Showing posts with label Bewitching Book Tours. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bewitching Book Tours. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 27, 2018

Spotlight & Review: Dead Girls Don't Sing



Dead Girls Don’t Sing
The Undead Space Initiative
Book Two
Casey Wyatt

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Time Travel

Publisher: Casey Wyatt

Date of Publication: 12/18/17

ISBN: 978-1979982078
ASIN: B07846RFWP

Number of pages: 338
Word Count: 93,000

Cover Artist: Kim Killion Designs

Tagline: Time will have its way

Book Description:

When former vampire stripper Cherry Cordial settled on Mars with her undead family, she thought she’d left her chaotic past behind her. After finding her mate and becoming the first vampire to give birth, she’s hoping to lead a drama-free life.

Naturally, the universe has a different plan. When mysterious undead space travelers arrive, an ancient Martian plague is released, infecting the undead. To find the cure she must return to Earth. All she needs to do is travel into the past, confront her own tangled history, and not break the space-time continuum. But if Cherry’s learned anything, it’s that her life is never that easy.

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Excerpt:

Tiny pokers stabbed my eyes.
Another body, warm and hard, spooned against my backside.
Ian always felt so good, comforting and real.
His hand wrapped around my waist, cupping the underside of my breast. A cool sheet slid off my bare shoulder.
I was naked and in bed. A snippet of memory interrupted my appreciation of my husband’s hand.
Wasn’t I running from something . . .?
Fingers trailed along my spine, heading south. The touch was wrong, unfamiliar and rough.
Hold on. That wasn’t Ian. I shouldn’t feel the warmth of sun against my skin either. We lived on Mars, where it was colder than a witch’s tit.
If not Ian, then who was touching my inner thigh?
My eyelids snapped open like a shade on a spring. Bolting upright, I bared my fangs and grabbed the man’s wrist.
Oh, holy hell. I was in bed with another man. I rolled away and slammed into a different body. Shit, make that two other men. Two eye-poppingly gorgeous men.
Hey, I might be dead, but I’m not dead dead.
“Mistress? Have I displeased you?” said the man whose wrist I was about to shatter. Stunning blue-gray eyes. Dark stubble lined his chiseled jawline. His dark hair was mussed and complimented his swarthy skin tone. Dried blood smeared his neck. A red trail led to puncture marks.
The other man’s brown muscled chest rose and fell in rhythmic sleep. His body was fully exposed on the white sheet. Puncture marks lined his neck, his groin and his very erect penis.
My cheeks heated like a furnace. Clearly, we’d had a good time.
“No. Leave me. Both of you go to your rooms.” I dropped his wrist. The man woke his drowsing companion, and they left as I’d commanded.
Damn. I wished I could get the other men in my life to be so compliant.
Other men? There were other people important to me. Why couldn’t I remember them?
I’d kill Jonathan if he was messing with my mind again.
But yet... that idea didn’t feel right.
Somewhere in a dead corner of my memory, this moment seemed familiar. Jonathan, sensing my unhappiness with our “arrangement,” had spent the early years of our relationship attempting to please me.
This must have been my slut phase, where we’d bring home gorgeous men and I would feast and fuck while he watched. I enjoyed knowing it bothered him that I wouldn’t sleep with him. Only the mortals that we found in gaming dens, brothels, even at society events. The only other thing I would take from Jonathan besides his money was his blood, and only out of necessity.
Fucking hell. Ian’s go-to phrase—I remembered him now—helped resurface the reason why I was reliving this not-so-proud moment in my past.
The plague. The Lost Ship. The time stream. My daughter.
Oh, dear God. I hoped she was safe.
“Good morning, my pet.” Jonathan read a page of the morning newspaper while sipping tea from a dainty cup. He sat on the balcony situated outside my bedroom. From his vantage point, he could view the bed and my doings in Technicolor glory.
My heart lurched at the sight of his arrogant beauty. I had forgotten how full of life he’d been, especially in this time period. And, oh, how handsome he was. His raven hair glossy with blue highlights sparkled in the early morning sunshine. The strong line of his jaw and perfect Roman nose coupled with full lips made it hard not to stare at him. He hadn’t yet acquired the weariness that having a Family would place on him.
In later years, after much bitterness between us, I no longer saw him anymore. The beauty was tarnished, and we became as passionate as two coworkers passing the time until their shift ended. He had become someone I had to endure rather than enjoy. Not that I ever really “enjoyed” him because of the circumstances surrounding our sham marriage.
The horrid image of his death, when he’d knelt, offering Thalia his head, shattered the peaceful moment. With a plaintive look, he commanded that I accept his fate and mine. We both knew that Thalia, the dead queen’s heir apparent, was a vindictive bitch. She blamed me for her mother’s death and Jonathan refused to bow down to her. So, he did what he always did. He protected his Family by sacrificing himself so we could escape. In his last moments, regret had filled his eyes. The wish that we could have been different together had been silenced forever.
Seeing Jonathan again and remembering was worse than reopening a wound and rubbing salt in it with a lemon juice chaser. If only I could apologize to him for how awful I’d been. I hadn’t been blameless in wrecking our relationship. I could have tried harder to accept my fate instead of punishing him at every turn.
The temptation to blurt out the truth bubbled inside, until I had to force myself to look away from him. Would this Jonathan be willing to help me? Or would he use my current predicament to his advantage?
No. I couldn’t, wouldn’t chance it. Not with the entire colony’s lives hanging in the balance.
Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve. Sew it on a patch and you’d have my life’s motto.
Yup. Regrets sucked.
Jonathan placed the teacup down and smiled. “Did you enjoy yourself? You seemed a bit surprised when you awoke.”
Surprise didn’t cover how I felt. That word was too puny, too inadequate. After a few seconds, I found my voice again.
“Yes, we had a good time. Thank you.” It sure looked that way.
He acted like finding his wife in bed with other men was no big deal. It wasn’t like I would keep them. To him they were more like pets or meals with legs.

