, or her legs dragging loosely upon the ground. She could see everything around her, the grass at her feet, the cars at the light, the rainbow in the sky, but felt as though she were just a visitor in someone else’s body.

8

Carol opened the passenger door for Lori and then headed around to start the car. The time for yelling was over. Her normally perfect little girl’s recent actions had her at a loss for words. She turned into the driveway and parked the car, leaving just enough room so James could squeeze by into the garage. She didn’t have to tell her daughter to go to her room, Lori went on her own.

Carol walked down to the mailbox at the corner of the driveway and shuffled through an array of junk mail and bills. When finished, she closed the mailbox and headed inside the house. She placed the mail on the kitchen counter and walked over to the phone on the wall. She dialed the number to the used car lot where her husband, James, was working. The clock on the microwave said it was almost 5:00 p.m.

“Economy Cars. Don speaking.”

“Hi, Don. Is my husband around?”

“I’ll go check. Hold on.”

Fifteen seconds later.

“Ugh, Carol, he’s with a customer right now. Is it an emergency?”

“Not really. But can you tell him to call me when he gets a chance?”

“I sure can.”

“Okay, thanks Don.”

An hour passed before the phone finally rang.

“When do you think you’re gonna get home?” she asked, disgusted. “I need to get dinner ready.”

“I know,” James said. “But it’s really busy right now and we’re kind of short on help tonight.”

“What do you mean short on help?”

“I mean it’s just me and two other salesmen working the lot, and one of them is new. I’m in the middle of training him right now.”

“Are you telling me that idiot Frank didn’t schedule a full load for the sale?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m telling you.”

“I can’t believe that.”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line.

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You sure?”

“Well…”

“What happened?”

“It’s Lori. She’s been acting up. I don’t know what her problem is.”

“What did she do?”

“I’ll explain when you get home.”

“I’ll try and get out of here as fast as I can. But I can’t promise

14

anything.”

“Okay.”

“Then I’ll see you when I get home.”

Carol hung up the phone and walked into the living room. She glanced up the stairs at Lori’s bedroom and wondered what could be going on with her daughter. What happened to the polite girl who made good grades in school, the girl who couldn’t go to sleep at night without being tucked in first?

9

James Ackerman arrived home from work over two hours after his conversation with his wife. Carol sat on the living room sofa reading a new rousing romance novel when he emerged from the front door.

“Sorry, honey, but you know how these things go,” he said, hurrying into the kitchen.

Carol kept her face buried in the thin paperback and acted like she hadn’t noticed her husband’s sudden arrival.

“I guess I’m a little late for dinner, huh?” He waited for a response from his wife. Hearing none, he headed into the living room. “Honey.”

“A little,” Carol said, not shifting her eyes from the romance. “Actually, there was no dinner.”

“What do you mean? Didn’t you cook tonight?”

Carol finally set the book down and looked up at her husband leaning one arm against the crook of the kitchen doorway.

“What’s the point? My husband wasn’t around to eat and my daughter decided to go without food tonight.”

“Okay, what’s wrong with Lori?”

Carol left the sofa and walked toward James. “I don’t know. But she’s been acting pretty strange lately.”

“Does this have something to do with school?”

“Somewhat.”

“Okay, what?”

“Well, let’s see. For starters, I had to drive her to school today.”

James walked back into the kitchen and opened up the refrigerator.

“Why? What’s wrong with the bus?” he asked, pouring a glass of iced tea.

“Nothing as far as I know. This morning she purposely took forever getting ready so that she would miss the bus.”

James squinted as he sucked back some very sweet tea.

“She's having problems with her friends.”

“Really?”

“That's what she said. She cried, James. She got down on her knees and cried. She begged me not to make her go.”

James shrugged his shoulders and stepped out of the kitchen. “Well, she’s cried before when she didn’t get her way.”

“I’ve never seen her cry like this. Something’s wrong with her."

James sat down on the couch. “I'll have a talk with her tomorrow."

“Well, there's something else," Carol continued. "On the way home I caught her at the corner of Fairway at the park.”

15

“She was at the park by herself? Where was Mrs. Mills?”

“I don’t think Lori ever went next door. I haven’t talked to Brenda yet about it either. But the fact that she was at the park by herself isn’t what’s worrying me. It’s the way she acted when I found her. She never said a word, even though it felt like she wanted to. Do you understand?”

James shook his head. "No."

“You should have seen her. Her face was pale white. Her eyes were so glossy you would have thought they’d turned to glass. At one point, I stopped yelling and just stared at her. And she just stared back, with her mouth open, like she didn’t remember who I was.”

10

Carol lay in bed with her eyes open. She turned and looked over at the illuminated alarm clock sitting on the nightstand.

It was almost midnight.

For at least an hour, she tried to clear her thoughts, tried not to worry about her daughter. But right as she would fall asleep, a horrible vision would pop into her head—visions of disease, some even of death. Afterward, her heart would race, her lungs would tighten, and her eyes would be open again.

Fifteen minutes had passed before Carol finally decided to close her eyes again, and that’s when she heard the footsteps in the hallway.

She sat up in bed and listened.

The footsteps moved closer.

The hallway light now shined from underneath the door.

Carol looked over at James sleeping soundly beside her and wondered whether to wake him, but before she could finish pondering, the bedroom door cracked open and her daughter emerged in the light.

“Lori,” Carol whispered. “What are you still doing up? You should be in bed.”

“I can’t get to sleep,” Lori said softly.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Can you come tuck me in?”

“Oh, sure, honey,” she said, swinging her legs off the bed. It had been weeks since she had last tucked her daughter in. She missed it.

James woke, rolled over, and asked: “Where are you going?”

“I’ll be right back.”

Lori was already lying in her bed when her mother entered the room. Carol walked over to the bed and grabbed the sheets to pull over her daughter.

“I’m glad you decided to talk to me,” she said. “I was getting worried about you.”

“Don’t worry, Mommy. I’m fine.”

“That’s good to hear. Would you like a kiss, too?”

Lori nodded.

Carol smiled and leaned over to kiss her daughter.

11

16

Not seconds after her mother left the room, Lori started to feel different.

Every nerve in her body tingled in an uncontrollable dance. Her hands shook incessantly like branches on a tree with the coming of a violent storm. She could feel her heart pounding inside her chest. The room became piping hot and within a matter of seconds sweat gleamed atop her body.

She jumped out of bed and opened a window. The sixty-five degree temperature outside did little to cool her and her skin acted as a repellent to the wind. She collapsed back on the bed and gasped for air. Her bed sheets became saturated with sweat as the room temperature continued to rise. Her whole body shook, every muscle vibrating back and forth like an anarchic guitar string.

