Archangel's Desire

Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Freebie Blitz: The Conduit (#1, The Gryphon Series) By Stacey Rourke YA PNR




Book Info-
Title: The Conduit
Pages: 212
ISBN-10: 0985266368
ISBN-13: 978-0985266363
Date Published: November 2011 (rereleased November 13, 2013)


All 18-year-old Celeste Garrett wants is to head off to college and make those fun, yet ill-advised, choices college kids are known for. And maybe to spend some time with the hot cameraman she just met. Instead, because of a pact her ancestors made in the 17th century with a mythical creature, she has to save the world. While normal kids are slamming energy drinks and cramming for exams, Celeste will get her adrenaline rush fighting a fire breathing dragon. She wants to meet friends in the quad to exchange lecture notes, but first she must exchange blows with a shapeshifting demon on the rooftop. Life isn’t always fair for a superhero, but at least she doesn’t have to do it alone. With her brother and sister as sidekicks, they alternate between saving lives and getting on each others’ nerves. Together the trio encounters unspeakable odds, mystical forces and comes face-to-face with an image that will haunt them forever—their grandmother in a leopard print bikini.

Book Links-

Friday, December 13, 2013

Book Blitz: Remember This by Kenya Carlton

Remember This Banner 851 x 315 DEC


clip_image002Remember This

Kenya Carlton

Genre: African American Romance

Book Description:

Ex-ballerina turned rehab designer Cece Newman competes in a reality show that could give her fledgling company the boost that it needs. Assigned a relic of a house in a renovation challenge, Cece soon becomes suspicious of the producer’s intentions. When she finds the house is one of many properties her ex-fiancé and baby daddy Brock Thorn owns, Cece is convinced that she is being set up for failure. Ready to drop the project and what’s left of her career, Cece has to find a way to ignore the handsome athlete while she navigates around his kooky family. Cece must also convince their daughter that mommy and daddy won’t be getting back together again, a job easier said than done—especially when the attraction between the two is hotter than ever.

The biggest hit Brock Thorn took on or off the field occurred when Cece Newman left him at the altar. Five years later, Brock is more determined than ever to get answers from his baby’s momma. Even in regards to joint custody of their daughter, Brock’s only form of contact with Cece is through her loving, protective sister Lily. Brock packs up his high profile life and digs his heels in at the crappy house he’s inherited—the very one Cece is set to renovate. As he dodges cameras and uninvited family members, Brock must get to the bottom of his failed romance with Cece—especially if he has any chance of getting back the life that was lost when Cece left.

About the Author:

Native of Chicago Illinois, Kenya worked in the Network operation Center for PBS and TLN television stations. Executive producer of her own production company Black R.O.K Productions Kenya produced a pilot for travel series Destination Everywhere, Independent short film Dawn shown at the Chicago Latino film Festival, and wrote and directed the documentary Our Africa. Writing titles available; Jaded, Sweet as Sin, Brazil re-issue, Devil’s Play, and Remember This.

Twitter @kcbookcafe

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

Book Blitz: The Newfoundland Vampire by Charles O’Keefe

The Newfoundland Vampire Series Banner 815 x 315


clip_image002The Newfoundland Vampire

Book II: Killer on the Road

Charles O’Keefe

Genre: Horror / Paranormal / Romance / Vampire

Publisher: Penumbra Publishing

Date of Publication: August 31, 2013

ISBN-10: 1938758293

ISBN-13: 978-1938758294


Number of pages: 193

Word Count: 74,020

Cover Artist: Nils Dannemann

Amazon Amazon Kindle

Amazon UK BN

Book Description:

Joseph O’Reily is still adjusting to the lifestyle and the dangers that come with being a new vampire. He and Cassandra recently fought to the death with Cassandra’s estranged husband John Snow, and now Joseph has experienced his first ménage a trios, as only a vampire can. As if all of this was not complicated enough, he and Cassandra have been tasked with hunting down and killing a rogue vampire, Donald Rathmore.

Another of John Snow’s creations, Donald is an evil misogynistic killer in his own right. Donald has no interest in avenging his creator’s death, but killing Cassandra is at the top of his list.

While Donald continues his murderous spree, Joseph and Cassandra always seem to be one step behind him. The chase is further complicated as they encounter other vampires and learn more about the mysterious nature of the Vampire Council and the coming war between good and evil.

Joseph is only now beginning to trust Cassandra, and this trust will be shaken when he discovers she has even more secrets than he imagined. Her idea of justice and morality is at complete odds with his own. Despite all his powers and growing skill, Joseph is tested physically as a vampire and emotionally by Cassandra. This time the answers and challenges may be too much for the young vampire to handle.


My Bonny Lies Over the Ocean

Anne Bonny sat on the beach of Green Island, Hawaii, sipping a mai tai as she admired the view of the sunset. The sky began to turn crimson red, which helped dull the intense headache she suffered as a vampire up before dark.

She resided near what was thought to be an abandoned Coast Guard station, which secretly harbored her mansion underground and several paid servants and guards. Underneath a run-down airstrip lay a subterranean waterway where a submarine was docked. The submarine was used primarily for the human servants that needed to leave the island to fetch supplies or take vacations. The runway itself could still handle flight landings if a friend popped in for a visit.

Anne, like many vampires, was quite wealthy. Wise investments over enough time provided financial comfort that most well-to-do humans accumulated only through inheritance, corporate sharking, or a serendipitous blend of ideas, timing, and networking. The simple truth was, the duration of a human life was usually too short to build the financial stability to which most vampires were accustomed. Like most vampires, Anne chose not to flaunt her wealth. Going unnoticed made it easier to hide from humans. Peace and quiet was easy to obtain on a deserted island.

She had always loved tropical locations, and the Hawaiian Islands were so near the equator that the temperature almost never changed. She also loved sunsets so much that it was worth the suffering and slight risk of being out in the open before full dark. Green Island was primarily a bird sanctuary now, with the occasional monk seals that showed up on the beaches. Anne didn’t hate animals, but she killed a few birds that had the audacity to crap on her head one afternoon. At night, her vampire presence kept them away. In case something happened to her human servants, she could call out to a seal for assistance.

She sang to herself, “My bonny lies over the ocean; my bonny lies over the sea...” She liked that song, even though it wasn’t about her. As she sang and took another sip from her drink, she closed her eyes and grimaced in pain. This was a different kind of pain from that of a vampire out in the day. She knew that her estranged youngling John was in terrible danger and perhaps faced death. Despite the pain, she smiled and reclined easily on her lounger. “Serves the bastard right,” she whispered to herself. “He was my biggest regret in life. His charms fooled me, and I made him one of us. It’s time his life was brought to an end.”

Anne sighed, feeling better as the sun dipped near the horizon. She thought of that spring day in 1834 Newfoundland. John was a handsome man who exuded charisma and confidence. A hundred and thirty years didn’t seem so long ago. Time was relative when one was immortal. Still, she should have vetted John Snow and read his thoughts before turning him. But she was horny, hungry, and foolish. She not only bit him but kissed him afterwards with blood still on her lips. She didn’t see the harm in turning a wealthy fisherman. She realized too late that he was married, and she vowed not to cause the destruction of his marriage. When she saw him shot and dropped into the ocean, she thought that was the end of him, but she was wrong once more. Fish, it seemed, didn’t like the taste of vampires, and she learned that even a shot to the head and an injury to the brain would heal. Many years later, she heard of his rash actions, but didn’t want to admit to the Council that she had caused the mess. Best let them deal with it in their own way.

