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Wish For Me
GIVEAWAY! First Full Moon
-- EXCERPT: The windows are shut and the blinds drawn. A space heater warms my bedroom to a balmy eighty degrees. As I stand in the middle of the room, a cold draft blows past me, raising the hair on my arms and neck. Someone is watching me. Will it be my time soon? Will I be the next one taken? “That creepy frown on your face is going to cause premature wrinkles,” Larkin says. My cousin lies across my bed, her black combat boots dangling off the edge as she scrolls through her phone without pausing long enough to read anything. She chews gum and blows a bubble that pops, covering her mouth. Larkin doesn’t seem to mind that strands of her long, raven-black hair brush the gum she pries from her face. “I’m fifteen and too young for wrinkles,” I reply, moving to the window and opening the blinds. From the third floor, I can see everything and everyone in front of the house. The driveway and yard are empty. Not a soul to be seen anywhere. “You turn sixteen in like five hours.” Larkin’s only a little bitter I’m the oldest grandchild. Even though I can’t see anyone, there’s someone watching me. I feel it.
GIVEAWAY! Paralucidity
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GIVEAWAY! Divine Choreography of Redemption: Setting the Eternal Saga in Time by William E. Jefferson ~ Blitz7/21/2018
Title: Divine Choreography of Redemption: Setting the Eternal Saga in Time
Author: William E. Jefferson
Publisher: Hybrid Global Publishing
Genre: Historical Fantasy
Divine Choreography of Redemption explores the story of redemption as divine drama advanced by acts and agents that transcend time and space. The novel is set beyond the Storied Sea on the ancient Isle of Estillyen, far from everywhere yet mystically near. There, a troupe of Message Makers from the seventeenth century mysteriously arrives to grapple with the theme in today's context.
At the heart of the novel, a battle brews between technology's driven existence--aided by modern devices and algorithms--and life centered in Scriptures ancient narrative. The story line begs the question: Does meaning truly abide in the saga of redemption's divine choreography, or in media's discarnate realm?
PURCHASE HERE
Having lived and worked in London, Moscow, and New York, today author William Jefferson writes from a Civil-War era cottage in the rural Ozarks. He is author of Messages from Estillyen : A Novel of Redemption and Human Worth, and owner of Storybook Barn www.Storybookbarnmo.com Jefferson holds an MTh in Theology and Media from the University of Edinburgh and an MA in Communications from the Wheaton Graduate School.
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Phantom Pact: The Bearer’s Burden
-- EXCERPT: One more day, Cade Elegy thought as the hills before him screamed of battle. One more day to keep the dream of hope alive, or one more day until the dream vanished for good. They assembled the last of their remaining army to bear upon Gigan’s Hill. Just beyond lay a great structure known as the Thread—the bastion in which the mysterious enemy known as the Wraiths had taken refuge. Hulking soldiers of the Wraiths, humanoid yet possessing an exoskeleton like a great mantis, swarmed the battlefield. While they looked like giant insects, they also bore a striking resemblance to humans—walking on two feet, and articulating finger-like appendages on their hands. Within seconds, the enemy surrounded their entire legion. There were thousands more than reported. Their intelligence was wrong. “What are you waiting around for? Move!” Commander Jord Black of the 12th Bearer Corps led the mission. Cade didn’t need to be told twice. The unit advanced, rushing toward the enemy line. They were the tip of the spear for the assault. The mission was simple in order, but not in execution: kill the Wraith scouted in the area—a message to the world the Wraiths were mortal. Cade fought, taking down one creature after another, as the rest of his dwindling unit fought alongside him. The smell of gunpowder and smoke hung thick in the air. The clash of weapons and the cries of agony bled together into a nightmarish cacophony. “Get down!” A voice pierced through the chaos. Jord’s voice. Cade felled another creature as he turned to find a Bearer-class grenade hurtling toward their position. Time slowed to a crawl. Jord snatched the grenade with both hands and threw himself down on the ground. Cade reached out—a futile attempt to halt the inevitable. A dark, metallic color spread across Jord’s body as the man attempted to harden his body against the blast. As the grenade detonated, the concussive force tore into Jord’s body. Cade looked away. Selfless to the end, Cade thought. A wave of grief swelled within him, outmatched only by the rage following in its wake. There wasn’t time to mourn; he had to keep moving. He knew Jord, and Jord’s determination to finish the mission. “You will, my friend, you will.” Cade afforded himself a moment to close his eyes, searching for the phantom Jord left behind in death. It was there, faint but recognizable to Cade amongst the discordant sounds of