Archangel's Desire

Thursday, April 30, 2015

Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: Town from Hell by @TinaInLV

Town from Hell Banner 851 x 315


Book Blast



clip_image002Town from Hell

Dagger and Brimstone

Book One

T.W. Kirchner

Genre: Young Adult Paranormal/Horror

Publisher: Short on Time Books

Date of Publication: April 19, 2015

ISBN: 1508982635

ASIN: B00V0R61H8

Number of pages: 274

Word Count: 76,636

Cover Artist: Tony Bryson

Book Description:

Seventeen-year-old Racer and his girlfriend Arloe want to be together despite resistance from her parents. In defiance of an upcoming separation, they run away for the summer, going totally off the grid to a remote town in the Nevada desert.

The teens think no one knows where they are—but they couldn’t be more wrong. Racer’s well-orchestrated plan for freedom turns into a nightmare from hell.

Lies, deception and betrayal blur his lines of reality, and he discovers everyone in town is hiding a terrifying secret, including Arloe.

Book Trailer:

Available at Amazon


The town appeared as a dot over the hill. Five miles max. Anticipation overtook my shaky nerves. We passed several road signs that promoted ‘going green’ and ‘recycling.’ Another sign boasted Winthrop’s claim to fame: Home of the World Famous Green Links Heath Food line.

An ancient gray truck with Nevada plates lumbered up the road. We passed it on the left side like it was standing still. The old dude driving the clunker stared at me through the open window, a cigarette clenched in his yellowed teeth. Just as much smoke billowed from the cab as sputtered from the exhaust. I wondered how the truck made it that far from town…or the old dude for that matter. Neither he nor his truck modeled ‘going green’ with all the pollution they created.

Any other time, I’d have ignored his stare, but it made me uneasy, more so after the gut-wrenching incident moments before. I reassured myself it didn’t mean anything—no different than all the other stares I’d received though my seventeen years.

I pulled off the highway into a run-down gas station on the edge of town, a half mile past the faded wooden ‘Welcome to Winthrop’ sign that likely would topple over in the next stiff breeze. It didn’t surprise me when Arloe hopped off my bike and flew around the side of the mini-mart toward the ladies’ room. She didn’t even wait to take off her helmet. Her urgency made me laugh because I’d always kidded she had the bladder of an ant. What amazed me was that she hadn’t asked to stop at all in three hours on the road. For her sake, I hoped the bathroom didn’t require a key.

The midday sun blazed hot, yet the intense heat didn’t seem to affect the flies swarming around the overflowing garbage can placed between the two retro pumps. As I stood up, my butt peeled in layers from the leather seat. My jeans and boxers fused to my legs from sweat. I’d never traveled that long a distance on my bike before without stopping, and my aching legs paid the price.

Even after I took off my sweltering black helmet and hung it on the handlebar of my once black, now gray-looking bike, the slight breeze didn’t give me any relief. In fact, it was worse. The breeze simulated a blow drier set on hot, pointed at my face.

A few stray flies abandoned the trash and went on the attack, buzzing around my sweaty head and biting my arms. I hoped the attraction didn’t indicate I smelled worse than the trash. One black fly landed on my right bicep inside of my new dagger tattoo. My hand nicked the annoying pest, but it had already bitten me and buzzed away. The skin around the tattoo immediately tingled and itched. Damn. I ran my hand across my hair. It was sticky and wet because I sweated faster than the air could dry it.

As I staggered toward the door to pay for a fill-up, I tried to stretch the stiffness out of my legs while I pulled areas of my soaked jeans away from my skin. Halfway across the parking lot, the heat from the asphalt felt like it had eaten through the soles of my boots. It wouldn’t have surprised me if they melted like crayons into a waxy puddle.

The desert excursion proved interesting at best, so far. My dark blue jeans had lightened by two shades of dust, my white T-shirt had darkened by two shades of dust, and sandy grit crunched between my teeth even though the helmet’s face shield had been down the whole time.

When I pulled open the glass door of the mini-mart, a rusted cowbell clanked across it. The metal made an ear-splitting slap, and I expected the murky glass to shatter or at least crack, but it didn’t. I slinked through the door thinking I’d attracted unwanted attention, but the place was almost empty. The top of the attendant’s head showed behind the counter, but my presence went unacknowledged. What did I expect in a town of fifty residents that boasted a twenty-foot rattlesnake fashioned from beer bottles as the main attraction? I ducked into the first aisle. The half-stocked shelves carried very few of the usual mini-mart snacks but a lot of the Green Links Health Food products. A half-filled refrigerated section stretched across the back wall.

I walked up the second aisle before approaching the faded, red counter, covered almost entirely by paper ads and signs. The middle-aged attendant relaxed on a wooden barstool with her feet resting on a two-foot stack of magazines piled on the floor. She slumped over to browse through a magazine spread out on her lap. The tabletop, portable fan behind the counter blew her frizzy hair all around. It made an annoying click each time its blades completed a rotation.

The attendant ran her knobby pointer finger along the page while she read. She must have reached the end of the article because she looked up and pushed her wire-framed, granny glasses down on the bridge of her pointy nose. “Kin I helps ya?”

This time, I stared. Her dental work looked like she’d tried to stop a bowling ball with her face. She lacked every other tooth, and the remaining few resembled gray and yellowish nubs. She only needed a wart on her chin and a long black dress. The broom already leaned up against the wall behind her.

I placed a twenty on the counter. “Yeah, I need a fill-up.”

The attendant slid off the barstool and set the magazine down. The legs on both her and the stool creaked and wiggled. She tugged at the bottom of her black, oversized tee and pulled up her baggy jeans. They hung pathetically off her emaciated frame and were frayed at the bottom where they dragged the floor. She picked up the money, sniffled loudly, and wiped her nose on the back of her vein-popping hand. “Which pump?”

I gazed out the huge, front window. The station only had two pumps, and my bike was the only vehicle around for at least a mile. I bit my lip and choked back the smartass comment that popped into my mind. “Pump two, please.”

Witch Hazel pushed a gold button on the ancient cash register and the drawer barely slid open. With the swiftness and grace of a baboon wearing a baseball glove, she placed my twenty in the drawer. I tried to figure out how that register could possibly be connected to the pump when she enlightened me. “Go on and pump. Lemme know how much it comes to, and I’ll give ya your change back.” She slammed the drawer closed. She looked me up and down. “You ain’t from around here, are you?”