Heat rushed to the surface of her body.

Skin blistered, popped.

Her bladder released some of the building pressure and a puddle of urine soiled the white sheets between her thighs.

She could no longer hear the breeze rustling through the curtains. All she could hear was her heart pounding faster and faster and louder and louder inside her chest.

Until the darkness overwhelmed her, and silence everlasting

Chapter Two

__________

1

Elmwood Police Department.

“Winters,” called Police Chief Donald Stevens from across the building.

Isaac grabbed a cup of coffee and made his way to the other end of the precinct. Stevens sat down behind his desk as Isaac arrived at the doorway.

“Take a seat,” said the husky black man with a thick, boisterous mustache.

Isaac sat down in a red leather chair at the other end of the desk and watched the chief gnaw at the eraser end of a pencil, scanning a manila folder.

Stevens slid the folder across the desk. “I have something I want you to see.”

Inside the folder were a half a dozen black and white photographs. Isaac perused the photos and then looked up at his superior. “Okay. What's the deal?”

“The deal?” the chief repeated. “Doesn’t this look strange to you?”

Isaac flipped through the photos again. He couldn’t tell if anything was strange or not, most of the photos were almost entirely blackened and seemed a touch out of focus.

Stevens slid another photo across the desk. It was of a young girl, perhaps ten or eleven years old. A school photo. "This is Lori Ackerman. In those photos is what's left of her."

“That black smudge is a little girl?”

"Yes."

"She burned to death. That's horrible."

17

“Notice the outside edges of the bed are still in pretty good shape and almost nothing else in the room was even mildly damaged.”

Isaac couldn’t believe his eyes. If Stevens was correct, all that remained of the little girl was just ashes on a bed. How does the famous nursery rhyme go again: ashes, ashes, we all fall down?

“Is that a foot draping off the bed?”

Stevens leaned over the desk and glanced at the bottom of the present photo. “Yes,” he said, then reclined back in his chair.

Isaac rubbed at the two-day stubble on his chin and shook his head with an uncommon case of disbelief.

“Let me ask you something.”

“Shoot,” said Isaac.

“What kind of fire could do something like this?” The chief raised his eyebrows with a half excited, half suspicious look on his face.

Isaac didn’t answer. He had no idea.

“A controlled one, perhaps?”

Isaac finally looked up from the photos. “No accident, huh?”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Stevens said, scratching at the roof of his forehead. “All I know is what I see in those photos. And it looks pretty damn hard to believe.”

“Well, yeah,” Isaac said, trying not to seem too surprised, if there were such a feeling. After twenty years in law enforcement and numerous investigations little surprised him anymore. This morning, however, these strange photos, reminded him of the old days. Days better left forgotten.

“So far any reasonable source from which the fire could’ve evolved hasn’t been found, and I find that even harder to believe.”

Isaac set the photographs down on the desk and took a small sip of coffee.

“Who’s covering the investigation?”

Stevens smiled, his black mustache widened. “You are,” he said, pointing his finger across the desk.

Isaac sighed. This was not what he wanted. Today he had planned a busy schedule of sitting around and pretending he was on vacation, like usual.

“Take the folder with you. I want you to start right away, you know, while the dust is still fresh.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah, the parents are staying at the Goodnight motel off Fairway. Do what you do best. You never know.”

As Isaac was leaving the office, Stevens yelled, “Oh, and take Simmons with you.”

2

Isaac didn’t care much for the idea of toting all two hundred and fifty sweating pounds of Daniel Simmons around with him, while being constantly bombarded with every goddamn obnoxious question Simmons could think to ask. He had no idea how Simmons became a detective, but he hadn’t been one for long. One day, like the pesky itch at the bottom of your foot that only comes after you’ve put on your shoe, the fat man just

18

appeared. At first nobody questioned Simmons’s ability as an investigator, it was only after they worked with him a couple of times that something started to smell fishy, and it wasn’t just the white undershirt slapped over his back.

Daniel Simmons was forty-two years old, only four years younger than Isaac, and yet seemed to have no experience in the field. He knew nothing of how to search for clues or properly contain evidence, which was mighty peculiar since he carried the same badge as the most decorated men on the force.

All of this was a big deal to most, but Isaac really didn’t care. Big deal if Simmons didn’t know the first damn thing about being a detective. Ever since Linda’s death, Isaac cared less and less about doing the noble work, about being the world's shit pickeruper. The only problem Isaac had with Simmons was the excessive diarrhea from his mouth.

“So what are we doing?” Simmons asked from the passenger seat of the black Dodge Charger.

“We’re going to 2420 Maria Avenue.”

Simmons wiped a hand down his dark brown mustache then glanced over at Isaac. A puzzled grin rose on his face. “Well, I know, but—”

“Look, I know what you mean. And I don’t know exactly what we’re doing either. I’m in the dark as much as you. I guess we’ll both find out when we get there. Did you see the photographs?”

“Photographs?” Simmons repeated with the half assed, puzzled grin on his face. The grin was a Simmons trademark, one hundred percent his own.

“You didn’t see them?” Isaac asked again, glancing over at Simmons.

The heavy man still wore the ridiculous Muppet grin.

“No. I guess I’m a little more in the dark.”

“Well, you can’t tell much from the photos anyway.”

“I'd still like to see them.”

What made the photos horrifying was not what you saw, but what you didn’t see, and in this case, what you didn’t see was the young girl’s body. The ash leftover of eleven-year-old Lori Ackerman rested inside a large hole where the fire had burned through the mattress. A space about six inches around the bed appeared untouched, still white, and other than the half melted lampshade from the nightstand, everything else looked fine, at least in the photographs.

“They’re in the back seat in the folder.”

Simmons reached back and snagged the folder between his middle and index finger. Then he removed the six black and white photographs and sorted through them.

“Damn,” he said almost immediately. “Is that a foot?”

“Yeah, that’s a foot.” Isaac didn’t even have to look. Yes, he remembered a foot, just one. The right foot he had thought.

He watched Simmons flip through and examine each of the photos. He wondered if the look of disbelief on Simmons’s face was the same look he had given Chief Stevens back at the precinct.

“What happened?”

“A fire happened.”

“When?”

“Last night. About midnight, I think. Those photos were taken very early this morning.”

19

“Who was it? In the photos, I mean,” said Simmons, sliding the photos back into the folder.

“An eleven-year-old girl.”

“Really?” said Simmons, genuinely surprised. He tossed the folder into the back seat. “A little girl? That’s horrible.”

"That's what I said."

“Did anyone else get hurt or killed?”

“No, just the girl as far as I know.”

“How did the fire start?”

“Don’t know. That’s what we’re supposed to find out. Stevens thinks the parents may have had something to do with it. Or so he led on.”

