Blitz: Kindling Flames: Granting Wishes

Title:  Kindling Flames: Granting Wishes

Series:  The Ancient Flame Series Novella

Author:  Julie Wetzel

Published:   May 26th, 2015

Publisher:  Crimson Tree Publishing

Genre:  NA Urban Paranormal Romance

Content Warning:  Violence, adult language

Recommended Age:  18+

Synopsis: 

Leprechauns don’t exist. Or that’s what Cathren has always believed, but a chance encounter changes everything. When she saves a handsome stranger from a nasty electrical shock, not only does he claim to be one, but he also insists on granting her wishes. Now she must decide— is he insane, or a magical creature of lore? Unsure which is true, she grabs at the first three wishes she can think of: true love, happiness, and waffles. A tall order for most men, but not for Patrick Brogan. With a little persistence and just a touch of magic, anything is possible.

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Excerpt 

Patrick dropped a bag on the counter. “I brought you waffles!” He fished in it, pulling out a box of Eggos.

Cathren laughed. “Those aren’t waffles.” The absurdity of it made her giggle more. She took the carton from him. “These are prepackaged, frozen, and could have been cardboard in another life.”

Patrick’s face fell as she shook her head.

She sat the box on the counter. “Thank you, but you really don’t have to do this.”

“No.” Patrick took up her hands and held them gently. “I am sworn to fulfill your wishes. True love, happiness, and waffles. And, if this doesn’t count as waffles, then I shall have to do better, cailín.” 

About the Author:

Originally from Ohio, Julie always dreamed of a job in science. Either shooting for the stars or delving into the mysteries of volcanoes. But, life never leads where you expect. In 2007, she moved to Mississippi to be with her significant other. Now a mother of a hyperactive red headed boy, what time she’s not chasing down dirty socks and unsticking toys from the ceiling is spent crafting worlds readers can get lost it. Julie is a self-proclaimed bibliophile and lover of big words. She likes hiking, frogs, interesting earrings, and a plethora of other fun things.

Julie Wetzel is the author of her debut novel Kindling Flames. Kindling Flames was released through Crimson Tree Publishing in 2014.

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Crimson Tree Publishing Links:

(an adult division of Clean Teen)

Website  |  Facebook   |  Twitter

Giveaway Details:

There is a tour wide giveaway. Prizes include the following:

• A bookmark swag pack and winner’s choice of any Clean Teen Publishing eBook.

Giveaway is International. a Rafflecopter giveaway

Book Tour: Chasing Midnight

Title:  Chasing Midnight

Series:  Dark of Night, Book 2

Author:  Ranae Glass

Published:   April 21st, 2015

Publisher:  Crimson Tree Publishing

Genre:  NA Paranormal Romance

Content Warning:  Violence and adult language

Recommended Age:  18+

Synopsis:

Isabel Stone’s life is far from normal. She’s a girl with problems—vampire problems to be specific and, now, she also has one ticked-off specter on her hands. Approached by a childhood friend and medium, Isabel agrees to look into the murder of a local girl, only to wind up inhabited by the solitary witness—a centuries-old ghost who is all too happy to piggyback along in Isabel’s body, and she’s not leaving until the culprit is behind bars.

With the help of her partner, Shane, and her crazy family, Isabel struggles to get to the truth, unmask a killer, and deal with her growing feelings for not one, but two, of the sexy, undead men vying for her heart. Just when things are finally falling into place, a huge revelation takes her out of the frying pan… and straight into the fire.

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Excerpt from Chasing Midnight by Ranae Glass:

I ducked behind the brick wall just before a beer bottle whizzed past my head, exploding into shards of brown glass behind me.

            “You have got to be kidding me,” I yelled, and peeked over the wall. He was running. I caught sight of him just as he rounded the far corner of the alley. “Get back here, Gallas!”

            I didn’t think he would actually take me seriously enough to listen, so I was stunned at his decision to take off rather than stand his ground and fight. I was maybe 130 lbs. soaking wet, and a head shorter than him to boot. Maybe my reputation was finally preceding me. I smirked at the idea as I bolted over the top of my cover, chasing after him.

            At the end of the alley there was a tall barbed wire topped fence. The sound of my boot heels hitting the pavement echoed down the dark street. He must have looked up and saw the fence because he turned, bursting through the back door of the antique shop at the end of the alley. I cussed and backtracked. Thank God I was familiar enough with these back streets to know where most of the entrances would exit. Running to the front I arrived at the glass picture window just as Dave Gallas, parole violator and accused hit and run driver, threw himself into the window from the inside, breaking through in a shower of clear glass. I shrieked and collapsed downward, instinctively covering my head with my arms. He leapt over me and kept running.

            Aside from a few small scratches, I didn't feel any severe pain from more wounds.  I wasn't planning for Gallas to be so lucky. Out of breath and patience I stood, watching him run into the night. Not human, I realized. Besides the idiocy of crashing through a plate glass window and taking off without hesitation or harm—which any meth head could manage—his gait gave him away. It looked almost fluid, as if at any moment he’d lean forward and run like an animal on all four limbs.