Newfoundland had seemed like a good place for a pirate to go – Peter Easton, Black Bart, and George Fielding all had frequented the area in years gone by. She enjoyed her life as a pirate. She loved to capture booty, but didn’t delight in slaughter.

Then she thought back to October, 1720, in Ocho Rios, Jamaica. She had been imprisoned there and convicted of piracy. Luckily she had dreamt of her own capture and had grown her belly in the two weeks prior, so as to appear pregnant. It was a simple matter then to ‘plead the belly,’ as it was known at the time, and receive a stay of execution. This stay gave her a chance to escape and resume her pirate career disguised as a man. By 1860, with Albert Hicks hung for piracy in the US, she knew it was time to stop. The world had changed, and she had to change with it. Riverboat gambling was easy money. She did enjoy being on the water and the attention men paid her.

Anne took another sip of her drink and concentrated. John was fortunate that the sun was about to set, and her powers were activated in time. A man in a white shirt and shorts came over to her. “Excuse me, mistress. May I get you another drink?”

Anne opened her eyes. “No, Charles, I’d like to be alone for a few minutes. Take away the glass and bring me my cell phone in a bit.”

The man nodded. “As you wish.” He took the glass and left.

Anne resumed her concentration, and John entered her mind fully. He thought to her, Anne. my dear, my own youngling Catherine and this motherfucker Joseph are about to kill me. If you ever cared for me, avenge my death. I am in Newfoundland, and I will give you my last images so you will know their faces.

Anne snorted and thought back, Go fuck yourself, John. I just wish you had died in 1834 instead of living this long. Anne received no reply, but did see through John’s eyes at his moment of death. She saw a statue of Peter Pan, animals at his feet, and a lot of blood. She saw a woman with beautiful long, red curly hair who looked terribly wounded in her chest, and man who seemed to have been shot as he stabbed John with a sharpened wooden stick.

Anne gasped as her own chest hurt terribly for a second. And then she received one final thought from John. They are watching us.

Anne waited for the pain to fade and rubbed her chest right above her heart. She snorted again and grumbled to herself, “Tell me something I don’t know.”

With the sun gone down, she sat up and smiled, absently admiring her slim, athletic figure in her gold bikini. She tossed back her fiery red hair, kept straight at shoulder length. “My dear John,” she said aloud, “your death, and these other vampires in Newfoundland, are enough to pique my interest.”

The last remnants of the sun disappeared below the horizon, and Anne felt her senses fully come to life. She heard Charles’ heartbeat and smelled the sweetness of his blood. As he approached, she stood and held out her hand for the phone. Charles said in his accustomed manner, “Are you hungry, mistress?” He passed her the phone and stretched his neck to one side.

Anne smiled. “Yes, Charles, you’ll have the next few days off, as I will drain you deeply. Remember, until you pass out, that I liked to be fondled. I’ll make certain Michael carries you to sickbay.”

Charles nodded. “Of course, mistress. Thank you for choosing me tonight.”

Anne took the phone and clipped in on the back of her bikini bottom. She took off Charles’ shirt and sunk her teeth into his neck. He tasted lovely, with not a hint of drugs or alcohol, and had a pleasant taste of cinnamon in his blood. She also enjoyed his ministrations, but she became more excited at the thought of sex with another vampire. It had been too long since she’d enjoyed the company of others of her kind. Any vampire capable of destroying John must be worth my interest.

She drained Charles until his heartbeat started to slow and he drifted into unconsciousness. Anne cared for her servants, the way a pet owner cared for her animals, and she laid him gently on the sand. She took the cell phone out and punched in the mansion number. She didn’t allow time for a greeting but simply stated, “Have a boat waiting on the southeastern end of Midway Island. I’ll whistle loudly. Also, prepare the sub and head off for Honolulu. I’ll be there in a few days. Make sure it has my weapons on board. Oh, and send Michael down to take Charles to sickbay. He’ll need a few days off.”

The reply came instantly. “Of course, mistress, right away.”

Anne tucked the cell phone into Charles’ right front pocket and, after a brief glance at the first stars that came into view, dived into the ocean. The water was warm against her cool skin. She could easily swim in the Arctic and break through ice if necessary, but this was much more pleasant. Fish, dolphins, sharks and the occasional whale all moved out of her way as she cut through the water like a knife. She had been an excellent swimmer as a human, and when she was turned, her swimming speed and skill reached legendary levels. She could easily swim thirty kilometers an hour at night and go for eight to ten hours with a belly full of blood. Like all vampires, she had an uncanny sense of direction and knew she was headed for Midway Island. She planned to reach it just before sunrise. Perhaps, when she got to Newfoundland, she would find a new companion or at least some friends. John had created Catherine, after all, and she did at least owe her an apology. She wondered if this Joseph had experienced a blood embrace. In any case, he had not done it with her.

It would take her weeks to get there this way, but she was in no rush. Anticipation was a wonderful thing, and time was certainly on her side.



clip_image004The Newfoundland Vampire
Book One

Charles O’Keefe

Genre: Horror/Paranormal/Vampire

Publisher: Penumbra Publishing

ISBN: 978-1935563853


Number of pages: 224

Word Count: 86,737

Amazon US Amazon UK Kindle Amazon Canada Amazon Kindle

Amazon UK Chapters

Book Description:

Like every other geek alive, Newfoundland native Joseph O’Reily secretly wants to be a superhero. At thirteen he fantasized about being a vampire, and ten years later he’s still fantasizing – but mostly about a beautiful redheaded woman who has eyes only for him. The one thing different about Joseph’s adult fantasy is that, amazingly, it comes true one night when he goes to a local university pub. Cassandra Snow, literally the woman of his dreams, invites him to her place for an evening of personal pleasure. Of course he’s not going to say no. But when strange things start happening afterward, Joseph quickly learns that not all dreams should come true.




Charles O’Keefe lives in the beautiful province of Newfoundland, Canada, with his wife and two feline ‘children,’ Jude and Esther.

He works in IT support and enjoys many hobbies and activities that include writing, reading, watching fantasy/science-fiction movies and television shows, gaming, poker, walking, Pilates, and of course fantasizing about vampires.

To find out more about Charles, go to Twitter and Facebook or visit his web site.





Amazon author page


Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Book Blitz and Giveaway: Exit by Shane Filer

Exit Banner 450 x 169



Shane Filer

Genre: YA, General Fiction, Contemporary

Publisher: Biblio Publishing

ISBN: 978-1-62249-142-1

Number of pages: 222

Word Count: 58,000

Cover Artist: Ekaterina Zagustina

Book Description:

"Did you know I spent the whole of my fifteenth year in my room?"