combat. Cade spoke the words, the ones sealing a pact with his former commander. Cade, bolstered by Jord’s phantom, fought with renewed vigor. They needed to cut straight through to the camp with their dwindling force. It would be suicide, but it was the only option left. “Incoming!” a corporal wailed as the body of a soldier hurtled past him. “Hells,” Cade spat. A gigantic creature, one Cade had never seen, lumbered toward him and the remaining men. Exposed sinewy muscle and dark metallic plating covered its body in overlapping segments, like the scales of a reptilian beast. He continued to fight—fight for Jord, fight for the phantoms he bore, fight to live to sing the songs of those who had passed. His zeal got the best of him. As he struck at the massive creature, he felt the last of the power granted by his phantoms drain from him. The creature lunged at Cade. His vision went dark as excruciating pain enveloped him. When he came to, Cade found himself hoisted on the shoulders of the soldiers from his unit. He felt his sidearm against him, hot as if discharged, though he had no recollection of firing it. But it did not matter. They had won the battle. They had defeated the Wraiths. They could go home. * Countless black motes swirled from Cade’s sight as the waking vision ended and he returned to reality. It’s over. It’s over, he thought again to calm himself, his heart still pounding. The war was over. The drug the military issued to members of the Bearer Corps still brought him these unbidden visions. They called the side-effect “veiling”. Cade was glad he no longer needed the vile stuff. Protector of the Realm, they now called him. Cade tried on the honorific as the vibrations from the railbus he rode rattled his tired mind. The title didn’t fit. He shut his eyes as he sat in the seat of the passenger car and tried to control his breathing. He was almost home. His mind raced, still trying to process the end of the war. The king himself had heralded Cade a hero. And his prize, the only one that mattered, lay at the end of this track. The old metal railbus slowed, and his heart beat faster. The car was near bursting with passengers eager to return home. He was thankful they left him be. The newfound celebrity he gained in Toltaire, the capital of Chalice, was unnerving. He preferred the quiet comfort of his simple home, and above all else the company of his wife and children. The thought conjured up memories of them, waiting at the table for him. His youngest, Jessa, unable to sit still, bounding from the table and running circles around the kitchen, wooden spoon in hand. Etan, just shy of ten years old, leafing through an archaic tome from the library, one he had already read at least six times before. Cade smiled. And his wife, Serafina. Her smooth brown hair falling just past her shoulders, her soft green eyes melting him with a simple glance, and her smile. He could see it with perfect clarity, the same smile she would give him when he saw her again. His heart skipped a beat. It still did, even after all these years. She would busy herself with some trivial chore, awaiting his arrival. When she was nervous, she had to keep herself occupied with some task, no matter how menial it might be. She would look out the window, trying to glimpse him walking up the worn red-brick path that led to the house. The once boisterous passengers settled down as the railbus slowed. Soon, the entire car was silent. Something is wrong, Cade thought. His eyes snapped open, and he rubbed the sleeve of his worn duster jacket on the dirty window. He could just make out the village coming into view. There were many long, colorful banners pulled taut from building to building, congratulating the returning soldiers. But something felt off. He looked at the houses and storefronts surrounding the humble train station. “Where is everybody?” an old man said, clutching his hat to his chest as if it might fly away from inside the car. Cade continued to scan the village, but not a single person was in sight. It was not a large village, but there were always people roaming the streets, and there should have been a crowd gathered to welcome them home. The railbus was coming to a stop, and while most of the passengers stayed frozen in shock and confusion, Cade leapt from his seat—not bothering to grab his rucksack—and threw open the door to the still moving railbus. He jumped, tumbling across the gravel ditch running alongside the tracks. He stood up, ignoring the rising pain from his fall, and cut a path through the center of town. His head whipped from side to side, trying to glimpse someone, anyone who might have answers as he sprinted down the brick road. “Was the city evacuated?” he panted to himself as he stopped to catch his breath. The sun was at its highest point, and his heart raced as sweat beaded upon his forehead. It didn’t make sense. The war was over. They wouldn’t have evacuated, not anymore. The pit that had formed in his stomach grew like a rooted weed. Stay focused, Cade, he told himself. Don’t panic. There must be an explanation for this. He turned the corner from the main road, down the street to his house. He could