            With a sigh that contained more than a little satisfaction, I drew the small silver whistle from under my red t-shirt, stuffed it between my lips and blew. Instantly Gallas clutched his hands to his ears and pitched to the side, falling into the middle of the street. I kept blowing as I jogged up to him.

            Just as I reached him, I heard some commotion and turned my head to see that we were less than a block from Xavier’s seedy club, the Painted Lady. The bouncer at the door was mimicking Gallas’ stop, drop, and roll impression. Two men who were probably vampires rushed out of the club. Of course. It might not affect them the same way, but with their superior hearing, they could at least hear the dog whistle. I stopped blowing as they helped the burly Were to his feet. He pointed to where I stood over Gallas. Shit. I was about to have company. With fangs.

About the Author:

Ranae Glass writes New Adult Paranormal Romance. A Southern girl at heart, Ranae loves feeding people, gardening, and sweet tea. She hails from Oklahoma and lives with her family out West where she spins tales of vampires, werewolves, and other things that go bump in the night. You won’t find any ‘vegetarian’ monsters here, her books are best served bloody and are not for the faint of heart. Ranae is the author of the Dark of Night novels from Crimson Tree Publishing.

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Crimson Tree Publishing Links:

(an adult division of Clean Teen)

Website | Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway Details:

There is a tour wide giveaway. Prizes include the following:

• A bookmark swag pack and winner’s choice of any Crimson Tree or Clean Teen Publishing eBook, and a $15 Amazon Gift Card.

Giveaway is International.

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Release Day Blitz: Witch's Moonstone Locket

Witch’s Moonstone Locket 
A Coon Hollow Coven Tale
Book One
Marsha A. Moore

Genre: New Adult Paranormal Romance

Date of Publication: March 24, 2015

Word Count: 94,000

Book Description: 

Twenty-three-year-old Jancie Sadler was out of the room when her mother died, and her heart still longs for their lost goodbye. Aching to ease her sorrow, Aunt Starla gives Jancie a diary that changes her entire life. In entries from the 1930s, her great grandmother revealed how she coped with her own painful loss by seeking out a witch from nearby Coon Hollow Coven. The witch wore the griever’s moonstone locket, which allowed whoever could unlock its enchantment to talk with the dead. 

Determined to find that locket, Jancie goes to the coven’s annual carnival held in her small southern Indiana town of Bentbone. This opposes her father’s strict rule: stay away from witches. But she’s an adult now and can make her own decisions. She meets Rowe McCoy, the kind and handsome witch who wears the moonstone. He agrees to let her try to open the locket, but they’re opposed by High Priestess Adara and her jealous desire to possess him. 

Desperate for closure with her mother, Jancie persists and cannot turn away from a perilous path filled with magic, romance, and danger.

BUY LINK:  AMAZON 

Excerpt from Chapter One: Great Aunt Starla’s Cornbread

Warm rain mixed with Jancie’s tears, and she rose to stand beside her mother’s grave. Not ready to let go, she bent at the waist and her fingers followed the arc of her mother’s name—Faye Sadler—in the headstone. She knew the unyielding shape well. The word goodbye stuck in her throat. She’d said it aloud many times since her mother died almost a year ago, only to have the cemetery’s vast silence swallow her farewells. Rain beaded on the polished granite. Her hand, bearing her mother’s silver ring, slid down the stone and fell to her side. 

If only she could’ve said goodbye to her mother before. After years of caring for her mom while she suffered with cancer, Jancie had missed the final parting moment while getting a quick bite of dinner. The pain still cut like a knife in her gut. 

On foot, she retraced the too-familiar path toward her work at the Federal Bank. Although she’d landed a job as manager at the largest of the three banks in the small town of Bentbone, the position was a dead end. Within the first six months, she’d mastered all the necessary skills. Now, after a year, only the paycheck kept her there.

Jancie turned onto Maple Street. As usual, wind swept up the corridor, between old shade trees protecting houses, and met her at the top of the tall hill. September rain pelted her face and battled the Indian summer noontime temperatures. She zipped the rain parka to keep her dress dry, pulled on the strings of the hood, and corralled strands of ginger-colored hair that whipped into her eyes. Once able to see, she gazed farther into the valley, where the view spanned almost a mile out to the edge of town. Usually, farmers moved tractors across the road or boys raced skateboards and bikes down Maple Street’s long slope. 

Today, on the deserted acreage just east of Bentbone, people moving in and out through a gate of the tall wooden fence breathed life into the rundown carnival. Surprised, Jancie crossed the street for a better view. She’d lost track of time since Mom passed. The coming Labor Day weekend in Bentbone meant the valley coven’s yearly carnival. She and her close group of girlfriends always looked forward to the cute guys, fair food, and amazing magical rides and decorations…even if her father didn’t approve of witches or magic. The residents of the sleepy town awoke to welcome a host of tourists wanting to see the spectacle created by the witches of Coon Hollow Coven.

Somehow, Jancie had forgotten the big event this year. Last year, she didn’t go since Mom was so sick and couldn’t be left. Jancie sighed and turned onto the main street toward the bank. She’d lost so much since her mother passed. Really, since the diagnosis of cancer.