Briar’s impromptu, mid-afternoon confession stirs up distant memories of the lonely time she spent trapped in her home; suffering agoraphobia — fear of open spaces.

Now it’s six years later.

She’s free, but the year's isolation has left serious personality disorders; disorders which will resurface as she relates her own story, and that of those in her orbit; Melodie, a pretty valley girl who Briar desires to be, Justine, her oldest friend, who has her own dark secret, and Dermot, a man who thinks he's the reincarnation of Robin Hood — stealing from the rich to give to the poor.

Slowly Dermot begins to draw Briar into his ever-so-exciting world, but who is leading whom on their slow descent into crime? Duel periods of Briar’s life intertwine like a rope around her neck as her lost year begins to overtake the present. It leads her to the answer to one very simple question:

“Is it what I always feared — am I losing my mind?”




Book Trailer:

Author Interview Video:


G i r l T a l k

“Did you know I spent the whole of my fifteenth year in my room?”

I sit in the trashed corner booth of an empty Indianapolis diner sipping Coke through a red and white striped straw and watch the reaction from my two friends.

We’ve been here, Melodie, Justine and I, talking, eating, and drinking for hours and we’re all in advanced stages of serious twenty-something afternoon collapse. It’s reached the time where you run out of trivial, conversational-type things to talk about, so you say something deep and personal instead.

Melodie lifts her head from the table and flicks ash haphazardly from her cigarette in the direction of an overflowing ashtray. “You’re kidding?” she asks.

“No, she isn’t,” Justine says. We’ve been friends since school, and she knows me very well.

Elbows all over the table I cup my palms around my chin and explain. “I suffered from agoraphobia. That’s what my doctors said. It sounds awful, but all it means is that I had an irrational fear of being in places or situations from which escape might be difficult in the event of a panic attack. So I avoided those situations. During my Dark Ages I left my bedroom only to eat and go to the bathroom.

“Basically I was worried about death. Abandonment. My health. My mother’s safety. The house catching fire. Food poisoning. Earthquakes. The environment. That kind of stuff.”

I tell Melodie and Justine all these things, and when I open my mouth the words just flood out, like I’ve been wanting desperately to speak them for so long. They sit and listen, perhaps too tired or too hot and bothered to do anything else. I tell them about the first time it happened... the first time I had a panic attack. When I was thirteen. One Saturday in a mall. I can remember the smell of doughnuts and ice-cream, and ferns. I remember ferns. And the sound of a radio playing that dumb Spandau Ballet song — “True” — boy do I hate that song!

“I was standing around, just hanging out with a bunch of my girlfriends, and this boy from my class, who I had, like, this incredible crush on, came up to me and said “Hi!”

“Those girls pushed me forward. I could hear them giggling behind me, saying ‘Briar’s in love’ and all that junk, and my body froze like a statue. I felt hot and sweaty. My heart was racing. I felt this numbness in my hands and this tightness in my chest like I couldn’t breathe. I had this need to breathe in more air, this need to escape. I just ran out.”

“Shit!” Melodie says.

“Shit,” I agree. “My doctor said later that this overwhelming sensation of terror is similar to the fight or flight response inherent in all animals, including humans. No one seems to know what causes panic attacks, but there are a lot of tell-tale signs that I had right from an early age. I always used to cling to my mother’s leg. I was afraid of Santa Claus.”

“Oh yeah,” Melodie says. “I always hated that old, fat, red, pervert too.”

“I suffered a lot of phobias back then,” I explain further. “I would become possessed by a desire to clean the bathroom. The bathroom and I would literally be covered in Comet cleanser. But then I stopped.”

“Why?” Melodie asks. “Did your cleaning phobia go away?”

“Not exactly. I ran out of Comet.”

Sunlight is pouring in through the diner’s windows and Justine keeps glancing anxiously out there to the street. Am I boring her, I wonder? Anything’s possible — she has heard this one before.

It’s only then that I suddenly notice the sunglasses she wears at a lopsided angle on her face hide a large bruise around her left eye. It’s a horrible purple thing that’s yellowing at the edges like rotten fruit.

“Oh there’s Addison,” she says suddenly. “I’d better go. I’d better not keep him waiting.”

Following her gaze, I see her boyfriend climb from his red Chrysler LeBaron convertible. Addison Healy has tanned skin and swept-back dark hair, and I’ve never liked him. He’s far too handsome — one of those people who’ve never known what it’s like to be alone — because there’s always someone new throwing themselves shamelessly at him. Someone who’s never had to appreciate the smallest signs of affection.

Justine scoops up her purse, quickly excuses herself, and rushes out to meet him. Leaving a three-quarter full Coke bottle sitting behind on the table, she’s gone almost before I can register it. She’s gone.

I watch them get into the car. She’s talking. Explaining herself. Addison seems agitated; gesturing wildly and I read his lips: “What fucking time do you call this? I told you to be home at three!”

Eventually he throws up his arms in frustration and drives away. I turn back to Melodie.

“Why does she stay with that asshole?” she asks after a long pause. “He hits her, don’t you know?”


“How do you think she got that bruise on her face?”

“She said she fell against the... Fuck!” I hadn’t noticed... well, come to think of it, I have seen signs, but I’ve never put two and two together. Sometimes I wonder if I am so wrapped up in my own problems that I fail to see the suffering of others around me?

“So what happened with you, Briar?” Melodie asks, toying playfully with the straw in her bottle.

“With me? Oh, after my first panic attack I returned to school and everyone laughed and talked about me, so I stopped going. Slowly I found it harder and harder to leave the house. After a while I gave up entirely.”

“When I did eventually emerge from my room, a week shy of my sixteenth birthday, it wasn’t like a beautiful butterfly emerging triumphantly from her chrysalis, but instead a tired gray moth treading cautiously into the light.”

“My doctor once speculated that my year’s hibernation was due to an irrational fear of growing up, but that’s not right! If I really didn’t want to grow up there are much more reliable methods: sleeping pills, guns, razorblades...”

“God, so how did you, like, get out of it?”

“My brother. My brother helped me. Helped me help myself, I guess.”

“Is this Jeff — twenty-seven and still living at home?”

“No, it’s Paul — twenty and away at college. You haven’t met... oh shit!”

And I suddenly remember: Paul’s arriving home today and I said I’d go with Mom to meet him at the airport. As the afternoon dissolved I’ve lost track of time.

“Is he cute?” Melodie asks as we slip from the diner out onto the pavement.

I can only nod yes.

“Can I come too?”

“No! I’ll see you later!” Melodie is super beautiful. When I first saw her, I wanted to see her again. I hardly ever see really beautiful females. I see pretty ones, hot ones, but hardly ever see a woman that just makes me turn my head and think ‘wow she is stunning.’ I think that people who are attractive just want the world to see something other than their looks. They want other aspects of their personality to shine through. I hate boring people. I hate boring guys. I feel like sometimes if I just be really quirky it will compensate for my lack of looks. Of course this never works.


10 print copies of Exit

a Rafflecopter giveaway




Shane grew up in provincial New Zealand, a small place where options are small, were people wear PJs to the mall, a small place where dreams of being a writer or artist are not only actively discouraged, they are actively quashed. Nevertheless he fell in love with books, comics and writing at a young age and his early influences include Oscar Wilde, Alan Moore and Dr Seuss.

