Tuesday, April 24, 2018

Hatchet Hollow Amanda McKinney


Hatchet Hollow
Amanda McKinney
(Black Rose Mystery Series, #2)
Publication date: April 24th 2018
Genres: Adult, Mystery, Thriller
After an afternoon of mind-numbingly boring surveillance in the woods, Private Investigator Raven Cane goes for a twilight jog to clear her head, only to discover a gruesome murder in the town’s most notorious cave, Hatchet Hollow. Minutes later, the impossibly handsome Lieutenant Zander Stone arrives at the scene to take over, but Raven has a hard time letting the case go. Why did the killer cut off the victim’s fingers? More importantly, who would do such a thing?
After a failed attempt at tracking down the elusive Marden Balik, aka, the legendary witch of the Great Shadow Mountains, Zander dives headfirst into Devil’s Den’s most recent murder, only to uncover twists and turns at every step—including a secret book of curses that may, or may not, exist. As the list of suspects grows, Zander does his best to keep Raven at arm’s length. But Raven is persistent, nosing her way into his case, making it increasingly difficult to keep his concentration on the task at hand, and off of her sultry body.
And when another woman is found brutally murdered, Zander worries that Raven has gotten too close to the investigation… close enough to put her directly in the killer’s sights.
EXCERPT:
A BLACK CROW swooped down from a decaying pine tree beside her, it’s cringing caw piercing the silence of the woods. She shuddered and zipped up her windbreaker.
Abby never liked crows, or birds for that matter. Not since her parents brought her back a rare, extremely expensive—their words, not hers—parrot from Honduras when she was twelve years old. It was one of the many vacations they’d taken without her—needing a break, they’d say—and leaving her with her nanny, Fran, whose hair always looked, ironically, like a bird’s nest, and whose breath could stop a clock. The same nanny who’d tattled on her for leaving a window open, allowing the precious parrot to fly away.
Her father didn’t speak to her for a week, and her mother, only when he wasn’t looking.
But that was a long time ago. That was then, and this was now. She was a woman now, freshly turned twenty-one with her whole life ahead of her. She didn’t need her parents or the shallow gifts they’d showered her with, replacing their inability to show affection. She didn’t need them anymore, just like they didn’t need her. That’s how they always made her feel, anyway.
A cool gust of wind carrying the sour scent of moldy earth swept past her. She glanced up at the cloud-covered sky. Another dreary day. Another stupid, dull day in this small, suffocating, godforsaken town—just like the day before.
But not anymore.
She could make her own decisions now, out from under their financial thumb. Go her own way in life.
And she was.
And her parents would kill her for it.
She stepped onto the jogging trail that snaked through the woods and stumbled on a rock. She looked down at her new black running shoes laced tightly over black ankle socks. Black leggings and a black T-shirt.
Black.
She swallowed the lump in her throat.
She’d always been fascinated with the mystical, creepy folktales that were whispered through the Great Shadow Mountains. Spirits, ghosts… witches. Hundreds of stories told during dark nights with no electricity, bonfires with too many drinks, Halloween, or just about any scenario shrouded in darkness. The stories were told with glances over the shoulder and hushed voices laced with fear, and if you listened carefully enough, respect. Respect for the evil forces that could snatch you up in the middle of the night, turn you into a lizard, or worse, curse you and everyone you loved.
Witches who could raise the dead from the earth.
Witches who could take your life.
Respect, power. Those were the two things she was promised when she’d been approached about “turning over a new leaf”. Taking control of her own life—and others if needed. Yes, she would be a part of something now, of something big, she was told.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes.
Was she apprehensive? Absolutely. But what they’d promised her had been too great to ignore. She’d been a fool to walk away.
Right?
She smoothed her black windbreaker.
Black really wasn’t her color, but they had been wearing it—head-to-toe—so she figured she’d better get used to it. There would be so much to learn, they’d explained, and embracing black was a good start, she guessed.
But dammit, it really washed her out. Her pale complexion and light blonde hair—a gift from her mother—looked even more lifeless against the unforgiving color.
Maybe she would take baby steps into the change.
Yes, baby steps.
Maybe it would be okay if she wore her red silk blouse and white Louboutin six-inch heels on her date next week.
Butterflies tickled her stomach.
A date!
She couldn’t believe it. Yes, she had been asked out by a good-looking, accomplished man, nonetheless. It was completely out of left field… and only hours after she’d officially committed to “turning over a new leaf.” Coincidence?
Yes, things were going to change for her. Things were going to go her way, for the first freaking time in her life.
She was going to be powerful, respected. Feared.
With an extra pep in her step, she rounded a corner in the trail and spotted her new jogging partner anxiously waiting ahead.
“Hey.”
“Hey, there. You ready?”
She snorted. “As ready as I can be, I guess.”
“First mile’s always the hardest. I’ll take it easy on you. Might want to stick those keys in your pocket, though. Uneven terrain.”
“Oh, okay. Yeah.” She nodded, looked down, and as she unzipped her pocket—
WHACK!
Her head snapped back as a fist slammed into her jaw.
Pain rocketed through her skull. Bright lights flashed in her eyes. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth as she stumbled backward. The world spun around her, sending a wave of nausea through her body as she tried to process what was happening.
What the hell?
She opened her eyes to fuzziness and tried to focus on the movement in front of her. But before she could come to, the next brutal force knocked her out cold.


