BLOG TOUR – Dirty Books by Carissa Knight

Dirty Books
Carissa Knight
(The One Night Stand Club, #2)
Publication date: April 12th 2024
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

SOMETIMES, LIFE CAN BE STRANGER (AND HOTTER) THAN FICTION.

Carlie Taylor, a shy and (often clumsy) erotic romance author, decides to walk on the wild side at Club Nocté’s latest event – a masquerade party. What’s the harm in a little anonymous fun? Well, when that fun leaves you with flashbacks of a stranger’s kiss and the world’s most baffling case of déjà vu, things get interesting.

Enter Adam, a personal trainer with abs that deserve their own Instagram account (oh wait, they have one). When he starts training Carlie, the sparks fly—but not just from the workout burn. There’s something strangely familiar about those biceps, but where could she have seen them before…?

Cue the drama: Adam’s Insta-famous life is like a soap opera, complete with a villainous ex who could give Cruella a run for her money. As Carlie and Adam’s flirty banter turns into something more, the world watches, likes, and comments. But can their fledgling romance survive the glare of the spotlight and the ghost of masquerades past?

The plot thickens like a good protein shake when Carlie has her ‘aha!’ moment. That mysterious, dreamy guy from the club? Yup, it’s Mr. Six-Pack himself. Now, the question isn’t just about enduring a tough gym session, but whether they can flex their hearts into accepting that their one-night stand might just be the real deal.

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1.      How does it feel having your books published?

Having your books published feels like being on a rollercoaster—only this one’s been designed by a mad scientist with a peculiar sense of humor and a love for dramatic twists. Imagine climbing to the top, heart pounding, palms sweaty, only to realize the next drop is actually a loop-the-loop into a pool of chocolate pudding. It’s exhilarating, terrifying, and utterly surreal all at once.’

Seeing “Dirty Plans” and “Dirty Books” out in the world is like watching my wildest dreams take flight on a broomstick—because let’s be real, cars are too mundane for this journey. It’s like hosting a party where the guests are characters I’ve conjured from thin air, inviting readers to dance in the ballrooms of my imagination.

So, how does it feel having my books published? It’s like being the ringmaster of the most enchanting, chaotic, and absolutely unforgettable circus. And honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

2.      This is the second book in the series – do you need to read the first book before one can read this book? Or can your books be read as standalones?

Each book in “The One Night Stand Club” series is like a decadent slice of cake from a magnificent layered confection. You can absolutely savor each piece on its own—each layer has its unique flavor and charm, after all. “Dirty Books,” while the second slice of this sumptuous dessert, is crafted to stand alone, allowing readers to indulge without having had the first bite, “Dirty Plans.”

However, just like with any multi-layered cake, enjoying it from the bottom up offers a richer, more interconnected experience. The layers—our stories—are designed to complement each other, with characters and themes that weave through the series, enriching the narrative and deepening the reader’s connection to our little universe.

So, while you can dive fork-first into “Dirty Books” without a primer, reading “Dirty Plans” first might just make the flavors of friendship, humor, and romance taste that much sweeter. Think of “Dirty Developments” as the cherry on top, waiting to complete the experience with a promise of more surprises and delights. Each book, while delightful on its own, is part of a greater, more scrumptious banquet.

3.      What made you want to be a writer?


The desire to become a writer sprouted from a voracious appetite for stories and a restless imagination that refused to stay tethered to reality. As a child, I was the architect of elaborate worlds built during playtime, crafting narratives for every doll, action figure, and unsuspecting pet that crossed my path. Books were portals to other dimensions, and I was a relentless explorer, diving headfirst into fantasy lands, detective mysteries, and tales of far-off planets.

But the true catalyst was a combination of insatiable curiosity and a penchant for eavesdropping on adult conversations, piecing together snippets of gossip, secrets, and the unspoken tensions that hum beneath the surface of everyday life. These fragments of real-world drama and intrigue ignited a spark within me to weave my own tapestries of fiction, blending the magical with the mundane, the extraordinary with the everyday.

Becoming a writer wasn’t so much a choice as it was a calling—a siren song that lured me with the promise of creating universes where anything could happen, where every ending could be happy, and where the underdog could triumph against all odds. I suppose, that’s why I started in paranormal and urban fantasy, come to think of it. (In case you didn’t know, I’m also international bestselling author, Carissa Andrews.) It was the allure of playing god in a world of my own making, of breathing life into characters who could love, laugh, fight, and dream with the same intensity as the people I observed from the shadows of my youth.

In essence, I wanted to be a writer because I fell in love with the power of stories to evoke emotions, challenge perceptions, and connect us across the chasms of time and space. Writing became my way of capturing the fleeting beauty of human experience, of holding a mirror to the world and to the heart, revealing truths that we often whisper only to ourselves in the quiet of the night.

4.      What do you use as inspiration when writing?

Inspiration for writing the series “The One Night Stand Club” dances in from the mosaic of life’s everyday moments, the whispers of the past, and the vibrant tapestry of human connection. It’s like being a magpie, collecting shiny bits of reality, dreams, and the myriad shades of human emotion to weave into the narrative.

  • Real-Life Observations: The quirks of friends, the banter between strangers at a coffee shop, or the silent stories etched in the faces of passersby—these are the threads that weave the rich fabric of my characters and their interactions. The world is a stage, and each person, a story waiting to be told.
  • Music & Art: A melody can paint a thousand pictures. Sometimes, a song or a piece of art captures an emotion so perfectly, it begs a story to frame it. It’s like each note or brushstroke is a breadcrumb leading to the heart of a new tale.
  • Books, Movies, and TV Shows: The stories that move me, make me laugh, or leave me contemplative, serve as wells of inspiration. They’re reminders of the power of storytelling and the infinite possibilities that lie within the realms of fiction.
  • History and Myths: The past is a treasure trove of stories waiting to be reimagined. Ancient myths, legends, and historical events are rich soil from which new stories can grow, twisted and turned into modern tales with a twist.
  • Nature and Travel: The whisper of leaves in an ancient forest, the cacophony of a bustling city, or the serene silence of a desert—each landscape tells its own story. Traveling or even exploring nature locally can spark ideas for settings, plots, or characters.
  • Dreams and What-ifs: Those bizarre dream sequences and the game of “what-if” that the mind loves to play—what if you found a hidden door in your house that led to another world? What if your pet could suddenly talk? These flights of fancy are the seeds of fantastical stories.
  • Emotional Reservoir: The spectrum of human emotion, from the darkest corners of fear and sorrow to the luminous heights of love and joy, fuels the emotional depth of my writing. Drawing on personal experiences and empathizing with others’ feelings provides a wellspring of inspiration.

In the end, inspiration is a wild creature, appearing in the most unexpected moments, often when I’m least searching for it. It’s a patchwork of the world’s beauty, pain, laughter, and mystery, all waiting to be stitched into stories.

5.      If you have writer’s block, what do you do to get back to writing?

Ah, when the dreaded writer’s block hits, I have my own little toolbox of tricks to kickstart the creativity engines again. Here’s what I do:

  • Change of Scenery: First off, I shake up my surroundings. It could be as simple as moving from my usual writing haunt to a bustling café or finding a quiet nook in a local library. Sometimes, just the act of observing life happening around me—the clink of coffee cups, the murmur of conversation, the ebb and flow of foot traffic—can jog loose the words stuck in my head.
  • Read, Read, Read: Next, I dive into books, voraciously and across genres. Reading is my way of feeding the muse. It’s not just about the stories themselves, but the craft behind them that fascinates me. How did the author build tension here? What makes this character so compelling? Immersing myself in the works of others broadens my perspective and often sparks new ideas for my own writing.
  • Play the ‘What If’ Game: Finally, I play the ‘What If’ game with my own work. What if my protagonist made the opposite decision? What if the villain has a change of heart? This not only helps me explore alternative plot avenues but also deepens my understanding of my characters. It’s a fun exercise that can turn the tables on writer’s block, transforming it from a roadblock into a crossroads brimming with potential paths.

These three strategies are my go-to remedies for writer’s block, helping me to navigate through the fog and back into the clear skies of creativity.

6.      What did you enjoy the most when you wrote Dirty Books?

In “Dirty Books,” crafting the awkward dance of rediscovery between Carlie and Adam was a delight, particularly because of their unexpected reunion and the layers of miscommunication that followed. Their journey begins with a clandestine encounter at an exclusive club, a night cloaked in anonymity and electric connection, only for them to later face the daylight without the masks of their alter egos. This sets the stage for a series of delightfully cringe-worthy moments that are the heart of their story.

First off, the sheer awkwardness of Carlie finding out her new personal trainer is not “Ada,” as a typo led her to believe, but Adam—the very man from her one-night stand, albeit she’s blissfully unaware of this fact at the beginning. The realization doesn’t hit immediately, allowing for a comedic ballet of blunders and misunderstandings to unfold​​.

Imagine Carlie, prepared mentally and emotionally to meet a female trainer, only to be greeted by Adam, whose presence stirs an inexplicable blend of embarrassment and attraction in her, even as she remains oblivious to their prior encounter. The gym sessions that follow are riddled with clumsy mishaps, misinterpreted interactions, and the kind of flirty banter that walks the fine line between playful and mortifying, given Carlie’s misunderstanding about Adam’s identity​​.

Their story captures the essence of rom-com gold—two people, inexplicably drawn to each other, navigating the awkward first steps of attraction under the hilarious misapprehension that they are practically strangers, all while their shared history waits just beneath the surface, ready to complicate everything in the most entertaining way possible.

Writing “Dirty Books” was an exercise in embracing the messiness of human connection, the beauty of unexpected reunions, and the laughter that can be found in the most mortifying of circumstances.

7.      Do you have a favourite character in Dirty Books?

Choosing a favorite character from “Dirty Books” is like picking a favorite star in the sky—each one shines brightly in its own way, contributing to the beauty of the night. While I could easily lean into the allure of Carlie with her heart on her sleeve and her penchant for landing in delightfully awkward situations, or Adam, whose depth and warmth slowly unravel throughout the story, there’s one character who unexpectedly steals the show: Grandma Edna.