After many years of trying to get books, documentaries and films accepted in his own country, Shane gave up and settled for working in the fairly creative world of video-making and advertising.

A trip to Europe and the USA rekindled his love of writing, and he wrote the American-based novel ‘Exit,’ submitted it this time to American publishers and immediately, received several offers for the work. He chose one and ‘Exit’ will be released December 2nd 2013 in the USA as his first novel from Biblio Publishing.

It is the story of Briar Averill who spent a year trapped in her room, suffering from agophobia. Six years on, she’s free, yet ripples from the year's isolation still lap at the edges of her life, and that of her friends: Melodie, a pretty valley girl who she wishes she could be… Justine, her oldest friend, who has her own dark secret and Dermot who thinks he's the reincarnation of Robin Hood — stealing from the rich to give to the poor. Ripples echo down through the years, leading her to the answer to one very simple question: Is it what she always feared — is she losing her mind?

Shane has since had comic book scripts accepted in the UK by DC Thompson, publisher of the long-running ‘Commando’ comic, fulfilling yet another dream for his child-self.

He lives with a very old and very vocal Tonkinese cat, and they both dream of eloping together to the USA or Europe.

He likes oranges, orange juice, and orange furniture — in fact even the color orange. Why? Well, because it's the best color, of course. While he believes that being a grown up is not all it's cracked up to be, he still enjoys ruining his appetite before dinner, and staying up past his bed time.


Monday, December 9, 2013

New Release!! Deception’s Web - The Deizian Empire, Book 3 by Crista McHugh

Deceptions Web Banner 450 x 169



clip_image002Deception’s Web
The Deizian Empire, Book 3

Crista McHugh

Genre: Fantasy Romance/Paranormal Romance

Publisher: Crista McHugh

Date of Publication: Dec. 9, 2013

ISBN: 9780985446284


Number of pages: 278

Word Count: 85K

Cover Artist: Jaycee Delarenzo

Book Description:

A soldier looking for redemption falls into the arms of the empire’s Black Widow...
Galerius, former Captain of the Legion, is honored to be given a chance to redeem himself by discovering who is behind the failing barrier. A series of anonymous letters all point to Hostilius, governor of Lucrilia, but Galerius thinks he’ll learn more about the plot by seducing the governor’s thrice widowed daughter, Claudia. Although he warns himself not to fall into snare of the empire’s most deadly temptress, one kiss leaves him begging for more.
Claudia has spent years as a pawn in her father’s political games and longs to break free of his rule, even it means betraying him to the emperor. When Galerius arrives in Tivola, she’s not sure if he’s there to aid her father or stop him. She willingly submits to his seduction, despite their class differences, in order to find the truth. What she doesn’t expect to find is a man who indulges her secret fantasies, satisfying her in a way none of her previous husbands did, and treats her as something more than a conquest. As time runs out to thwart her father’s plans, she must decide if she can trust Galerius not only with her life, but her heart.

Excerpt -

He knelt before her. “Good morning, Empress Azurha.”

“Good morning to you, too, Galerius. I trust Varro was able to assist you adequately yesterday.”

He smoothed his hands over the clean tunic and nodded. “It was much appreciated.”

“Please come closer so I can share with you what we know.”

His gut told him this was not a trap. He stood and approached the table, feeling less cautious than he had before.

“What do you make of these?” she asked as she opened the chest.

He estimated that there were about twenty letters inside, each written on the same fine paper. He picked one up and studied the carefully written block letters that spelled out his name on the front. “Whoever wrote these has access to someone with money. A common man would’ve used coarser paper.”

She nodded, and he continued his assessment, sniffing the paper. The slight hint of incense clung to it, much lighter than the heavy scent that followed priests and priestesses. “It came from a household, not a temple.”

“Good. Now tell me what you think of the contents.”

He’d been dreading this moment from the second he’d heard the dispatches were addressed to him. He glanced at the broken wax seal, noting that it did not bear any insignia, before reading the few cryptic lines inside. “Have you been monitoring the shipments of ore from Gracchero?” he asked.

She nodded again. “Marcus was able to intercept two of the shipments that were trying to bypass the customs officials by coming in late at night. And these were sizable shipments—several tons, by our estimation.”

“But who would need so much ore? It only takes a mere coating to act as a conduit.”

“Read on,” she replied before taking a sip from her goblet.

Each dispatch contained a subtle hint, a clue that something was a potential threat to the empire. As the letters continued, the writer acknowledged the emperor’s intervention, showing he was aware of plots being foiled, and yet he did not know that the one person he was writing to was no longer the Captain of the Legion. He frowned. “Something doesn’t add up.”

“What do you mean?”

“Whoever wrote these letters is close enough to the plotters to gain access to this information, but is not high enough in rank to know of my resignation. And yet the paper suggests the writer has access to money, and the writing reveals the person is well educated—no spelling mistakes or sloppy penmanship.”

Azurha raised a brow, the corner of her mouth rising in a half-smile. “Based on this information, who do you think might have written it?”

“A scribe, possibly. Maybe a high-ranking servant in a Deizian household.”

She nodded again, keeping her face blank. If she wanted to play philosopher to a student, she was doing an admirable job. Thankfully, the mystery of the dispatches intrigued him enough to continue, despite her irritating game of making him investigate what she already knew. If she’d been one of his men, he would have demanded a brief summary of the information, not this long, drawn-out affair. But this was the empress, and he needed to play her game if he wanted to regain any of the respect he’d lost.

The last few letters pointed to Hostilius Pacilus, the provincial governor of Lucrilla, as someone of interest in this plot. Not that it was very surprising. Any man who would offer his own daughter to the imperial harem in order to gain the emperor’s favor was despicable at best. Rumors spoke of how he’d risen to power by eliminating rivals and burning down sections of Tivola, buying them cheaply from the ashes and rebuilding fancy villas on them to become the wealthiest man in the province. Combined with the recent insult of Emperor Sergius choosing to wed an Alpirion over a purebred Deizian, and he could see Hostilius as a prime suspect for wanting to overthrow the emperor.

“If the clues all point to Hostilius, why doesn’t the emperor arrest him?”

“You’re not thinking of the potential consequences, Galerius.” Azurha rose from her chair and took the most recent letter from his hand. “If Titus went around arresting every Deizian who could possibly be a threat to him, we’d have an uprising on our hands faster than you could draw your sword.”

He mulled over her words and agreed. One provincial governor had already tried to kill him, and he suspected the emperor’s choice in a wife had gained him more enemies among the ruling class than friends. And yet, for all the harsh criticisms he’d heard whispered during the wedding festivities, he’d come to begrudgingly respect the new empress. She was sharp, courageous, and had more than once shown her love and loyalty to the emperor.