But now, with a century of wisdom tucked under my belt, instead of relishing in his annoyance, I realized something. He was sad. With himself or me, I wasn’t sure. And it didn’t matter. I had a mission to accomplish. A future to save.


Review by Jennifer


This was an interesting take on an Old genre and well told at that! In general I am not a fan of Space stories but I have it a try & was not sad I did!


Cherry is a dynamic character and as such helps make the well crafted world better. This was a well written dynamic story about Vampires and some other undead races in space! There was even some time traveling fun involved!



Give it a go!


About the Author:
Casey Wyatt grew up in a mid-size Connecticut town where nothing exciting ever happened. To stem the boredom, she read fantasy and sci-fi stories, imagining her own adventures in her head. Not much has changed since she’s grown up, only now she's a multi-published author of paranormal romance and urban fantasy novels. In her spare time, she loves all things geeky, hangs out in museums, and collects stray cats.

Visit Casey on the web: www.caseywyatt.com. You can also find Casey on Facebook and Twitter (@CaseyWyatt1).

To receive advance notice about new releases and special sales, subscribe to Casey's Newsletter at www.caseywyatt.com

Newsletter: https://goo.gl/9t7gxm





Twitter: @CaseyWyatt1




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Thursday, October 26, 2017

Spotlight: A Mortal Indiscretion







A Mortal Indiscretion             
The Justin and Ambra Series
Book One
Barbra E. Ross    

Genre: Paranormal Romance,
Romantic Suspense, Vampire Romance

Date of Publication: 4/27/16  

ISBN: 978-1530762804
ASIN: B01DFJ3TG4

Number of pages: 632 pages
Word Count: 259981

Cover Artist: ProEbook Covers

Tagline: A sexy vampire. A little deceit. A love worth dying for. What more could you want from a vampire romance?

Book Description: 

A man. A vampire. A love story....