“Why would someone do that to their child?”

“I don’t know. But it seems to happen more and more."

Isaac turned left on Fairway Boulevard. Both detectives sat quietly for a moment and watched a fire truck scream by with sirens blazing on the opposite side of the road.

How ironic.

“Have you talked to the parents yet?”

“No,” said Isaac. “But they were notified that we would like to speak with them.”

“Are they staying at the house?”

“They’re not allowed. I believe they’re staying at a motel not too far from here. Later we’ll stroll on down there and say hello.”

Isaac pulled the black Charger up to the Ackerman house on the side of Maria Avenue behind a row of police cars. Hordes of local television news vans were parked on the opposite side of the street. “I guess they found a story,” he said, glancing over at the reporters.

A few of the reporters bustled toward the car clutching microphones and followed by cameramen.

“What should we say?” Simmons asked.

“Nothing. Don’t say a word to any idiot with a camera.”

The two detectives sprung from the car and headed toward the front door of the Ackerman house. The black, burly cameras followed closely on their heels.

“Detectives, do you have any information on how the fire was started?” A female reporter asked. She was a fairly attractive brunette, maybe in her mid-thirties, dressed in one of those bright colored, sharply trimmed women’s suits that have become all too trendy these days.

Neither of the detectives responded and continued up the cement walkway.

“Do you know if any negligence on the part of the girl’s parents had anything to do with her death?” A different reporter asked, this one a man.

What do you think we’re here to find out?

Isaac opened the door and allowed Simmons to go in ahead of him, then turned toward the crowd of reporters gathered in the front lawn.

“There will be no comment at this time,” he said, trying to project his voice over the crowd. “Now back up. I don’t want to see anyone without a badge within fifteen feet of the house.”

He turned to go inside when the pretty brunette spoke again.

“How long will it be before an autopsy is performed on the young girl’s

20

body?”

Autopsy? Sorry, but not even the most prestigious pathologist could perform an autopsy under these circumstances.

Isaac turned back around and stared the brunette reporter right in her bright, anxious eyes. “I said no comment at this time. How hard is that to understand?”

From the first step inside the house, Isaac could smell a strange odor unlike anything he had ever smelled before, and he’d been witness to many awkward scents over the years with the Elmwood P.D. The scent was fresh, almost sweet, and it crawled all over his skin.

A half dozen policemen roamed about the house, going upstairs, back down, and then back up again like working ants revolving in a steady circle. Simmons chatted with one of the blue and white uniformed officers in the kitchen. Isaac headed over, but before he could take two steps from the front door, another policeman snuck up from behind him.

“Sir,” said the officer. “I’m assuming you’re Detective Winters.”

Isaac turned around and faced the policeman; a young kid, maybe twenty-five, probably new to the force. He had a big black cowboy hat on his head.

“We’ve been waiting for you. Would you like me to lead you upstairs?”

Isaac glanced up the staircase and saw the open doorway with the yellow police ribbon around it. “No, I think I can find my way.”

He walked past the officer then turned back at the foot of the stairs.

“Hey, what’s your name?”

“Deputy Christopher Howers.”

Isaac nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

The officer nodded back.

“Simmons, come."

Isaac peeled back the yellow police tape and stepped underneath. Simmons followed behind. The sweet scent Isaac had first smelled when he entered the house had grown tenfold. He could feel it tickling at the back of his throat, making him want to sneeze, or cough up his lungs, whichever would make the tingling sensation go away quickest.

He stood in the doorway of the room and peered over at what used to be a little girl and her bed. The scene looked far worse than the pictures could have ever shown. As he inched closer to the bed, he noticed the foot, hanging lonesome, about to fall into the black hole in the mattress. When he looked into the hole, he saw the other foot, the left one, smothered amongst the black ash.

“There’s number two.”

Isaac walked around the side of the bed and began examining the surrounding objects in the room. Simmons couldn’t take his eyes off the ash and the lonesome feet. His eyes told the tale of a man who knew he was way out of his league. In his short time as a detective, he had never come across anything even remotely as horrifying as this. The worst he had seen was a man killed from multiple gunshot wounds in the chest, nothing in comparison to this dread.

“Honestly,” Simmons said, not letting his eyes drift from the bed of ash. “Have you ever seen anything like this before?”

Isaac looked over. “Well." He paused to let his mind wander off,

21

searching through hell’s database. “No,” he finally said, shaking his head. “Not like this.” He turned toward the open window and looked outside at the house next door. “I wonder,” he said, running his hand across the windowsill. “I wonder if this window was open all night. And if not, when was it opened, and who opened it?”

“You think somebody could have come in through the window?” Simmons asked.

Isaac thought to himself, random, jumbled thoughts that led nowhere, and finally said: “We need to talk to the neighbors.”

He turned from the window and leaned down next to the bed. If he sneezed now the ashes would scatter all over the room, and his face. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a latex glove. Then he snapped the glove on his hand and touched a small pile of the ash with his index finger. The black ash collapsed smoothly from within and ran down the sides of the hill. He picked up some of the ash and ran it through his fingers.

“The ash is really fine.”

“Huh.”

Isaac picked up another hand full and repeated the process. “You see how easily it breaks apart.”

Simmons nodded.

“The particles are very fine and compact. Not like your average fire where the ash tends to be clumpy.”

“What does that mean?”

Isaac stood up. “Just means this isn’t your average fire. But I guess we already knew that, right?” He pressed his hand against the wall next to the open window, a grimy soot slide between his fingers. He removed a line of the grease with his index finger. “Care to write your name in it?”

The detectives circled the room looking closely for anything else that looked unusual. They both turned back to the bed, if by instinct.

“I don’t see how a fire could burn so steadily in one place for a long enough time to char through bones. How could any fire do this kind of damage in such little time?”

“You don’t believe it’s possible?” Simmons asked.

“With a little help, anything’s possible.”

“The parents?”

“Maybe. But we won’t know until we talk to them.”

Isaac ran his hand across the top of the dresser, and then searched the floor around it.

“Wait a minute.”

“What is it?”

Isaac peered down the crack behind the dresser, scanning the two-inch floor space separating the back of the dresser from the wall. Nothing but a little ash lay there, probably scattered by the wind from the open window. “Something’s missing.”

“What?”

“I don’t know.” He pulled open each of the four drawers and rummaged through them. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Go out to the car and bring me the photos. I need to see something.”

Simmons carefully butted through the mass of media, ignoring any

22

questions on his way to the car. He opened the passenger door and snatched the manila folder lying on the back seat.

Upstairs, Isaac stood at the side of the small bed, examined the fine gray ash below, and tried hard to shake the intoxicating perfume from his senses.