I wiped my forehead on the sleeve of my T-shirt, exchanging a layer of sweat for sand. “No, how’d you guess?”

She pointed from the cubic stud in my nose, to the gold ring through my eyebrow, and at the three tattoos on my right arm.

I shrugged.

She smacked her cracking lips and turned away, only to pick up the magazine and plop back on the creaky barstool.

I’d already forgotten about the cowbell, and it smashed into the glass again when the door closed behind me. As I headed over to my bike, Arloe came from around the corner, swinging her helmet back and forth by the chin strap. She smiled like she’d won the lottery.

I pushed the nozzle into the gas tank and flipped the lever, unable to hold back my grin. “Feel better?”

Arloe hung the bright purple helmet I’d given her on the bike’s handle and snuggled up against me. She smelled sweet from the freshly-applied cherry lip gloss. When she smiled, her eyes sparkled as much as her pink, shiny lips. “Lots.” Arloe ran her hands through my damp hair to spike it up and took a step back to admire her handiwork. “But now I’m thirsty. Can we get something to drink?”

She had me so totally captivated that when the pump clicked off, I jerked. Arloe smirked, but I pretended not to notice and replaced the nozzle. “Sure. Witch Hazel will hook us up inside.”

She stared at me with her eyebrows lowered and shoved her hands in the back pockets of her acid-washed, body-hugging jeans. “Who?”

I shrugged. “Never mind. Bad joke.”

She gently slapped my hand. “Racer, stop.”

Without realizing I’d done it, my stubby fingernails had scratched the area around my dagger tat to a bright red. I shoved my hand in my pocket.

While she examined my bicep, she grimaced. Her smooth fingers glided along my skin, but her voice had lost its sexy edge. “Racer Roane. You should’ve gone back to the tattoo shop. It’s been two weeks and you’re still messin’ with it.” She leaned back and stared into my eyes. “Maybe it’s infected…or the ink was bad.”

The first two tattoos never bothered me like that one had, and it did concern me. I just didn’t want Arloe to know it. Besides, I couldn’t do anything about it now anyway.

Arloe pulled her silky hair back into a ponytail and swatted at a fly that attacked her face.

I shooed the fly away and pushed a few stray strands of hair from her eyes. “Just think, you could be in Spain taking classes right now, but you gave up the opportunity for all this.”

She surveyed the empty desert and turned back to me, holding my calloused hands in her delicate ones. Her eyes showed determination and a spark of renewed energy. “No, I gave it up for you. For us. We’ll see Spain one day. Together.”

  Author Interview

When did you first consider yourself a “writer”?

I didn’t really feel like I could call myself a writer or an author until I published my first book, but I shouldn’t have felt that way. If you write, you’re a writer, and if you have books written whether they’re published or not, you’re an author.

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

It took about eight years from the time I decided to write a book until my manuscript was published.

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

I started writing as a stay-at-home mom, doing most of my writing during the late-night and early morning hours. I’ve been working for the last couple of years as a part-time editor for website content. My job is probably not as fun as a book editor’s, but I do read some interesting material and learn something new almost every day.

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

My latest book is Dagger & Brimstone: Town from Hell. Think of the worst vacation ever, and the one these teens are on is even worse.

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

My publisher is Short on Time Books.

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

Town from Hell took about two years to complete. Most of my books are middle grade, so they’re about half the length and take about a year to write.

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

I plan on completing the Dagger & Brimstone series and would love to do more supernatural or horror books. I also have a fourth book in the works for the Pirates Off middle grade series.

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

I’ve always loved to write. I was the kid who would write a two-page paper when one page would have been sufficient. I actually decided to write because I wanted to illustrate a picture book. When I learned more about the business, I realized that wasn’t in the cards. I also found out that I like to write more than 500 words and soon settled into middle grade writing. Once I’d written a few middle grade manuscripts, I tried my hand at longer, young adult stories.

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

I had to laugh when I read the question. Sometimes, I don’t even get to sit in a chair. Most of my work is written late at night because I don’t have much time to just sit down and write during the day. My kids and small “zoo” have kept me very busy. Many times, I only have 15 minutes to dump information from my head into a story before I rush out the door.

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

Yes, I read them all. Any feedback is good feedback, even if it’s not exactly what you’d like to hear. I feel I can learn something from all of it.

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

For the first book in a series or a standalone manuscript, I usually write the book before I choose a title. Usually, the second and subsequent books have titles before they’re written.

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

Some of my characters are named after family and friends such as Tommy, Connor, and Dil from my Pirates Off series and many of the supporting characters in The Troubled Souls of Goldie Rich series. I’ve also run through many baby name’s lists. I like names that are easy to pronounce but aren’t common.

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

I have a basic idea of what my characters are like before I begin the story, and I even make a list of character traits to make sure that they stay ‘in character.’ As situations arise in the books, they usually pick up more traits.

Are there any hidden messages or morals contained in your books? (Morals as in like Aesops Fables type of "The moral of this story is..")

I don’t try to put any hidden messages into the books, but I do like happy endings.

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

I prefer paperbacks, but I am not opposed to reading any format.

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

I think some books make great movies such as Harry Potter. Of course, the books have so many more details that the movies couldn’t possibly squeeze into two hours, but they do the books justice. The Mortal Instruments series were good books, but the movie didn’t capture enough of the first book for me, although it was entertaining.

Your favorite food is?

Dark chocolate.

Your favorite singer/group is?

I like a lot of groups and singers. I guess my most recent CD purchases were Keith Urban, Chris Young, Luke Bryan and Nickelback.

Your favorite color is?




a Rafflecopter giveaway

  About The Author


T.W. Kirchner is the author of the Pirates Off middle grade series and The Troubled Souls of Goldie Rich young adult series. Besides writing, she loves tennis, yoga, painting and gardening. She lives in Las Vegas with her husband, two children, and furry menagerie known as the Kirchner Zoo.



Twitter: @TinaInLV

Scent of the Soul by @SquareSails

Scent of the Soul Banner 851 x 315


Book Blast



clip_image002Scent of the Soul

Julie Doherty

Genre: Historical Romance

Publisher: Soul Mate Publishing

Date of Publication: February 11, 2015

ISBN: 978-1-61935-705-1


Number of pages: 288

Word Count: 91,000

Cover Artist: Leah Suttle

Book Description:

In twelfth century Scotland, it took a half-Gael with a Viking name to restore the clans to their rightful lands. Once an exile, Somerled the Mighty now dominates the west. He’s making alliances, expanding his territory, and proposing marriage to the Manx princess.