At that time, four years ago, Jancie withdrew as a sophomore from Hanover College, a select, private school in southern Indiana near the Kentucky border—too far away. Instead, she returned to stay with her mother and commuted to Indiana University. Balancing hours with the home health care nurse, Jancie had few choices of career paths. Not that it mattered, since her remarried father expected her to find a job in Bentbone and continue taking care of her mother. Despite the sacrifices, Jancie loved her mother, who’d always managed money for a few special things for Jancie—a new bike, birthday parties, prom dresses—even though their income was tight. Mom had paid for her tuition and listened to every new and exciting college experience. 

Jancie smiled at the memory of Mom’s twinkling brown eyes, that mirrored her own, when she asked about what happened during the day’s classes: if Jancie liked the professor; if she’d made new friends.

When she rounded the last corner, her thoughts returned to the work day. At the bleak, limestone bank building, reality hit. Jancie pulled against the heavy glass door, and a gust swept her inside. She peeled off the drenched jacket and hung it on the coat rack of her small, plain office. At her desk again, she took her position.

Through the afternoon’s doldrums, punctuated by only a handful of customers, her mind wandered to the carnival. She’d gone dozens of times before and loved it. But since Mom passed, nothing seemed fun anymore, like she couldn’t connect with herself and had forgotten how to have a good time. She organized a stack of notes, anything to put the concern out of her mind.

***

After work, Jancie drove her old blue Camry the five miles to the other end of town where she lived in her mother’s white frame house, the home where she grew up, now hers. Glad to own her own place, unlike her friends who rented, she’d made a few easy changes. In the living room, a new brown leather couch with a matching chair and ottoman. She replaced the bedroom furniture with a new oak suite for herself in what used to be her mother’s room. With pay saved from the bank, Jancie could remodel or build on, but she didn’t know what she wanted yet. Her great aunt Starla had told her to just wait and hold onto her money; she’d know soon enough.

Pouring rain soaked the hem of her dress as she darted between the garage shed and back stoop of the small ranch house. 

Glad she’d chosen to get her run in this morning before work, she changed into cozy sweats, pulled the long part of her tapered hair into a ponytail, and headed for the kitchen.

Her phone alerted her of a text, and she read the message from her friend Rachelle, always the social director of their group: R we going to the carnival?

Jancie typed a response. I guess. R Lizbeth and Willow going?

Yep whole gang. What day?

Don’t know yet. Get back to u. Jancie worried she’d spoil their fun. Even though they’d all been her best friends since high school and would understand her moodiness, she didn’t want to ruin one of the best times of the year for them. Since Mom passed, they’d taken her out to movies and shopping in Bloomington, but this was different. Could it ever match up to the fun of all the times before? “I don’t know if I’m up to that,” she said into open door of the old Kenmore refrigerator while rummaging for leftovers of fried chicken and corn.

The meal satisfied and made her thankful she’d learned how to cook during those years with Mom. Not enough dishes to bother with the dishwasher, one of the modern upgrades to the original kitchen, Jancie washed the dishes by hand and then called Starla. When she answered, Jancie asked, “Can I come over tonight? There’s something I’m needing your opinion on.”

“Why sure, Jancie. C’mon over,” the eighty-five-year-old replied with her usual warm drawl. “Are you wantin’ dinner? I made me some soup beans with a big hambone just butchered from Bob’s hog. My neighbor Ellie came over and had some. She said they were the best she’s eaten.”

Jancie glanced at the soggy rain parka and opted for an umbrella instead. “No, I just ate. Be right over.” Keys and purse in hand, she hung up and darted for the shed.

Five minutes later, she turned onto the drive of the eldercare apartments and parked under the steel awning where Starla gave her a whole arm wave from her picture window. Jancie made her way to number twelve on the first floor. 

The door opened, and Starla engulfed Jancie in a bear hug, pulling her into the pillow of a large, sagging bosom. Starla smelled of her signature scent—rosewater and liniment. 

Jancie had loved her great aunt’s hugs as long as she could remember. Stress and worry melted away, and she hugged back. Her arm grazed Starla’s white curls along the collar of her blue knit top embroidered with white stars—her great aunt’s favorite emblem.

“It’s so good to see you. Come sit a spell, while I get us some iced tea.” Starla pulled away and gestured to the microsuede couch decorated with three crocheted afghans in a rainbow of colors. “I thought we were done with this hot weather, but not quite yet. That rain today’s been a gully washer but didn’t cool things off much.” The large-boned woman scuffed her pink-house-slippered feet toward the kitchen. “Would you rather have pound cake from the IGA or homemade cornbread?”

Jancie laughed and followed her into the kitchen. She wouldn’t get through the visit without eating. “You’re just fishin’ for a compliment. You know your homemade cornbread is better.” 

Starla arranged plates with thick slices of warm cornbread and big pats of butter on top, while Jancie transferred the refreshments to the aluminum dinette table.

“With your hair pulled back like that, you’re a dead ringer for your Ma. So pretty with that same sweetheart-shaped face.” Starla folded herself onto a chair beside Jancie. “You look to be getting on well…considering what all you’ve been through.”

“I’m doing okay,” Jancie said through a mouthful of the moist cornbread. She washed it down with a swallow of brisk tea that tasted fresh-brewed. “But sometimes, lots of times, I feel lost, like I can’t move on.” She ran a hand across her forehead. “I didn’t get to say goodbye. I spent time with her through all those years, and it shouldn’t matter, but it does every time I visit her grave and most every night in my dreams.”