“Where do I come in to this?” he asked, hoping to get to the essence of his mission so he knew what was expected of him. He was a man of action, not thought. A soldier, not a philosopher. And right now, his muscles twitched as though he were about to order a charge on the battlefield.



clip_image004Poisoned Web

The Deizian Empire

Book Two
Crista McHugh

Genre: Fantasy Romance /

SF Romance / Paranormal Romance

ISBN: 978-1-940559-99-5


Number of pages: 278

Word Count: 78K

Cover Artist: Jaycee Delorenzo

at Sweet ‘N Spicy Designs

Book Description:

The fate of the empire hangs on one slave breaking her silence…

As the Deizian Empire prepares for the upcoming wedding of Emperor Titus Sergius Flavus and Azruha, one mystery remains unsolved—the sudden and unexplained death of the former emperor. And as her wedding gift to Titus, Azurha wants to give him answers. She suspects an unknown poison was involved, and her search for the truth enlists two unlikely allies.

Modius Varro’s thirst for knowledge caused an uproar in Emona three years ago and exiled him to the border town of Madrena. But when Titus falls victim to the same poison, his expertise in medicine becomes essential in solving both the riddle of the former emperor’s death and finding a cure to save the current one. His search leads him to far reaches of the Alpirion realm, to an ancient culture shrouded in secrets, and into the arms of one slave who must break her silence to save the empire.

clip_image006About the Author:

Growing up in small town Alabama, Crista relied on story-telling as a natural way for her to pass the time and keep her two younger sisters entertained.

She currently lives in the Audi-filled suburbs of Seattle with her husband and two children, maintaining her alter ego of mild-mannered physician by day while she continues to pursue writing on nights and weekends.

Just for laughs, here are some of the jobs she’s had in the past to pay the bills: barista, bartender, sommelier, stagehand, actress, morgue attendant, and autopsy assistant.

And she’s also a recovering LARPer. (She blames it on her crazy college days)

For the latest updates, deleted scenes, and answers to any burning questions you have, please check out her webpage

Find Crista online at:




Book Blitz and Giveaway: Of Dreams and Shadow by DS McKnight

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clip_image002_thumb[1]Of Dreams and Shadow
Forget Me Not

Book 1

DS McKnight

Genre: YA Fiction (paranormal)

Publisher: Stone Bay Press

ISBN: 978-0615795096

ASIN: 0615795099

Number of pages: 286 pages

Word Count: approx 79,200

Cover Artist: Cathy Jackson

Book Trailer:


Book Description:

We live. We die. Is there anything more?

Jenna Barton is about to find out. After moving to the coastal North Carolina town of Parson's Cove, Jenna has unwittingly stepped into the middle of a mystery involving a missing child. Unfortunately, the predator is still on the loose and Jenna has become his new obsession.

With a little luck and a bit of paranormal help, Jenna might survive.

Excerpt -

The day was almost over and not a moment too soon. A brisk wind moved through the treetops as Jenna strolled to the large stone at the back of her yard. Sitting down, she leaned against the boulder and closed her eyes. The oyster roast would have been nice, if not for Chase. It seemed as though the shadow of his disapproval loomed over her entire day. Not for the first time, she wished she could go back home. Charlotte was familiar and safe. She didn’t have to worry about why an angry neighbor didn’t like her.

Jenna looked back at her house. Her mom was inside going over reports. It wasn’t like she could talk to her about Chase anyway. Karen was one of those people who took the bull by the horns. She would be knocking on the Williams’ door wanting to talk about “the problem” between their children.

Chase. She didn’t understand him and wasn’t sure she wanted to. But time and again, she found herself thinking about him, wondering why they didn’t get along. She tried to put him out of her mind but he was always there – at school, with her friends, even at home. Part of her wished she had never met him, but the other part of her was intrigued. She would never admit tin, not to anyone, but she found herself comparing Chase to Ethan. Ethan, with his dark hair and blue eyes made her laugh. Chase, whose light brown hair looked as though it had been kissed by the sun, more often than not made her want to cry.

The sun had set in the western sky and as the shadows of the eventide crept close, bringing with it the frosty night air, Jenna’s solitary vigil came to an end. It was as though her thoughts had conjured him.

“Got it, Mom,” Chase called as he walked out the back door carrying a garbage bag. He rounded the corner of the house and dropped the bag into the trash can. Jenna debated on whether to run to her house or to stay hidden in the darkness. Instead, she forced herself to walk. She refused to act as though she had done something wrong.

“Good night,” Jenna said as Chase secured the gate.

Chase whirled around. “What are you doing out here?”

“Nothing illegal.” Jenna shrugged. “Forget I said anything.”

“Wait.” Chase walked to the fence that separated their yards. “That didn’t come out right. I just meant to say you should be careful.”

“Right – because we know how rampant crime is in Parson’s Cove.” Jenna rolled her eyes. “Tell you what, why don’t you come up with a schedule of when I can be outside and then you won’t have to see me.”

“How about this, why don’t you go back to Charlotte? That should take care of the problem,” Chase snarled.

“You’re a real jerk.” Jenna walked the last few steps to her house, refusing to give into the urge to scream. She had to admit it. Chase was right. Moving back to Charlotte would take care of the problem. She’d never have to see his face again.




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When I was a little girl, I was afraid of my shadow - seriously afraid - running and screaming afraid. Perhaps I've always been a victim of an over-active imagination and maybe that explains the monsters hiding under my bed, the ghosts lurking in my closet, and the Shadow that inspired my first novel – Of Dreams and Shadow: Forget Me Not. I have always loved to write. While in school, I dreamed of being a reporter, parachuting into war-torn places and getting "the story." In reality I’m afraid of heights and would never jump out of a perfectly good flying machine. I have been fortunate enough to have had a varied career - from working as a DJ for a small radio station to serving as the president and part owner of a marina. I am married, have three sons and live in coastal North Carolina.