One night changed everything for bachelor Justin Bertolli. A womanizer at heart, never quite ready to settle down, he meets the woman who would change his life forever. Ambra Taylor is that woman, but is she all that Justin bargained for? Told from a male protagonist point of view, A Mortal Indiscretion delivers wholly unique narratives that don’t succumb to the same old recycled concepts. 


Everything unravels in Justin’s world. Although Ambra is a vampire, she is the vulnerable one of the two characters, providing a refreshing twist on standard tales. She is not waiting for her prince to come save her on his white horse. She simply desires love, to feel human love again and will do anything to protect the love of Justin. 



When Justin discovers the truth about who and what she is, will he still love her? Will he still want her? Find out, as their hearts collide in this epic tale of love.



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All Hallow’s Eve 
Barbra E Ross

It only comes but once a year.
Filling your mind with fright and fear.
Some candy corn and popcorn balls.
While the eeriness, creeps through the wall.

A witch’s laugh, a ghostly moan.
Mummy’s hand and skeleton bone.
Vampire fangs, wolves howl.
Thunder cloud, wailing owl.

Midnight brings on the feast.
A zombie’s wander, never cease.
Cemeteries full of helpless souls.
While neighbors fill the candy bowls.

Dead leaves float through the air.
While devils dance, and stranger’s stare.
Pumpkin’s glow, red and gold.
My skin crawls in a deathly hold.

Sunrise brings it all to end.
Light and dark, begin to blend.
Demons whither, back to ground.
Evil’s desire gagged and bound.

Back to normal, all is well.
Nightly beasts sent back to hell.
Halloween, tricks and treats.
Make the heart, skip a beat.





About the Author:

Barbra E Ross lives in Michigan. She is a nurse by day and a writer of fiction at night.




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Friday, October 20, 2017

Villain Spotlight: Tarnished Journey






Tarnished Journey
Soul Dance
Book Four
Ann Gimpel

Genre: PNR

Full length paranormal romance with shifters and gypsies and demons–and an HEA.

Book Description:

Long before Germany rounded up Romani and sent them to prison camps, the Netherlands declared them undesirables. Yara’s caravan disbanded when she was fifteen to avoid being driven out of the country. Ten years have passed, and she’s been alone for most of that time hiding in caves and abandoned buildings. It’s been a lonely life, but at least she still has one.

Stewart conceals his true identity for the best of reasons. He’s not actually Romani, even though he’s been a caravan leader for many years. In a bold and desperate move, he joins a small band of shifters and Rom to fight the Reich’s chokehold on Europe. When they’re crossing the border into the Netherlands, vampires attack.

Yara senses Romani near her cave. The stench of vampire comes through loud and clear too, along with shifters. While not nearly as bad as vampires, her people have always steered clear of them. Another type of magic plucks at her. She can’t identify it, but it draws her from her hiding place. That decision tilts her world on its axis when she comes face to face with Stewart’s raw masculinity and savage presence. She could still turn tail and run. If she stays, it doesn’t require magical ability to recognize her life will change forever.

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Guest Post: VILLAIN SPOTLIGHT