“Oh, honey. I know it hurts.” Starla smoothed Jancie’s ponytail down the middle of her back and spoke with a voice so slow and warm, it felt like a handmade quilt wrapping around her.  “You spent all that time and gave so much. Just like when I cared for my husband some twenty years back. I know. I never got the chance to tell Harry goodbye either. Time will heal all hurts.”

Jancie looked down at the marbleized tabletop to hide her teary eyes. “I don’t think I’m ever going to heal, Aunt Starla. I don’t know if I can ever move on.”

“There is one thing you can try. I’d have done it, if I’d have known before decades softened my aching heart. Way back, I was desperate like you.”

Jancie looked into Starla’s blue-gray eyes, set deep inside wrinkled lids. 

Her aunt leaned closer. “Not many know about this,” she whispered as if someone outside the apartment door might hear. “There’s an old story about how a member of the Coon Hollow Coven, one who’s recently lost a loved one, is made the teller of the moonstone tale.” 

Jancie rolled her eyes. “That’s just a silly story, one of lots that Mom and Dad told to scare me when I was little, so I’d stay away from the coven. When the moonstone locket opens at the end of the tale, you’ll get your wish but also be cursed.”

“Oh no.” Starla shook her head and pushed away from the table. “Let me get Aunt Maggie’s old diary. I got this in a box of old family things when Cousin Dorothy passed. ” She lumbered to her spare bedroom and returned with a worn, black-leather volume only a little larger than her wide palm. 

Once seated, she thumbed through the yellowed pages. “Here.” She pointed a finger and placed the book between them.

About the Author:

Marsha A. Moore loves to write fantasy and paranormal romance. Much of her life feeds the creative flow she uses to weave highly imaginative tales. 

The magic of art and nature often spark life into her writing, as well as watercolor painting and drawing. She’s been a yoga enthusiast for over a decade and is a registered yoga teacher. After a move from Toledo to Tampa in 2008, she’s happily transformed into a Floridian, in love with the outdoors. Marsha is crazy about cycling. She lives with her husband on a large saltwater lagoon, where taking her kayak out for an hour or more is a real treat. She never has enough days spent at the beach, usually scribbling away at stories with toes wiggling in the sand. 

Every day at the beach is magical! 

Website: http://MarshaAMoore.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/marshaamooreauthorpage

Twitter: http://twitter.com/MarshaAMoore

Google +: http://google.com/+MarshaAMoore

Pinterest:  http://pinterest.com/marshaamoore/

Amazon author page: amazon.com/author/marshaamoore

Goodreads author page  http://www.goodreads.com/marshaamoore

Interview With "The Devil": The Devil At Play

The Devil at Play

Marcus Damanda

The Devil in Miss Drake's Class, 3

“Everyone loves the devil until they know him. Until they see him for what he really is.” 

Nobody ever did, even as the bodies started to pile up. 

But now, too late for it to matter, Audrey understands at last. The devil of Fairview has been courting her for days, and watching her for much longer than that. The murderer is her boyfriend—and he’s been killing on her behalf. 

His name is Jack Maddox, but everyone calls him Mad Jack. He’s planning a party, where everyone is invited, especially Audrey’s tormentors—especially the Facebook Fifteen. 

Audrey will have her revenge, whether she wants it or not. 

Because, in Miss Drake’s class, the devil will have his due.

14+ due to violence and adult situations

Buy Links:    Evernight Teen    Amazon

Excerpt:

As he cleaned the knife, she fought her way back to the surface. Eventually, she managed words. “I still don’t know which parts of this were real. Or if I’m completely crazy.”

“You’re not crazy, Audrey,” he reassured her. “You never were. No more than I was. And you’re not crazy now. Just the opposite, in fact.”

When she let the silence stretch again, making it meaningful, he continued.

“Your problem is the same as mine. You see things how they really are, and it makes you sad. Makes you angry. What happened here wasn’t a hallucination. What happened here was justice—for you.”

Polishing the blade, he glanced at her sidelong, expectantly.

He’s holding a knife, she said to herself. And spoke her mind anyway. “I’m nothing like you.”

He smiled. “You’re nicer than me, that’s for sure. No contest.”

“You’re… like the devil, Jack.” Please don’t kill me. You can read my thoughts, I know it now. You’ll know if I lie. I’m being honest with you. I want the truth.

“The devil?” Jack said, chuckling. “Not sure if I believe in ‘the devil.’ Never been to the other side, either way. But I know from pictures he has red skin, pointy tail, horns, carries a pitchfork… usually has pretty big eyebrows.”

Audrey put her hand over his wrists, stopped his polishing. “No, Jack,” she said. “The devil is far too smart to look like that. Everyone loves the devil, until they know him. Until they see him for what he really is.”

They regarded each other.

“Does this mean we can’t be friends?” he joked. “Bet you never thought you’d have first period English with the devil.”

“No,” she said. “I never did.”

“By your description,” Jack said, his smile fading. “The devil was in Miss Drake’s class. But it wasn’t me.”

“Jack,” Audrey said, giving up. “I want to go home. Can I go home, please?”