Author Bio:
Award-winning author of sexy murder mysteries, Amanda McKinney wrote her debut novel, LETHAL LEGACY, after walking away from her career to become a writer and stay-at-home mom. Her books include the BERRY SPRINGS SERIES and the BLACK ROSE MYSTERY SERIES, with many more to come. Set in small, Southern towns, Amanda’s books are page-turning whodunits peppered with steamy romance. Amanda is a member of Romance Writers of America, International Thriller Writers and Sisters in Crime, and lives in Arkansas with her handsome husband, two beautiful boys, and three obnoxious dogs. Visit her website atwww.amandamckinneyauthor.com

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Monday, April 23, 2018

Reason To Die Debbie De Louise



Reason To Die
by Debbie De Louise
Genre: Crime Mystery
Someone is strangling disabled people in the small town of Baxter, Connecticut. Detective Courtney Lang and her ex-partner and ex-lover, wheelchair-bound Bill Thompson, are paired up again and put in charge of the investigation.
During the search, Courtney uncovers information that points towards a connection between the murders and an unsolved series of muggings by a masked man, the same man who shot and disabled Bill a year ago on the night he proposed marriage to her.
Complicating matters for Courtney is her guilt about Thompson's shooting, her affair with her new partner, Mark Farrell, and her unresolved feelings over the deaths of her mother and sister who perished in a fire when she was away from home.
As the deaths accrue and the “Handicapped Strangler” as the killer is coined by the press continues to rampage the town adding victims of different ages, sex and disabilities to the murder count, Courtney discovers a clue that could crack open the case but may put her and Bill's life in jeopardy.


Excerpt:

As Agnes walked to the bathroom now, she tapped her cane around in habit. She knew the twenty steps down the hall by heart. She had her own built-in GPS. But the cane was a comfort, a guide she hesitated to give up.

When she was through taking care of her needs, she started back to the living room. Chirpy suddenly began squawking. She thought he was resting. Something had stirred him. Then she heard a noise by the front door. Someone was on her step.

“Settle down, Chirpy. Looks like we have a visitor,”she said as she cut across the room to answer the light knock. The bird continued to squawk. She wondered why he was so excited.

“Who is it?” she called when she got to the door.

A male voice replied, “Talking Books delivery for Ms. McCarver.”

How very strange. She’d had a delivery of the audio books last week, and they usually only arrived once a month in a box delivered by the mailman. Maybe there had been a mistake.
“I haven’t ordered any new books,” she said, “and they usually come in the mail.”

“No mistake, Ma’am. Talking books are being hand delivered now. Can you please open the door and take them? I have several more stops to make today.”

Agnes hesitated a moment. Chirpy had finally quieted down. Edna would probably scold her for letting a stranger in the house just because he claimed he had audiobooks for her, but he sounded nice enough. He sounded a lot like the kind librarian from the Helen Keller Library who visited yesterday.

Reaching up, she unlatched the safety lock and then twisted the doorknob. She heard the man step forward. He closed the door behind him and then pushed her to the ground. Her cane flew away. She tried to grab for it, but it was out of reach. It happened so fast, a scream lodged in her throat as he put his gloved hands around it and squeezed. From a hazy distance of fear, she heard Chirpy start squawking again. The pressure on her throat tightened. She couldn’t yell or even talk. Blackness engulfed her as the gray shadows of her limited sight dissolved. All she could hear in those last moments were Chirpy crashing against his bars in a useless attempt to free himself and the bad man’s raspy breathing against her cheek as he squeezed the life out of her.


My name is Debbie De Louise. I am a reference librarian at a public library on Long Island and the award-winning author of the Cobble Cove mystery series. I have a B.A. in English and an MLS in Library Science. 