Thanks so much for inviting me back to your blog, Gothic Mom. Hope all is well with you. Tarnished Journey, last of the Soul Dance books features many villains. Perhaps the most loveable is Manandan, son of Llyr and a sea god in his own right. Rather than an interview, here’s a clip from Chapter Eleven. It shines a light into Manandan’s character, his entitlement mentality, and his particular world view.
*********
…“Tell him what?” Yara broke in. “How the hell do you say no to a god? Besides, I didn’t exactly tell him yes. I asked a question, and he disappeared. Granted, I didn’t try to call him back. It would have been absurdly selfish of me to put myself before all the other people on this ship.”
“So ye werena smitten, lass?” Stewart arched a brow.
She smiled. “Sometimes you sound unbelievably archaic. Nay,” she aped his brogue, “I wasna smitten. Merely practical. Besides, I figured my mother wouldn’t force me into something I didn’t want. Once we were safe in Scotland, I would have addressed this.”
“’Twas a gamble. The gods may squabble like rats over a rotting corpse, but they stand together against any outsider, which is exactly what they’d consider ye to be.”
The deck pitched violently beneath them, and he scrambled for balance. “Come on. Manandan’s temper appears to be deteriorating.”
“It wasn’t his strong suit when he was in my cabin. Let me go first.”
“Nay.” Stewart gripped the handrails and hauled himself one deck up with Yara right behind him. They needed a plan, and he didn’t have one. Manandan had always been quick to anger, and he didn’t like to lose.
The deck canted hard to port; Cadr and Gregor were scrambling to get the canvas down. Vreis stood at the helm. Lines of strain carved deep into his face as he fought the wheel.
Manandan was turned away from them, facing out to sea with his hands raised. Power arced from his fingers, burning blue-white against the darkness where sea and sky merged into each other. It should still be daytime, but you couldn’t prove it by the inky darkness surrounding the ship. Water raced over the rails, retreating as it rejoined the sea.
Yara started forward, but Stewart gripped her upper arm, and then slid his hand down until their fingers laced together. The god knew they were there. No need to say anything.
Stewart rocked from foot to foot to stay upright. Perhaps the god would give him something to work with if he waited. Patience had never been one of Manandan’s virtues. In this instance, that might work in their favor.
Manandan spun. Anger shot from his black eyes. Dark hair swirled around him, falling to the middle of his back. He’d always preferred robes to trousers, and today’s was the color of old claret, sashed in deep blue.
He pointed a long-nailed index finger at Yara. “Faithless whore. I offered you a great honor, and ye throw it in my face by rutting with yon Druid. What? Ye couldna wait until I had the time to take you to my bed?”
The god marched toward them, his arm still extended. “We had a deal. A bargain. Granted, ’twas not sealed with your blood, but ye’re Rhiannon’s daughter. I assumed ye’d be an honorable wench. Not a faithless slut.”
Stewart stepped between them. “That is enough. Ye insult the woman who shall be my wife.”
A muted squawk emerged from Yara, but she didn’t follow it up by telling him he’d just presumed a whole lot without asking her.
“Wife, eh? Appears she’s a wee bit surprised by your proposal.”
“If I’m surprised, it’s because I can see you,” Yara spoke up, her voice surprisingly steady. “In my cabin, you were nothing but a disembodied voice.”
“So?” Manandan stared at her. “Surely ye’ve seen Rhiannon in all her forms.”
“In truth, I’ve never seen her at all. Not that I remember, anyway. She fostered me in a gypsy caravan when I was just a babe.”
“Details.” He waved a dismissive hand and more seawater sluiced over the deck, swirling about his feet. “We had an agreement. Will ye maintain your end, or would ye prefer to leave this flimsy piece of wood masquerading as a boat to the whims of the sea?”
“I see many more options than that,” Stewart cut in smoothly. “Ye surprised the lass when ye materialized below decks. She was flustered and dinna wish to put her own needs above those of the rest of us traveling with her.”
Manandan nodded knowingly. “Indeed. All good and salient reasons for her to leave with me now. I’ll instruct the sea to see you safely across to Scotland as I promised.”
“Did you talk with my mother? With Rhiannon?” Yara asked.
“When would I have had a chance to do that?” he countered. “I’ve been here, holding the storm at bay.” He tossed his head. “Keeping my end of the bargain.”
Stewart clacked his jaws together and jumped in with both feet. “Ye just contradicted yourself.”
Manandan transferred his unnerving black eyes to Stewart. “I should kill you for that impertinence.”
“Hear me out, then decide.” Stewart squared his shoulders. “First, ye said ye could instruct the sea to guide us safely across, implying ye dinna have to be here overseeing things. Next, ye announced ye’d been holding the storm at bay. Ye canna have it both ways. Either your presence is essential. Or ’tis not.”