“Soon,” he said, tossing the knife in the sink, turning around, and leaning up against it. “You have to do something for me first. Don’t worry. I don’t think you’ll have a problem with it. I hope not, anyway.”

Audrey narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t afraid. After tonight, she didn’t know if she had any fear left in her. “What?” she asked.

“In order for you to understand the ‘what,’” he said. “You first have to understand who Ireally am. Completely—or at least as much as I understand, myself. Time is short, so pay attention.”

Audrey listened.

Interview With "The Devil" by Marcus Damanda

JACK’S SECOND INTERVIEW (now revealed as “Alastair Hutchinson”)

Character Interview with Alastair Hutchinson, Master of the 1,000 Ghosts—also known as “The Observer” from Devils in the Dark, A Devil in Daylight, and The Devil at Play. We’ve recently discovered that Alastair has been masquerading as teenager “Jack Maddox” at Battlefield Secondary School, though his reasons for doing so remain unclear. What we do know is that at least three Battlefield students, possibly four, have died—or been murdered—in the past three days, beginning with Gabriel Daniels on the day “Jack” and Audrey Bales began attending the school.

We are conducting this interview online. Alastair’s present location is unknown.

© You do realize we’ll be forwarding a transcript of this interview to the Fairview Police, Alastair. Full disclosure. You should be in custody, being questioned.

Alastair: No doubt. Listen, don’t worry about it. I’ll be in touch with them myself, soon enough. Time is short, though. Have at it.

© Why the secret identity? Why become “Jack Maddox”?

Alastair: Tell me you’ve never wanted a chance to do high school over again, if only for a few days. Anyway, I wanted to get to know Audrey Bales better. She needed a friend.

© Sources tell us she was doing remarkably well after being released from the hospital—making friends, blending in. What did she need you for?

Alastair: Conflict resolution.

© Is that a reference to the “Facebook Fifteen” who bullied her at her old school? Because, as of tonight, each one of them that transferred to Battlefield after their suspensions were served is either dead or missing, Alastair. Did you know?

Alastair: I certainly hope they’re dead. That was the idea, after all. I do try to be thorough.

© Are you admitting you killed them? As I said, Heather Roberts is still missing.

Alastair: That bitch is fish food. I expect they’ll find her, soon enough.

[As the interview continues, Bobby’s at work trying to wire the police and see if they can slip in and see this conversation right away. I can’t believe I’m getting a murder confession. Poor kids …]

© Does Audrey know what you’ve been doing?

Alastair: Audrey Bales is the best person I know. She’d never have anything to do with any of that. She doesn’t even want some petty little teenage version of payback. She just wants to be left alone. She’ll hate me pretty quick when she finds out—so sad. I really do care for her. So naïve. So easily damaged.

© Why are you doing this, then?

Alastair: You know, that’s ironic. Those were Audrey’s precise words when she entered the chat with the so-called “Facebook Fifteen.” I know what’s best for Audrey, even if she doesn’t. I know what’s best for everyone.

© You said time was short. What are you doing, Alastair?

Alastair: I’m arranging a party. My sendoff, you might say—and Audrey’s final liberation. All of the best people will be there.

© Really? Where is it?

Alastair: Nice try.

[Bobby has the police on the phone, but they’re complaining about some kind of encryption on Alastair’s end. They can’t cut through. Or even trace it back to its source.]

© Alastair—if you’re planning more violence, I have to ask you to please stop. This has gone far enough.

Alastair: Any of the Fifteen could have ended this three days ago. I made sure they knew how. I’m only waiting for one of them to “step up,” as the saying goes. This is their fault. And Maggie Lassiter’s. I am only a vessel.

[The police are asking us to keep him online as long as possible.]

© How old are you?

Alastair: That depends on if you count the time before I joined the host. I’ve been there for one hundred and three years. So, all told—one hundred eighteen. My, time does get away.

© Who’s coming to this “party” of yours?

Alastair: By now, I expect the police are putting every member of the Fifteen they can find into protective custody. You’d really be better off asking them. Each one they do not find, they’ll be at the party. Also, Maggie will be there. And Audrey, of course.

© You plan on killing her, don’t you?

Alastair: Audrey? Absolutely not. She deserves a life, if that’s what she truly wants.

© And Maggie?

Alastair: My plans regarding Miss Lassiter run far deeper than killing her. No, I do not intend to harm her, myself. As for the others …

© Alastair, they’re KIDS! Children!

Alastair: Yes. Yes, they are. And yes, I’ll most likely kill them. Please, stick to questions. Your statements of the obvious annoy me.

[Still no luck with the trace.]

© Was Miss Drake involved in any way? We’ve learned she taught a “Jack Maddox” five years ago, and that he died. Suicide.

Alastair: Intrepid, aren’t you? No, as to the current situation, Miss Drake is more fairly counted among those you erroneously label as “victims.”

© What’s that supposed to mean?

Alastair: The body count is not “four,” my friend. It’s actually six. I’ve been quite busy, you see.

© I’m not sure I even know what to say to you, Alastair …

Alastair: That’s fine. Listen, there’s actually a car pulling up. In this weather, it could only be assumed these are my guests.

© Alastair, wait.