Grandma Edna is a force of nature, a whirlwind of wisdom wrapped in cheeky innuendos and eye-twinkling mischief. It’s her lovable insight, dressed up in humor and delivered with the perfect timing of a seasoned comedian, that truly captures the heart. She’s the sage guiding light, her advice laced with a lifetime of experience and a dash of naughtiness, making her utterly irresistible.

Edna brings a refreshing perspective to the table, reminding us all to embrace life’s pleasures without apology and to laugh a little louder at the chaos. Her presence in “Dirty Books” is like a warm hug from the past, a connection to simpler times when love was bold, adventures were plentiful, and secrets were shared with a wink and a nod. She’s the grandmother everyone wishes they could share a secret or a scandalous joke with, knowing she’d not only keep it but add her own twist to the tale.

8.      What has been your favourite read (aside from your own) this year?

Oh, where do I even begin? This year, I’ve devoured 13 books, and it’s been a wild ride of emotions, ranging from the urge to throw a book against the wall (lovingly, of course) to wanting to cradle one to sleep. Among my conquests were “Part of Your World” by Abby Jimenez, “Love Contact” by Sophie Lark, and “Home Again” by Melissa Grace… all amazing books, in their own right. 

But, hold your horses, because the crown jewel of my reading escapade, the one that truly hijacked my romcom-loving heart, was none other than “The Reason I Married Him” by Meghan Quinn. Yes, Meghan Quinn, my personal romcom guru, who knows how to stir the pot of romance with the precision of a chef.

Now, why did this book, the second in the series, manage to win me over? Simple: the chef’s kiss-worthy enemies-to-lovers trope. Imagine the tension of a soufflé on the brink of collapse, but instead of eggs and flour, we’re dealing with glares and snark strong enough to cut through the thickest of wedding cakes. This book serves that tension by the ladleful, garnished with banter so sharp, I was worried for the safety of the characters’ egos. SO good!

9.      Do you picture someone or something specific when you write?  

When it comes to conjuring up the world and characters of my stories, it’s less about picturing someone specific from the get-go and more about letting the characters introduce themselves to me. It’s a bit like throwing a party in my mind where I’m not entirely sure who’s going to show up. Once they make their grand entrance, however, they’re ingrained in my brain, taking up residence with the kind of boldness only fictional characters can muster.

For example, with “Dirty Books,” it wasn’t that I had a clear image of Carlie and Adam from the start. Instead, Carlie waltzed into my thoughts one day, tripped over a metaphorical rug, and spilled her personality all over the floor of my imagination. Adam, on the other hand, leaned casually against the doorway of my mind, flashing a grin that said, “I’ve got stories you haven’t even dreamed of yet.” From that moment on, their faces, their mannerisms, and their voices were all I could see and hear. It’s as if they took the wheel, steering the story through every twist and turn with me just along for the ride, pen in hand.

This process is what makes writing such a thrilling adventure for me. I never quite know who will show up or what they’ll do, but once they’re there, they become as real to me as anyone I might meet on the street—albeit a lot more cooperative when it comes to navigating the plots I throw at them. So, in essence, my characters are the ones who come to me, vivid and vibrant, and from then on, they’re the only ones I see when I write their stories.

10.   What’s next? Can we expect a new book soon?

The gears of my writerly mind are already turning, churning out the deliciously complicated concoctions that will become “Dirty Developments.” This next installment in the series is gearing up to be a rollercoaster of emotions, secrets, and, of course, that irresistible pull of undeniable attraction.

Anna and Joel’s story is one I’ve been itching to tell. Picture this: a brooding musician with a heart of gold hidden under layers of mystery and a dash of arrogance, and Anna, tech-savvy, fiercely independent, with a memory like an elephant—especially when it comes to grudges. Their past is a tangled web of secrets, a mysterious event from a decade ago that Anna hasn’t been able to let go of, and Joel hasn’t been able to explain.

But as fate would have it, their paths are about to cross again, and let’s just say, things are about to go DOWN. And I mean that in every sense of the word. We’re talking fiery arguments that could singe your eyebrows, moments so tender they’ll make your heart ache, and yes, scenes that will have you fanning yourself and looking around to make sure no one’s reading over your shoulder.

“Dirty Developments” isn’t just an enemies-to-lovers tale; it’s a journey of forgiveness, understanding, and the kind of love that can only be forged in the fires of shared history and undeniable chemistry. So, buckle up, because Anna and Joel are about to take you on a wild ride. And trust me, you don’t want to miss what’s about to unfold.

The goal is to have it out by September of this year. So, get on my email list or follow me on IG if you want the latest tea. Of course, you could read along as I write, by joining my Patreon, too! All valid life decisions! 


 

Author Bio:

Carissa Knight is all about bringing the heat in every romance she writes, but making the journey as angsty and awkward as possible. (Because come on! What could be more fun than making the characters squirm?)

While she’s a new kid around the romcom block, Carissa’s actually been kicking out books for over a decade as award-winning & international bestselling author, Carissa Andrews. If you like paranormal or urban fantasy, check her out.

In the meantime, get ready for her brand new steamy romcom series, “The One Night Stand Club!”

Be sure to sign up for Carissa’s email list to stay on top (wink, wink) of her releases!

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BLOG TOUR – Fallen Raven Duet by Diana A. Hicks

Fallen Raven Duet
Diana A. Hicks
Publication date: July 24th 2023
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance

 

Now a 2023 Readers’ Favorite Gold Medal Winner in the Romance – Contemporary genre!

“Diana A. Hicks painted a slow-burn romance balanced on the dark edge of danger…Fallen Raven will capture the minds of readers who enjoy Mafia political romances with plenty of action to entertain them.” – Readers’ Favorite Reviewer

Both books in the Fallen Raven Duet included in one bundle.
Fallen Raven, Book One

Seventeen-year-old Aurora Vitali didn’t have the best life in Las Vegas, but it was a place to call home. When her father scores a win after so many fails, he abruptly moves the whole family to the Upper East Side in New York City. Aurora is quickly seduced by the glitz and glamour of her new world, where designer clothes, limos, and beach parties are the norm.

Her first day at their elite school, she meets Enzo Alfera, one of the royals. He’s rich, gorgeous, and so dangerous. The magnetic pull she feels when he’s near is absolutely irresistible. She’s warned to stay away, and that’s exactly what she plans to do. Except every time their paths cross, neither one of them can deny their powerful attraction.

Going against their parents’ wishes, they give into their burning desires. He’s dark and cunning. She’s sweet and innocent. Together, they are explosive.

But their parents have plans of their own. The choices they make to get ahead threaten to pull Aurora and Enzo apart. Now the star-crossed lovers have to decide if their forbidden love is worth going against everything and everyone.

Enzo knows what he wants. And he’s willing to do whatever it takes to keep Aurora for himself. If he fails, it could destroy them both.

Fallen Raven, Book Two
I should’ve stayed dead.
I should’ve run when he challenged the winning bid.
I should’ve said no to his contract.

But the ruthless Don Enzo Alfera gets what he wants.
He wants revenge.
More than anything, he wants me.

A Note from Diana: Fallen Raven Duet is a standalone romance, featuring Enzo and Aurora, and is part of the Crime Society World. No cliffhangers. Complete Story. This modern day Romeo and Juliet retelling is about never letting go. Check TW
This book features:
He falls first
Star-Crossed lovers
Angst, family feud
Forbidden love

 


 
 
 

 

 

About the Author

Author Bio:

Diana A. Hicks is an award-winning author of steamy romantic suspense and science-fiction romance.

When Diana is not writing, she enjoys hot yoga, kickboxing, traveling, and indulging in the simple joys of life like wine and chocolate. She lives in Atlanta and loves spending time with her two children and husband. Connect with Diana on social media to stay up to date on her latest releases.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook Page / Facebook Group / Twitter / Instagram / TikTok / Amazon / Bookbub


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BLOG TOUR – Enlightenment of the Rogue Emperor by Jana Klánová

Enlightenment of the Rogue Emperor

Rogue, Arcane and Desolate  
Book One
Jana Klánová
 
Genre: YA Fantasy Adventure
Publisher: Jana Klánová
Date of Publication: 19th May 2023
ISBN: 978-80-11-03194-7
ASIN: B0C4LH4VYV
Number of pages: 526
Word Count: 155k

Cover Artist: nskvsky

Tagline: Until death or authorities do us part

Book Description: 
Eugenie is a certified, double-vetted, regular, ordinary high-school girl living her best life someone more competent planned for her, in a perfectly normal world, where strange things don’t happen because that is simply impossible.

Or so she thought.

Right the second she graduates, the rug under her feet gets pulled and she, alongside a young, mysterious scoundrel, takes a wild tumble down a mountain of myths and hoaxes that her country has been built upon into a whirl of unknown, scary… but oh, so exciting.

Amazon     Bookbub

Excerpt:

It was finally over. The last day of Academy began with a
rather underwhelming and bleak summer morning.

After spending four long years at the Military Academy of
the capital city Concordam, cadets were anxiously shivering with expectations
for the Commander’s arrival; it was his decision that would sort them into
specialized military branches and launch them into their new lives and careers.

While Eugenie sluggishly approached the classroom through a
dim academy hallway, she couldn’t help but overhear the excited chatter of her
classmates.

“Oh, I hope I go to the Navy! I submitted my preference form
a day after the deadline.

Do you think they’ll still accept it?”

“I applied for covert ops!” exclaimed an annoying voice of
an annoying classmate.

“You just proved that you’re too dumb for that,” someone
reacted, and a burst of clamorous laughter followed.

Eugenie rested her back against the wall outside the
classroom door. Waiting quietly all by herself for the chime to announce the
beginning of the end. When it finally rang, she slung her bag, packed in
accordance with the protocol for immediate transfer, over her shoulder and then
headed into the classroom. It was easy to notice that the second she entered, the
joyous murmur of the class notably faded.

Eugenie was odd.

She used to strike everyone’s attention by being decisively
the tallest girl in the class with a wordless greeting of an unimpressed stare–
eyes cold and grey like a stone. Her chestnut hair, slovenly laid to her
shoulders, naturally rebellious fresh face and slender stature were still
making people turn around, but it had been a long time since boys had dropped
the attempts to impress her, and girls gave up on involving her in recess chat.
Eugenie did not seem bothered. By nothing and no one. She could return
compliments, but that idea never crossed her mind.