It’s a bad time to fall for Breagha, a torc-wearing slave with a supernatural sense of smell.

Somerled resists the intense attraction to a woman who offers no political gain, and he won’t have a mistress making demands on him while he’s negotiating a marriage his people need. Besides, Breagha belongs to a rival king, one whose fresh alliance Somerled can’t afford to lose.

It’s when Breagha vanishes that Somerled realizes just how much he needs her. He abandons his marriage plans to search for her, unprepared for the evil lurking in the shadowy recesses of Ireland—a lustful demon who will stop at nothing to keep Breagha for himself.

Book Trailer:

Available at Amazon Amazon UK Amazon Canada


As Godred’s oarsmen shoved off from the jetty, Somerled wondered if there was any man less suitable to deliver a marriage proposal. Godred of Dublin was coarse, marginally Christian—indeed, marginally sane—and easily riled. Nevertheless, King Olaf liked him, and for that reason alone, Somerled had selected him as his envoy.

“No side trips,” Somerled shouted before Godred was too far away to hear. “Ye have three places to go and that’s it: the Isle of Man, your clan, and back here.” Godred was prone to unscheduled detours.

Unless bad weather or the scent of easy plunder pulled Godred and his thirty oarsmen off course, Somerled would have Olaf’s answer in a few days. If Olaf agreed to the marriage, Somerled would add a wife to the items decorating his new castle at Finlaggan and eventually, the Isle of Man to his expanding area of influence.

The nobles would respect him then. Half-breed or not.

Behind him, a door squealed on one of the two guardhouses standing sentinel over the Sound of Islay. The small building spat out Hakon, his chief guard, another man of Dublin birth and temperament. Hakon strode the length of the jetty to join him. “I have every confidence the Norns will weave Godred a successful journey, my lord king,” he said, his words puffing white clouds above his tawny sheepskin cape.

“If your goddesses have woven anything, it’s an unfortunate headwind,” Somerled said. “Godred is forced to tack.” He closed his cloak and secured it at his throat with a brooch he once plucked from a Viking who no longer needed it. “The wind promises hail. My proposal will be delayed.”

“Aye, likely,” Hakon said, his hair and beard whipping into copper clouds, “but it will hasten Olaf’s reply. Do not despair, my lord. Ragnhilde will marry ye soon enough.”

Despair? Somerled stifled a laugh. Did Hakon think he had feelings for a lassie he had never met? He was about to tease his guard about being a romantic when Hakon stiffened.

“Another ship,” Hakon said, looking past Somerled’s shoulder.

Somerled spun around to inspect the northwestern waters of the channel separating Jura and Islay—the jewel of the Hebrides and the island that served as the seat of his burgeoning kingdom. “Where?” he asked, squinting.

Hakon thrust a finger toward the fog bank blanketing the horizon. “There, at the promontory, in that pale blue strip of water. See it?”

At first, Somerled saw nothing but swooping terns and ranks of swells. Then, an unadorned sail appeared. It crested on a wave, dipped low, and vanished.

“Should I sound the horn?” Hakon asked.

Somerled raked his fingers through the coarse, wheaten mess slapping at his eyes and held it at his nape while he considered his response. Behind them, the signal tower on Ben Vicar was smoke-free. Across the sound, the towers on the frosty Paps of Jura were likewise unlit, although clouds partially obscured their peaks. The Paps had a commanding view. If a signal fire blazed anywhere, the men stationed there would have seen it and lit their own.

“My lord king, should I sound the horn?” Hakon impatiently palmed the battle horn dangling at his broad chest.

Men began to gather on the jetty.

“Let us wait. It is only one ship, and it looks to be a trader. The signal fires would blaze by now if it were someone worthy of our concern.” Somerled glanced back at the mud and thatch cottages shouldering against one another. At their doors, the bows of half his impressive fleet rested on the shoreline, a sandy slip extending well into the distance. The rest of his ships sheltered at the far side of Islay, in Loch Indaal. A signal fire would deploy them quickly and, perhaps, needlessly.

“Alert the village. Have Cormac ready Dragon’s Claw,” he said, “but send only the nyvaigs for now.” The nyvaigs were smaller, but no less deadly. They would be out and back quickly.

Hakon sprinted through the gathering crowd and past the guardhouses. He leapt over a pile of rocks with surprising agility for a man of his years and size. In no time, specialized warriors and oarsmen were boarding the boats. A pony thundered inland, its rider instructed to warn, not panic, the people of Finlaggan.

Though Somerled carried his mighty sword, he had dressed for warmth, not battle. His mail shirt, aketon, and helmet hung in his bedchamber, two miles away in Finlaggan. He singled out a boy in the crowd. “Lad, find me a helmet and a shield, and be quick about it.”

The boy shot like an arrow toward the cottages.

Somerled held his breath as he watched the nyvaigs head out. At the first flash of steel, he would blow the battle horn. His men would light the towers and he would board Dragon’s Claw. The foreigner would be sorry he entered the Sound of Islay.

The ship’s features were barely discernible, but he could see that its high prow lacked a figurehead. He was trying to identify the banner fluttering on its masthead when the ship’s sail dropped and scattered gulls like chaff in the wind. His heart hammered against his chest as he waited for the foreign vessel to sprout oars; it didn’t. It stalled—a sign its crew had dropped anchor.

Dragon’s Claw bobbed next to him at the jetty, her top rail lined with colorful shields and her benches holding sixty-four of his savage warriors. Cormac gripped the tiller, but he would move aside when Somerled barked the order to do so. He would serve as his own shipmaster in the face of an enemy.

Low and curvy with a dragon’s head exhaling oaken flames from her prow, Dragon’s Claw was his favorite vessel, not because she was new or particularly seaworthy, but because he had wrenched her from the last Viking to leave his father’s lands.

The memory of that battle warmed him and occupied his thoughts while the nyvaigs swarmed around the foreigner. Then, they swung about, furled their sails, and rowed for home like many-legged insects skittering on the water’s surface.

When the boats reached the beach, Hakon jumped from his nyvaig and jogged through ankle-deep water, apparently too impatient to wait for his men to haul the vessel’s keel onto the sand. “Well, my lord king,” he said, “it seems to be the day for marriage proposals. It is an envoy from Moray, who comes at the behest of Malcolm. He asks to speak with ye regarding Bethoc.”