Alastair: I’ve waited long enough. I’m afraid we’re done here. Please tell the police I’ll be in touch in an hour or three.

[End of Interview]

About the Author:

Marcus Damanda lives in Woodbridge, Virginia with his cat, Shazam. At various times throughout his life, he played bass guitar for the garage heavy metal band Mother’s Day, wrote for The Dale City Messenger, and published editorials in The Potomac News and The Freelance Star. Currently, while not plotting his next foray into fictitious suburban mayhem, he spoils his nieces and nephews and teaches middle school English.

WEBSITE

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Release Day Blitz: Addiction

A New Adult/College Contemporary Romance

Addiction
 (Distraction, #2) By

Angela McPherson

Published

By

Untold Press

Despite denying their love for years, in the end no distraction could keep best friends Tristan and Elle apart. Passion and heat explode as the two finally discover what they’ve been missing, needing, wanting for so long. When Tristan and Elle return home for Christmas break, the two are gifted with a few unexpected surprises. Heather, Elle’s sister, has come home and even better, she's now clean and sober. During this time, Tristan and his dad manage to work through their strained relationship, finding compromise and understanding. For the couple, everything is coming together—until circumstances change, threatening their newfound happiness.

Love is an addiction both craved, but when devastating secrets are revealed, Elle pushes Tristan away. He won't let go. She can't hold on. Is their love strong enough to keep them together? Falling in love was never an issue, but for Tristan and Elle, falling apart may be. Addiction is a new adult/college romance short novel.

 

 

Don't miss book 1, Distraction!

We have two giveaways running for ADDICTION! A chance to win an Amazon Gift Card, eBooks, a SIGNED Book, Tristan's favorite cookies and other special goodies specific to Addiction. Click —>HERE<— to enter the first giveaway and click —>HERE<— to enter the second giveaway!

Angela McPherson Born and currently residing in Midland, Texas, Angela shuffles three busy children (not including her husband) all over the place. She works in a busy pediatric doctor's office as a nurse during the day, and writes at night. She is addicted to coffee–who isn’t? And firmly believes chocolate can fix all–especially chocolate ice cream. She laughs a lot, often at herself and is willing to try anything once (she thinks). When Angela isn’t rushing kids around, working or writing, she’s reading. Other than life experience, Angela turns to a wide variety of music to help spark her creative juices. She loves to dance and sing, though her kids often beg her not to.

<3 Amazon Author Page <3

http://www.amazon.com/Angela-McPherson/e/B00EJ4535K

<3 Tristan Quotes/Teasers <3

“I’d like to say I love you and mean it. Only, that isn’t enough to describe what I feel for you… how much you mean to me, Elle.” “Water’s boring.” Elle traced a finger along my jaw, her passion-filled eyes trained on my lips. “I’m not looking for boring tonight.” The anticipation of wanting her jumped to fucking needing her as she rolled her hips into the pressure against my zipper. “What is it you’re looking for?” Elle bent forward, lips teasing mine, and whispered, “You.”

<3 Elle Quotes/Teasers <3

"I didn't think I could fall more in love with you, but you've proven me wrong, Tristan Wade Daniels. I love you.” His lips curved into a wide smile. "Say it again.” I stepped on my tiptoes and leaned in, my lips a breath away from touching his. I whispered, "I love the way my body craves more of you. I love the way your hands feel while touching me. I love the way your lips taste…” My eyes darted to his lips, and then back to his eyes. "I love how much you care. I don't just love you, but everything about you. I always have, Tristan. I always will.” He looked up and our gazes met. He was a beautiful mess, and I loved him so much, but the pain he created… well, I didn't think I'd recover.

 
We didn't talk much during the drive back to our hometown, but words weren't necessary. The soft smile on Tristan's face as he drove with his left hand while holding mine in his right screamed louder than any words ever could. He was mine.

Turning to watch the scenery pass by, I let my thoughts drift back to the start of this year. At the beginning of the semester when Tristan told me about his engagement to Kellie, the psycho, I couldn't breathe from the disappointment crushing my chest. Topping that, he also divulged he'd transferred to Tech, making sure my life remained as miserable as possible. Even though I loved him, seeing Tristan with another woman tore me to pieces.

Before their relationship ended, thinking we'd ever find our way to one another seemed impossible. So, what did I do to get over my hot, football star, best friend? I dated someone completely opposite of Tristan… Eric Green, a handsome baseball player. Eric was super sweet, but at the end of the day he was never who I wanted.

I didn't intentionally set out to hurt anyone. The way I strung Eric along, knowing I was in love with someone else, left me feeling like a self-centered jerk. Ironically, when Tristan was injured, our relationship started to come together for us while Eric and I fell apart.

Who'd have thought a broken collarbone and a concussion would've made us get our heads removed from our asses. But God, the brunt trauma Tristan suffered was bad. Just thinking about it brought tears to my eyes. I shifted in my seat, removing myself from the past, looking forward to our future.

Peeking over at Tristan's profile, my chest tightened. The fact that he was able to pull off looking so incredibly sexy that early in the morning awed me. The gritty stubble shadowing his strong jawline and the way strands of hair framed his warm eyes quickened my pulse.