A small portion of the ash (not more than two or three spoonfuls) was already in the hands of forensics for analysis and would be placed under a number of tests, the most effective test being Gas Chromatography, which could detect even small amounts of accelerants present in the ash. First the sample would be heated in a glass vial to vaporize any accelerants. A special syringe is then used to extract a small sum of air from the vial. The air is then injected into the gas chromatograph, and by comparing that graph to the graph of known substances, such as gasoline, paraffin, or fuel oil, the examiner could determine which accelerant may be attributed to the fire. These sorts of tests could go a long way in discovering whether the fire was accidental or intentional, thus making Isaac’s job of finger pointing a little easier.

As Simmons charged back up the stairs with the manila folder, Isaac’s cell rang. He removed it from his belt and glanced down at the incoming number. It was Chief Stevens.

Simmons ducked under the police tape and stormed into the room with folder in hand. “I got the photos,” he said, holding the folder out in front of him.

Isaac had his phone up to his ear, listening.

Simmons opened up the folder and looked through the photos again, searching for any minor differences in the room. He found none. Everything looked the same as in the photographs.

“We’ll head right over,” said Isaac, and hung up the phone.

He snatched the manila folder from Simmons and flipped through the photos until he came to the one he had been searching for. In this particular photograph, most of the horror was not apparent, but what it did show was a clear view of the windowsill and the dresser.

Simmons stepped closer as Isaac pointed to a small object lying on top of the dresser.

“What in the hell is that?”

Simmons narrowed his eyes. “It looks like some kind of small figurine.”

Isaac turned and pointed at the dresser. “How come it’s not here now?”

Simmons was amazed that Isaac could remember something that small was missing from the room, so small he had overlooked it just moments before.

“Maybe somebody moved it.”

“Moved it?”

Simmons said nothing.

“Well, it’s probably not important anyway. We’ve got to go. There’s been an incident.”

Simmons raised his eyebrows. “An incident?”

“Yeah, with the parents,” said Isaac, placing the photographs back into the folder. “At the motel.”

Buy Links:

http://www.amazon.com/Gift-Illusion-Thriller-ebook/dp/B0050ZOS0S/ref=pd_rhf_p_t_1

http://www.amazon.com/Gift-Illusion-Thriller-Richard-Brown/dp/1461147328/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1308517354&sr=1-2

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/gift-of-illusion-richard-brown/1102476195?ean=2940011324789&itm=1&usri=the%2bgift%2bof%2billusion

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/59904

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4948768.Richard_Brown

About the Author:

Richard is not a vampire, yet.

While he awaits immortality, Richard spends much of his time banging his head on the keyboard trying to make sentences out of words.

Since the age of ten, he's written dozens of short stories, over a hundred poems, and two novels, the first -- The Gift of Illusion -- was released May, 17 2011.

He also enjoys spending time with his daughter, girlfriend, three dogs, watching mixed martial arts, singing karaoke, debating politics, and of course dressing up for photo shoots with a guitar he never really learned to play (ahem).

Contest:

An e-copy of the book to one of my followers

Rules:

Must be a follower

Must leave a comment and email

Lost in Believing is holding a birthday contest

2011-08-30T21:37:00.000-07:00

Lost in Believing is turning 16 on the 23rd and she is celebrating witha contest go on over and join her news letter leave her some comment love and enter.

http://lostinbelieving.wordpress.com/2011/08/31/my-birthday-giveaway/

review of Static By Tawny Stokes

2011-08-29T01:32:00.000-07:00

Static Synopsis:

Be careful what you listen to....

During the summer before her senior year, 17 year old band groupie, Salem Vale, has been following her favorite punk rockers, Malice, from gig to gig hoping that one night she might get backstage and meet the sinisterly sexy guys. She’s been saving her virginity for the lead singer Thane. One fateful evening she gets her wish. It’s a dream come true.

Except the dream turns to a nightmare when she wakes up in a dumpster, tossed away like yesterday’s trash, with no memory of what happened the night before. She feels strange, different, as if something is trying to get out. Soon she realizes she’s changing…turning into something not quite human.

Now a hunger deep inside claws at her to feed, to siphon energy from those around her. Before she can do just that, Trevor, the band’s roadie shows up and stops her from killing. With his help she learns to control the hunger inside, because he’s just like her. And in return he wants her help to do one little thing…

Help him kill the members of Malice.

My Thoughts:

This was a great book. Tawny Did an amazing job from page one I felt I was there and part of the book. At first Thane reminded me of a guitar player I know but later through out the book I realized it was the image he portrayed which later Trevor really reminded me of that same person weird how different people remind you of one person. Salem ( I seriously Love that name) just rocks I felt every emotion like she was right in front of me fromher excitement to her confusion and later her fear then heri nner Strength and her love for Trevor. I Loved the magical eliments and how the story of succibi and such transends to Merlin that was a new twist that I enjoyed. I really thought was cool how Salems mom was a roadie when she was young as well. I do hope there is more to this book because I really want to see more with Salem and Trevor do they ever learn to controll their powers? What is going to happen to the rest of the band? Do Chloe and

Jamie hook up does Jamie ever forgive Salem. Theres some unanswered questions I would love o know. All and All I loved this book Tawny I need more really because now im curious as to what happends next. This deff gets the SiNners Stamp of aproval.

Head on over to My Bookish Obsessions: 100 Follower Giveaway!

2011-08-28T02:34:00.000-07:00

My Bookish Obsessions: 100 Follower Giveaway!: Shes celebrating in style with a book give away go on over check her blog out and follow and enter show some love

Just My Type By Erin Nicholas Review

2011-08-24T15:33:00.000-07:00

Synopis Secretly wanting her—no problem. Her not-so-secretly wanting him—big trouble.

The Bradfords, Book 3

There’s only one problem with the woman Jason “Mac” Gordon wants: his best friend’s little sister is off limits. Way off limits, and too young and innocent for the likes of him. From past experience, he’s learned to hide his not-so-nice preferences from the nice girls he seems to attract. That definitely includes the woman he’s always thought of as a sister. At least until recently.

Sara Bradford always gets what she wants—which is partly Mac’s fault. After all, he helped spoil her. So she has no intention of taking his no for an answer on anything—least of all his refusal to sleep with her. He thinks she’s too innocent? Fine. She’ll simply get un-innocent and show Mac that she wants him—the good, the bad and the nipple clamps.

When Mac’s plan to drive her away works too well, he’s forced to follow her to a tropical paradise, determined to make sure she doesn’t find her wild side with anyone but him. Once she gets a real taste of what he likes, he’s sure everything will go back to normal.