“Malcolm MacHeth . . . the Malcolm MacHeth . . . wants my sister?”

He had met Malcolm MacHeth only once, at King David’s court, on a night spoiled by ill-bred lassies who had mocked his foreign garb and speech. Malcolm, a bastard nephew of the Scots king, had observed his humiliation and pretended not to notice.

Yet here was Malcolm of Moray, a claimant to the Scottish throne and a known rebel, seeking Bethoc’s hand in marriage. Tainted bloodline or not, Somerled was apparently worthy of notice now.

Character Interview

Character Name: Somerled of Argyll

Character Bio:

Born in 12th century Scotland to a man of noble Gaelic birth and a woman of Norse descent, Somerled expected to replace his father as clan chief. Unfortunately, Viking marauders scattered the clans and stripped him of his birthright. With most of the clan dead or hauled away as slaves to the eastern markets, Somerled and his father hid in a cave until they could safely make their way to Ireland. There, relatives took them in, and Somerled resumed the education befitting his noble status. Despite his comfortable living arrangements, he grew increasingly bitter in his exile, vowing to reclaim his family’s lands.

By gathering the tattered remains of the clans, Somerled waged war upon the Vikings and reclaimed Argyll and the Isles. The clans returned, happy to pay Somerled tribute in return for his continued protection. The kingdom thrived and expanded, and by the mid-1100s, Somerled was a man worthy of notice. He sister married a pretender to the Scottish throne, and Somerled sought a marriage to the Manx princess, one that would cement his position of power in the region.

In 1164, when the Scots king declared Somerled a rebel and demanded forfeiture of all lands, Somerled responded by sailing 164 galleys up the River Clyde in an all-or-nothing attack on the Scottish crown. Some say he died in the first wave of battle. Others say he was assassinated the night before. He left behind many descendants, and is the world’s second most common ancestor, bested only by Genghis Khan.


This lad looks like me about the time I fled my native lands. He needs longer hair, though, secured by a leather thong at his nape. Also, his nose is perfect. Mine has been broken many times.


Describe yourself what is your worst and best quality?


My determination. I witnessed my father’s failure to recover our lands. When my time came, I made alliances and succeeded where he could not. Our people sleep with full bellies now, safe in their beds, and if I have anything to say about it, they always will.


Nobody knows this, but I have very low self-esteem. I am a leader of Gaelic men, a descendant of the great Conn of a Hundred Battles, and yet, I am tainted by my mother’s Norse blood. She even gave me a Norse name! I suppose she thought it would serve me better in world dominated by Norsemen. Perhaps she was right.

It would probably surprise people to know that I am not very good with women. My first experience did not go well. I’d been invited to King David’s court, and a baron’s daughter caught my eye. She lured me into a dark room with passionate promises, only to publicly humiliate me in front of her friends.

What is the one thing you wish other people knew about you?

That I can recall the day the Vikings invaded our village with such clarity that I can still smell the leaves on the forest floor where my mother fell, her head split open by an axe.

What is your biggest secret something no one knows about?

I am in love with a lassie named Breagha. I’m doing my best to resist the attraction to her. She’s naught but a slave, and my people are relying on me to marry well. I would take her as my mistress, but she belongs to a rival king, one whose fresh alliance I can’t afford to lose.

What are you most afraid of?


What do you want more than anything?

To become so powerful that naught can threaten the clans again.

What is your relationship status?

I just proposed marriage to the Manx princess, and I am awaiting her father’s reply. Unfortunately, I met Breagha (the slave) in the meantime, and now my head is as spongey as a rotting turnip.

How would you describe your sense of fashion?

I’m determined to restore Gaelic dignity to the remnants of ancient Dalriada. I wear a tunic of the finest linen. My plaid includes the purple stripe reserved for the clan chief, and I have fur-lined mantles. My aketon is pristine, as is my chainmail and helmet. I carry a sword and shield at times, but not for fashion. Dead men rarely notice the ornateness of the sword that killed them.

How much of a rebel are you?

Under the noses of the Scots, Manx, and Norse kings, I arranged my sister’s marriage to a known pretender of the Scottish throne. My am now allied with Fergus of Galloway, and I’ve just proposed marriage to the Manx princess, which will add the Isle of Man to my expanding area of influence. So you tell me: Am I a rebel? The Scottish king seems to think so, since he declared me “in wicked rebellion” for refusing to forfeit my lands.

What do you considered to be your greatest achievement?

Removing the Vikings from Argyll and reclaiming what was mine by right and might.

What is your idea of happiness?

A full belly and a warm fire.

What is your current state of mind?

Agitated. Try as I might, I cannot stop thinking about Breagha, the slave girl.

What is your most treasured possession?

My bìrlinn, Sea Eagle. Smaller than a longship, she has a modern marvel that I invented: a moveable stern rudder. This allows the vessel to turn much faster than the larger ships. As a result, I have the advantage in sea battles.

What is your most marked characteristic?

My sister would probably tell you the vein in my forehead that bulges when I’m agitated.

What is it that you, most dislike?


Which living person do you, most despise?

I’m not overly fond of my cousin, Fergus of Galloway. When we needed him, he turned his back on us. His genteel manners irritate me, and his hands are far too small for his body. If I didn’t need him, I’d probably kill him.

What is your greatest regret?

Walking into that dark chamber at court, where ill-bred lassies were waiting to mock my speech and finger my foreign garments.

What is the quality you most like in a man?


What is the quality you most like in a woman?


Who is your favorite hero in fiction?

In my world, the only written word is in the illustrated Gospels we keep in the abbeys. We have fictional tales, but they are delivered orally by the chief bard. I love hearing those old sagas. They raise the ancient noblemen of my line to godlike status.

Which living person do you most admire?

That’s a tough one. I admire my chief guard, Hakon, for his loyalty and brawn. I admire Aud, our old judge, for knowing the law front to back.

If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?

I would drain the Norse blood from my veins.

What is your motto?

My motto is one that will exist long after I am gone: Per Mare Per Terras. It means “by sea, by land.”




a Rafflecopter giveaway

  About The Author


Something magical happened in the musty basement of Julie Doherty’s local courthouse. She went there intending to research her ancestry, not lose herself in a wealth of stories, but the ghosts of yesteryear drew her into the past and would not let her go. The trail left by her ancestors in those yellowing documents led her from rural Pennsylvania to the Celtic countries, where her love of all things Irish/Scottish blossomed into outright passion.