see the house now. The faintest bit of smoke trickled from the cobblestone chimney. There, you see? he thought. They must be there. But he did not slow his pace. Cade ran up the steps, trying to peer into the front window. He expected to see his wife poking her head out and then calling to the children, but there was no sign of her. The door was already ajar, and he could see the brass hinges of the front door had been ripped from the frame. He popped the leather strap securing his caster, a rare handgun of ancient origin, and drew the firearm from its sheath. “No. No, no,” he said as he threw the door aside. “Sera? Etan? Jess?” he called out, going from room to room. No reply. He entered the kitchen, where all he found was a single white plate shattered upon the floor in front of the sink. Cade wheeled around, frantic, his heart pounding. His right arm, still clutching his weapon, fell to his side. He closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. He listened, not for signs of life, but for the absence. His body trembled, not prepared for the answer. As the heartbeat in his eardrums subsided, he heard the music he did not want to hear. It was like the song of a music box, its notes spilling out one by one as the cylinder turned. It was the song of a phantom; of one who had passed on but remained with one ethereal foot planted within the world of the living. It was the song of his family—gone. Cade’s knees gave out. He collapsed to the floor, fighting back tears. His family…taken from him—murdered. The entire town, taken. The war was over. Who, or what, could have done this? He pushed his grief down deep within himself, and his face grew hot with anger. He had fought to protect his family, and now he was alone. No. Not alone. He was a Bearer. One who could ally with phantoms. He spoke the words his father had taught him long ago. “Song that lingers unfinished,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. “The one whose sigh has escaped to the stars…” He could feel the energy of the phantom grow as he spoke. “Allow me to sing your final verse.” The song—notes drifting from an unfathomable instrument played as if hidden behind a divine curtain—became clear, grew louder, and swallowed him whole. He held his breath as the notes played within him, becoming a part of his own song. A maelstrom of memories and emotions that were not his own crashed and roiled inside him. He clutched his head with his hands as if to contain the deluge. His mind shifted and transformed as the phantom became part of him, already adapting to survive within the shared space. The storm retreated, and Cade lowered his hands, breathing heavily. A faint voice echoed within him. “Pact accepted.”
GIVEAWAY!
The Lost Dragon
The Dragon Hunters Book 1
by Drako
Genre: LGBT Paranormal Fantasy
Andreas was born a Spartan warrior, long before human history even records Sparta existing. He served directly under Ares, until the day his lover was killed on the battlefield in front of him. On that day, he met his father, the mysterious Black Dragon God known as Jarel. From then on, he served his father faithfully, enforcing the laws of the primordial embodiment of black fire and father of the paranormal. Now, in these modern times, he hunts the rogue vampires and their leader. Little does he know, there's more to this than vampires simply turning against his father.
While protecting the lovely Cassandra Odele, Andreas must battle forces he doesn't know as he attempts to stop the resurrection of the Titan king, Cronus. Added to his problems, he now has two teenage nephews to see into adulthood. Of course, there's always a twist when dealing with the gods, and Andreas will come face to face with his past, leaving him to decide which is more important, his soul or the world?
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The Dragon Witch
The Dragon Hunters Book 2
Victoria Damone is the daughter of the Black Dragon God, Jarel, and the goddess of magic and witchcraft, Hecate. Quick tempered and impatient, she strikes fear into the hearts of the rogue creatures rebelling against her father as well as the warlocks, servants of Prince of Darkness, Lucifer.
Ares, the god of war, is often misunderstood. Known only as a brutal god with an insatiable appetite for blood and destruction, as well as passing flings, the son of Zeus and Hera has spent most of his time defending Olympus from any and every threat.
Now the two meet and must combine forces. The Titan King, Cronus, has been resurrected by Lucifer and is quickly resurrecting his brethren to launch war against Zeus and all that stand with him. Not only this, but he's even joined forces with the legendary beast Typhon, the only creature to ever come close to toppling the Olympian god king. As the gods prepare for an unavoidable war, Victoria must hunt one of the most powerful and cunning warlocks to serve under the Prince of Darkness and simultaneously train her nephew Brandon in her craft. Her pride demands that she do this alone, but Ares is not a god to be denied. Ares clearly has his eyes on Victoria, but can she trust the notoriously wild and unpredictable god's intentions?