That’s until he discovers a slight kink, er, flaw in his logic…

This is my favorite of this series so far I have to say. It is so good parts made me crack a smile and the scenes were hot. But what really made this story fit my keeper favorite shelf is it made me cry when Mac finally realized who Sara really was was so beautiful.I so wanted to be apart of that group thena gain I related more to Sara and Mac then I ever have with Jess,Sam,Danika, And Ben . They all underestimated Sara and even mac for that matter. Sara is a wild one at heart just no one knows it or gives her the chance to prove it. I have to say I am a little jealous of Sam, Jess,and Sara's closeness.How they just do things for eachother just because then at the same time that closeness reminds me of the family I chose to have then the one I was forced to have. So in alot of ways the characters n this book reminds me of people in my my real world. I just love how she got the princess crown and in a pretty sexy place ( If you havent read it you would need to to find out were im so not telling) Oscar reminds me of my home town small and close nit. I love small towns. This book is just awesome really. It is staying on my keeper shelf and it totally gets the SiNners Stamp of aproval. Erin is an awesome talented author.She has a real gift when she can make her characters remind you of people you know. So in alot of ways the characters n this book reminds me of people in my my real world. If you havent joined her yahoo group or checked out her books you really should. Erin is a great person giving and just wonderful to her fans. She makes me proud to be a fan.

Now Kevin and Dooley need their own forever after. Erin really they need their own stories or something .

Guest post from Lizzy Hayes (In My Dreams by by Cameo Renae tour)

2011-08-23T04:39:00.000-07:00

Dear Reader,

My name’s Elizabeth Hayes and I’m seventeen. My friends call me Lizzy, and so can you.

I’ve been struggling and dealing with the sudden loss of my best friend Michael Young. He was the dreamiest, athletic, and an all-around great guy. Everyone that met him - loved him. Michael was there for me during the early struggles of my life. He brought me joy, when I’d forgotten the meaning, and stuck with me through thick and thin.

The night we were supposed to celebrate our four-year “date” anniversary, I received a call. A call that would change my life forever. A call which told me that Michael was dead. A car accident, is what they said. But things just didn’t seem to add up. Then, I began having these crazy dreams about him. And that’s when Lucy Crow showed up.

Lucy is a native Alaskan, and a Shaman in her village way up north. She can talk to the dead. She drove many hours to let me know that Michael had come to her in the middle of the night, and he wouldn’t leave her alone until she found me, and gave me a message. He knew that if she called me, I wouldn’t believe. I’m a huge skeptic of anything supernatural… or, I was.

Lucy told me that Michael was still with me, trying to make contact. The easiest way…was while I slept. Then she gave me a horrifying message. Michael didn’t die in a car accident, as I’d suspected. He was murdered, and now his murderer was after me.

Soon after, my world began a deadly spiral out of control, and things that I’d never believed in, were revealed right before my eyes. Some of these things, I wouldn’t have believed, had I not witnessed them firsthand.

I’d love to share more, but it’s way too much to write, and I’m not a writer. But, there is someone who has taken the time to write my story. It is a story of how Michael saved my life; an emotional, heart-breaking, but wonderful story of love; a love that defied death, and saved many.

Michael – I’ll always love you, and you’ll be - Forever in my heart.

Beverly – thank you for inviting me to your blog. You rock!

Cameo Renae – Thanks for listening and writing my story. Love ya!

And to You – Thanks for reading this. I hope you’ll read my story entitled:

In My Dreams.

Love and Warmest Wishes,

Lizzy Hayes - xoxo

About the book: It was happening again. The dreams. The nightmares. It was something seventeen year-old Elizabeth “Lizzy” Hayes thought she’d outgrown; dreams that would come true; detailed premonitions of how people would die. This time she dreams about her boyfriend, Michael Young, and soon discovers that he’s been found… dead. Michael hasn’t crossed over because he was murdered, and now his murderer is coming for Lizzy. His spirit won’t rest until she is safe, and as a newbie spirit, the easiest way for him to make contact is through Lizzy’s dreams. When she dreams, it’s as if he hasn’t died.

Lizzy must learn to pull on her inner strength to survive horrifying events. Meanwhile, in the spirit world, Michael learns everything he can about his supernatural gifts to help. But will it be enough to save her?

In My Dreams

Author: Cameo Renae

Genre: YA Fiction - Paranormal Romance/Suspense/Thriller

Published by: CreateSpace (April 30, 2011)

Age Recommendation: YA – 15-17 years of age – for mild violence

Format: Perfect Paperback & eBook

ISBN 13: 978-1461083993

Number of pages: 248

http://nurtureyourbooks.com/vbtblog/?p=1743

Ty Lizzy for stopping in!

New things and rants

2011-08-20T17:45:00.000-07:00

Hi my favorite fans!! As You can tell I am postinbg alot more book tours and posts. Maybe some give aways who knows for sure. Yes I know I have to pick winners for the last contests will get to those I have it written down now.Will be p osting some new reviews for some of my favorite eden products and I have a fun segment next month in honor of Zombies be sure to check it out let me know what you think.Have a few suprises in store and who knows this SiNner may even post tid bits about who she really is. As you All Know Tristan posted our new review policy its more of that political mobo jumbo save the sinner from pissing off companies whose products just dont do it for me but hey being awesome has its hard ships have to have someone have my back and no one better to do that then my co-contributer. Deff havet o geta round it doing an ask the Sinner segment and interview him so my growing audiance knows hes more then just a name.If there is something you would like to see that you havent shoot me an email or posta comment. I am all about comments and such so post some. If you have a blog and I havent checked it out or returned the favor and followed it comment let me know post your link I will follow back here there twitter if your stalking me ill stalk back. Thats is one thing that gets me riled most blog owners make it maditory to enter their contests to be a follower and I know I have been maken it for most of my contests. But what is upsetting is when they dont return the favor one little click so if I havent followed you and you have a blog just gimme a shout out and I will follow. Nothing like being asked to follow then not getting the same respect back. Ok off topic now im back on track. I want to give a big thank you to my followers for following me. I hope you stick around I will get this blogging thing totally figured out.

Have an awesome weekend!!

Silver Moon review

2011-08-20T17:16:00.000-07:00

Silver Moon Info

2011-08-20T15:39:00.000-07:00

Silver Moon

By Stacey Thompson-Geer

After 130 years, you’d think I would know better than to go looking for trouble, but I just can’t seem to help myself. The council wants me to catch a werewolf. I just want to paint my nails. Rose is a bitchy sarcastic vampire that ends up hunting a werewolf in, of all places, Las Vegas. She finds very quickly that things are not going to go as planned.