Thursday, December 5, 2013

Book Blitz: Alpha - The Scattered Dark Series, Book Two by Fierce Dolan

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clip_image002Alpha The Scattered Dark Series Book Two Fierce Dolan Genre: erotic horror, hardcore paranormal erotica, BDSM Publisher: Fierce Desires Date of Publication: 23 October 2013 ISBN: 978-0-9860165-6-1 ASIN: B00G4V1ETU Number of pages: 53 Word Count: 15,857 Cover Artist: Fierce Dolan Amazon Book Description: When domme Alaine Dunham meets beautiful, young werewolf Seth, she dreams of training him to be the perfect bottom to fill her Alpha needs. She quickly finds that gentling the wild wolf is one thing; subduing the rebellious human is another. Tensions mount as the full moon pushes them to consummate their bond before relationship concerns are soothed. After a strange book falls into Alaine's hands she begins to doubt her relationship, her instincts, and the moon. Book One, Journal of a Lycanthrophile , is free on Amazon starting December 2 Alpha by Fierce Dolan   Chapter 1 A wolf. Alaine Dunham didn’t have to see him for that familiar life force to course through hers, for her body to ache to be near his—the telltale signs. Several years had passed since those sensations last sizzled up her spine, thudded behind her ribs, pooled hot and wet at her cunt, and she relished them. Scouting him from her vantage point on the stage, seeing his wild allure, got her even hotter. The dark man clutched the hand of Hostess Kisha. Her rainbow-plaited head bobbed, a kaleidoscope beacon glinting under the strobing lights as she squinted and guided them through the fray on the glittering dance floor. The shifter pressed through the crowd with his shoulders squared and jaw jutted forward. A lock of wavy black hair obscured his eyes. His swagger betrayed that he was young, anxious, needy, though the power that emanated from him told her he was not newly made. Dancing clubbers parted and stared in his wake. Alaine jumped down from the stage and waited for him to find her, as he most certainly would. She busied her trembling hands by slapping a cat-o-nine against her thigh. The welts that rose on her skin distracted her from the aching want between her legs. Licking her lips, she sighed and slowed her slamming pulse. If she was half the top she and the patrons of Malice in Fundaland thought she was, he’d be trained to knot in no time. Finally, a worthy conquest. Shaking her ponytail down her back, she pulled her shoulders up and greeted Kisha. The waifish hostess clasped Alaine’s hand and kissed her cheek, conservative affection considering they had tribbed all afternoon, culminating with the caramel-complexioned beauty creaming on her face around sundown. Fraternizing amongst staff was forbidden, so they kept their bennie trysts secret. Smiling, she tucked a colorful ringlet behind Kisha’s ear and nodded to the lovely man. “Mistress,” Kisha started, “this is Seth. He’s a regular on the scene, though it’s his first time in Malice.” His gaze roved over Alaine as the smaller woman spoke. “He asked for you. He knows the best when he sees it.” “Ah.” She resisted the urge to rap his thigh with the flail handle. “I’m booked out several nights. Hostess Kisha can get you on the books for another evening.” The wolf’s piercing gaze met hers, though his long lashes fluttered and his voice wavered. “Nice to meet you, thanks. For now, I’ll watch.” author Erotic mezzofiction writer, Fierce is imagination shapeshifted as a scribe taunting blank pages and carpal tunnel, neither of which are much use for deadlines. Close allies are impeccable timing and a trusty masseuse. Being a switch I/ENFP doesn’t hurt. For kicks Fierce has other personas across several genres, tends to fill in “Other” on surveys without explaining, and chooses the finality of the Japanese Tamagotchi. Facebook @FierceDolan Google+ Goodreads Amazon Pinterest Tumblr'

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Author Interview with Rebekah Turner, author of Chaos Bound.

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Today we have author Rebekah Turner, author of Chaos Bound for an interview. Thanks for joining us Rebekah. Sit back and enjoy the interview.

Author Interview

Did you always wanted to be a writer? If not what did you want to be?

I've always wanted to tell stories. I still remember when I was a little girl and my parents found out I'd told a serialized story about a family of unicorns, which had been written and illustrated in the front and back of my dad's expensive encyclopedias.

How long did it take to get your first book published?

Three years.

Do you do another job except for writing and can you tell us more about it?

I do freelance graphic design when my kids are looking the other way.

What is the name of your latest book, and if you had to summarize it in less than 20 words what would you say?

Chaos Bound: Lora Blackgoat's latest investigation puts her in the crosshairs of a merchant with a taste for blood sport.

Who is your publisher? Or do you self-publish?

My publisher is Escape Publishing.

How long does it usually take you to write a book, from the original idea to finishing writing it?

Six months, but I'm getting faster!

What can we expect from you in the future? ie More books of the same genre? Books of a different genre?

More gritty urban fantasy with some slap and tickle on the side and a flawed heroine with attitude.

What genre would you place your books into?

Urban fantasy.

Do you have a certain routine you have for writing? ie You listen to music, sit in a certain chair?

After the kids are down, I always made a cup of tea and put on my writing music.

Do you read all the reviews of your book/books?

I try not to look too closely, otherwise I think I would start obsessing. But I do take a peek, because I want to know if people are enjoying the story or not.

Do you choose a title first, or write the book then choose the title?

I always write the book first.

How do you come up with characters names and place names in your books?

I collect them like stamps. I love grabbing interesting names off the internet and the world around me. I've even made myself a database of names I can refer back to when I need one.

Which format of book do you prefer, eBook, hardback, or paperback?

I've been reading a lot of eBooks at the moment, because of the convenience. If I absolutely love a book, I'll buy a hardcopy as well.

What is your favorite book and Why? Have you read it more than once?

One of my favorite books is One for the Money, by Janet Evanovich. I read it so many times the spine split.

Do you think books transfer to movies well? Which is you favorite/worst book to movie transfer?

I think some do, but not often. My favorite would have to be a toss up between the Hunger Games and the Princess Bride.

Your favorite food is?

Burnt fig and caramel ice cream.

Your favorite color is?


Your favorite Author is?

One author I love is JR Ward. She has an awesome talent of combining sexy action with snappy prose.

Remember to check out today’s book blitz to find out more about Rebekah and her epic Urban Fantasy Chaos Bound.

Book Blitz: Chaos Bound - Chronicles of the Applecross, Book 2 by Rebekah Turner

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clip_image002Chaos Bound

Chronicles of the Applecross

Book 2
Rebekah Turner

Genre: Urban fantasy

Publisher: Escape Publishing

Date of Publication: 1 December 2013

ISBN: 9780857991072


Number of pages: 177

Word Count: 82,000

Book Description:

The long-awaited sequel to Chaos Born takes us back into the Applecross, where Lora faces increasing threats to her survival and her chance at love.

Lora Blackgoat — mercenary and smuggler — has only just recovered from the last threat on her life and hasn’t even begun to sort out the mess of having both a nephilim warrior and a reborn hellspawn as potential lovers. Work should be a refuge, but a job finding missing persons puts her in the crosshairs of a violent gang and a merchant with a taste for blood sport.

Reluctantly, Lora turns to the two men in her life for help. Roman — the nephilim — professes to be her soul mate and turns to her when he feels the darkness of nephilim madness descending. But though Lora is drawn to Roman, it is Seth, ex-lover and reborn hellspawn, who Lora must ultimately ask to protect those she loves. Can she trust Seth to save Roman and her adoptive family, or will this be a fatal mistake?


Chapter 1

No one had liked Rae Dowler. His nickname had been Captain Chunky, and that was from his friends. He'd been a greedy bastard in life and now, in death, was a weight on my conscience. This was the second co-worker to die on a job with me. The first one I’d had to behead after he'd become infected at an exorcism with a demonic entity, along with the client. Thankfully, my sword had been nowhere near Rae Dowler when he'd dropped dead of an old-fashioned heart attack. Still, people liked to talk.

Spring had bloomed in the bustling city of Harken, and instead of the usual rain, or tepid fog, the narrow, crooked streets had been flooded with gentle, golden sunshine. For a city used to constant downpours and overcast skies, the unexpected weather was viewed with some suspicion and considered most unseemly.

A warm afternoon wind was blowing though the cemetery, ruffling black skirts and sending hats sailing. I watched as the coffin was lowered into the ground, only half listening as a priest of The Higher Path faith droned on about eternal life.