She became particularly interested in Somerled, self-styled "King of Argyll" and progenitor of the Lords of the Isles. In 1164, he led a fleet of 164 galleys up the River Clyde in an all-or-nothing attempt to overthrow the Scottish crown. What would lead a man of his advanced years to do such a thing?

Of course, history records he did so because the king demanded forfeiture of his lands. But the writer in Julie wondered ...what if he did it for the love of a woman?

Those early ponderings led to SCENT OF THE SOUL, Julie’s first novel, coming soon from Soul Mate Publishing.

Readers will notice a common theme throughout Julie’s books: star-crossed lovers. This is something she knows a bit about, since during one of her trips to Ireland, she fell in love with an Irishman. The ensuing immigration battle took four long years to win. With only fleeting visits, Skype chats, and emails to sustain her love, Julie poured her heartache into her writing, where it nourished the emotional depth of her characters.

Julie is a member of Pennwriters, Romance Writers of America, Central PA Romance Writers, The Longship Company, Perry County Council of the Arts, and Clan Donald USA. When not writing, she enjoys antiquing, shooting longbow, traveling, and cooking over an open fire at her cabin. She lives in Pennsylvania with her husband, who sounds a lot like her characters.

Hot New Release & Giveaway!! Archangel’s Desire by @karenswart1

desire blog banner
Presented by: Sparkle Book Tours
Sparkle Blog Button
new release

desire covergif
Archangel’s Desire - Archangels’ Series # 1
by Karen Swart

Genre: Paranormal Romance - Audience: 18 + - Formats: E-book and Paperback - Publisher: Karen Swart - Cover By: Janine Fourie - Editor: Jasmin Petricola (Blue Butterfly Editing) - Published Date: April 30, 2015
Raven Black is no martyr, but she has a secret she deems worth protecting. Placed into the care of Zadkiel, the Archangel of Mercy, Raven Black tries with all her might and main to hide her deadly secret. It’s difficult to know who to trust or who to confide in, but Raven knows she’s unwilling to be exploited to get the Archangels’ greatest enemy. She seals her lips, refusing to speak and enduring the ensuing torture in silence.

After centuries of nothing but duty, Zadkiel is tormented by the hellhound Raven. The closer he gets to her, the more he discovers about this lethal beauty. With each passing moment an uncontrollable desire is awakened, and with it an ancient evil is provoked.

When he discovers her secret, Zadkiel must choose between all of mankind and the woman he has come to love. Can he save her in time, or will his failure bring forth the end of days?

He would awaken a desire that would burn through hell.
book links
buy now amazon
add to goodreads
As Raven faded away, I turn to look at Chax. Although Chax was our leader, his short temper always seemed to doom a situation. His green eyes pierced mine as he regained his footing and pulled out his sword.
“There are more ways to deal with something than just force, Chax.” I smirked at him.
“Agreed, but not in Raven’s case.” Chax brought his sword in front of him, determined to get the weapon he needed to bring down Lucifer.
“She is still a fallen, and in my care. I will not let her be harmed in any way.” I stepped a little to the left, bringing my body to a perfect counter position.
“So, you choose her side rather than our cause?” Chax accused me.
“Please, I am not one of your little fallen apprentices. I chose the right path, the one without hurting an innocent girl.” I steadied the weight of my body on the balls of my feet, and secured my position.
“I migh-“ Chax was cut off by something crashing through my office wall.
“Where is she? Where is that hellhound?” an even more intoxicated Camael yelled while trying to stay upright.
“You have got to be kidding me!” At the sound of Chax’s pained words, my eyes flew in his direction, and I lifted my eyebrows at his statement.
He blushed a little. “Too much time with my mate,” he replied.
“I see,” I replied and caught Camael before his face ended up in my chair.
“What the hell are you doing, Camael?!” Chax replaced his sword and grabbed Camael on the other side.
“That hellhound needs a lesson in respect.” Camael’s words slurred with his heavy tongue.
“He needs to be healed, Chax. Is there no one who can help?” I was worried for my old friend; he was not doing well at all.
“No, not even the visits in heaven seem to be helping, although I might have an idea we can test.” Chax grabbed Camael on the shoulder and forced him to sit down. His head hung backwards as his dark eyes looked up and tried to focus on us.
“If it might work, we need to try it. He is unable to fulfill his duties in this state.” A bitter taste was left in my mouth. I didn’t like what I was seeing at all.
“What about Raven?” Chax asked.
“I will find her, and I will let her take me to him. The moment I have him in sight, I will notify all of you.” My eyes drifted to Chax.
“And you think that you will be able to persuade her to help us trap him?” Chax frowned.
“Yes, but she will not know that she is doing it. I will steer her the way we need her to go.” Chax nodded and grabbed hold of Camael.
“Do that then, but if you fail, it will be my way, Zadkiel.” He shifted out, taking Camael with him.
about the author
I am a complete book addict, and really proud of it. My entire world is made of books. From reading to writing to blogging to helping other authors. A day without my world of books would be impossible. I am a mother of three, two boys and a little princess. Happily married for 8 years with my high school sweetheart. I live in South Africa, just on the rims of the Kalahari Desert in a small town with one shop and friendly faces.
media links

Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: Beneath by Robin Heggelund Hansen

Beneath Banner 851 x 315_thumb[1]


Book Blast



Eldritch City Shorts

Book 1

Robin Heggelund Hansen

Genre: Crime/Horror

Date of Publication: March 21st, 2015


Number of pages: 15

Word Count: 5100

Book Description:

Nine years have passed since the tragic and mysterious deaths of Mr. Phillips and his daughter. A new clue surfaces, one which the lead investigator will follow to the brink of insanity.

Available at Amazon




To whoever reads this: I feel that I must apologize if what you find on these pieces of paper appears to be nothing more than a collection of near-indecipherable words. I can assure you that I have tried everything I can think of, and yet I cannot keep my hands from trembling. This, however, is only a symptom of my much greater problems.

I cannot eat, or sleep, or even close my eyes for longer than the briefest of moments. I feel as if I’m about to lose my mind, but I’m clear enough to realize that I have to get this story off my chest, before it consumes whatever sanity I have left. Unfortunately, the only recipient I can trust with a story as bizarre and horrible as this are the same pieces of paper upon which these words are written.