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Fatal Healing
The Dragon Hunters Book 3
Odele, the goddess of Healing, has returned to Olympus, once again the direct servant to Hera, queen of the gods. Yet even after the defeat of Eris, her work is not done. The war of the gods is imminent now, with Cronus restored to life and the Titans back at his side. But before the battle can begin, Odele must find her mortal twin brother, who had been captured by the forces of the vampire Kalos years before. She asks Hera for her brother's whereabouts, and the god queen allows her to attempt to rescue him, but under the condition that she's accompanied by Apollo.
Apollo has waited ages for Odele's return to Olympus to heal the heart he'd broken ages before. The process of healing won't be easy, and Odele's heart is not the only heart to be healed. Both Apollo and Odele's lives are at risk, as they join the god of darkness in a battles against two children of Gaea and Odele's own brothers, Cronus and Typhon. Will Odele's heart be healed, and most importantly, will anyone survive this unique healing process?
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Heir of Mjolnir
The Dragon Hunters Book 4
The servants of Hecate have been subject to persecution for many years. They have been misunderstood, accused of worshipping the devil. And Hecate has had enough. The Devil, Lucifer, has finally invaded the human world and his true servants, warlocks, are growing bold. Lucifer’s influence has spread throughout the world and nothing is the same as it was before he came. There are those that can counter the power of the warlocks, and Hecate may have found one.
Vax King had just graduated high school when the world changed. And unlike everyone around him, he saw through the lies. The world was trapped in the spell of the father of all evil and he seemed to be the only one in the immediate area that could see it. Then again, he’s a solitary witch and no one else knows it. But he’s shocked when the goddess Hecate appears to him with a quest to gain a weapon to help fight the forces of evil. The weapon is the legendary hammer of the Norse god, Thor, Mjölnir, and if he can find this he can lead the forces of Hecate against their greatest enemy. But to gain it, he must survive the Rose realm and prove his worth. Should he fail, death is all that awaits. Can he prove to the enchanted weapon of the deceased god that he is more worthy of wielding it than the original owner, and therein become the leader of an army of witches ready and waiting to stand against Lucifer?
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Relinquished Mercy
The Dragon Hunters Book 5
The heavenly war is coming to a head. The gods are ready. All that remains is the final clash between the most dominate forces of nature in existence.
Brandon has come to a decision. He can't deny who his soul mate is. He's the god of darkness and shadows, and his soul mate is a werewolf, Phil, the grandson of the very first werewolf. But things are never so simple. He has to get past the wolf's insecurities in order to give them both a shot at true happiness
Demun wants to fight against his soul mate. He hates having a predetermined mate. And worse, his mate is the phoenix known to be unable to settle down. Vic, the phoenix in question, wasn't fond of the idea either, but he's been around enough to know that fighting against what your soul requires is pointless. He just needs a chance.
The twins lead complicated lives, as they must not only deal with their soul mates but fight alongside the Dragon Witch, Victoria, to protect their children, the new Moirae. As always, a new threat lies hidden in wait, attempting to create a monster out of god that will change the world for the worst. And it may cost them one of their own.
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Blood Monarch
The Dragon Hunters Book 6
A king's duty never ends, even when his kingdom changes. Vladimir Dracula is one of the most famous and misunderstood figures in all of history. One thing is true, he is a king, and he is a vampire. He is the true king and enforcer of the vampire race. Feared by all of his own kind, he is perhaps the most lethal of the Black Dragon God's mortal born servants. At the same time, he personifies sex. None can resist his charms, save one.
Vax King is the Chosen of Hecate, the Heir of Mjolnir, and has no plans on a mate. When he's called on to enter Fae lands, he's surprised to find the legendary vampire there. Looking to aid the beautiful Fae, Anaya, and her soul mate, Galen, Vax must enter a world of sex of violence with only Vlad to accompany him. Here, there can be no denial, no hesitation. Only truth....and dominance.
A war is brewing in the Fae lands, as the fallen angels rise to lay claim to the power of their goddess, Verlaine and topple their higher brethren. Older than most, Vlad must accustom himself to having a soul mate, and use all his legendary power to stop the forces of darkness long believed to be controlled by him. A new kingdom is the prize, and none knows better than the famed Dracula that the secret to power lies in the blood.