Dowler had been in the Runner industry for over forty years. He was the only other Runner at Blackgoat Watch that didn't mind being sent on jobs past The Weald's guarded entryways: out into the modern world, with its buzzing technology, flashing neon lights and all things deep fried. Transporting anything from the Outlands back into the hidden Weald was illegal, but somehow Dowler always managed to return with a tray of Winkie Bill's Crème Donuts. A tray he never shared, mind you. Just sat in the kitchen of Blackgoat and scoffed the lot before he had to go home to his wife. In light of his less than stellar diet, I guess the heart attack that killed him wasn't a complete surprise.

Gideon, my benefactor and owner of Blackgoat Watch, stood to my left, reeking of stale whisky and boredom. Cloete, another runner at Blackgoat, was on my right. A five-foot dynamo, Cloete was otherkin: her bloodline a mixture of succubus and goddess-knew-what other interbred, mystic race. Today she was wearing leather pants and a suede coat, her petite horns hidden under a bowler hat. Her inky-black tail wrapped around one leg, the end tapping impatiently against her thigh. Tails were tricky things, always giving away the mind of their owners. Tails never seemed to lie and I was thankful I didn’t have one.

The priest said 'amen' and people dutifully took their cue and began shuffling away. Dowler's widow, a heavy-set woman with coarse hair and fleshy jowls, tossed wilted roses into the open grave, her expression a mixture of sadness and regret, with a pinch of what looked like suspicion.

‘Thank Kianna's sacred tits that's over.’ Cloete yawned, tail unravelling from her leg. ‘Who's up for a brew at Growlers?’

‘That was the most boring funeral I've ever attended.’ Gideon copied Cloete's yawn, covering his mouth with a hairy hand. He was decked out in a long frock coat with a red carnation tucked in the lapels and a natty yellow necktie. Gideon was a full-blooded satyr, and though he made every effort to look human, today he'd forgotten a hat, and his tangle of steel-wool grey hair revealed the tops of his horns he'd had amputated years ago in an effort to fit in. He'd also forgotten the contacts that changed his slit pupils to round, and his fancy-made shoes didn't match. All this, and his hangdog expression, suggested he was struggling with a hangover.

‘It wasn't that boring.’ I tried to sound indignant on Dowler's behalf, but came off sounding guilty. I was busy praying the wife didn't notice me.

‘Before I forget, Lora,’ Gideon paused to yawn again, ‘I need you to come in to Blackgoat tomorrow to talk about a new job.’

‘You've already got me babysitting the theatre bimbo,’ I reminded him. It was a simple bodyguard gig. No real threats...low chance of beheadings.

‘Please.’ Gideon looked pained. ‘Nicola Grogan is an actress, and a fine one at that.’ He sniffed and flicked a finger at his carnation. ‘And I must say, that doesn't sound like gratitude from where I'm standing.’

My lips tightened, but I had enough smarts to pause before I spoke, giving my brain a chance to kick in. After being passed over for jobs because other Runners refused to work with me, I was in no position to turn my nose up at any opportunities. I'd only attended one other successful exorcism job since the beheading incident. That client had been high profile: the daughter of the Lord Mayor Corelli. Unfortunately, the Mayor was a staunch advocate of the Church of Higher Path, who frowned upon things such as spells and magic, seeing them as blasphemy. Blackgoat Watch had been hired by Mayor Corelli's wife, who'd sworn Gideon to secrecy, all of which meant I couldn't put the job on my brag sheet of clients I hadn't killed. As things stood now, Gideon had been forced to strong-arm Rae Dowler to work with me on a stakeout of a suspected cheating husband. The fact that the job hadn't ended well for Dowler was now going to make me a social pariah. Again.

‘Sorry,’ I muttered. ‘I'm grateful. I'm grateful.’

Gideon grunted and made a beeline for the rickshaw he'd hired to chauffeur him to and from the cemetery. Despite his dishevelled look this morning, Gideon liked to think most people couldn't pick he was a satyr, and that he was a master of disguise. No one had the heart to tell him he wasn't.

I rubbed my right lame leg and leant heavily on my goat-headed duelling cane, jealous of the rickshaw. After downing two espressos and three pastries from a local bakery, I'd walked to the cemetery as an act of contrition. Orella Warbreeder, my adoptive mother, had been lecturing me on how walking would do my joints wonders. But after standing in one place for so long, my hip had seized. I had half a mind to beg a lift with Gideon when a wink of light caught my eye, coming from the line of pine trees hedging one side of the cemetery. The light blinked again. I was no super spy, but had enough smarts to know when someone wanted my attention.


‘Eh?’ I realised Cloete had asked me a question.

‘Drink?’ She mimed throwing back a tankard of beer.

‘I think I'll just stay here a bit,’ I said. ‘Catch up with you later?’

Her eyebrows lifted. ‘Self-pity is an ugly emotion, Lora.’

‘Fuck off. I've just got things to do.’

Cloete pursed her lips. ‘You won't be bringing your boyfriend, will you?’

‘Boyfriend?’ My eyebrows arched. ‘Who would that be?’

‘Are you serious?’ Cloete snorted. ‘You think people aren't gossiping about you making goo-goo eyes at that fire and brimstone Regulator?’

I flushed. ‘His name is Roman, and we're just friends.’

One side of Cloete's mouth jerked up. ‘How very teen drama.’

‘Shut up.’

She began to stalk off, then paused, glancing back at me. ‘Just make sure you come to Growlers tonight, yeah? I want to talk to you about something important.’

‘Fine, fine.’ I gave her a surly look. ‘I'll make sure my teen drama doesn't follow me.’

Cloete chuckled as she left, striding towards the city with a smattering of other burly-looking Blackgoat Runners. I'd heard she'd flat-out refused the protection detail for Nicola Grogan. I wish I could have done the same. Spoilt actresses were bad for my health. There was another flash from the woods and I got the impression someone wanted me to hurry up.

The hairs on my neck prickled and I turned to see Dowler's wife. Her lips peeled back and she hissed at me, sounding like a kettle on the boil. I opened my mouth a couple of times before managing to mutter condolences about her loss.

‘This was your fault.’ Her eyes were slits of fury, face dry of tears. ‘My husband's blood is on your hands.’

‘I don't think that's fair,’ I protested weakly.

But the widow was already leaving, an elderly man escorting her away. She let herself be led, back stiff with anger. I watched her go, feeling miserable. How was Dowler's death my fault? A small voice told me I was a jinx, so that kind of made it my fault. I balked as the widow pulled away from her escort and stabbed a finger at me, spit flying from thinned lips. ‘You're the angel of death, Lora Blackgoat. You bring nothing but misery into people's lives.’

Her escort tightened his grip, threw me a scowl, and hurried her from the cemetery. I was the only one by Dowler's graveside now. Even the grave attendants had retreated for a break, leaning against headstones and smoking tobacco pipes.

I unbuttoned my coat and adjusted my work-belt with its heavy pockets, loaded with knick-knacks most useful in a fight. This included pouches of salt, the one medium guaranteed to act as a conduit to the ley-lines that ran under the earth and fuelled all magic. It wasn't hard to cast; took a few years of training to get the concentration right, then chuck a bit of salt, shout a few words of power in the language of your choice, and hey presto, you could set your own hair on fire. My belt was well stocked with salt, including one pouch of my own special mixture: powdered consecrated silver, salt, and half a teaspoon of gunpowder. I called it my Sucker Punch Special: guaranteed to rock your socks when you needed it. Feeling prepared, I braced my cane against my bad leg and strode towards the line of pine trees.