Days passed by without her saying a full sentence. Her whole
image and emotionless behaviour that she had displayed steered her classmates
to the conclusion that she was an incorrigible, arrogant bitch.

She waddled to her desk at the back of the room and
collapsed unglamorously into the seat. Before classmates managed to revive the
flow of the chat that Eugenie disrupted, the Commander of the Academy walked
in. In a blink of an eye, the class stood in a rigid salute, greeting.
Commander Vance Ewin, who had constantly smelled like an ashtray, was a
remarkably vital man in his early seventies. Or unusually worn out in his
mid-fifties. No one knew for sure. His age was the first military secret cadets
came across.

“At ease, sit down,” he answered and casually slid his hands
into pockets of his heavily decorated olive-green uniform.

“The time has come for cadets to follow their own paths to
carry out the will of the motherland. As we all did. In the past years, while
ya’ll have been training on the grounds of our Academy, your performances and
physical and mental strengths were up for some evaluations.

Last month you were ordered to submit your preference forms!
If there is a match between your skills and the General’s demand, your wish is
likely to be granted. If the demand can’t accommodate you and your preference,
don’t think we’ll send you home. You’ll be sorted into a branch that will
utilize your existing skillset the best… Well, I bet ya’ll know the drill by
now pretty well, so let’s move on to what everybody is waiting for.

I’m now going to hand out envelopes. Each envelope has a
number inside. A respective military branch officer will come later, call a
number, and if they call yours, you’ll follow, no questions asked. Until then,
you’ll be quiet like a mouse. Instructions couldn’t be clearer.”

He didn’t wait for any response and barked the name of the
first cadet in the alphabet:

“Aikman!”

Trissy Aikman was briskly on her feet and paced to the
Commander confidently. There was no need to hesitate; they all had been through
something similar before. She saluted. The Commander then shook her hand
formally and passed the envelope to her. After that, she skittered to her desk
to find her result. She raised four fingers in the direction of her besties,
sitting across the aisle, to indicate which group she landed in.

Ingo Broft repeated the same protocol precisely.

“Dean!” Eugenie got minor heart failure when she heard her
name. She stood up so rapidly that her chair tumbled on the floor with an
ear-splitting clatter. Her face flushed red from embarrassment. Eugenie
staggered as if she instinctively wanted to put it upright again, but she froze
in motion. Fixing mess was not part of the envelope protocol. She overstepped
the disaster on the floor and headed towards the Commander. The Commander
rolled his eyes and nodded, albeit begrudgingly.

“Commander! An amazon is attempting to destroy the Academy
properties!” Broft, now a successful navy candidate from Panumbreno, caused a
boom of boisterous laughter.

“Broft! You think I can’t hear that damn racket? Well, I
did, but did you hear my order to shut the hell up and wait? Maybe you want to
run laps till your hearing gets better?” Commander Ewin growled back at him.

“No sir,” the classmate peeped, humbled.

Eugenie made it to the Commander and saluted with apologetic
eyes, but the Commander’s capacity seemed to be completely spent by the
correctness of the envelope ritual while simultaneously emitting his
don’t-fuck-with-me vibes in Broft’s general direction. After Eugenie returned
to her desk, she got her chair upright and hid her face away from the judging looks
of her fellow classmates.

The Commander took only minutes to serve all the envelopes
he had at hand.
“Respective officers will be in here shortly. Make us proud. Make yourselves
count,” were the last words of advice they heard from the Commander before he
left the religiously quiet classroom.

Eugenie opened the packet slightly. But she saw nothing. She
pulled the paper out to see the other side. Empty. She flipped the page
frantically and then inspected the inside of the envelope, utterly dumbfounded.

Eugenie was given a blank paper.

Every time a group of classmates left, her stomach clenched
tighter and tighter. It did not take long for the classroom to get deserted.
The thick aura of frustration, condensing slowly around Eugenie, became the
only other entity to keep her company.

The blank paper’s gotta mean something. The Commander gave
the order to shut up and sit. That means I can’t just leave yet, Eugenie
assessed.

She did not know how to execute the white paper protocol,
but she was as sure as sun that no cadet in the Academy of Concordam was meant
to take any action against orders.

I’m getting kicked out of the Army, she concluded, breaking
out into a cold sweat.

The dreary tension was making every tick of the clock drag
like years. Eugenie was in quiet panic mode, mentally preparing for the
possible outcomes of expulsion from the Army. The regime was not leaving many
options to anyone, but Eugenie did not fear the prospects that unsuccessful
cadets and students were haunted by.

It was the terrifying uncertainty of what would happen next
that was curdling her blood.

On top of that, she was not even permitted to leave; an officer
had to allow that first.

The Academy had emptied. Eugenie did not hear a single
squeak in the hallway for a long while. Suddenly, the silence was shattered by
an ear-splitting tire screech from outside. Her desk by the window allowed a
little peek into the Academy’s backyard; Eugenie leaned in to quench her
curiosity, fuelled by the boredom. She witnessed how an executive limo had
parked in the middle of the backyard with almost dastardly disrespect to any
kind of order. A distinct shape of an officer emerged from the driver seat and
scooted across in an agitated rush.

Oh no, Eugenie thought. Nope. It’s not him. It’s NEVER him.
He never visits the Academy. I wish that maybe someday, SOMEDAY, I’d get to
meet General Everian. He’s a rockstar just by the rank, an Imperial… and his
looks on top of that! She had been lost on a train of her gushing fangirl
fantasies until steps in the hallway grew louder and disturbed Eugenie from her
convenient daydreaming.

Gingerly, she glanced through the open door in the direction
of the incoming noise and in that second, her heart stopped beating.

A man in his late twenties, of a tall, athletic stature,
with a decorated army hat pressed against black hair, brushed into a fringe,
was rushing through the corridor like a merciless tempest. Even if this was
Eugenie’s first time to see a general in person, she could clearly recognize
the sign of the Imperial family; a coral-red sash was peeking through his
loosely unbuttoned, anthracite officer trench coat. And yes, he was carrying a
long-hilted sword clipped to his belt.

There was no doubt left. General Alistar Everian was coming
at her. A reflex immediately kicked Eugenie into a frenzied attention stance.

The handsome machine of authority charged into the empty
classroom but quickly lost his momentum in front of the blackboard. Perhaps, he
came to a shocking realization that it would be easier for him to navigate
without his hat. The annoying visor of his General headpiece kept invading his
line of sight constantly. He took it off, furrowed his thick eyebrows and
pierced Eugenie with a fiercely stern gaze. Even across the classroom, Eugenie
was snared by his frosty blue eyes.

“It is alright, Cadet. At ease,” he uttered coldly. A
displeased grimace on the General’s face curved his lips and revealed his
perfect, glistening teeth.

Eugenie felt like all her blood had decided to go on a
strike, despite her heart’s insane efforts. She tumbled down to the seat like a
pine tree defeated by a hurricane. General Everian paced to her, and with a
swift move, he snatched a chair belonging to another desk and descended on it,
right in front of Eugenie, with grace that would make a swan jealous. Eugenie
panted for a breath and leaned away in a desperate attempt to increase the
distance between them.

“Cadet, none of this is in my job description, and I have no
time for this. Are you even at least aware of what could possibly bring me
here?” He was not smiling. Nor graceful. His voice was so neutral that Eugenie
could not tell if he was trying to comfort or intimidate her. She shook her
head and turned her eyes down in a negative response. The General softly
exhaled, and from his exasperated hand gesture, it was clear he was searching for
words.

“Alright. Let me tell you the story from my end. On one fine
evening, I am sitting in my Commanding centre, minding my own business. Nothing
too important. As a Cordam General, I am only responsible for supplying
military personnel into seven provinces.” Even though he was ranting, Eugenie
could not help herself; all she could think of was how glorious General looked
when he was doing that.

“That’s the core responsibility of Cordam. We produce
soldiers, officers, clerks, lawyers, doctors, teachers and all this—” he waved
his hand impatiently, “—to maintain public order in the Unity lands.” Eugenie
nodded vigorously. The word he was missing was infrastructure, but she did not
find the courage to suggest it.

“Then this fat piece of – Commander– waltzes in my
Commanding centre and tells me: look, Alistar, I have one excellent cadet with
a unique psychological profile, and I don’t know how to sort her after she
graduates, which is roughly in 14 hours. Now you see, cadet, I got played like
a banjo by that stinker because you can already deduce, he got me to visit the
hellhole he runs to check on your sorting process,” he fired off his version so
casually as if they were drinking buds. Eugenie pulled another weak apologetic
face. When General noticed her reaction, his murderous drive faltered. He
looked around erratically as if he was supposed to search for some hidden clue.

“Looking at you, I assume that you’re already guessing the
cause of my presence. Can I see your envelope, please?” By the end of the
sentence, he posed his hand in a demanding gesture to Eugenie. Even though he
sounded calmer, saying no was not an option. Eugenie was shaking when she
passed the envelope to the General. He pinched it with two fingers and
inspected it against the light without any due. He scoffed at his findings.

“Cadet Dean, why did you not fill out your preference form?
You would get sorted by your choice, I can guarantee that,” there was a
negligible hint of curiosity in his tone.

“I didn’t like any of the options, sir,” she replied
bluntly. Immediately, she regretted not thinking her answer through.

“And what would be to your liking then?” he fired back at
her. This time she was ready with an answer. She had spent years waiting for
someone to ask her this question.

“I’d like to be Emperor’s personal guard, sir!” Eugenie
spouted proudly.

Although General Everian was a seasoned professional in his
trade, he lost his face in front of her again. This time, he was genuinely
baffled.

“Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? Imagine as if I,
when sitting here ten years ago, said: I wanna be a General, but there is no
box to tick in your form, so piss off.”

Eugenie just kept her eyes low; no military officer was ever
in the mood for delusions of grandeur.

“No wonder you couldn’t find a match in the preference form.
Are you even aware that the Emperor has no dedicated military personnel?”
 

“Yes, I know, sir. That is why I submitted an incomplete
preference form. No matter what I’ll get sorted into, it will be a
disappointing result.” The General could no longer maintain his ironclad
composure, and his face got tainted with an amused grin.

“Why the Emperor? Why not… me, for example?” he acted
frisky.

“Ignore that question, Cadet,” he waved it away the second
he noticed that Eugenie was violently blushing.