My first novel, a paranormal romance, "Cloudy Rainbow" (Booklocker 2008) received an honorable mention in the Writer's Digest self-published awards. I wrote that book after my beloved cat, Floppy, died from diabetic and liver complications. The book is dedicated to him, and he is featured as a character in it. I have recently signed with my publisher to reprint this book, and it will soon be available as a paperback as well as an eBook. 

My second novel, the first book of the Cobble Cove Mystery series, "A Stone's Throw," (November 2015) was published by Limitless Publishing, LLC. It is the story of a widowed librarian who visits her husband's hometown and finds a new love with the town's newspaper publisher but also discovers some alarming truths about her husband's death and its connection to the publisher and his family. Along with a variety of characters, there is also a cat and dog who play minor but interesting roles in the novel. The second Cobble Cove Mystery, "Between a Rock and a Hard Place" was released in October 2016 by Solstice Publishing and a reprint of "A Stone's Throw" with an additional chapter was published in March, 2017. The third book of the series, "Written in Stone," was released in April, 2017. I've also published a romantic comedy novella, "When Jack Trumps Ace."

I'm currently working on a standalone mystery, Reason to Die, and have several other writing projects planned for 2018 including a new cozy mystery series along with the fourth volume of the Cobble Cove mysteries.

I'm a member of International Thriller Writers, Sisters-in-Crime, the Cat Writer's Association, and Long Island Authors Group and have published articles in Cats Magazine and Catnip (Tufts University Veterinary Newsletter). I won the Glamour Puss special award from Hartz Corporation for my Catster.com article, "Brushing your cat for bonding, beauty, and better health," (June, 2016). My short mystery, "Stitches in Time" was published in the Cat Crimes Through Time Anthology, (1999). I have also published several other short stories of various genres in Solstice anthologies. I live on Long Island with my husband, daughter, and our cat, Stripey.





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Friday, April 20, 2018

The Forgotten Ones by Steena Holmes



The Forgotten Ones
by Steena Holmes
Genre: Psychological Thriller
Elle is a survivor. She’s managed to piece together a solid life from a childhood of broken memories and fairy tales her mom told her to explain away bad dreams. But weekly visits to her mother still fill Elle with a paralyzing fear she can’t explain. It’s just another of so many unanswered questions she grew up with in a family estranged by silence and secrets.

Elle’s world turns upside down when she receives a deathbed request from her grandfather, a man she was told had died years ago. Racked by grief, regrets, and a haunted conscience, he has a tale of his own to tell Elle: about her mother, an imaginary friend, and two strangers who came to the house one night and never left.

As Elle’s past unfolds, so does the truth—if she can believe it. She must face the reasons for her inexplicable dread. As dark as they are, Elle must listen…before her grandfather’s death buries the family’s secrets forever.






Steena Holmes is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of titles including Saving Abby, Stillwater Rising and The Memory Child. Named in the Top 20 Women Author to read in 2015 by Good Housekeeping, she won the National Indie Excellence Award in 2012 for Finding Emma as well as the USA Book News Award for The Word Game in 2015. Having her Author Brand featured repeatedly on sites such as Goodreads, BookBub, RedBook, and Goodhousekeeping, Steena is an authority on creating an effective author brand and has been invited to speak on the subject at various author forums around the world. To find out more about her books and her love for traveling.



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Thursday, April 19, 2018

Murder, She Knit Peggy Ehrhart



Murder, She Knit
A Knit & Nibble Mystery Book 1
by Peggy Ehrhart
Genre: Cozy Mystery
Since her only daughter left for college, widow Pamela Paterson has kept busy as associate editor of a craft magazine and founder of the Knit and Nibble knitting club in quaint Arborville, New Jersey. Now, she’s trying out a new hobby—solving murders!


Pamela is hosting the next Knit and Nibble meeting and can’t wait to liven up her otherwise empty home with colorful yarn, baking, and a little harmless gossip. She even recruits Amy Morgan, an old friend who recently moved to town, as the group’s newest member. But on the night of the gathering, Amy doesn’t show. Not until Pamela finds the woman dead outside—a knitting needle stabbed through the front of her handmade sweater . . .

Someone committed murder before taking off with Amy’s knitting bag, and Pamela realizes that only she can spot the deadly details hidden in mysterious skeins. But when another murder occurs, naming the culprit—and living to spin the tale—will be more difficult than Pamela ever imagined . . . 
Knitting tips and delicious recipe included!