“Your point, Druid?” Manandan skinned his lips back from his teeth, looking annoyed.
At least he hasna called down lightning to smote me. Yet.
“My point was this.” Stewart plunged ahead. If he stopped to organize what came out of his mouth, his courage might fail. “Ye dinna believe aught stood betwixt ye and yon lass, so ye werena in any rush to leave. Your behind-the-scenes motive was to make certain the ship made port with her aboard. Now that ye recognize I have a claim where she’s concerned, ye’re anxious to spirit her away regardless of whether the ship founders.”
“I would hear from her whether she sees herself as yours.” The sea god shoved past Stewart and stood nose to nose with Yara. “I take what I want, lass, but ye agreed to—”
“I asked a question,” she broke in. “I never said yes to anything. You left too soon.”
Stewart winced. She’d interrupted a god, and that wouldn’t end well.
“We had an understanding,” Manandan shouted. “Ye asked what I wanted when I turned down your offer of gold. Since my request was well within your ability to acquiesce, of course I left.”
“I asked a question,” Yara persisted. “You never used the words mistress or marry or have sex with. From where I’m sitting, your meaning was vague. For all I knew, you were planning to shanghai me to be your housekeeper.”
Stewart bit back an inane desire to laugh. Clearly not cowed by the god, Yara was brave and resourceful, countering his opinions with reason. Stewart wanted to hug her, but there wasn’t much point in making Manandan even angrier.
“Housekeeper?” His voice rose. “Housekeeper? I’m a god, woman. Magic accomplishes such tasks.”
Yara shrugged. “Since I wasn’t raised by Rhiannon, all I understand is life in Romani caravans—or by myself after the Dutch government made it a crime to be a gypsy.” She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and stood as straight as she could manage on the pitching deck.
A crafty look crossed Manandan’s craggy features. “Ye’ve had little enough of ease in your life, lassie. I could make up for the hard times. Ye’d never want for aught.”
“It takes more than that to make someone happy. I may be Rhiannon’s child, but until less than a day ago, I viewed myself as human.”
“I know what women like. Come with me. I have a lovely corner room in mind just for you. It looks down on gardens such as ye’ve never laid eyes on afore. Flowers grow that bloom only in the Otherworld. Ye’d have servants to tend to your every need.”
Stewart both saw and felt compulsion weave itself with the sea god’s offer. He fisted his hands, wanting to drive them through Manandan’s handsome face.
A closed-off look etched into Yara’s features, and she tilted her chin at a defiant angle. “Sorry. God or no, I’m not for sale.”
“I tried to do this nicely,” Manandan snarled. “Let’s see if a year or two in the dungeons doesna improve your attitude. I can afford to wait ye out.” The sea crashed over a railing and formed a glittering nimbus circling him and Yara. Brightness grew around the two, edging upward.
Stewart pulled power like a madman. He had to intervene before the god’s spell reached its zenith. When that happened, he’d disappear and take Yara with him.
“Let us help.” Jamal and Elliott closed on either side of him, weaving their shifter magic with his. It was a more potent blend than Stewart would have guessed. Power flared around them in a mixture of blues, greens, and browns, and the scents of their combined power gave him hope all wasn’t lost.
“Yara! Break free while ye still can,” Stewart exhorted.
Rather than answer, she extended her arms. Lightning bolts crackled from her fingertips. The wind turned her flame-colored hair into a twisting mass that took one bird form after the next.
Was it conscious? Either she was channeling her mother, or Rhiannon was on her way. Stewart upped his link with the two shifters and focused more power to break through the pulsing maelstrom of seawater surrounding Manandan and Yara. Even if Rhiannon were racing to her daughter’s side, she might arrive too late.
As if drawn by the avian tableau playing itself out in Yara’s long hair, Meara flew between the god and Yara, cawing fiercely. Stewart felt like cheering, but his spell required all his attention. Surely, the god couldn’t stand against all of them.
He doesna have to. All he needs to do is create enough of a power vacuum to spirit himself and Yara out of here.
Aye, and once he’s gone, we shall feel the full brunt of his resentment.
No help for that last. Once Yara was safely beyond the god’s reach, Stewart wanted him well and truly gone. He’d faced rough seas before, and he could do it again. The boat was solidly built. It would see them safe to port—with an assist from everyone’s combined magic.
He hoped.
I have yet to lose a ship. This willna be the first.
Manandan shot a blast of blue-tinged power at the vulture shifter, but she evaded him easily with a tilt of her extended wings. Yara took advantage of the momentary break in the god’s attention to fashion an opening in the pulsing water. Once she slithered through, she dropped back until a few feet separated her from Manandan.