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Drako was born in 1987 in St. Louis, Missouri. He is mainly a fantasy writer, though he also writes some poetry and general fiction. He is very active on both twitter and facebook and has his own website at www.drakosden.net which is frequently updated with news on his books and fun extras. When he isn't writing, he's busy helping take care of his nieces, playing videogames, reading, promoting, and spending time with family.
Follow the tour HERE for exclusive excerpts, guest posts and a giveaway!
Title: The Island: Vampires of the Merovingi #1
Author: Sarah M. Cradit
Genre: Historical Fantasy Horror
From the USA Today bestselling fantasy author of the House of Crimson & Clover novels comes a chilling new historical fantasy series, Vampires of the Merovingi. Ancient lore, a vidid historical backdrop, and elusive, tantalizing mythical creatures await readers as they dive into the secretive, ancient, powerful world of The Saga of Crimson & Clover.
1789. Saint-Domingue. Hispaniola. West Indies.
Etienne de Blanchefort has seen incredible success as a colonial planter in the Northern Province of Saint-Domingue. Though uprooting his family from France a decade past was a gamble, life in the tropical West Indies has been good to him, his wife, and four children. With France embroiled in their great revolution across the Atlantic, he harbors little doubt he made the right decision for his family’s future.
Until, that is, the arrival of his fiend.
Etienne’s practical nature cannot reconcile what he knows to be true of his world with what he cannot ignore about the abominable creature haunting his family and the island.
Nor can he ignore his wife’s terrifying dreams that slowly steal her vitality.
Or Victorine’s burgeoning free spirit and wariness of their way of life.
Or Nanette’s curious, furtive behavior as she hides in trees.
Or Marius’ secret new friendship with one he cannot name.
Or Flosine’s unsettling drawings of a man from a time long before theirs.
Etienne’s fiend will not stay elusive for long. He has a request. A very particular, very important request, one that will change the lives of Etienne, his family, and his descendants forever.
Teri - “The Island looks to be the start of a riveting series and I look forward to meeting more of the vampires!” Elizabeth Connor - “I felt driven to reach the end, to uncover the mystery, to really know these characters and the circumstances that helped to mold them.” Katy Birch - “Another stunning read by Sarah. I can already tell this series is going to one you can escape to time and time again.”
Sarah is the USA Today bestselling author of the Paranormal Southern Gothic series, The House of Crimson & Clover, born of her combined passion for New Orleans, and the mysterious complexity of human nature. Her work has been described as rich, emotive, and highly dimensional.
An unabashed geek, Sarah enjoys studying obscure subjects like the Plantagenet and Ptolemaic dynasties, and settling debates on provocative Tolkien topics such as why the Great Eagles are not Gandalf's personal taxi service. Passionate about travel, Sarah has visited over twenty countries collecting sparks of inspiration (though New Orleans is where her heart rests). She's a self-professed expert at crafting original songs to sing to her very patient pets, and a seasoned professional at finding ways to humiliate herself (bonus points if it happens in public). When at home in Oregon, her husband and best friend, James, is very kind about indulging her love of fast German cars and expensive lattes.
The Island: Vampires of the Merovingi by Sarah M. Cradit ~ Release Blitz w/Excerpt & Giveaway3/12/2018
Title: The Island: Vampires of the Merovingi #1
Author: Sarah M. Cradit
Genre: Historical Fantasy Horror
Release Date: March 12, 2018
From the USA Today bestselling fantasy author of the House of Crimson & Clover novels comes a chilling new historical fantasy series, Vampires of the Merovingi. Ancient lore, a vidid historical backdrop, and elusive, tantalizing mythical creatures await readers as they dive into the secretive, ancient, powerful world of The Saga of Crimson & Clover.
1789. Saint-Domingue. Hispaniola. West Indies.
Etienne de Blanchefort has seen incredible success as a colonial planter in the Northern Province of Saint-Domingue. Though uprooting his family from France a decade past was a gamble, life in the tropical West Indies has been good to him, his wife, and four children. With France embroiled in their great revolution across the Atlantic, he harbors little doubt he made the right decision for his family’s future.
Until, that is, the arrival of his fiend.
Etienne’s practical nature cannot reconcile what he knows to be true of his world with what he cannot ignore about the abominable creature haunting his family and the island.