Links:

Wicked Nights:

http://wickednightspublishing.info/?p=21

Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/Silver-Moon-Series-ebook/dp/B004FGLMHU/ref=sr_1_11?ie=UTF8&qid=1309730995&sr=8-11

Trailer:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0j5MYyuPnPA

About Stacey Thompson-Geer

Stacey is a wife and mother of three. She started writing in High School with horror short stories. One of her first is now published through the kindle - Silver Bullet. When she's not dreaming up her next story or novel, she can be found hanging out with her kids or reading one of her favorite authors. She is also an avid Facebooker and Twitter user. Stop by her website to see what she's working on and any of her backlist work.

www.staceythompsongeer.com

www.staceythompsongeer.co.cc

Twitter @staceytg

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/#!/profile.php?id=1529648509

Teaser Tuesday

2011-08-16T02:34:00.000-07:00

They are Back....Have you heard of the wars? The Goblin Wars? If not then you really should check these books out they are awesome.

Check out my review for book 1 Tyger Tyger

TYGER TYGER

In the Forests Of the Night book 2
Synopsis

Teagan, Finn, and Aiden have made it out of Mag Mell alive, but the Dark Man's forces are hot on their heels. Back in Chicago, Tea’s goblin cousins show up at her school, sure she will come back to Mag Mell, as goblin blood is never passive once awoken. Soon she will belong to Fear Doirich and join them. In the meantime, they are happy to entertain themselves by trying to seduce, kidnap, or kill Tea’s family and friends.

Teagan knows she doesn’t have much time left, and she refuses to leave Finn or her family to be tortured and killed. A wild Stormrider, born to rule and reign, is growing stronger inside her. But as long as she can hold on, she’s still Teagan Wylltson, who plans to be a veterinarian and who heals the sick and hurting. The disease that’s destroying her—that’s destroying them all—has a name: Fear Doirich.

And Teagan Wylltson is not going to let him win.

Mojo Queen mini review and give away

2011-08-12T22:45:00.000-07:00

Hi Blog tour followers!! Im only half way threw this book so I thought I would give my thoughts so far and tell you all about the awesome give away Sonya has going on durring this tour. I have to first tell you this book is one of those books for me I dont want to end where I want to saver it little by little. So here are my thoughts so far

When I first started reading the opening scene drew me in. Roxanne is one of those characters and heroines that you either like or you don't from the get go for me I like her shes strong and smart but at the same time comes off a little timid.Sonya does awesome details since the discriptiveness wasnt too much wasnt to little its at the right perfection of what a reader wants. So it is deff awesome I cant wait to finish it all up and I will update as I progress reading this book. So far this book is great and I would recomend it to anyone.

Giveaway Details:

Winners will be chosen from all of those who enter via the form, leave comments at tour stops for bonus entries you can also enter at each tour stop

10 winners will receive signed book plates
2 winners will receive free ebook copies of Mojo Queen
1 grand prize winner will receive the Mojo Prize Pack,
which includes:
· Signed book plate
· Mojo Queen playlist CD
· A voodoo doll· A protective mojo hand
· Spirit of Good Luck incense
· A seven day spell candle
· A bag of graveyard dirt

http://www.sonyaclark.net/2011/07/mojo-queen-blog-tour.html

http://www.sonyaclark.net/

Mojo Queen blurb and excerpt

2011-08-12T20:06:00.000-07:00

Blurb:

Hoodoo and high magic are on a collision course.

Roxanne Mathis isn't like everyone else. Not only can she see auras and spectral entities, she can mix herbs and roots for spells to do good or ill. She can even light a candle without the benefit of a match. But when she’s hired to exorcise a demon from a young girl, she discovers the limits of her powers.

With her vampire cousin at her side and a sexy sorcerer chasing her on the rebound, Roxie sets out to send that evil entity back to where she came from.

Nothing is as it seems and Roxie’s in over her head. It’s not going to be enough for her to just be a paranormal investigator and old school root worker – to defeat this demon, she’s going to have to be the Mojo Queen.

Buy Links

Direct from Lyrical Press:

http://www.lyricalpress.com/store/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=81&products_id=328

Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/Mojo-Queen-ebook/dp/B004YXF0M2/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&s=digital-text&qid=1304399499&sr=1-3

Barnes and Noble:

http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Mojo-Queen/Sonya-Clark/e/9781616502713/?itm=1&USRI=mojo+queen

Fictionwise:

http://www.fictionwise.com/ebooks/b123217/Mojo-Queen/Sonya-Clark/?si=0

Excerpt:

I sat in the chair opposite the loveseat, placing the candles on the coffee table. Glanced at him to make sure I still had his attention, which of course I did. One side of his mouth still curled up in a smirk, eyebrow quirked. I sat back, let myself sink into the comfy chair and relax as much as possible. First the candle on the left. Focusing on the wick, I visualized a tiny flame erupting from it--concentrating my will, pouring energy into my intention. I could feel myself sliding further into exhaustion as energy curled inside me, but after a long, agonizing moment the candle came to life. I let out a breath before I could stop myself, avoiding his gaze. I didn’t want him to know how much this was taking out of me, but I had a bad feeling it was obvious. I turned my attention to the other candle and though it took even longer this time, it too lit. I felt almost as bad as I had this afternoon.

Blake reached for a backpack on the floor I had not seen in the darkness. He opened it, fished something out, and tossed it to me. I didn’t so much catch it as let it fall in my lap. A chocolate candy bar.

It was my turn to quirk an eyebrow. Waving the bar at him I said, “What, is this to ward off dementors?”

The smirk became a genuine smile again briefly. “Something like that. You need to eat.”

I gave him a skeptical look.

“You know you’re using energy with that.” He gestured at the candles. “The energy needs to be replenished.”

I rolled my eyes but tore open the wrapper. The chocolate tasted, well, damn, like mainlining something illegal. Maybe he had a point. I was halfway through the bar when he spoke again, as if there had been no pause.

“Especially since you don’t really know what you’re doing yet.” Even in the low candlelight I had no trouble seeing the wicked amusement in his dark eyes.

I managed to finish chewing without choking, tossed the remainder of the candy bar on the coffee table and sat up straighter. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here? Or better yet, tell me where I can find your demon lover? So I can send her back to Hell.”

“Well, actually, that’s exactly why I’m here, Roxanne.” Like we were discussing insurance or something. “I want you to find my demon lover.”

Gob-smacked, all I could manage was, “Huh?”

“And I want you to send her back to Hell.”

Author Bio:

Sonya Clark grew up an Army brat, living all across the United States as well as Japan and Germany by the time she graduated high school. Books were one of the few constants in her life. An eclectic reader, she always had a special love for the paranormal and is a lifelong fangirl of all things that go bump in the night.