He roared his displeasure. A vortex crafted from seawater swished outward from where he stood, enveloping Yara. She fought against it, power spewing from her as she tried to break the god’s grip.
Meara went on full attack mode, flying right at the god with her beak angled to take out one of his eyes. Just when she got close, she smacked up against something Stewart couldn’t see.
Must be the god’s warding. Shit! How would they drill through that? He was holding his spell around Yara and defending himself without expending much visible effort at all.
Stewart focused his magic, combined with Jamal’s and Elliott’s, at various points in the cyclone around Yara, but couldn’t penetrate it. “I need more,” he cried. “Give me more.”
“There isn’t any more,” Elliott said, his tone grim as death. “We need to be smart about this. Water is the most potent of the elements, and it’s his strong point. The rest of us use earth and air.”
“Fire comes to my call,” Jamal panted, “but it’s less than useless against water.”
“We have to do something.” Stewart shouted to make himself heard above the howling wind and pounding sea.
Oblivious to the rest of them, Meara flew around Manandan’s head, getting in blows from her beak from time to time. How she determined where rents were in the god’s warding was beyond Stewart since the shielding around the god all looked the same to him.
At least Meara’s diversion kept the god’s net around Yara from reaching full velocity. Stewart stripped warding from himself and plunged toward Yara. Where the sea touched him, it burned so hot he imagined skin sloughing from his bones, but he kept going until he stood within the circle of water by Yara’s side.
“That was stupid,” she screeched, her face contorted into a rictus. “Now you’re trapped right along with me.”
Her lack of faith in him stung, but he pushed it aside. “I hold Jamal’s and Elliott’s magic in addition to my own. Join yours to the mix. Together, we can blast through the enchantment. Ye must believe we can do this, lass.”
Hope flared in her eyes, turning them deep violet, and the unique feel of her magic augured into him. He didn’t hesitate, just braided it with what lived within him, working as fast as he could.
The sea pushed against them now with the same hungry icy-heat that had burned him when he blasted through its barrier. “Earth trumps water,” he shouted. “Channel as much as ye can.”
“It’s my strongest element.” A feral expression made her look like something out of legends, otherworldly and fierce enough to bend fate to her will.
“On my count of three.” Stewart didn’t bother with telepathy. Meara was still keeping Manandan busy, and if this worked, things would happen fast.
“One. Two. Three.”
Magic scoured its way through him; he welcomed its cleansing path. Extreme power always did this, made him feel like he came within a hairsbreadth of dying and being reborn as something pure and innocent, yet ancient and wise at the same time.
The circle of seawater burst around them, turning into nothing more than foam racing across the tilting deck.
Stewart didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arms around Yara and dragged her backward until they were behind Jamal and Elliott.
Manandan focused a gimlet gaze their way. “Ye think to stymie me with cheap parlor tricks? My sea will make certain this ship founders. I’m done with good deeds. And with faithless sluts who doona appreciate me.” He raised both arms over his head and began to chant in Gaelic.
Meara pecked his outstretched hands until blood flowed, but the god ignored her.
Magic with a different feel spilled around them, enveloping them in a multihued ball of light. Wind still howled and waves still roared, but the ship righted itself, no longer fighting the restless sea.
“What the hell is happening now?” Yara sputtered.
Stewart tightened his grip on her. “I might be mistaken, lass, but I believe your mother is about to make an appearance.”
Yara tried to evade his grasp. The air around her developed a reddish tinge as anger exploded from her. “I hate this,” she yelled. “I’m more than a goddamned pawn on a game board. You hear that, Mother?” She shook her fist skyward. “Take your fucking help and choke on it. I may have needed you once, but I don’t anymore.”
Shock ricocheted through Stewart. He opened his mouth to chide Yara for her disrespect, but silvery laughter cut through the howl of wind and the slap of waves.
A gateway pulsing with violet light formed next to Manandan, and Rhiannon stepped through. Long red hair, twin to her daughter’s, flowed to her feet. She was wrapped in lengths of silver and gold brocade, and an owl sat on each shoulder. A copper torc circled her throat, and rings with violet gemstones adorned the index fingers of both hands.
She turned her golden eyes on Yara. “Well met, daughter. ’Twould be a sad day, indeed, if ye suffered for want of a mother ye never knew.”