About the Author 


Jana Klánová is an author from the capital of beer and magic, Prague, Czech Republic.

Her work is hugely influenced by authors like Terry Pratchett, J.R.R. Tolkien, George R.R. Martin, Stephanie Meyer, Tara Gilesbie and other absolute legends.







BLOG TOUR – Potion Master by Sam Fairburn #DarkUrbanFantasy #MMFRomance

Potion Master Playlist –

Monsters by Ruelle
(The man lurking in the dark.)

Eyes on Fire by Blue
Foundation
(Erick and Riley’s theme.)

War of Hearts by
Ruelle
(Finn and Erick’s theme.)

Nature Boy Acoustic
by Aurora
(Riley and Finn’s theme.)

Devil’s Dance Floor
(The Drunken Sailor’s theme.)

Notorious by
Adelitas Way
(Here comes the bad guy.)

Breath of Life by
Florence + The Machine
(Riley’s path.)

Cinema Skrillex
Remix by Benny Benassi, Gary Go, and Skrillex
(Intoxicating story.)

Electric (feat.
Khalid) by Alina Baraz and Khalid
(I can’t fight this anymore.)

The Other Side by
Ruelle
(Climax of the book.)

Bridges by Aisha
Badru
(End of book one and lead-in to book two.)


Potion Master

Fate Cycle Series
Book One
Sam Fairburn

Genre: Urban Fantasy Romance
Publisher: Sam Fairburn Publishing
Date of Publication: November 16, 2023

ISBN: 978-1-998204-01-4 
ASIN: B0CJ8DVMNT 
Number of pages: 340 pages.
Word Count: 93976 words
Cover Artist: Erick Robillard at Kinos

Tagline: Moderation is key… That being said, when not one but two enigmatic liars creep into my life, what’s a witch to do?

Book Description:

Riley

All I want is to start this new chapter of my life in peace, brewing beer and mixing potions at The Drunken Sailor. Simple. Safe. Single. But when my skills as potion master and healer are noticed by a mysterious stranger, the stalking that ensues leads me to ask more questions than I should. Things take a dark turn as the secret I fought all my life to protect gets uncovered by the deadliest magical mob boss in the city. Now, my best chance at survival is down to a cocky criminal and a bookman that is too clever for his own good. As their presence haunts my every waking hour and the situation gets dire, I don’t know if I can keep fighting this relentless pull between us.

Finn

I have focused on only one thing for the last three years—work. But when Riley comes into my bookshop, searching for a way to undo the tracking spell placed on her, I am caught up in a journey that ushers me right back to the one man I am trying to forget. I was his to cherish, his to punish, yet the worst wound he gave me was not a physical one. And she might be my salvation.

Erick

My blood is made of hunger and fight, which serves me well on my side of the law. No one but him knows who I am or where I come from. And I have all the intentions for it to stay that way. But when witches start to disappear in the city and no one, not even the Sennex, does a damn thing about it, I make it my business to investigate. Grave mistake. My efforts only lead me to desires I should steer clear of and discoveries darker than I could ever fathom. I fought to keep them away, to keep them safe, but life is never as kind as to bring hope without taking something in return.    

Witchy meets steamy in this tale of soul-wrenching magnetism, dreadful secrets, and magic that could wreck the world.

Potion Master is a slow burn dark urban fantasy MMF romance. It’s book 1 in the Fate Cycle series.

Excerpt:

“I throw the playing card into the air. It’s about to glow blue and give
me a minute of peace when Finn blows on it. The vessel and the spell it
contains catch fire like flash paper. One second it was there. The next,
there’s hardly any residue left. This feels more and more like bringing a knife
to a gunfight. Finn is one of the best and most powerful casters I’ve ever
known. I’m so far out of his league it’s laughable. I know he’s right, and I
should learn how to fight with my power as well as he knows how to fight with
his.

We keep at it for a while longer, me landing a couple of blows and him
hitting me with small spells not meant to injure but mostly to annoy.

Then Finn goes in for the kill. “I kissed her.” He says it with so much
nonchalance that it takes my brain a moment to register the meaning of the
words. Finn takes advantage of the distraction he just created to send his
palms forward, producing a wall of air that throws me to the ground. He’s on me
instantly, but it will take a lot more for him to win. We tumble together in a
mass of limbs and grunts.

“It’s none of my business what you do with each other,” I hiss. “You’re
not my problem.”

Finn holds me down, and I let him. I need a minute to recuperate from
the physical exhaustion as well as nurse the inner scab he just scratched at.

When he sees that I don’t fight him anymore, not really, he leans
forward and speaks directly into my ear. “Do you want to know how her skin
tasted or how her body felt plastered between mine and the wall?”

The jealousy is suffocating. I envy the path of her hands on his body.
I resent him for knowing the feeling of her lips under his. The image of them
together angers me as much as it mesmerizes me. The thoughts become
all-consuming.

“Do you want to know,” Finn whispers, “how each stroke of our tongues
brought up thoughts of you?” His words are like the most delicious alcohol.
They burn as they go down, but the heat spreads into my belly like wildfire.
Finn’s admissions, his body straddling mine, the electricity of his power. It
sets me aflame.

All I want to do is pin him to the floor and drink the taste of her
from his mouth. I buck my hips and turn his hold against him, but I don’t know
where to go from here. The hard ridge of his erection presses against mine, and
I freeze. I want him so much my entire body hurts with the strength of my
restraint.

I’m so caught up in the moment that I see Finn’s combat spell too late.
His hand is already glowing with a white ball of light. I don’t have time to
reach for a protection spell card. And, judging by the energy gathered like
lightning just under the surface of his skin, even if I dodge the hit, it will
seriou

sly damage the installations around us. He knows this. The bastard leaves
me no choice.”

About the Author:


Sam is a Canadian author of dark fantasy romance and dark urban fantasy romance with a healthy dose of spice (because why not?). She loves daydreaming about new characters and can often be found staring into the abyss of the great nothingness, completely lost in thought. She also dislikes talking about herself in the third person. Hence, I’m going to stop this author bio here. 

I am deeply grateful for every reader who takes time out of their day to lay their eyeballs on one of my books. I couldn’t be an author without you. 







BLOG TOUR, Excerpt, Playlist & Giveaway – Guardian of Monsters by Catherine Stine

Here’s a playlist I created for the spooky season with all things supernatural. Enjoy!
 
I Put a Spell on You – Nina Simone
 
You Make me Feel Like it’s Halloween – MUSE
 
Wake the Witch – Karliene
 
Alice Underground– Avril Lavigne
 
Season of the Witch – Donovan
 
Heartless – The Fray version
 
Black Magic Woman – Santana
 
Hunting for Witches – Bloc Party
 
Heavy Like a Witch – All Them Witches
 
Do You Believe in Magic? – Lovin’ Spoonful

 


Guardian of Monsters 
Sleuths of Shadow Salon
Book One
Catherine Stine
 
Genre: Urban Fantasy, Supernatural Private Investigation Thriller
Publisher: Konjur Road Press
Date of Publication: August 6, 2023
ISBN: 978-1-7333901-7-0
ASIN: B0CD9VP4NS
Number of pages: 236
Word Count: 65k
Cover Artist: Christian Bentulan
Tagline: Supernaturally on the case! Celestine LeBlanc and Luna Finley are the Sleuths of Shadow Salon.
 
Book Description:
 
Celestine, witch and wolf shifter has a talent for prophetic drawings. She’s shocked when she draws her landlord Ray with his eyes gouged out and a strange winged-mermaid leaning over him. Later she finds an eyeless Ray dead on the sidewalk. All she wanted to do was open a gallery, but first she must apprehend his killer. In a note she found after he died, Ray revealed he wasn’t just a leather-smith but a supernatural pirate mage. Years back, his Jekyll crew trapped the evil Demon Three Eyes clan. Ray had feared they’d escaped, were stalking him, and would soon wreak havoc on Savannah.
 
Oryn, a fellow student in Celestine’s continuing ed art class, is a fae and a thorn in her side, when he asks nosy questions about the case. Yet, she’s drawn to him when he’s her masseur at the spa she frequents, and he’s clever at brainstorming leads regarding Ray’s case. He insists his air magic could come in handy.
 
When pirates in Ray’s old crew are murdered, their body parts stolen, Celestine puts more horrifying clues together. She’ll need everyone on board, including Oryn and Luna, a mermaid asking to show her sea-glass sculptures at Celestine’s new gallery—the very same mermaid in Celestine’s tragic drawing of Ray. Otherwise, the lethal monstrosity Demon Three Eyes is unleashing on Savannah will destroy the city and everyone in it. 
 
This series may appeal to fans of Kim Harrison and Charlaine Harris.

Amazon        BN       Apple      Kobo      Smashwords       Books2Read  

 


Mics were thrust in her face as she stepped toward the front stairs.

“How do you feel about Ray Bartello’s murder?”

“Do you have a statement for the press?”

“Is it true that your drawing predicted Bartello’s death?”

“Why would you draw him eyeless?”

“Are you the murderer?”

She waited until that last crappy question—more an accusation—to say anything. Then she stared at the reporter. With scalding rage contained in a deceptively quiet hiss, she said, “Ray Bartello was a good friend of mine. I’m heartbroken by his passing.”

She glanced at Oryn for moral support. His slightly narrowed eyes seemed to say, Go slow, you don’t owe them. She agreed. After the supernatural attacks, she was not going to hint that she knew a damn thing, because the more that bad entities knew she was trying to figure out the case, the more they would try to maul, even kill her. Oryn gave a faint nod, his eyes tinting green. She went on.

“I know nothing about how this happened. You could camp here for days, and I still couldn’t tell you more. The proper place to provide any tips or leads is to the Savannah Police.”

As she pushed through the group, Oryn walked slightly behind her, since the reporters were busy photographing them together, no doubt fuel for salacious media.

“How do you know Miss LeBlanc? Are you dating her?” some ballsy reporter asked Oryn. He didn’t answer.

“Did you know Ray Bartello? Did you or Miss LeBlanc have a fight earlier on the day he was found?” asked another.

“Can you tell us anything more about the case?” asked a third.

Oryn face wrinkled in disgust. “Look, Miss LeBlanc needs peace. She’s said what she can. Yes, we’re friends, not that it’s your business,” he added sharply. “You may as well go get some sleep. Camping out here won’t get you what you seek.” He swept his arm around

Celestine, and they hurried up the stone stairs leading to her place.