A deep love of music is another constant thread in all of her fiction. She writes at a desk equipped with High John the Conqueror root and a mojo hand. She has worshipped at the mother church of country music, traveled the back roads of the blues highway, been to the crossroads at midnight, and though she’s never cooked up a mess of polk salad, she has been to Graceland four times.

She lives with her husband and Yorkie in Tennessee.

Author Links:

Blog/website: http://www.sonyaclark.net/

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

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/authorsonyaclark

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3510861.Sonya_Clark

Illicit Magic tour stop... Excerpt and Give away

2011-08-11T22:18:00.000-07:00

Illicit Magic book excerpt – 598 words

“Let’s try telekinesis this time. Take a seat.” Evan tucked his laptop into his bag then stood and walked the few paces to the bookshelves. He plucked a book off the middle shelf and tossed it on the table in front of us where it landed with a thud. I took a seat and bent to pull on my shoes and tie up the laces as I waited.

“You’re going to try and move it,” he said, nodding at the book, after contemplating me for a moment. I tried not to shrivel into a ball under his inspection.

“I don’t think I can.”

“I think you can.”

“I really don’t think I can.”

“Try and see. Look at the book.”

I sighed. There was clearly no point in arguing. I looked at the book. It was a slim hardback and looked like it was a novel though I couldn’t make out the print upside down. “How do I do this?”

“You have to tap into the magic inside you.” Evan placed a hand over his heart and tapped his fingers. “You have to believe that you can do it.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to, Stella. Just try. Focus on the book. Feel it, feel your mind reach for it.”

I stared at it for long minutes that stretched on. I felt like the weight of the task was pressing down on me. It was hardly the carefree blink of an eye magic that Étoile had demonstrated to me several times. I wondered if I would ever have such control or if I was just a one-stunt dud. A depressing thought. Maybe they wouldn’t want me if I couldn’t stump up the goods. Where would that leave me? I sighed. I seemed to be spending a lot of time sighing lately. It wasn’t healthy.

“What are you thinking about, Stella? It doesn’t seem like the task.” Evan sounded frustrated. Like I wasn’t!

I surprised myself by answering coherently. “I’m wondering if I’m a dud.”

It was Evan’s turn to surprise me and his face cracked into an effortless smile as he chuckled over my concerns. His eyes wrinkled at the edges with laughter lines and his mouth was broad with perfectly pink lips. He really did have a lovely face when he smiled. What was I thinking?

He said slowly, “You are, categorically, not a dud. You just need to learn.”

“Not a dud,” I repeated like a moron. My eyes fixed on the book again and I felt myself fix on it with a strange sort of longing as I tuned in to the rise and fall of my lungs. Hell, I wanted the damn thing to move and, at last, it did, wriggling just a few short millimetres to the left.

I looked up at Evan with the most enormous smile on my face and then bewilderment as I realised the natural light had dimmed. I must have focused on the book for much longer than I had thought. But I had done it.

“So, not a dud.” Evan smiled at me, an easy smile this time, but not one of a proud teacher. He seemed to be assessing me and I returned his gaze without a quiver. A shiver ran through me and I was the first to turn away even though I would have been quite content to continue appraising him. On the sly, anyway.

“We’ll start again tomorrow.”

And just like that, Evan was gone, before I even remembered that I still wanted to ask the question of what he was.

Author bio of :

Hi, I'm Camilla and I'm the author of Illicit Magic and Unruly Magic, the first two books in the Stella Mayweather Paranormal Series. The series starts with a lonely young woman, Stella, who has been caught up in a terrifying witch hunt and is whisked thousands of miles away to what she thinks is safety to learn her craft. The series is a blend of magic, mystery and romance with a splash of humour - and while the girls really do go all out to save themselves, there's always a hunky guy or two on hand to help them out.

I live in London, UK but I try to travel as often as I can - lately I've been to Paris, all over Denmark, Luxembourg, and several US states. In my day job I'm a journalist and editor so I write for magazines, newspapers and websites throughout the world (my favourite assignment was spending a week riding rollercoasters - if you listen carefully you can probably still hear me screaming).

Good Reads : Camilla Chafer

Next Tour stop

August 13th - Author Camilla Chafer's site http://www.camillachafer.com/

Now for my give away : Camilla agreed to give one of my readers their own e-copy of this book

RULES:

Must Be a follower (doesnt hurt just a tiny couple second click I promise and I will return the favor)

Leave a way to contact if ur a winner

Leave a comment (something half way meaningful please)

Illicit Magic review

2011-08-11T16:48:00.000-07:00

Illicit Magic

Stella Mayweather Paranormal Series #1
By :Camilla Chafer

Synopsis taken from goodreads:
More than three hundred years after the most terrifying witch hunts the world has ever known, it's happening again.

Young witch, Stella, has to put her faith in strangers just to stay alive but she might not be any safer in their midst than from the danger she is running from.

There is more than one dark secret in her new family: Étoile’s sister is spoken of in fear and sadness; Marc is supposed to be a powerful witch but is missing his magic; where does the owner of their safe house vanish to every day and why does Evan have the eyes of someone not quite human? There is only one secret that someone will do anything to keep quiet, but whose secret is it and will Stella have to pay the price for silence?

My Thoughts :
I loved this book. In the beginning I didnt think I would because at first it was really slow and at times there was too much detail but it was an awesome book I love how Stella came together with Evan and even her friend ship with Étoile, Marc and Kitty. I do love how the magic had colors and the scenery is just beautiful I could picture it all in my mind. I look forward to the next installment Because now I want to know what happends with Stella and if her and Evan work out. How she fairs in the new house and town.I need to know more . I am hooked on this series. All and all it was an awesome read and I look forward to reading more from Camilla.

I give this book the SiNners Stamp of aproval!

Debut author Rhiannon Paille blurb and Cover Art

2011-08-09T11:51:00.000-07:00

Please give a SiNner's Welcome to a new idea and author ....

The Book :

ABOUT THE BOOK:

FLAME OF SURRENDER (The Ferryman and The Flame #1)

The boy who follows death meets the girl who could cause the apocalypse.

Krishani thinks he’s doomed until he meets Kaliel, the one girl on the island of Avristar who isn’t afraid of him. She’s unlike the other girls, she swims with merfolk, talks to trees and blooms flowers with her touch. What he doesn’t know is that she’s a flame, one of nine individually hand crafted weapons, hidden in the body of a seemingly harmless girl.

Nobody has fallen in love with a flame until now. She becomes Krishani’s refuge from the dreams of death and the weather abilities he can’t control. Striking down thousand year old trees with lightning isn’t something he tries to do, it just happens. When the Ferryman dies, Krishani knows that he’s the next and that a lifetime of following death is his destiny.