For officers of the Eldritch City Police Department, no two days are alike. Even with this in mind, yesterday morning would still single itself out as peculiar. As I entered the precinct to begin my shift, I met a man who I realized was from out of town. It was clear that he was uncomfortable since he was constantly scratching his arm and shifting his gaze. It was as if he was trying to view the entire room at once.

There are many things that can be said of Eldritch City, but the one thing people always remember is the air. It’s not that it has a particular smell, but it has a way of sticking to your skin, like wet clothes on a rainy day. Us locals usually say that it is due to the humidity that comes with being in a warm coastal city, but humid air does not leave you with a feeling of being watched, or that something terrible is about to happen. Given time, one learns to hide this discomfort. People from out of town, however, usually haven’t learnt the knack.

The man introduced himself as Deputy Swanson of the Heartbrook Sheriff’s office. Upon learning my name, he raised his eyebrows in surprise. “It would seem I am in luck,” he said. “It is in fact you that I have come here to see.”

Before continuing the conversation, I invited Swanson back to my desk — I have yet to earn my own office — and offered him a choice of coffee or tea, of which he chose the latter. When we were both sitting comfortably, I asked what had brought him all the way here from Heartbrook. To this he responded by handing me a newspaper article, dating back nine years. The article was an interview with a younger me regarding a murder case out by Mirkwood. I knew the article well, not just because I was the subject of the interview, but also because the case in question had been troubling me ever since I had been assigned to it.

Nine years earlier, for their summer-break, the Phillips family had gone out to their newly built cabin in Mirkwood, on the outskirts of the city. Only a day into their vacation, Mr. Phillips and his daughter, Julia, were brutally murdered. Their bodies had been mutilated to the point of being barely recognizable — large portions of flesh were missing. It was almost as if something had fed on them. The coroner couldn’t rule out an animal attack, but thought it unlikely since the wounds were inconsistent with the bite of any species known to be living in Mirkwood.

Character Interview



The following interview was conducted by Dr. Liam Reese, and recorded by Julia Simmons.

We have been asked to perform a preliminary analysis of Howard Phillips, a young boy who the police believes witnessed the murder of his father and sister. To make matters worse, it’s the boy’s mother who is the primary focus of the investigation.

At the time of this interview, Howard has been staying with his aunt in Heartbrook for about a week. This is the same amount of time that has passed since the murders. Feeling it important not to make the child wait, Dr. Reese has been waiting for Howard a few minutes before the appointment.

Our patient arrives on time, and is invited to sit at the table we have prepared. Dr. Reese takes a seat next to him, trying to avoid the image of confrontational.

«Good morning Howard. My name is Liam, I’m a doctor here at St. Charles. Can I bring you anything? A glass of water maybe?»

«Can my aunt come in here?»

«Soon. I just want to talk to you a little bit first. But listen, if you don’t want to talk, at any point, you let me know and you can go home, ok?»

«Can I go home now?»

«Sure. But if you do, then I can’t help you out.»

«Help me with what?»

«Well, your aunt told me you had trouble sleeping. I might be able to help with that.»

There is a pause as Howard thinks this through.


«That depends,» relies Dr. Reese. «Why do you think you can’t sleep.»

«I don’t know,» says Howard, clearly disappointed.

«Are you sure? It isn’t because of the images you get when you close your eyes?»

The boy’s facial expression changes quickly. On his face is a look of brewing panic.

«Stop. I want to go home. Where’s my aunt? I want to go home!»

«Howard, calm do—«

«I want to go home! I want to go home!» Howard runs to the door screaming. Before Dr. Reese has had a chance to do anything, the door is opened and the boy’s aunt comes in.

«What have you done?» She demands.

«Nothing, we—«

«Make it go away, please, make it go away.» The boy clenches his arms around his aunts neck, who has now bent down to hold him in a comforting embrace. Howard tries desperately to get his feet of the ground.

«It came for them. It took them. It… ate them. From beneath. It came from beneath»

Here ends the first interview with Howard Phillips, hereafter known as patient #2875. Dr. Reese believes the child has developed an alternate reality to overshadow the hard truth. Making the child remember what truly happened could take years, if the boy will remember at all.





a Rafflecopter giveaway

  About The Author


Robin was born on a cold winter night in Oslo, Norway, 1989. Growing up, he was always fond of telling stories, leading people to wonder when, not if, he would move on to writing stories of his own. Inspired by the works of H.P. Lovecraft, he wrote his first short story, 'Beneath', in 2015.



New Release: Stolen Art by Ruth Silver @writeawaybliss


Title: Stolen Art

Author: Ruth Silver

Publisher: Lazy Day Publishing

Release Date: April 28, 2015

Genre: Young Adult, Sci-Fi Romance

  Stolen Art Sixteen-year-old Madeline has been living on the streets, biding her time until she's eighteen. With little to no money, she takes on a heist in hopes of making ends meet. What could possibly go wrong? Everything. Getting caught is just the beginning of Madeline's adventure as she meets Weston and discovers the secret of where she came from.   Fans of Orphan Black, The X-Files, and Fringe will fall head over heels for STOLEN ART. Recommended: 15+

Add to Goodreads

Amazon | Barnes & Noble


I rush back up the dark stairwell, shoving the key into the doorknob. It takes a minute for the lock to click and I push myself inside the apartment, securing every lock and deadbolt. I can’t stay here in Hutchinson, Kansas any longer. Pulling my phone from my purse, I text Weston. Tatiana is here. It’s not safe for me. I grab the few belongings that have any value to me, sentimental or otherwise, and shove it into my shoulder bag, including the stolen silver necklace. It has value and if I’m forced on the run, I’ll need money to survive. I know. What did Weston mean he knew Tatiana is at the bar? Had he seen her? Is he there? What do you mean, you know? I type into the phone. If he saw her, why didn’t he warn me? I can’t go down out the front door and it’s only a matter of time until she finds me just a few feet away. I grow restless waiting for an answer. The phone buzzes and displays an incoming call from Weston. "Wes, tell me you’re here." The only thing to do is hop in his car and drive into the night, far from Kansas. A female’s voice bubbles with laughter. "Oh he’s coming darling, but you should know he won’t get here in time. Amazing how easy it is to clone a phone number and steal his service. The advancements Stem Tech has made is encouraging." teaser stolen art2    

About the Author

Ruth Silver Ruth Silver is the best-selling author of the Aberrant trilogy. With a passion for writing and a love of story-telling, Ruth is actively writing multiple series under her name as well as the pen name Ravyn Rayne. Her interests include traveling, reading, and photography. Her favorite vacation destination is Australia. Ruth currently resides in Plainfield, Illinois. Follow Ruth here Blog- Facebook- Twitter- Looking for a steamier read? Check her out here Blog- Facebook- Twitter- book series  

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: Ashes by @SophieHMorgan

Ashes Banner 851 x 315_thumb[1]


Book Blast




The Divided Kingdom

Book One

Sophie H. Morgan

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd

Date of Publication: 21 April 2015

ISBN: 9781619225756

ASIN: B00U3M5Z96

Number of pages: 318

Word Count: approx. 99540

Cover Artist: Kanaxa

Book Description:

Secrets can burn.