Nor can he ignore his wife’s terrifying dreams that slowly steal her vitality.
Or Victorine’s burgeoning free spirit and wariness of their way of life.
Or Nanette’s curious, furtive behavior as she hides in trees.
Or Marius’ secret new friendship with one he cannot name.
Or Flosine’s unsettling drawings of a man from a time long before theirs.
Etienne’s fiend will not stay elusive for long. He has a request. A very particular, very important request, one that will change the lives of Etienne, his family, and his descendants forever.
Nanette swung her left leg up and accidentally jostled the branch holding her precious ink. With a sharp cry, her gaze traveled toward the ground and the inevitable loss of her only outlet.
She was shocked to see Childeric holding the bottle upright in his right palm, his left outstretched to her. “You must be more cautious, mon cher,” he chastised. His alabaster flesh reflected the bold green of his tunic, and he seemed preternatural to her; a figment of her dreams. “I am grateful,” Nanette replied with a hasty breath, gathering her leg and skirt to one side to avoid an unseemly disaster. His hand remained high in the air, an invitation. She had climbed up with the help of several branches, hitching her skirts to avoid a snag. Going down would be even less ladylike, and she had counted on being alone. Childeric settled her ink down on a nearby flat stretch of dirt and returned with both arms wide. Nanette set her lips in a tight line, unwittingly resembling her mother in that moment. She saw no other choice. He was not leaving, and she could not be seen flashing her undergarments in the presence of a man. Unchaperoned, no less. With a fearful glance around the grounds, she pulled in a breath and dropped into his arms. His embrace was solid, but brief. He backed away before the blush could fully form in her cheeks. She had never before been so close to him. Now, she could see his eyes were the brilliant violet hues of indigo dye, and his skin was lineless, devoid of the markings of the age and experience someone of his words bespoke. “Has no one discovered your love of trees?” Childeric teased, his blood-red lips forming a smile that paused her heart. Nanette shook her head. “I must return to the house.” “Must you?” Her head pulled to the side, startled by the impudence in his question. “Your secret will not ever leave my lips,” Childeric said when she found herself unable to form a reply. “As you have kept mine, I shall keep yours.” Nanette swallowed a lump in her throat. “You’re mistaken. You’ve bade me keep no secret of yours.” Childeric paced a circle around her, his steps nimble. “So, you have told your maman and père of the strange man who visits you and tells you tales?” “I have not!” Nanette exclaimed, indignant, realizing in the moment his point. Her expression turned cross. “Yet, as I am not the only one you visit, it is not such a secret after all.” “Marius and Flosine know no better. They see me through the visage of a child. Not you, Nanette. Yours is the age of discernment.” “It is?” “They have not yet developed a healthy fear of the world. They trust without thought, and move through life with an artless grace. They do not yet understand the consequence that can follow a decision, a split-second choice.” “They’re six and four,” Nanette offered, frozen in spot. Childeric swept one arm of his brilliant emerald tunic toward the Caribbean. Chartreuse waves lapped at the shore, cresting against the crag. “You stand at the cliffs and innately accept that to fall is to invoke injury. Even death. Yet at the bottom also lies a world unknown to you. You see, in your dreams, that I am the cliff. You have not yet decided where I lead.” The abruptly adult turn the conversation took left Nanette unwittingly stumbling back up the grassy cliff side. The temptation to continue this palaver was stronger than she’d like to admit, for admitting it would be to embrace her maman’s claim she was nearing her journey as a woman. Her fear of being caught with a man unchaperoned outmaneuvered all other competing emotions. Her eyes moved toward the ink, standing behind Childeric. To reach it, she would need to either cut a wide berth or brush directly past him. His smile broadened, as if he could see through to the darkest thoughts in her heart. As if he enjoyed them. “Here you are, mon cher.” Childeric’s outstretched palm held the pot of ink. She’d not even seen him move to reach for it. She couldn’t fathom how he’d done it so quickly. She didn’t want to. “Not a drop spilt.” Eyes averted, Nanette swiped the pot and murmured her gratitude before whirling and fleeing back over the arc of the cliffs, toward the safety of the house, sensing his indigo eyes burning word-shaped cuts into the soft flesh of her back.
Sarah is the USA Today bestselling author of the Paranormal Southern Gothic series, The House of Crimson & Clover, born of her combined passion for New Orleans, and the mysterious complexity of human nature. Her work has been described as rich, emotive, and highly dimensional.