Oryn stopped on the stoop while Celestine unlocked the door. “So, I’ll see you at class tomorrow? Will you be okay?” he asked. “If you want, I can cast a few air wards around the house so you can get a worry-free night’s sleep. Otherwise—”

“It’s not your job to protect me,” she said, gazing up at him and realizing how very much taller he was, next to her five-foot, seven-inch frame. Good goddess, the man must be six and a half feet tall if he’s an inch.


 

Catherine Stine is a USA Today bestselling author of paranormal, urban and historical fantasy, all with romance and suspense. Witch of the Wild Beasts won a second prize in the Romance Writers of America’s Sheila Contest. Other novels have earned Indie Notable awards and New York Public Library Best Books. She lives in New York State and grew up in Philadelphia. Before writing novels, she was a painter and fabric designer. She’s a visual author and sees writing as painting with words. Catherine loves spending time with her beagle Benny, writing about supernatural creatures, gardening and meeting readers at book fests. Learn more at catherinestine.com
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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BLOG TOUR & Excerpt – The Veils and Vampires by Cee Bee

Veils and Vampires
CEE BEE
(Vampires of the Daemonverse, #2)
Publication date: October 14th 2023
Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Paranormal, Romance

 

***By popular demand! New launch date of Fall 2023 across all retailers!***

I’m checking out the Bold Tsarina nightclub, even if it is owned by Konstantin, the Bratva crime lord who hates my guts. After all, the trip could snag me a high-paying gig for another mafia king, the infamous Caelin Vass.

Yes, that Caelin Vass.

I’m talking about the hot-as-sin social media sensation who’s rumored to be both a horrible boss and a blood-sucking vampire. And did I mention that Caelin’s also the star of my hottest NSFW fantasies? He is. Plus, that isn’t even the strangHighlander meets Twilight with a dash of Fifty Shades of Grey in this vampire romantasy…

 
Caelin MacGregor is an ancient king with a new love
Ages ago, I ruled a clan of vampire raiders. We were allies to the Vikings and enemies of the Rus. That life ended when the bloodkin plague wiped out all our women, including my beloved vampire bride, Elisava. A thousand years have passed. My heart remains empty. Then I see a human woman named Lexa. For the first time in ages, I feel true desire, respect and love. Could Lexa actually be a lost bloodkin lady … or is she a horrible trick from Pyri, the ancient fire goddess of the Rus raiders?
 
Lexa Uznetsov has a plan
To save my sister, Sash, I took on my father’s debt to Konstantin the Rus, leader of the New York Bratva. As a result, my life became a never-ending (and incredibly illegal) stakeout for the mob. After years of scheming, I’ve finally come up with a solid escape plan: find all three pieces of the infamous Veil Pendant. Once I reassemble this magical item, I’ll have the power to cure my sister … as well as the ability to say buh-bye to Konstantin. Sure, legends warn that reforming the Veil Pendant may bring about some nastiness called Pyri’s doomsday. Yet if it saves Sash, I’m willing to risk anything.
 
“Veils and Vampires is amazing! It has action and adventure and a little spicy. Enough that it makes you drool and want more. Honestly a totally different take on modern day vampire soulmates. I devoured this book in one sitting.” – Teresa, Goodreads
 
Vampires of the Daemonverse
1. Violins and Vampires
2. Veils and Vampires
3. Vixens and Vampires

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

 


 
 
Excerpts

Lexa

When a girl decides to have sex with vampire, it isn’t easy to wait for the fun to begin. Yet, that’s exactly what Caelin’s asked me to do.

We left the Bold Tsarina—a building which is now in need of major renovations, by the way—and came over to Caelin’s penthouse. Once here, the man insisted that we shower and eat. Apparently, we have to keep up our strength for the next few days. I’d complain, but Caelin’s playing that I’m a thousand year old vampire card while looking at me all steamy-like. It totally works. 

But if we wait much longer, I can’t be held responsible for what happens. Just saying. 

Which brings me to where I am now: Caelin’s shower. It’s a modern set-up with a million nozzles and a ton of hand-held shower hose deals. I’m sure all that stuff has fancier names, but I’m used to sneaking into the performer’s bathroom when they’re between sets at the Lucky Ladies. This is way over my skillset. There’s even a touchpad with buttons. Who knew that you could put electronics in a shower without killing anyone? Apparently, it’s a thing.

Caelin is off cleaning up the last crumbs left in the kitchen after he whipped me up a delish omelet. I got to stare at his ass with abandon during the cooking process, too. All in all, very enjoyable.

Back to the shower. I toss aside my very plush robe, step into the stall and push a few buttons. A trickle of icy water dribbles from one high up nozzle. I force myself under the flow and, teeth chattering, take the quickest shower ever. Then, I hit the stop button.

Turning around, I find one very naked Caelin standing behind me. Did I mention this is a big shower? It is. 

I take a moment to soak in the sight of him. There’s Caelin’s intense whiskey-brown eyes, strong jawline and wide mouth. But all these I’ve seen before. Now, I scan the ropes of muscles on his bare arms and chest. For someone who’s been in his share of battles, his skin is unscarred. A line of dark hair trails down his flat stomach to his large, hard cock.

Caelin steps into the shower, pausing when we’re both very naked and close. “That willna do, my beauty.”

“No?”

“Nae. Let me take care of ye.”

Caelin takes to pushing buttons until there’s a warm water shooting at me from all directions. He then lathers me up, staring off by standing behind me and washing my hair. That part is nice. Caelin then rubs suds all over my chest and ass. I don’t think my skin has ever gotten this much attention. 

To rinse me off, he uses this hand-held shower-head and slowly makes each bubble go away. It’s killing me. 

“D’ye know how many times I pictured you here, just as you are now?”

My core tightens. The idea of a naked Caelin imagining me makes my nipples tighten. Caelin notices the change. He leads a drop of water from my shoulder down to the tip of my breast. 

“How many times?” I ask.

He slips his hand between my legs. For each word he speaks, he rubs once against my most sensitive spot. “Every. Damned. Day.” 

 

About the Author

Author Christina “CEE BEE” Bauer has sold more than 1M copies across her 45+ epic fantasy books for young adults. She’s recorded (and narrated) eight of her books into audiobooks, as well as led the translation of her novels into four different languages. USA Today has called her work “must-read paranormal fantasy.” Bauer is an autism advocate and quirky loudmouth whose writing style really isn’t for everyone. But if you like stories with complex worlds inhabited by chicks who kick ass and take names, then read on!

Christina lives in Newton, MA with her husband, son, and semi-insane golden retriever, Ruby. She loves to connect with her fans at ChristinaBauerAuthor.com.
Be the first to know about new releases from Christina by signing up for her newsletter: http://tinyurl.com/CBupdates

Website / Facebook / Twitter / YouTube / Instagram / TikTok / LinkedIn



A copy of Veils and Vampires and more

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BLOG TOUR, Excerpt & Giveaway – Honey Drop Tome 1 Volume 2 by Alicia R. Norman and Krishtina Mayers

 

 

The Ghost Of You – By Alicia R. Norman
 
The ghost of you still lingers
in the corners of my mind
leaving drops of memory
and sinful thought behind
 
the moonlit path of darkened rose
a patch of warm sunshine
the ghost of you, it often haunts  
and blackness of my mind
 
A warm embrace
a sinful touch
a blood drop here
just oh so much
 
Tickled sweet
a candy lick
The smell of which
I shan’t forget
 
make no mistake
leave not behind
a million ghosts
without confine
 
–ARN
 
 

Honey Drop
Tome 1 Volume 2 
Alicia R. Norman and Krishtina Mayers
 
Genre:  dark fantasy romance drama, 
             paranormal romance, fantasy romance
Publisher: Luv Multimedia
Date of Publication:  September 3, 2023
ASIN: B0CH8WNJYJ
Number of pages: 274 pages
Word Count:  57, 527
Cover Artist: Alicia Norman
Tagline: When Love and Death Embrace
 
Book Description:  
 
With Abigail bitterly angry and their friendship in jeopardy, Prina finds herself drawn even more to Thayn and his mystical dark world. As she grows closer to him, the woman realizes his dark secrets involve a cosmic, political enterprise that may pull her and everyone she loves into the undertow. 
 
Mo Mo, Hekate, and Tabietha are also well aware of Keres and Moros’ dangerous schemes but are also busy trying to cover up their involvement with Thayn’s plans for Proserypn–when they do finally give the duo the attention they deserve, they all find it is too late to stop what is coming down the pike.
 
Book Trailer: https://bit.ly/3Lidftp
 
 

 


Excerpts

Prina folded her legs to one side and stared at him. Her skirt had scrunched up to just below her hip.      

She stared…      

Watched as the man steadied himself over a handful of moments.      

Disbelief filled her heart.      

Had she … had she just …      

She spouted a rhetorical question.      

“Have I kicked a god?!”      

His face rose–he was grinning.

Little beads of tears were forming in his eyes. Was it really from the pain? Had she kicked him that hard? Well, being strong didn’t mean you didn’t feel pain she supposed.      

Regardless, the awe in Proserpyn’s heart was quickly supplanted by fear and horror. She straightened her legs to kneel, and then she prostrated herself. She blurted out every name she could remember.      

“Polydegmon! Odigos! Hades! Zylanthrakas!”      

She paused to pant into the mattress. Swallowed.      

“Thayn?!”      

Her fingers and nails rasped against the sheet.      

“I implore you, Death God! I implore you, Harvester! Have mercy on this weak mortal!”  

Proserpyn continued breathing into the sheet, heat building under her face. She was shaking as if she might fall apart. Although she should’ve smelled the bedsheet, she only smelled him, sweet, spicy, smoky.      

More seconds passed. She could’ve counted them if she’d thought to do so.      

Thayn laughed.

He actually laughed!!

He sounded …      

He sounded …      

Light puffs and gulps of air between each laugh.      

He sounded…?      

Prina’s fingers tightly curled.      

“Honey Drop, Dear Honey Drop. Come.”      

He sounded relieved!      

Prina froze.      

She felt movement. Thayn was approaching, but she didn’t think it mattered if she fled or not. He was a damn god. He could find her anywhere.      