Rebekah lives in sunny Queensland and has worked in the past as a graphic designer. She now does freelance work when her kids are looking the other way. An avid writer since she could scrawl in her dad’s expensive encyclopedias, she has progressed from horsey stories to tales of dark fantasy with lashings of romance and a sprinkling of horror.

Her vices include eating overpriced ice cream, over analyzing 80s action and horror movies and buying stationery she just doesn’t need.



Monday, December 2, 2013

Author Interview with Gretchen S. B. author of Lady of the Dead

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Today on the blog we have Gretchen S. B. author of Lady of the Dead for an interview. Let’s get to know this amazing author!

Author Interview


Did you always wanted to be a writer? If not what did you want to be?

When I was little I did not want to be a princess or a ballerina. I wanted to be a train conductor. To this day I have no clue why, but I remember thinking that is seemed like the coolest job in the world. It wasn't until college that I began to consider becoming a writer.

When did you first consider yourself a “writer”?

Wow, I don't know. I wrote and created stories most of my life but I have never considered myself a writer. Once I started writing with the intent to publish I did not think of myself as a writer but someone who wanted to become one. I got this sense of relief and accomplishment when I saw my book for sale on Amazon. If I had to guess, I would say I considered myself a writer when a copy of Lady of the Dead sold. It sort of become official for me in that moment.

How long did it take to get your first book published?

I started working on Lady of the Dead, I believe, in 2010. It took me seven months to write. By far the fastest I ever finished a story. My queries were rejected by a handful of literary agencies, so Lady of the Dead sat on the digital shelf until I began seriously researching self-publishing.

Then in April I began giving the manuscript one last onceover. My grammar is terrible so I researched independent book editors. I found The Author's Red Room. They have reasonable prices and edited my manuscript in about two months (they do two rounds of edits). Then I worked on the cover and blub. Lady of the Dead came out on Halloween. So the much shorter answer is about 3.5 years.

Do you do another job except for writing and can you tell us more about it?

I do, I am a Site Coordinator for City University of Seattle's Everett campus. Which comes down to being a mix between head office assistant and office manager. I am the youngest in the office by almost twenty years. I love my Everett co-workers! We joke around and work well as a team.

What is the name of your latest book, and if you had to summarize it in less than 20 words what would you say?

Lady of the Dead: Paranormal romance with a modern woman who sees the Spirit World and an old fashioned King who falls for her.

Who is your publisher? Or do you self-publish?

I self-published.

How long does it usually take you to write a book, from the original idea to finishing writing it?

Forever! From conception, it could take years. Some books started out as plot points in an existing book that just became too big. I have a habit of writing up a story idea (just so I do not forget it) then leave it alone until it percolates. Once I start getting into the writing groove though it takes me 7-16 months.

What can we expect from you in the future? ie More books of the same genre? Books of a different genre?

I hope to have a long writing career, as long as readers like my work. I hope to be writing Romance and Fantasy (and combinations of the tow) for years to come.

I currently have two stories in the works I hope to publish within the next six months. The first is a book called Berman's Wolves. It is an Urban Fantasy about the aftermath of a science experiment that turned several hundred students into Werewolves. The government quarantined the affected and broke the students up into groups for testing. The book takes place years later, after the government officials have stepped out of the picture. Or so it seems.

The second story is an Urban Fantasy about a homicide detective who is handed a gruesome case. Following the killer's trail, Tony starts to become aware of a paranormal world he did not know existed. The paranormal community would like to keep him in the dark and handle the killer themselves. He not only has to catch the murderer but come to terms with the fact that the world is not as simple as he always thought.

What made you decide to write that genre of book?

I enjoy creating my own spin on reality. I like to create my own rules by which the world has to operate. That is why I like to write fantasy, whether urban or paranormal, there are less boundaries for my imagination. As for romance, I just like romance and happily ever after. I like writing about two characters destiny brings together.

How long have you been writing?, and who or what inspired you to write?

I have been writing since I was very little. I simply enjoy entertaining people. For 15 years my creative energy went toward acting as a way to create and entertain. I started writing more seriously in mid high school. A friend and I used to create stories about characters we made up. I think she in a way inspired me to create my own worlds instead of play in someone else's.

Do you have a certain routine you have for writing? ie You listen to music, sit in a certain chair?

I do not have much of a routine. But I do have habits. It was not until about a year ago that I was willing to part ways with Word 2003. It was my favorite. I almost always write on my laptop, not much in ink anymore sadly. I can't have any talking while I write, music is fine about half the time but no TV. If I am in a writing groove and someone talks to me it is as if a bubble pops and I can no longer concentrate.

How do you come up with characters names and place names in your books?

Character names are funny. Sometimes there is a name I really want to use. Most of the time there is a letter, I just get the first letter (or once in a while the last). Then I go on baby naming websites until I find one that clicks for me.

With places I like to have a mix of real and imaginary. I like sprinkling in real places so that when local people read it there is that moment of 'hey, I know where that is!' I mostly name places based on the type of name I think it needs or what I think, at the time, would be funny.

Are character names and place names decided after their creation? Or do you pick a character/place name and then invent them?

Characters and places come first, then I name them. One of the very frustrating things for me is when I have to use a character's name but do not have one yet. I will stare at the screen for several minutes hoping one comes to me. I usually get annoyed enough that I stop writing for the day.

Do you decide on character traits (ie shy, quiet, tomboy girl) before writing the whole book or as you go along?

I find that characters will write themselves. I might start out thinking a character is (as a random example) a sporty, driven woman. Then I get in to the meat of the story and find the plot is all gnarled and stuck because that character just isn't the sporty driven woman I thought she was. Then I have to go back and look at her actions and see what seems mechanically forced instead of the character's natural response.

Which format of book do you prefer, eBook, hardback, or paperback?

Personally I prefer paperbacks. I love holding it in my hands, turning the pages, and having that visual confirmation of how far I am in the book. I love book shopping! It is the ultimate retail therapy for me to walk into a Half Price Books and walk out with a bag of books for under $20. I get very excited about organizing my bookcase and seeing it fill with books I like to read.

Do you think books transfer to movies well? Which is you favorite/worst book to movie transfer?

I think they can. I struggle with it though if I have read the book first and within a few months of seeing the movie. It bothers me when the plots or stories are different. I find myself going, 'no, but you're supposed to do this…'

Your favorite food is?

It depends on my mood. But I definitely have a weakness for coffee (mostly lattes). It smells nice, it's warm, and it can taste nice. I love hanging out with people I care about in a coffee shop. I am always excited when pumpkin spice comes back in to season.

Your favorite color is?

Blue, I love that shade that is a smidge darker then cerulean. It looks so rich, as if it would feel like velvet if I reached out to touch it.

Remember to check out today’s book blitz to find out more about Gretchen and her novel.