An unabashed geek, Sarah enjoys studying obscure subjects like the Plantagenet and Ptolemaic dynasties, and settling debates on provocative Tolkien topics such as why the Great Eagles are not Gandalf's personal taxi service. Passionate about travel, Sarah has visited over twenty countries collecting sparks of inspiration (though New Orleans is where her heart rests). She's a self-professed expert at crafting original songs to sing to her very patient pets, and a seasoned professional at finding ways to humiliate herself (bonus points if it happens in public). When at home in Oregon, her husband and best friend, James, is very kind about indulging her love of fast German cars and expensive lattes.
The Lightbringers: The Age of Myths and Legends by David Price ~ Book Tour, Guest Post, & Giveaway1/28/2018
Lightbringers:
The Age of Myths and Legends
by David Price
Genre: Fantasy
What if all the gods of the earth once existed? Long ago a superior race once came to earth and became humanity’s gods. The story is set on a post cataclysmic earth. Technology has vanished and been replaced by magick. Myths and monsters once again roam the land.
Blending H. P. Lovecraft’s mythos, with the numerous mythologies of the earth created a rich mythic landscape. Two groups of gods once descended on the earth, Lovecraft’s horrific alien, inhuman beings and the superior, god-like race, known as the Watchers, (the Elder Gods described by August Derleth).
Lightbringers is a Grimdark Fantasy set on a dying earth, twenty thousand years
from now. The stars are right and the Great Old One asleep at the bottom of the world finally stirs in his terrible slumber. One reluctant hero, a half-breed child of the Elder gods, and his companions set out on a globe-spanning quest, populated by creatures of myth and beings of legend, to save the Earth from the evil that threatens to destroy it.
***Reviews***
"David Price's LIGHTBRINGERS is exactly what I look for in a fantasy novel. Fast paced, exhilarating and far removed from the cookie cutter fiction you run across all too often. Do yourself a favor and read this one!" — James A Moore, author of the SEVEN FORGES and TIDES OF WAR series of novels.
"With evocative language, powerful metaphor, and careful attention to detail, Price brings us a world we can immerse ourselves in and not want to leave." — Irene Radford, author of The Dragon Nimbus Novels, Merlin's Descendants Series, and The Stargods Trilogy
“David Price’s LIGHTBRINGERS mingles a broad spread of myth and genre tropes into a fascinating tale. Adding touches of history, locales and dark lore, Price weaves a fine tale that will grip even a casual reader. LIGHTBRINGERS splits the darkness of a lurid world. Fascinating, funny and paced to please, LIGHTBRINGERS shines.” — Steven L. Shrewsbury, Author of PHILISTINE, OVERKILL, WITHIN and co-author of KING OF THE BASTARDS (with Brian Keene) and BAD MAGICK (with Nate Southard)
Guest Post:
What kind of research do you do before you begin writing a book? Before I started writing Lightbringers, I did exhaustive research into various legends, mythologies, and lore. I probably studied up on the stuff I was trying to learn for three years before I decided that I was never going to learn everything I wanted to learn and that I should just start the damn book already and research as I go. That’s what I do now. As I’m writing the book, I almost always have multiple tabs open on my browser that I can refer to when needed. Every once in a while I’ll learn something I wish had included in the story. Research s time consuming and a lot of work, but I think it’s worth it and I hope I’m bringing my readers something different and unexpected. Describe your writing style. I’ve had to teach myself to be more descriptive. I think I naturally want the story to keep moving at a steady pace. “Page turner” is how some people have described my style. An editor of my short story, Necrophone, actually had me add a thousand words to the story. If you’re familiar with editors, most of the time they have you cutting stuff, not adding. I did the same thing when editing Lightbringers, finding places here and there where I could make the story a little richer by adding some description. You need that when you’re world building. Hopefully I found the right balance that I’m looking for. I’ll always be learning and tweaking. I believe dialogue is a strength of mine, I just have an ear for it. I’ve always been shy and more of a listener than a talker, so maybe that has something to do with it. I’ve been told my characters are believable and I think believable dialogue is a part of that, I can’t stand movies where characters do and say completely stupid things to advance the plot, and I hope I manage to keep that sort of thing out of my writing. What I’d really like is for more readers and reviewers to tell me what they think of my writing style. What can we expect from you in the future? At least more six more books in the Lightbringers series, I hope. I originally plotted out the series for seven books, but I only got about to the halfway point of where I planned to finish book one. I was told new writers could only get away with so high of a word count or it wouldn’t sell, so I decided to find another point where I could break off the story. If it takes off enough, I could probably get away with higher word counts, but we’ll have to see. So six books, at least, if I have my way. And I’m sure you’ll see my name as editor on more anthologies in the future. I’ve already been approached about a couple, but most likely nothing this year, which is fine with me, because I really need to focus on the follow-up to Lightbringers. Aside from those projects, I have lots of ideas for short stories I’d like to write, the only problem is finding the time to write them. If only I could clone myself! What I really need is a better system of managing my free time. Eventually I’d like to work in a horror novel, maybe even a science fiction novel, here and there. For now, though, it’s full steam ahead in fantasy land.