Tristan glanced my way and grinned. Lifting our hands, he brushed a feathery kiss across my skin. "What's got you so quiet, Spud?"

My knuckles tingled where his lips touched. "Oh, you."

His smile deepened. "Well, then carry on."

I fought to keep my eyes open during the rest of our drive. Tristan ran his finger along my cheek, the enamored glint in his eyes made my insides jump.

"You look tired. Get some sleep." Those perfect, full, kissable lips formed into a sexy, hell-bent grin. "You're going to need plenty of rest."

He tore his eyes away from me and back to the road. Sliding the back of his hand down my arm, he then laced our fingers together. "We're leaving after dinner tomorrow. We haven't finished making up for," he turned back to me and winked, "lost time yet." Tristan squeezed our hands, sending the normal thumping inside my chest into hyper-drive.

I stretched out the soreness from my arms and legs. After the early morning surprise in bed, we woke up and finished another round of lovemaking in the shower. Years of listening to Alyssa prattle on and on about her sexual escapades, I finally understood her, um, enthusiasm. Speaking of which, she was going to flip the next time I talked to her. Man, I missed our late night, or morning talks, although being with Tristan felt right. Perfect.
Tension pulled at the corners of his eyes.

I squeezed his hand. "Hey, what's wrong?" I balled my other hand, worry settling in my shoulders.

He brought our joined hands to his lips and kissed the inside of my wrist. "Nothing you need to worry about."

Um, I don't think so. I attempted to free my hand from his, but his hold remained strong. I gave up. "I can take it, whatever it is. Just spit it out." My stomached knotted, betraying the lie.

"I'm telling my parents about us." He glanced down, and the tension cornering his eyes moments ago fell. The side of his mouth pulled up in a cocky grin. "I'm almost hoping my dad kicks me out." He winked. "Then I'd have an excuse to stay with you."

I frowned and pulled my bottom lip between my teeth. Shit. His dad hated me. As much as I loved Tristan, I didn't want to be an added cause to their problems, especially since Tristan and his dad never got along in the first place.

I shook my head. "No, I don't want to ruin this. We're together so there's no use in creating a potential problem between you and your family. I love you, Tristan. I'm not going anywhere. Spend time with your parents and we can tell them about us once we're back at school."

Tristan gazed ahead, concentrating on the road in front of us. He remained silent for quite a few minutes, making me worry my bottom lip even more. Finally, he glanced over at me.

"No, I've waited to tell them you were mine for years now. No way am I going to pass up the first chance I get in order to make my dad happy."

I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off.

"I'm not playin', Spud." His eyes darkened and wrinkles crested his forehead.

Stubborn ass. "All right, fine. I'll leave my window unlocked," I grinned, raising a brow, "but only if you're lucky."

Tristan chuckled softly, resting our hands in his lap. With his attention back to the road, I closed my eyes and prayed nothing terrible would happen between him and his dad. I used to think Mrs. Daniels didn't approve of me, but after Tristan's stay in the hospital, her behavior had changed. She'd been nice. Maybe his dad would do the same.

My throat dried–this time from not knowing if I'd be able to see my sister, Heather, this year. Hopefully this Christmas would be different for both our families. Tristan and I were due for a little peace.

Losing the battle with my eyes, I ended up falling asleep the rest of our way home. Tristan reluctantly dropped me off at my mom's house. Once my bags were unloaded in my room, he kissed me. His kiss lingered, making my legs weak and my heart ache when the sweet embrace ended. Intensity and heat blazed in his eyes when he backed away.

Clearing his throat, he said, "I'm having a hard time leaving you."

Blog Tour: Oden

ODEN by Jessica Frances

The Invasion Book 3

New Adult / Sci-Fi Romance

Date Published: October 18, 2014

   

Synopsis -

Mattie:

A war is coming.

It will not be an Earth bound battle yet humans will have to fight for their survival.

This is no longer about fighting to take our planet back, this is a fight for our society, our way of life.

However I will not be fighting in this war, I have another I must battle against, to stop him and keep myself, Marduke and our child safe and out of his clutches. I will do anything to protect my family from this evil maniac.

Jeprow doesn't know of human’s strengths. He doesn't know how resourceful we are. How brave and cunning and smart we can be.

He thinks he’s already won and the battle between us is over, but he has no idea who he’s messing with.

Marduke:

Oden is under attack and suddenly there is more at risk than just my own life. Mattie and our baby now rely on me and I can’t let them down

My new family is trapped in a warzone and I must protect them. 

But I must still protect my people, my family’s legacy and the leadership that holds it all together.

If we lose this war, then the humans lose as well. 

We are in this fight together and the losses on both sides will be many.

Never before have I been under such pressure, never before has the risk of failure been so high.

What happens when they end up sacrificing more than they ever intended, if they lose who they are and what they are fighting for?

Can they move on from all they have lost, forgive each other for what they have been forced to do?

Most importantly, can they ever learn to forgive themselves?

Who will win the war and who loses everything?.

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Excerpt -

    “I really can’t do this right now.” Her voice breaks, which in turn, breaks my heart. “Please, can you just leave?”

     “I’m sorry,” I say sadly, moving to stand in front of her and crouching down, taking her hands that are resting on her lap and overlapping them with mine. “I never meant to hurt you. I will do whatever it takes to make this right between us.”