He was beside her. His cool hands went to her waist. Prina’s belly shrunk into her back.      

Thayn lifted her up to an upright position and wrapped his arms around her. His nose went to her cheek. His breath tickled her. “Be at ease, please be at ease.”

That tickling breath became uneven. He shuddered.

He truly shuddered!      

Yet he grew warmer and warmer.      

Proserpyn looked away and folded her fingers into her cheeks. “I’m dreaming.”      

He sniffed. It was loud in her ear; it made her jolt in his embrace. Some of his hair tickled her.    

“What?” he whispered.

“I’m not married, certainly not to any god. All this time, I’ve been dreaming.” She tried to move away, but he did not yield.      

“Don’t leave!” Thayn’s highly embellished fingers spread out. His painted nails didn’t pierce her skin, but they did bite enough to make her whine. “I’ve pined for so long,” he said, “too long, and now you’re here. You’re here, and I can touch you! I can hold you! Don’t leave!”  

More and more hoarse but also wetter, as if his throat was aching and full of moisture.      

One of his hands went to hers as he moved her into position to straddle him. Thayn touched her jaw and turned her face toward his.      

Prina closed her eyes and sighed into the mouth against hers.      

There was a craving in his lips and teeth, sliding and pressing on her, his humming voice trickling down her body.      

A dream.      

Only a dream.    

Right.

Right? 

About the Author

Krishtina Mayers is a romance fiction writer from North Carolina. She prefers blending fantasy, humor, and darkness in almost everything she writes. Her hobbies include playing video games, cooking, and studying history. She likes her romance the same way she likes her chili con carne, spicy with a good amount of sausage and beans … and maybe wrapped in a soft shell tortilla to make big bites easier to handle.  

By day, Alicia Norman is a copy specialist at a major marketing firm, by night, she is a screenwriter and animator. She lives with her two kids and three cats in the burbs of Dallas, GA, and aspires to share her own brand of historical erotic fiction with BFF and co-writer Krishtina Mayers. 

Visit Patreon to support her on her mission: https://tinyurl.com/2p9fh6j6

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/Honeydrops2023/

Buy Me a Coffee https://www.buymeacoffee.com/honeydropsa

 
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BLOG TOUR, Excerpt & Giveaway – Melanie’s Awakening by Celia Breslin

Vampires for Halloween!
 
As vampire fans know, there are so many different spins on vampires in books, movies, and TV. Some vampires may sparkle in the sun while others disintegrate or burst into flames. Some are alive and aging while others are immortal and/or undead. Some fight for Team Good and others for Team Evil. Here are my recs for some fun Halloween month vampire viewing and reading, as well as a look at my take on these fun and feisty paranormal creatures.
 
Vampire Books:
 
* Anita Blake series, by Laurell K. Hamilton
* Black Dagger Brotherhood series, by J.R. Ward
* Immortals After Dark series, by Kresley Cole
* Tranquilli Bloodline series, by Celia Breslin
* The Vampire Chronicles by Anne Rice
 
 
 
Vampire TV series:
 
* Angel
* Buffy the Vampire Slayer
* Moonlight
* The Originals
* True Blood
* Vampire Diaries
* What We Do in the Shadows
 
 
Vampire Movies:
 
* Blade, Blade II, Blade: Trinity, Blade: House of Chthon
* From Dusk Till Dawn
* The Lost Boys
* Renfield
* Underworld, Underworld: Evolution, Underworld: Rise of the Lycans, Underworld: Endless War, Underworld: Awakening, Underworld: Blood Wars
 
 
Happy Halloween!
Xo,
Celia
 
 

Melanie’s Awakening
Heartland Fae
Book Two
Celia Breslin
 
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Celia Breslin
Date of Publication: April 2023
ISBN: 9798223505884
ASIN: B0C37NKFYB
Number of pages: 124
Word Count: 30K
Cover Artist: Brantwijn Serrah

Tagline: They’re lovers from different worlds…and a Dark Fae is determined to keep them apart.

Book Description: 

When Melanie Blackstone is offered her bestie’s home in Illinois for the summer, she jumps at the chance. She has a jerky ex to forget and a fantasy-horror screenplay to finish for her agent back in California. But writing time is soon sidelined by strange lights dancing in the air and an even stranger dark figure lurking in the yard.

As a favor, Fae warrior Dealan agrees to look in on the female staying in his friends’ home. However, he didn’t expect her to be able to See him. Few humans possess the Sight, yet this one does. Even more surprising—the friendly and inquisitive woman seems to like him and want his company. A first for the solitary assassin.

But Dealan isn’t the only Fae fascinated by Melanie. A Dark Fae sets his sights on her as well…


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Dealan scowled, cursing under his breath as he strode toward the house. The female must be daft. Her ruckus could wake the dead, and that was the last thing he wanted to deal with at the moment. This living, breathing human was a sufficient problem without adding temperamental ghosts to the mix.

Near the back porch, his keen Fae hearing picked up the rattling of doors, the clicking of window locks, and the scraping of curtains tugged along metal rods. Room by room illumination ceased. Darkness wouldn’t protect her from his kind, however, should they wish her ill. He harrumphed. Which they didn’t.

At the foot of the deck stairs he paused, reminding himself why he’d agreed to watch over this skittish lass in the first place. His best friend Angus was a right pushy bastard, and sadly, Dealan had never been able to refuse his friend’s damn requests. Factor in kindhearted Eva O’Reilly, his chum’s mate and longtime friend of the flower fairies, and it was nigh impossible to deny either of them any little thing.

Or, one noisy, possibly unhinged, woman-sized being named Melanie Blackstone.

“She’s a funny one, isn’t she, Warrior?” Rosina’s airy voice chimed from behind him.

Giggling ensued when he merely grunted in reply, then the leader of the flower fairies appeared before him in a swirl of pink sparkles. “Let’s go inside to see what else she does.”

“I’ll enter,” he corrected her. “Alone.”

“Aw, you’re no fun,” Rosina pouted, crossing her slender arms and cocking a hip.

“And always much too serious,” Valeria and Poppy tittered in unison, fluttering past his head to join their leader. Their wings whirred, showering sparks over his form, their magic brightening the evening gloom with pulsating pink and orange light. The pleasing sight did little to improve his mood.

“She saw us, Warrior, did you see?” Poppy squeaked.

Valeria’s head bobbled quick. “And took our picture, too.” She struck a pose and preened.

“Aye, I noticed, Little Ones.” The human seemed to see him, too, right before she shrieked like a Banshee then fell on her arse inside the sunporch. Strange, since they were cloaked in their natural invisibility and usually needed to lower the mantle to reveal themselves to those who couldn’t See. And according to Eva, her friend didn’t possess the Sight. Although, Eva had mentioned her friend wrote fantastical stories, and creative minds were typically open minds, so—

Valeria and Poppy darted to the door.

“Stay out here,” he commanded, as they peered into the solarium.

“Ohhhh, she left pizza,” Valeria squealed. “Let’s cover it in sugar and eat it.”

“And put honey in the wine! Drink it down,” added Poppy.

Rosina laughed. “Good plan.”

Dealan grimaced at the notion. “Negative. You are to remain outside.”

“Boooooooo,” they sang in unison, all three glaring his way.

A shrill scream erupted from the house. Shite. Dealan summoned his sword out of habit and leaped forward, landing before the fairies and waving them away from the screened back door. 

Celia lives in California with her family. She writes urban fantasy and paranormal romance, and has a particular fondness for werewolves, vampires, angels, and the Fae. When not writing, you’ll find Celia exercising, reading a good book, hanging with her family, or indulging her addiction to fantasy TV shows and movies.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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BLOG TOUR, Excerpt & Giveaway – Vampire Witch by Eileen Sheehan

 
 

Ghost Dream by Eileen Sheehan

I first saw a photograph of the abandoned house on Twelve Maple Lane about a decade ago. My immediate impression was what a wonderful inn it would make for those who appreciated the days gone by.  So, without so much as a walk through, I bought it.

It was nightfall when I approached the old house that had been wholly unoccupied for years with reverence and a touch of trepidation. Its residents had long left it to the mercy of rodents, dust, and cobwebs. I felt as if I was invading the privacy of the ghosts who were left behind. Ghosts of occupants over the centuries since the building was little more than an idea in the mind of the builder.

Holding my flashlight firmly in one hand, I turned the porcelain doorknob that would allow me entry. It, like the door, was cracked with age. My mind pondered over how many hands had turned that knob and pushed their way into this dwelling in its glory days. Days when vibrantly colorful rooms glowed with the softness of gas and candle light and radiated laughter and happiness. My ponderings quickly left me when, for the first time in my life, my level head -that had always ignored and given no credence to superstition- experienced an overwhelming dread as an invisible cobweb clung to my face. I shuddered. It was only a cobweb, but it felt as if I’d walked through someone. Or, better yet, someone had walked through me.

Like a frightened child, I rushed to the one room that I had made certain was prepared for my occupancy by the workmen who were hired for the house’s resurrection. As I locked the door, a sense of security swept over me. I had not only locked out the moldy darkness, but the eerie feeling of unseen eyes was no longer hovering about. Someone had been thoughtful enough to make sure that there was a cheery fire burning in the oversized fireplace. Its flickering flames did wonders to give a sense of warmth and safety to the room. I sat down before it with a comforting sense of relief. The electricity was turned off, requiring the soft flickering lights of candles to illuminate my surroundings. Seeing the antique furnishings in such ambiance brought up visions of days gone by.

From the color and print of the faded wallpaper, and the delicacy of the bed and dressing table, I deduced that the room had once belonged to the gentler sex. I closed my eyes as I allowed my imagination to summon visions of faces out of the mists of the past. Faces that were long forgotten and voices that long ago grew silent for all time.

As a storm brewed outside of the thick leaded window panes, my reverie shifted to sadness. The singing of the voices from the past was replaced by the shrieking of the winds outside. The laughter in the ears of my mind shifted to a softened wail. The incessant beating of the rain against the panes stripped the room of all tranquility. The eeriness that I’d left beyond the closed door slowly crept through the cracks beneath it.