David Price grew up watching Creature Feature and reading comic books. He has been a fan of horror, fantasy, and science fiction his whole life. In college, his freshman composition teacher suggested that he major in English and focus on his writing. After working for more than twenty-five years as a contractor, David has decided use his imagination and follow his dreams. He is an active member of the New England Horror Writers.
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The Wizard’s Bones (Dark Deeds and Black Magic Series Book #1) by Luke Ahearn ~ Blog Tour & Giveaway1/27/2018
The Wizard’s Bones
Dark Deeds and Black Magic Series Book 1 by Luke Ahearn Genre: Fantasy, Sword and Sorcery 66 pages
In the tradition of Fritz Leiber and Robert Howard this is a gritty tale of traditional sword and sorcery.
A dark twisted youth and his voluptuous lover tackle the one thing they sought to avoid, responsibility. In the dangerous streets of Kingspoint they play at thievery, love making, and adventure seeking.
Excerpt
“I imagine a woman in your situation, forced to don tawdry disguises and follow a mime into a life of thievery, hasn’t much been treated like a lady.” Xanthus sat her at a finely polished table of dark hardwood. It was carved in the most detailed fashion with roses and cherubs all about it. He set a glass before her and poured her a dark liquid from a crystal decanter. “Fancy you wines from the East? Expert vintners the eastern folk, do you agree?” She took a long sip, and her eyes closed as she put her head back. “I don’t know vintners from stray dogs, but by gods that’s delicious. I feel it in my toes.” And she cracked a luscious smile. “And every point in between.” “Pray, you sit alone but for a moment.” And Xanthus went to the next room. Harlequin cracked an eye and listened intently for the telltale scuff of a eunuch’s barefoot, or the hiss of a blade being drawn, but she only saw the handsome princeling returning with a cloth-covered board. “Tis but a light assortment of cheese and meat. Please.” He pulled the cloth aside, and she chose a light colored cheese to nibble on. “So, here we are. Victim and victimizer, how cozy.” He sat across from her and sipped from his own glass. She giggled. “I should think you’d be fetching the guard to apprehend me, or tossing me to the stones less a finger or two.” Xanthus regarded her for a long while as she sipped and nibbled. She likewise studied him. Their eyes were locked on the other’s as both pondered the familiarity they each felt. Dangerous mind play they each, in their own fashion, thought, to be so transfixed, so unguarded. He knowing that Pulcinella could be right that moment sneaking up behind him with garrote or killing dagger. And she, likewise knowing that such a large house could easily hide a felt-slippered eunuch behind secret panels. She was on his turf, and any number of preplanned dooms awaited the likes of her. And each was curious as to their own behavior, for Xanthus was not one to be taken in by female charms, and she was immune to the smooth, charming gent. In fact, warning bells clanged in the head of each when in the past such tactics were used upon them. Yet here they sat, taken in and charmed to distraction. She had yet to remove her mask, and he wondered what may lie beneath. Perhaps her face was a monstrosity or cursed with some hideous malformation, he thought, but knowing in advance that it was beautiful.
About the Author
Luke Ahearn was born in New Orleans, LA and now lives in Central California. He's written several award winning fiction and nonfiction books. Luke has over 20 years of professional game development experience in lead positions; designer, producer, and art director. He’s also authored several best selling nonfiction books on computer game development.
Follow the tour HERE for exclusive excerpts and a giveaway!
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