     “What if there isn’t anything that can make this right? What if, when I look at you now, all I see is pain and suffering that humans are about to go through and have already been through?”

     “I’m hoping that, perhaps, you’ll be able to look at me and see the man you once saw before.”

     “I’m not sure if he even existed now. Did you always know you’d use humans this way? That we wouldn’t have any rights on Oden? Did you know that we were as good as dead when you invaded us?”

     “I couldn’t have predicted Jeprow and the Claws. This wasn’t planned, and right now, this is our last resort. If we don’t have a distraction, then there is no chance of us slowing down the Claws. More people will die, and that will include humans. They’ve already taken over most of Oden. We’re losing this fight. Our hinemas are being destroyed. If we don’t act now, within days, Oden will be lost.”

     She sighs, her eyes looking sad, and her shoulders sag. “I’m tired, Marduke. I don’t hate you, but I hate the choice that you have made. It forces me to make my own choice, one that neither of us likes. I guess, we are doomed to always be unhappy now.”

     “I want that family I envisioned. I want our baby—our son—to have that happy family. He is ours and you are mine.”

     “I can’t be with someone who thinks my race is expendable. Riley is part human, too, you know? When you sentence my people to death, you’re sentencing his, too.”

About The Author:

Born and raised in South Australia, Jessica spends her days working in a bakery, afternoons catching up on lost sleep, and nights reading and writing. After having the Taken Trilogy taking up space in her head for years, she was relieved to have a break and her mind clear. But apparently the free rent was announced to the world and Mattie and her friends heard, because now she is hearing their new voices and a whole new story. The Invasion Trilogy was then born.

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Midnight Dawn Review

Midnight Dawn by Jocelyn Adams (ARC Review)
Mortal Machine Book 2
Published August 4, 2014 by Entangled Embrace
4 Galactic Stars

"Sometimes your soul knows exactly what it is you need, even if your mind has yet to realize it."

Synopsis -

A new adult title from Entangled’s Embrace imprint…

Her soul remembers his touch, even if she doesn’t.

With only three days until the wraith king turns the earth into an all-you-can-eat buffet, Addison Beckett is forced to enlist brooding sentinel Asher Green’s help to unlock the Mortal Machine. According to the founder, all she has to do is find the sanctuary—the same sanctuary she can’t remember because Asher erased her memories.

Trying to save humanity while navigating Asher’s lies is a royal pain. But the more time she and Asher spend together, the harder her soul tries to remind her what else he’s made her forget—that he loves her, wants her, needs her.

When she’s trapped by the wraith king and forced to pick who will stand by her in the coming battle, Addison is faced with an impossible choice: the sentinel she loves who refuses to love her back, or a powerful stranger who insists they’re meant to be together. Her decision will decide the fate of humanity, and once decided, can’t be undone.  (Goodreads)

Review -

Think The Mortal Instruments minus the incest and with a much more complex storyline. Adams brings a brand new world to the page, one that may have readers second guessing their beliefs.  And while Addison may still be viewing everything through lust-filled eyes, she has finally decided to be the Architect she was always meant to be.  Though a lot of her obsessive musings about a man who seemingly wants nothing to do with her, and does his best to drive him away at every turn, do distract from the story and will have readers wanting to slap the stupid out of her.  In the end it will be explained why she has such an infatuation with him, and it goes even deeper than the brief relationship they had in Book 1, Darkside Sun. 

Addison has no memories of her life before the Machine, which makes it that much easier for her to accept her role as the Architect.  Sadly, not many others trust her enough to follow her lead.  Trying to convince the other Guardians that she is there to help and rebuild the Machine will be an even bigger battle than facing the Wraith King.  Especially after she has killed Marcus, and tells them what she believes each and every one of them to do, have physical contact with one another.  After what happened with Taka's girlfriend decades ago, only a handful of people are willing to take that risk.  The problem is if they do not the Mortal Machine will never reach its true potential, nor will they have enough power to defeat the wraiths and save humanity.  Addison also must deal with the wholes in her memory.  She knows that she asked Asher to erase her past in order to protect her father, but there are even more wholes than there should be.  Memories from after she was already in the Machine, and echoes of those memories are haunting, and taunting her.

Asher has been plagued by what he believes to be premonitions of Addison's death.  So he has convinced himself that taking away her memories of the two of them together, of the love they shared, and staying away from her, he can prevent it.  What he fails to realize is the two of them together are much stronger than either of them are apart.  And when the Wraith King continues to call Addison by the name of Adaline, teasing that the two of them have no clue who they truly are, will he realize those premonitions just may be echoes of his own memories.

Enter a strange new Guardian who comes in just the nick of time to save the day.  One willing to go to any length to get Addison, and the Machine, whole and ready and at the apex of their potential.  Only question is, why is he so determined?  Why has he been exiled from the Machine all this time?  More importantly, do they have yet another trader in their mists?

Midnight Dawn is one of those can't-put-down-until-I-finish type of book, the kind where you tell yourself, 'Just one last chapter...'.  A true must read for PNR and Sci-Fi fans.  There is romance, but not so much that it exceeds the entire plot.  Just ignore some of her inner monologue.