And Kaliel can’t come with him. The Valtanyana are hunting the flames, the safest place for her is Avristar. Krishani can’t bear to leave her, and one innocent mistake grants the Valtanyana access to their mystical island. They’re coming for Kaliel, and they won’t stop until every last living creature on Avristar is dead. She has to choose, hide, face them, or awaken the flame and potentially destroy herself.

The Author : Rhiannon Paille

www.rhiannonpaille.com

http://rhiannonpaille.blogspot.com

www.liveperson.com/rhiannon-paille

Twitter: @RhiannonPaille

Facebook: Rhiannon Paille

Imaginary Reads: Summer Giveaway Hop

2011-08-06T19:07:00.000-07:00

Imaginary Reads: Summer Giveaway Hop: "We're participating in the Summer Giveaway Hop hosted by I Am A Reader Not a Writer and Book Hounds . One lucky international winner will ..."

Stuck In Books: Summer giveaway Hop

2011-08-06T17:45:00.000-07:00

Stuck In Books: Summer giveaway Hop: "Hey blog hoppers! For this giveaway, I am giving away a great book I just read. I love this book. If you haven't heard of it, check out..."

Confessions of a Bookaholic: Tour: Interview & Giveaway: Damned by Nancy Holder...

2011-08-06T17:17:00.000-07:00

Confessions of a Bookaholic: Tour: Interview & Giveaway: Damned by Nancy Holder...: "I am honored to kick off the tour for Damned, the second book in the Crusade series. I have an interview with both authors, Nancy Holder ..."

Confessions of a Bookaholic: Tour: Interview & Giveaway: Small Town Sinners by ...

2011-08-06T17:14:00.000-07:00

Confessions of a Bookaholic: Tour: Interview & Giveaway: Small Town Sinners by ...: "Melissa Walker, author of Small Town Sinners , is here today to talk about her book. Check below for a chance to win an ARC copy of Sma..."

Beautifully broken by Sherry Soule review

2011-08-05T17:37:00.000-07:00

Genre: Young Adult Paranormal

Release Date: July 1, 2011

Publisher: Moonlight Publishing, Inc.

ISBN: 0-9761804-7-2

Synopsis

Thirteenth daughter. Heritage witch. Demon slayer.

They say every town has its secrets, but that doesn’t even begin to describe Whispering Pines. The townsfolk are a superstitious lot and the mystical disappearance of a local teen has everyone murmuring about a centuries old witch’s curse.

Sixteen-year-old Shiloh Ravenwolf is a heritage witch from the Broussard family, a family both destined and cursed. When she takes a summer job at Ravenhurst Manor, she discovers a ghost with an agenda. That’s where she meets the new town hottie, Trent Donovan, and immediately becomes spellbound by his charms.

Finally, Shiloh's met someone who is supercute and totally into her, but Trent may be the next victim on the supernatural hit list. And Shiloh is the only person with the power to save him. Complicated much?

It sucks to have a destiny, especially since Shiloh would rather spend her summer being a normal girl who worries about clothes and boys, not the supernatural. But she’s never been normal and the stranger things become the more her own magical senses awaken.

With cryptic messages from a pesky wraith, she will begin to understand the mysterious significance of the strange mark branded on her wrist, and decide how much she's willing to sacrifice to protect the other teenagers in town.

Unfortunately, for Shiloh, not all ghosts want help crossing over. Some want vengeance.

My Thoughts:

I coud not put it down . Shiloh is awesome I love the dynamic between her and all of those she cares about expecially Trent and Ari.I was a bit confused as to who Jillian was but I had to know so I kept reading.After I figured her out I really don't like her at all. I loved the vividness of the scenes was awesome. Ravenhurst Manor was creepy yet beautiful I wanted to be there and tour it.Sherry did an awesome job and now I wanna know what happends next.Will Shiloh stay with Trent will she figure out the curse? I need to know all of the and more. I woud recommend this book to everyone adults and teenagers alike.I love that this book celebrates the differences of the charactors.If you have not read this book you should I give this book the sinners stamp of aproval.

Favorite quote:

“Duh. You’re snarky and weird. I like you.”

Bleeder Guest Post with LK Rigel

2011-07-31T10:10:00.000-07:00

Please welcome LK today for the final blog stop for the trivia questions of the bleeder tour. Yes you heard that right the final stop. Then Head on over to L.K. Rigel's website www.lkrigel.com to finish up the tour.

With out further delay Heres LK!

Thank you for hosting Bleeder today at Everyone Loves A SiNner for the penultimate stop on its blog tour (I’ve always wanted to use that word in a sentence!). I’m so glad to be here for a guest post.

Today’s post is about the Empanii – the mysterious shapeshifters of Apocalypto. In Space Junque, Char Meadowlark looks down on some clouds from orbit and imagines they are angels diving to earth from heaven. She’d be shocked to learn that she was right – especially since at that point she’s an atheist.

The Empanii were once seraphim, the highest order of angels. They love the creator god Samael, and when he commanded them to bow to his newest creation – human beings – they refused.

Enraged, Samael banished them from his presence. As if that weren’t curse enough, he added a further insult. He bound the Empanii to serve human will. When an Empani is in the presence of a human being, it is compelled to assume a human form pleasing to that person. It may become male or female; an Empani is inherently sexless.

Bound to the material plane, the Empani will follow the commands of the goddess Asherah, Samael’s estranged consort. They avoid humans and prefer to live in “nests” in undeveloped forests or desserts. They often take the shape of a heron, the material form most bearable to them.

They live in a constant state of existential fury, desperate to return to the presence of their god.

In desperation, they begin to breed with humans – unknown to the humans. They hope to incorporate human free will into their species as a means to break free of Samael’s curse. They are able to produce Empani/human offspring, but they have no control over which traits the offspring acquire.

For instance, Father Jesse can play mind tricks, but he can’t shape-shift.

Copperhead, the next book in the Apocalypto series, has more about the Empani, and they figure prominently in the last book and the final clash between Asherah and Samael.

Thank You LK for posting today !!

LK Rigel Author Bio:

LK Rigel lives in California with her cat, Coleridge. She was once a singing waitress, scored the independent science fantasy karate movie Lucid Dreams, and was a reporter for the Sacramento Rock 'N Roll News. Her BA is in humanities and religious studies. Her work has appeared in Literary Mama and Tattoo Highway. Her short story "Slurp" will appear in Anne Frasier's 2011 Halloween anthology Deadly Treats published by Nodin Press.

Where To Buy:

AMAZON

BN

SMASHWORDS

The link to this question's post on Bookish snob is:

http://www.lkrigel.com/a-bookishsnob-tour-quiz/july-31-everyone-loves-a-sinner/