Reared from birth to rule the Phoenix territory, Ana fled her future and her past when her parents were murdered. Now she secretly leads a rebellion to stop the human ruler, Edward, from experimenting on supernaturals.

When she finds herself cornered by an assassin, she knows just what to do: Roast him and toast him. Then recognition sends blue-tipped flames licking through her veins. It’s Cade, the royal bodyguard who once rejected her youthful confession of love.

When Cade regains consciousness from the force of Ana’s punch, he’s still reeling from shock—and fury. He’d loved the princess, and for ten years he thought her dead. Though his inner jackal growls with desire for her, she is the key to completing his mission for Edward—hunt down the rebel known as Liberty.

Ana can’t believe Cade doesn’t know the truth about Edward. If she can convince him of it, his blade could turn the tide of the rebellion. But first they must get beyond their past, or the whole kingdom could go up in smoke.

Product Warnings

Contains incendiary sex between a phoenix princess with a secret identity, and a jackal shifter who can take a lot of heat. Boys from the “hood”, a king jacked up on enhanced DNA, and killer heels. Anybody got a match?

Available at Samhain Amazon Amazon UK


A smile played over his lips, a knowing one. “You were mine, once.”

When his thumb brushed her cheekbone, dipping down to rub her bottom lip, it was all she could do not to purr. For whatever reasons, this man could get beneath her barriers. He could make her lose control.

But he made her remember the past, something that threatened the foundation of the life she’d built for herself.

The door swinging into darkness. Cold, oozing puddles that cling stickily to bare feet. A young voice, wavering as she called out for her parents. Her locket a dull gold, mottled with red where it lay.

With effort, Ana jerked her chin away from his touch. “Get your hands off me, Cade.” With a thin smile, she added, “Only the vampire has those rights.”

That flash of anger. For some reason, the man in front still viewed her as partly his—the jackal, maybe, claiming her. Except jackals were solitary animals.

A growl rumbled through his chest. Keeping eye contact, he stood. When he leaned forward, she flinched, unable to help herself. Whether she was afraid of being touched or tortured, she didn’t know.

His arms flexed with muscle as he worked at something about her head. Something clunked, and the chains fell away from her with a heavy jangle. They lay on the bedspread, innocent and coiled like a false snake.

Grasping she was free, Ana slid from the bed. “Son of a bitch,” she spat, putting out a hand to help steady her. “Iron?”

She lunged at him, confused when her body refused to cooperate. Her biker boots hit the floor as she landed, tottering, two feet away from her intended target.

Focusing inward, she registered how cold her embers were. They barely glittered, a few halfhearted sparks at her prompting. A breath hissed from her.

Phoenixes radiated at around one hundred and twenty degrees; she’d wager she was operating on about human temperature. The lack of heat in the room and lack of food and water equaled her core running on empty. Even as she thought it, the sparks began to disintegrate, sucking inward to preserve the embers at her core.

Determined, she fought through the weakness, charging Cade.

He allowed himself to be thrust backward. “You’re too cold,” he commented. “Hungry. You can’t hurt me.”

“You wanna bet?”

Her knee jerked upward, narrowly blocked by Cade’s hand.

“Don’t even try it.” He pushed her away, making her stagger from weak knees. “You’ll be on your back quicker than an eager whore. Then again,” he continued, the jackal’s obvious pleasure at the verbal sparring spinning through his wicked smile, “maybe you’d enjoy that.”

With a vengeful shriek, Ana went for him. She jabbed with her fists, using her elbows when that didn’t work. He avoided all her blows, laughing with a gut-deep amusement.

When she used her scissor-kick, she saw her mistake too late as he caught her legs and flipped her to the dirty gray carpet. He was on top of her before she could curse, lazy amusement swirling like phoenix smoke.

His arms caged her as an old dimple flashed. “What did I say?”

His weight suddenly pressed down on her abdomen slashes. A wince tugged at her face before she could stop it, a hiss pouring from between her teeth.

His face changed immediately. “Fires above, Alana, you should have said something.”

“I thought you’d hurt me if it was necessary.” She shoved him off her. He let her, a hunter tracking her as she stumbled away. She dropped into the chair he’d claimed earlier, unwilling to admit her jelly limbs. “You’re all mouth.”

A slow smile spread over his face while his eyes altered to a dark velvet. Damn. She’d always been a sucker for the shadow-drenched eyes.

He stalked nearer, the jackal’s satisfied rumble curling out of his mouth as strong hands came down over hers on the chair’s arms.

She couldn’t dislodge him. Curses spilled from her as panic, not for her life but for something more prized, surged up her throat. “Don’t you come near me, Cade Lorin.”

“All mouth?” he repeated, his voice that dark drawl he’d once whispered her name with. “I’ll show you all mouth.”

Author Interview

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

I wrote my first "book" when I was seven. No, really. My dad still has it. I always wanted to be a writer, even when I wasn't sure I would ever be published. Otherwise I didn't know what I wanted to be, but books heavily influenced me. At one point I wanted to be a lady farmer like the Sophie in the Dick King Smith books!

When did you first consider yourself a “writer”?

I've always privately thought of myself as a writer, but I always thought people would think I was being arty and putting on airs (I know, mad, but I did!) It wasn't until I got the email from Samhain Publishing offering a contract for Ashes that I considered myself a true writer.

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

I wrote my first romance when I was 16, sold Ashes when I was 23. So 7 years if you look at it that way (a looong journey!) Ashes itself took about 5 months to write, the same to edit, and just over 4 months to sell. So 14 months if you look at it that way. The proof of learning from every book you write - I wrote 5 books before Ashes that sit languishing in my documents folder! And of course it shows sometimes you just need the right book!