A nervousness overtook me as the fire burned low. An overwhelming sense of loneliness consumed me. Eager to shake it, I arose and changed into my night clothes. I moved about the room, stealthily preparing for slumber as if I was amongst others whose dreams would be lethal to interrupt. Diving onto the mattress, I slithered beneath the covers. With my head barely exposed, I lay listening to the rain and wind and the faint creaking of distant shutters until a blissful, deep sleep overtook me.

The acute stillness of the home when I awoke filled me with a shuddering expectancy. All, but the beating of my heart, was silent as I lay in the pre-dawn light while I debated what to do. The workmen would not arrive for several hours. My stomach was announcing the need for the breaking of my fast, but my cowardly nerves refused to budge. So, I lay in the warmth and false security of my bed until an unseen force took matters into hand.

Slowly. Very slowly, the bedclothes slid toward the foot of the bed. It was as if someone was pulling them from me. Instead of being too nervous to move, I was now scared stiff. Not only couldn’t I move a muscle, but I could make no sound. I finally regained control of my body enough to allow me to grab the edge of the blankets and pull them back over my breast until they reached my chin. It took an even greater effort to pull them over my head. Beads of nervous sweat formed upon my forehead as a result.

I lay in frozen silence while I waited for what might happen next.

After a brief interval, that steady pull on the coverings returned. I roused my energies, snatched the covers with a vice grip, and pulled them over my head again. Suddenly the sound of heavy footsteps permeated my room. I felt a sense of relief that they sounded like they were moving away from me instead of toward me. When the footsteps reached the bedroom door, I waited for the creaking sound of it opening and closing, but it didn’t come. The footsteps, however, continued to exit the room and fade as they walked further into the empty house.

I lay trembling while contemplating what just happened until I had myself convinced that it was a dream. My nerves were further soothed when I crawled out of bed and found that the bedroom door was still bolted on the inside.

The day passed as normal. I exerted a good deal of emotional energy overseeing the workmen in my effort to keep the integrity of the old house in place. Once nightfall arrived and the men retired, I eagerly took my exhausted self to my bedroom once again.

I had just blown out the candle and snuggled beneath the bedclothes when I heard a grating noise overhead. It sounded like a heavy box was being dragged across the floor. When the dragging sound ended, a loud thud occurred. It was so loud that the windows shook.

Beyond my locked bedroom door, I could hear the muffled sound of doors slamming throughout the house.

A part of me wanted to get up and search for intruders, while the other part of me said to stay put and wait to see what would happen. I regretted not taking the precaution against intruders by having a bat or some other type of self-defense weapon in my room as I listened to the sound of stealthy footsteps creeping about the corridors, as well as up and down the stairs.

Sometimes these noises stopped outside of my bedroom door, hesitated, and went away again. I heard muffled sentences and occasional half-uttered screams that were faint, but discernable. Then, a light breeze passed by me as the swish of invisible garments reached my ears.

The eerie feeling that I’d felt the night before returned with a forcefulness unmatched. I sat up in bed and held my hand to my heart while I did my best to slow the beating that threatened to get out of control. Unlike the night before when the fireplace was ablaze with illuminating light, I had lit only a small fire that rapidly turned to embers. With the candles snuffed out, I was forced to rely on the glow of the embers and the filtered rays of the full moon through the window to see my surroundings. The shadows bounced about, but I was still able to make out a cloaked figure hovering in the corner of the room.

“Who are you and what do you want?” I nervously asked. The figure remained silent as it slowly moved toward me.

“This is my home,” I said with a boldness that I didn’t feel.  “You are not welcome.”

“Why do you wish to have this home?” the figure asked in a deep voice that had a hint of echo to it.

Surprised by the question, I was even more surprised by the way I calmly replied with, “I wish to bring it back to its glory days and to share it with others.”

“Glory days?” the figure mockingly said. “Those were times long gone. The house belongs to me now.”

“I purchased this house,” I insisted. “I have the deed to it.”

“You may have the deed, but I have lived in it,” the figure argued. “It belongs to me. You will leave.”

Fear was replaced by indignation over the shadowy figure’s demand that I leave a home that I’d put so much of my heart and soul into and would require even more before its beauty could shine through once more.

“If you care so much for this home,” I challenged, “Why have you let it go into such disrepair?”

“It is as I desire it to be,” the figure firmly announced.

“It is not as I desire it,” said a female’s voice from seemingly nowhere.

“Josephine!” the figure bellowed. “Why have you come?”

“I never left,” the voice replied. “I simply saw no reason to negate your occupancy until now.”

“Why now?” the figure asked.

“Finally, there is someone who is willing to return the life and love to the walls of my home,” Josephine said. “I have cried decades of tears for want of such a thing to occur. Now that it has, I will not allow you to prevent it. You must go.”

“I have occupied this place too long for you to be able to push me out,” the figure bitterly announced.

“Perhaps, if it were just myself doing the pushing,” Josephine said with conviction.

Too stunned and amazed by what was occurring before my very eyes, I stayed motionless while I listened to what I discovered to be two discarnate beings verbally debating over who should take control of the house that I now owned. I was tempted to ask them both to leave, since the house now belonged to me, but, since I was only now being exposed to the reality of a world beyond the here and now, I was uncertain what the protocol for such a request would be. So, instead, I remained stoic and silent while I waited to see what the outcome of this verbal debate might be.

To my surprise and dismay, the arguing grew quite potent. So potent, in fact, that the stillness of the air left the room. It was replaced by what I could only describe as a violent wind. The bedroom door rattled, along with the windows. A fleeting fear that the glass might shatter flashed through my head before my attention was turned to the fact that the room seemed to expand in the darkness as the figure of a woman in a Victorian gown appeared before me.

Although I had already become aware of the presence of the cloaked figure, he was merely a shadow. This woman, on the other hand, was as opaque as myself.

She was neatly put together with not one hair out of place. Her dress was of vibrant colors that glowed in the moonlight. As I stared in startled wonderment, several equally opaque spirits, both male and female, in Victorian attire joined her. Soon, the room was filled with what I inherently knew were former occupants of the grand house.

The shadowy figure stood his ground, alone against a roomful of spirits wanting him out. At first, as the energy he projected blew like a hurricane through the room to the extent that I clung fast to the bedpost, I thought for sure that he would win. It took a moment for them to gather together with hands firmly clasped, but when they did, the wind changed direction and forced the shadow into oblivion.

I sat in silence on the edge of the bed while I debated what to do next. The spirits faded away, one by one, until only Josephine remained.

“You need not fear us,” Josephine said. “We are pleased that you bring to this home the life and love that it deserves. It has been our desire for decades. We will protect you and it from this moment on.”

With that, she also faded away.

Feeling safe and satisfied, I silently smiled and retreated to the security of my bedcovers. Within moments, I fell into a deep, exhausted slumber.

I awoke the following morning to the sounds of workmen bustling about the house. Surprised that I’d slept for so long, I raced to join them. As the day progressed, my thoughts, and memories of the battle between spirits the night before faded. By the time nightfall returned, I considered it nothing more than a vivid dream.

The restoration of the house continued until it was restored to its original glory with no more incidents from the unseen world. Since there were no more bumps in the night, bedclothes mysteriously sliding off me on their own, or spirits appearing before me, I eventually completely dismissed the dream as a reaction to the unsavory ambiance of a neglected home.

Today, I operate an historic inn that offers tours that are accompanied by the history of the house and its occupants that I acquired from the local library and town records. On rare occasions, I will receive a report from one of my overnight guests reporting vivid dreams of a woman in Victorian dress smiling as she stands at the foot of their bed.

 

Vampire Witch
Vampire Witch Trilogy
Book One
Eileen Sheehan
 
Genre: Paranormal/thriller/romance
Publisher: Earth Wise Books
Date of Publication: 01/01/2016
ISBN: 978-1726737524
ASIN:  ‎ B0195YJ1Q0
Number of pages: 378
Word Count: 91,903

Tagline: She falls for two handsome vampire brothers. Now, she must choose…. Lovers of VAMPIRE DIARIES or TRUE BLOOD will enjoy this story.

Book Description: 

Discovering the mother that you thought was dead for over a decade is very much alive will shake your world.

And so begins Casey’s dilemma. Add to that her mother has become a mutant vampire and has promised her in marriage to a wicked vampire king in order to unite the two kingdoms. Now, let’s combine that with the fact that the bearer of such news is a hot and sexy guy who turns out to be a vampire and he steals her heart. Then, to top it off she finds that he has an equally hot vampire brother vying for her love and who she just might have feelings for too.

Ready or not, Casey’s life just took a turn for the strange.

Join Casey in this sizzling, action-packed first book of a paranormal romance thriller trilogy.

Book Trailer: https://bit.ly/3PDgAWJ

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Luthias groaned and raised his hand to his head.  Gwendoline was at his side in a flash.  She lifted him into a position that allowed him to easily drink the liquid she held to his lips and then lowered him back down again.

“This will help him regain a bit of his strength, but he’ll still need blood,” she said. She went to a tall refrigerator in the corner of the room and inspected its contents. “I doubt I have enough to bring him back to normal.”
“How much do you need?” I asked.

“He’s almost bled dry,” she said.  “I have enough to keep him alive, but not much more than that.”

I bit my lower lip while I watched Gwendoline pull every bag of blood she had in her supplies and place them on a tea cart to roll next to the table.  She emptied the first bag into a glass and urged him to drink.  He weakly obliged. By the time she’d fed him the last bag, the hollow around his sunken eyes was beginning to disappear and his wounds were starting to shrink.

I pointed this out to Gwendoline and she smiled faintly.

“If he has more blood will they heal completely?” I asked.

“Within seconds,” she said.

“Where does he usually get his blood?” I asked hesitantly.

“He hunts deer or wolf. Large animals are generally the best,” she replied.

“No humans,” I mused admiringly.

“Verso vampires refrain from drinking human blood whenever possible.  The risk of developing an addiction is too great,” she explained. “We live peacefully amongst ourselves and rarely venture out into the rawness of what’s left of our planet. An addiction to human blood would require they leave Verso.”

“There are some who drink it,” I said.  “A maid told me humans don’t last long in Verso because rogue vampires drink their blood until they’re dead.”

“That’s true,” she said with a nod. “It takes a strong vampire to be able to stop drinking a human’s blood before they drain them dry. In my centuries of life, I’ve known of only a few who could do it.”

“Is it the magic that keeps you alive?” I asked.