About the Author:

Ann Gimpel is a mountaineer at heart. Recently retired from a long career as a psychologist, she remembers many hours at her desk where her body may have been stuck inside four walls, but her soul was planning yet one more trip to the backcountry. Around the turn of the last century (that would be 2000, not 1900!), she managed to finagle moving to the Eastern Sierra, a mecca for those in love with the mountains. It was during long backcountry treks that Ann’s writing evolved. Unlike some who see the backcountry as an excuse to drag friends and relatives along, Ann prefers solitude. Stories always ran around in her head on those journeys, sometimes as a hedge against abject terror when challenging conditions made her fear for her life, sometimes for company. Eventually, she returned from a trip and sat down at the computer. Three months later, a five hundred page novel emerged. Oh, it wasn’t very good, but it was a beginning. And, she learned a lot between writing that novel and its sequel.

Around that time, a friend of hers suggested she try her hand at short stories. It didn’t take long before that first story found its way into print and they’ve been accepted pretty regularly since then. One of Ann’s passions has always been ecology, so her tales often have a green twist.

In addition to writing, Ann enjoys wilderness photography. She lugs pounds of camera equipment in her backpack to distant locales every year. A standing joke is that over ten percent of her pack weight is camera gear which means someone else has to carry the food! That someone is her husband. They’ve shared a life together for a very long time. Children, grandchildren and three wolf hybrids round out their family.

Find Ann At:






Monday, October 16, 2017

Guest Post on Villains by Joe M. Solomon





The Darkness: Giger, Texas
Joe M. Solomon

Genre: Horror/Supernatural

Publisher: NES Publishing, LLC

Date of Publication: October 3, 2017

ISBN: 978-0-9990024-0-7
ASIN: B07435H5YR

Number of pages: 372
Word Count: 106,029

Cover Artist: Syneca Featherstone



Book Description:

When night falls in Giger, Texas, shadows gather as they always do in dim corners and other areas bereft of light.  But this time they consolidate and attack any who tread too close. Michael Warren, a twenty-four-year-old resident of Giger, finds himself at the epicenter of this horror and is stunned by the losses suffered overnight.  Then the sun sets and the shadows again coalesce, growing more aggressive, the darkness eviscerating anyone it touches.

His only weapon light, Michael struggles to survive and searches frantically for his girlfriend, aiding friends along the way.  When Hurricane Daniel roars ashore, wind gusts shred trees and tear down power lines, plunging all of Southeastern Texas into blackness that only feeds and strengthens the encroaching darkness.  Rising floodwater provides easy thoroughfares from which the darkness can strike as Michael and his friends contend with the elements, clash with criminals, and battle their way to his residence where they will stand against the darkness and fight to survive.

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Excerpt:
Startled, Eddie blinked and wiped at his own eyes. “What was…? Hello?”

No answer.
      
His pulse picked up. “C-Curt, you in here… you a-a-a-asshole?”

A box fell behind him.

Eddie spun around, body tight as a knot, eyes wide as their sockets would allow. “Wh-h-h-h-who the hell’s that?” he demanded with as much sternness as he could inject into his quivering voice.


Soft whispers trickled out of a minuscule pocket of emptiness near the back door on the farthest wall. There, amid the gloom, something progressed toward him. At first, its movements appeared mechanical, inelastic. Then it evolved into a smooth flow. A soft ripple. A consolidated wave of darkness.