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

I'm fortunate to work as a sales assistant for a premium shoe brand - and get discounts. Oh yeah. It allows me time away from the desk, but saves the creativity until I can go back. And you get to observe human life in all its varieties - always interesting!

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

Ashes is about a runaway phoenix princess leading a rebellion and tangling with the assassin sent to kill her - her old love, Cade.

Okay, so it was 23, but it's a hard plot to narrow down!

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

The amazingly helpful Samhain Publishing. Absolutely brilliant from contracts to editing to cover art to promotion.

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

Depends how well I know the characters. Averagely about 3-4 months writing, but then I'll take about the same amount of time to edit it. I'm a bit of a perfectionist, which can work against me sometimes!

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

Well, I'm delighted to say that Samhain Publishing has bought the second in the Divided Kingdom series and I'm currently working on the third, all set in the same world, though the second book takes place in another part of the Kingdom.

What genre would you place your books into?

Mainly paranormal romance, though the Divided Kingdom series tries to bridge the gap between gritty paranormal and formal fantasy romance.

What made you decide to write that genre of book?

I'd never written anything like it before, and to start with it was pure imagination, letting it run wild. I was engrossed with the grittiness of this world, the bond that forms between brothers-in-arms. I just wanted to try something different, and Ashes was born!

Do you have a favorite character from your books? And why are they your favorite?

I loved writing Ana's character. She's so tough and confrontational, bristling at any implication she can't handle herself, and a real smart-ass. She's outwardly confident, but there are deep pockets of vulnerability she hides. Trying to draw that line between bold and brassy versus insecure and choked by the past was really fun to do. And she had some great retorts for Cade when he's being arrogant!

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

I've always made up stories, and nine times out of ten it was live stories. Barbie and Ken had many romances when I was only seven! I always had my nose buried in a book, and was encouraged by my family - all who are big bookworms too - to explore my love for stories. It all snowballed from there.

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

I find I write more consistently if I write at least 1000 words per day, though that can push up to 4 or 5000 words if i have a day off. I also have to read through the previous scene to sink back into the story, and often I can capture the flow of thought where I left off.

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

Ashes came out on the 21st April, only a week ago, so I can't imagine there's been that many reviews yet. However there are at this moment three on Goodreads, and I couldn't resist reading them - but only because I saw 4 and 5 stars beside them! I don't think I would read a review if it had low stars beside it. Like most writers, I'm a perfectionist, and always wonder if I've done the characters justice!

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

Titles are the bane of my existence. I *hate* choosing them. I'm so bad at it. I try and think of a working title, but it'll be something cheesy - like Ashes was originally Rising from the Ashes. It eventually got cut to one word because I made a face every time I said it! It helps to have some "buzz" words and then mix and match, or if there's a way you can play with the theme of the story, but generally I hope for divine inspiration to strike.

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

It depends. Ana's name came to me as I was sounding out names for her royal title (Princess Alana), and her nickname came from that. Sometimes I browse baby name websites for the right sound - the right sound is a real thing for me. It's hard to explain, but I'll know it when I hear it.

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

I generally have an idea of the character before I find the name, though if I decide on the spur of the moment to add a character or place, a name will usually come to me. Again, I'm all about the right sounds - or in the case of the city where most of the action takes place in Ashes, a lot of irony. It's full of corruption and crime, but named Edan =)

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

I try really hard to write up full character bios before I start the book, but I often get really excited to start so discover traits as I travel through the book. It can backfire though. The book I'm currently writing is the first in a new series and I had an idea of the characters which has completely changed now I'm near the end! Just means more time rewriting and editing!

Are there any hidden messages or morals contained in your books? (Morals as in like Aesops Fables type of "The moral of this story is..")

I never intend there to be. I suppose there are the usual strains of loyalty, having faith in yourself, loving selflessly with all your soul and never giving up - and in Ashes there's a question of whether to do what's right or what's easy. But  I never stress about purposely weaving it in.

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

This is hard, because I'm published by an e-first company, and can see the benefits of ebooks, but I didn't really feel like I was published until I held Ashes in my hand. I love the feel and look of a book, so if I had to choose, I'd say print!

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

I have so many favourites for my different moods, but the one that slips into the lead is surprisingly not a paranormal romance. I love Angels Fall by Nora Roberts so much, but Kiss an Angel by the incomparable Susan Elizabeth Phillips has the edge. She does humour so amazingly, her characters are achingly real and riddled with lovable flaws, and this is translated excellently in KAA. It's an arranged marriage in modern day set in a travelling circus. Daisy, the heroine, is spunky and down on herself, so sweet but has a core of strength. Alex is gorgeous, arrogant, hating being talked into the temporary marriage, and very proud, but he learns love humbles us all. The book always brings me to both laughter and tears. I must have read it ten times.

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

I think it is possible to do a good book to movie transfer, but not if you adored the book. Generally if you were obsessed with the book, the movie is nothing like you imagined. A bad example is The Mortal Instruments by Cassandra Clare. The book is so addictive, really well written and involving, and you get so wrapped up with the characters and their turmoil. The movie skipped over a lot, reduced the villain to cookie cutter status and was generally disappointing.

But the film adaptation they made of Gone with the Wind was excellent. Although short compared to the book, Clark Gable IS Rhett Butler, and Vivienne Leigh, Scarlet.

Your favorite food is?

If we're talking savoury, pasta. I could eat pasta every night. I'm a vegetarian so it's one of my major food groups =) And I love desserts, but you can't go wrong with cookies. Any flavour, any time. If only they were healthy...

Your favorite singer/group is?

I'm not a big music buff. I don't have any on autobuy lists, but I like a bit of everything from old-style Glenn Miller to Motown to modern day like Colbie Caillet, Paloma Faith, and Ellie Goulding.

Your favorite color is?

Purple. I love how decadent it makes everything look.

Your favorite Author is?

Possibly the hardest question of all. I have loads of favourites in the four genres of Romance (paranormal, historical, suspense and contemporary) but I love Susan Elizabeth Phillips, Nora Roberts, Larissa Ione, Gena Showalter, Kresley Cole, Lisa Kleypas, Gaelen Foley... So many great books, so little time!







a Rafflecopter giveaway


  About The Author

clip_image004_thumb[1]About the Author:

Sophie H. Morgan is a paranormal romance author with a love for hot guys, sassy heroines and HEAs that seem impossible. Currently residing in England, Sophie divides her time between her two crazy spaniels and plotting how best to drive her characters into each other’s arms. Ashes is her first book.