“Indeed,” she replied with pride. “As it will ye.”

“I plan on becoming a vampire,” I reminded her.

“Yes, but until ye do, the magic will slow down the aging process,” she explained. “There’s no need to rush things.”

“How old was Geo when he was turned?” I asked while I mindlessly stroked the length Luthias’s arm.

“He was twenty-eight. He had a wife and three children, poor lad,” she said.

 “I never thought about him having a family,” I gasped. “What happened to them?”

“They were killed by the raiding vampires. Geo was saved because of the strong magic in his veins.  Luthias found him and brought him to me to tend to.  He looked much like Luthias does now,” she said.

“When did Luthias turn vampire?” I asked.


 

Sitting at her antique rolltop desk in her home in upstate New York, Internationally Published and Award Winning author, Eileen Sheehan, writes steamy romance thrillers for the mature adult with a sexy male and strong female. The majority of her novels are paranormal, but some are just plain novels about people in love. As the years progressed, so did her writing style. Although she still includes romance and has a happily ever after ending, her stories tend to have more mystery, thrills, and horror in them.
 
She makes it a point to write a novel length that will allow the busy readers to be able to sit down in an evening (no more than two) and be taken on a journey that was created by her active imagination without having a week go by before they gets to the end of the story.
 
An incurable romantic, she has a love affair with at least one of her characters… one book at a time. She hopes the same thing happens to you.
 
Eileen started out as a freelance writer for periodical magazines and newspapers. From there, she tried her hand at writing screenplays. Her screenplay, “When East Meets West” was a finalist in the 2001 Independent International Film and Video Festival at Madison Square Gardens, NYC. Finally finding her niche, she lets her imagination loose with paranormal romance/thrillers. 
 
If you want to see more quality writings at a reasonable price, please support her efforts by leaving a review and becoming a follower
 
 
 
 
 
 
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BLOG TOUR, Excerpt & Giveaway – Taken By The Alpha King by Abigail Barnette

Dear Reader: This post is condensed from a larger, previously published series entitled “The Worst Person I Ever Met,” which you can find in the “Classic Trout” section of my website, jennytrout.com, but it can be enjoyed as a spooky Halloween story all on its own.

Nearly twenty years ago, I was trapped in a toxic friendship with a woman who, like myself, practiced witchcraft. Cathy was going through a messy divorce and I, feeling like I couldn’t say no, let her stay with us in our home for days at a time. It was during one of her absences when my son asked, “Where do the other stairs go?”

We lived in a ranch-style house with a basement. There was no accessible attic and only one set of stairs. However, my son is autistic and had an interesting way of describing things (once, to tell me that he’d seen a cricket in our holly bush, he informed me that it was “nighttime in the plant”), so I asked some probing, but not leading questions. Where are the stairs? At the back of the basement, right under the real staircase. Then maybe he’d seen a shadow? No, he insisted. He’d seen other stairs.

Frustrated that I wasn’t understanding, he demanded I follow him down to the basement. He led me urgently to where he’d seen the other stairs, but when we got to the spot, he was perplexed. Not in a “clearly pretending” way, either. He was genuinely confused as to where the stairs had gone. I decided that he’d probably seen a shadow, somehow. The light had played tricks coming in from the high basement window. I told him if he ever saw the other stairs again, he should come tell me immediately. I wanted to see it for myself, so I could explain to him what he was seeing.

These weird occurrences became more sinister. My son was the soul of unflappable calm as he explained “the green, drippy people” to me. They were in the basement, he said, hanging from the ceiling. Their eyes were red, like the ghost mouse’s eyes.

“The ghost mouse?” I asked, trying to convince myself he’d just seen an albino rat on tv or something.

“The ghost mouse.” He acted like it was something I should have already known about. “The ghost mouse I can follow to the other stairs?”

I made him promise me that he would never talk to the green, drippy people or follow the ghost mouse. And he would never, ever go down the other stairs. I stressed the importance of that, and he solemnly promised that he would never have gone down the other stairs because they were so scary.

Once, I was putting a load of laundry into the dryer when a dripping, skeletal hand in a tattered sleeve reached out of a shadow, grasping for me. I screamed and raced upstairs, shaking. I lived in terror every day. To my son, these occurrences were normal. To my skeptical husband, they were non-existent. I thought I was losing my mind.

So, what link does all of this have with Cathy?

As mentioned previously, Cathy and I both practiced witchcraft. We did rituals and spellwork together, much of it at my home. Any of my spiritual practice that didn’t happen outside or during group gatherings happened in my office. Before we’d put down our wood laminate flooring, I’d drawn a permanent circle on the subfloor, both with a marker and with some low-level energy. I always knew where it was, and any spells or meditation or chanting happened in that circle.

Cathy knew where it was, too. Shortly before she left for Colorado, she told me how blessed she felt by all the positive changes in her life. “One night when I was staying over at your house, I went into your office, where your circle is? And I said, ‘Okay, universe. I want you to send everything I’m putting out into the world back to me three-fold, right here and now.’”

I realized then exactly what had happened. Cathy put nothing but toxic, destructive, outright malicious energy into the universe, and now it was doing what she asked: sending it all back, three-fold, right to the place where she’d requested. I hoped that whatever it was would follow her when she left for her new home.

It didn’t. However, as so many malicious haunting stories go, we couldn’t afford to move. Bad luck plagued us until we finally were forced to move due to foreclosure.

Shortly after I began writing about Cathy on my blog, my then teenaged son came to me and said, apropos of nothing, “Do you remember the other stairs?”

All of the hairs on my arms stood up. He hadn’t mentioned the other stairs in years.. “I remember you thought there were some other stairs. Did you figure out what they were?”

“There were other stairs,” he insisted. “But there’s stuff I didn’t tell you about them.”

He described the other stairs to me, in more sophisticated detail than he’d been able to at five. They were old stone, uneven like ruins. They led down into a dark hallway with shadowy doors. A dim orange light came from one of the doorways.

“And there was someone at the bottom,” he said in an uncharacteristically quiet, serious voice. “They had a person’s body, but their head was like an animal skull. With horns or antlers or something.”

I decided to do a cleansing spell while I had some alone time. I put some new age music on Spotify and set about doing the ritual. Just as I was getting ready to begin, an advertisement came on and a woman’s voice cheerfully called out, “Hi! I’m Cathy!”


Taken By The Alpha King
Abigail Barnette
 
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Trout Nation, Inc.
Date of Publication: May 2, 2023
ISBN: 9798988035503
ASIN: B0BZ2TY27H
Number of pages: 472
Cover Artist: Covers by Kris

Tagline: He’ll never stop fighting to keep his throne…and her.

Book Description: 


Born into a secret society of werewolves and betrothed to a mate she didn’t love, Bailey Dixon made the choice to leave her pack for five years. Now, she’s back and fully committed to becoming the werewolf she was destined to be.

But destiny–and the new pack king–have other plans. Rich, handsome, and utterly ruthless, Nathan Frost demands absolute obedience from the Toronto pack. When he sets his sights on Bailey, she’s plunged into a world of politics, sex, and violence she’s not equipped to navigate on her own.

With her life in danger and enemies emerging from every corner, Bailey is forced to rely on the mysterious stranger who’s usurped the throne of her pack. And even he can’t be trusted…

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Humans imagine scenes in movies where werewolves scream in agony and tear out of their clothes, which I’ve never understood. We know when the full moon is. It doesn’t take us by surprise. And we know how to dress for it.

Or undress. My breath freezes in my lungs as Nathan walks into the circle. He stops in front of the monolith to Lycaon and drops his robe.

I shamelessly look him over, the way he did to me, from his broad shoulders, down his chest dusted with dark hair that thins to a line on his shockingly sculpted abs. I wasn’t expecting him to look as good as he does. I wasn’t expecting that my mouth would water at the sight of his cock, that my thighs would clench together at the thought of how huge it must be hard.

I wish he could see me. I hope he feels me, smells me.

And I hope that the strange attraction between us is making him as crazed with need as I feel.

An acolyte—a thrall trained in our ceremonies and rituals—steps forward with a shallow silver bowl bearing a glistening human heart. It’s required for the transformation; Lycaon himself was transformed into a wolf after he angered Zeus by feeding the God human flesh. Nathan grabs the heart with his bare hand and bites into it.

That’s when he lifts his gaze and finds me, seconds before the transformation starts.

It begins with his eyes. They flash silver, then red. His face shifts, nose and jaw elongating into a muzzle. We don’t turn into wolves. That’s a myth. We turn into a creature that stands upright; body covered with short, silky hair from our clawed feet to our canine-like heads. The fur flows over every contour of Nathan’s body and his spine curves, drawing him into a hunched posture. His ears elongate, pointing straight back, a shape humans would consider more elfin than dog-like, with tufts of fur accentuating the points. His arms grow longer, as well; in this predatory manifestation, a wide reach is an advantage.

In his animalistic form, he waits for the others but stares up at me. Like this, I’m vulnerable. Far too human. I would be no match for him, should he want me. And he does want me, but even this way, he has self-control, as well as some common sense. He knows he can’t reach me, and so do I, but being the target of all that concentrated power and bestial drive is still heady and frightening.

The good kind of frightening. The kind that makes me wonder what could happen if I only push a little further.


 

Abigail Barnette is the pseudonym of Jenny Trout, an author, blogger, and funny person. Jenny made the USA Today bestseller list with their debut novel, Blood Ties Book One: The Turning. Their American Vampire was named one of the top ten horror novels of 2011 by Booklist Magazine Online. As Abigail Barnette, Jenny writes award-winning erotic fiction, including the internationally bestselling The Boss series.

Jenny has been featured on television and radio, including HuffPost Live, Good Morning America, The Steve Harvey Show, and National Public Radio’s Here & Now. Their work has earned mentions in The New York Times, Entertainment Weekly, Slate, Vulture, and Fangoria.

A longtime supporter of community theatre, Jenny has appeared on stages across West Michigan as Anelle in Steel Magnolias, Julia in Two Gentlemen of Verona, Bea Bottom in Something Rotten, and Hunyak in Chicago, among many others. They’ve worked behind the scenes as everything from director to prop master. Jenny is a proud Michigander, parent of two, and spouse to their very most favorite person.

http://jennytrout.com/


https://www.facebook.com/JennyTroutAuthor/


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