Review - The Darkness Giger, Texas - 5 Stars

A total scarefest! Definitely not for the squeamish. This takes place right before a hurricane is about to hit. Those of us who have dealt with a hurricane or are afraid of the dark, will experience real terror among these pages. Michael Warren and his friends have no idea why there are mass murders taking place at night, not just in Giger, Texas, but all over the world. You won't believe what they encounter. Many of you may want to sleep with the lights on after this.

We have a very plausible scenario here that switches to the viewpoint of thecharacters throughout. If you live in the Houston area, you can really visualize this taking place which makes it all the more terrifying. I wasn't sure what to expect when I started this, but it was worth the ride. Seasoned horror fans will be glued to their seats as a new terror takes shape. - Reviewed by Janet



GUEST POST: VILLAINS


Let’s explore a little about what scares you.  I’ve read books and watched movies that reflect things that scare us.  Sometimes it is waking up and suddenly realizing that you are the last person on earth, i.e. Loneliness.  According to psychiatrists, we need people for everything from simple companionship to feeling good about ourselves.  This notion was examined time and again on the TV series The Twilight Zone. In Where is Everybody?, our main character basically wakes up in a town alone.  He tries a pay phone.  Nothing.  He rushes from a restaurant to the sheriff’’s office, finding no one.  He has a moment of hope when he sees a woman sitting in a car.  Further investigating, however, reveals that it is a mannequin.  When he can find no hope, ultimately our protagonist starts to crack up.  



We also see it in Time Enough when the main character survives a nuclear war.  Upon surfacing, the man finds everything has been destroyed.  He is a ferocious reader who wears thick eyeglasses. However, after discovering piles and piles of books he now has all the time in the world to read, he sees another on the ground, bends to retrieve it, and his glasses slide off of his nose and break.  Now he is alone, unable to read, with no one to talk to and nothing to do but wait to die.

In a more recent film, Passengers, the main character is on a spaceship, heading to a new world with thousands of other passengers.  By accident, the main character accidentally awakens.  All of the others still sleep.  Doing almost everything he wants to, from dancing in a virtual club to space walking outside of the ship, he finds it isn’t enough.  He needs a companion and soon finds it paramount.

So we need other people and fear total solitude. What else scares us?  Let’s consider some childhood that sometimes follow us into adulthood.  The three I’ve heard mentioned the most often are the monsters under the bed, the boogeyman in the closet and what lurks in the darkness.  As adults, the darkness continues to frighten us because we are aware now of terrors—like serial killers—that may lay in waiting for us as we walk to our cars late at night. Sick individuals who aren’t out steal our money or carjack us, but just want to see us suffer and die.  Or the lone gunman who unexpectedly sprays crowds with bullets or the man who waits in the shadows, engine running, carefully timing a hit and run.  All for the sake of violence.  But what happens when the menace in the darkness waiting to kill you isn’t a person, but the darkness itself is? 
“So what?” some might respond.  “The darkness is intangible.”  But what if it became tangible, not just her or there, but everywhere shadows formed.  And the one thing we knew for certain was that the sun must set. 
Again, so might shrug and say, “So what?  I’ll simply turn on the lights.”  What if a hurricane then plowed ashore and took away your light source?  What if the darkness grew so thick that is blocked out the starts from the sky… and the light in your house?  How would you protect yourself if a candle or flashlight simply wasn’t enough light to stave off the darkness?  Would submersing yourself in such a tale take you back to an earlier time in your life when the monster under the bed and the boogeyman in the closet seemed terrifyingly real? 

Well, this is what I present to you, dear reader:  A villain you cannot speak with, interview, reason with or evade… ever!

About the Author:

Joe M. Solomon earned a bachelor’s degree from the University of St. Thomas, followed by both master’s and doctoral degrees from Rice University. Joe’s supernatural thriller The Darkness: Giger, Texas released in 2017. A second novel—The Light: Houston, Texas—and a collection of short stories that arise from the macabre will soon follow.  




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