Peggy Ehrhart is a former English professor who lives in Leonia, New Jersey, where she writes mysteries and plays blues guitar. She holds a Ph.D. in medieval literature from the University of Illinois and taught writing and literature at Queens College, CUNY, and Fairleigh Dickinson University, where she was a tenured full professor. Her short stories have appeared in Futures Mystery Anthology Magazine, Crime and Suspense, Flashing in the Gutters, Spinetingler, Crime Scene: New Jersey 2, and Murder New York Style. A longtime member of Mystery Writers of America and Sisters in Crime, Peggy served on the board of MWA New York as head of the Mentor Committee. She was president of Sisters in Crime NY/TriState from 2013 to 2015. Peggy regularly attends mystery writing conferences and participates in conference panels and also gives talks on mystery fiction at libraries in New York, Connecticut, and New Jersey.


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Tuesday, April 17, 2018

Raven's Sight R.L. Weeks



Raven's Sight
Raven's Shadow Book 1
by R.L. Weeks
Genre: YA Paranormal Mystery
Award Winning author, R. L. Weeks, brings you Raven's Sight - a Young Adult Victorian Paranormal Mystery. Book One can be read as a standalone and as part of the series.


Raven looks out over the small, industrial town of Cogsworth and imagines a life beyond the confines of her Grandmother's mansion.

However, Raven holds a dark secret that prevents her from leaving. One which comes to light after her father's untimely death. Now an orphan, Raven must do her best to hide her gifts of sight if she's to survive the cruel Victorian society she lives in.

However, when a ghost of a child comes to her for help, Raven finds herself in the gas lit streets of London, on the trail of a female serial killer. As she tries to solve the string of murders, she realizes that the murders are almost identical to those from a case left unsolved years before she was born.

In a race against time, Raven is thrown into a world she doesn't know. With her crush, Tom, now a ghost, her friend, Emmett, now a suspect, and an uncle who runs illicit groups and hates women, Raven will have to unravel the mysteries quickly before she becomes their next victim.




Excerpt:

November 27th, 1861

I sit at the stool and marvel at the mahogany structure in front of me. Father

converted our spare room into a music room two years ago. Father loves to play

the piano. I mean, he loved to play the piano and no longer loves, for he no

longer is. Like everyone else in my family, apart from Grandmother and my

uncle, he is dead.

I lift the heavy lid, and a row of ivory keys greet me. Father ensured that our

piano had a cast iron frame installed when it was bought. According to him, it

gives a more powerful sound. Father was a very smart man.

I suck in a deep breath and dangle my legs off the stool. I tap the heels of my

black, shiny shoes together. My feet can almost reach the ground now. Soon, I

will be nine years old, and I will be able to play the piano much better than

Lissy, who lives down the road. Although, her mother doesn’t want her playing

with me anymore. Apparently, I’m weird.

Tears blur my vision as I realise for the first time that I will be turning nine

without Father.

I miss his sparkling blue eyes and “moments of madness,” as Grandmother

called them. Father is…I mean, was, the owner of a wool factory. Father said

that his factory was one of the first to recognise a union, whatever that is, and his

workers were paid fairly. He was very proud of his factory which is now owned

his adopted brother who I’ve never met. All the workers live in small houses in

our small town of Cogsworth.

I used to sneak off and look at the factory after school. Sparks and flames

would light up the sky that had been darkened by smoke from the chimneys. I

used to watch the children that worked at his factory sit on the old wooden fence

and eat their dinners before going back to finish their long day.

I look down at my little fingers and wonder if I will be put to work now that

he is dead.

Grandmother says not to worry, that father has left us more than enough

money and that we have enough to last us for the rest of our lives, but I am much

younger than her.

I must find a good husband when I am grown up. I just hope Grandmother

lives long enough for me to marry. If not, I may end up desperate and poor,

without anything in the world. I am, after all, an orphan now, and world is not

kind to orphans. I know this much from the books I sneak from Grandmother’s

shelves. You see, Grandmother always hides the harsh truths from me, unlike

Father, who always told me the truth, even when I didn’t want to hear it. He

always said that the most important gifts he had been graced with by God were

his integrity and honest tongue.

I look up at the door and smile at him.

“My dear,” my grandmother says crisply. She walks through Father and sits on

the futon. “I know it has been hard with losing both your parents in one year, but

you still have me, and I will always be here for you.”

I give her a “mmm” and hover my fingers over the keys of the piano. I don’t

want to talk about my parent’s deaths right now. I don’t have time. “I am about

to play a song.”

Her thin lips crack into a small smile. She nods for me to play, but the song is

not for her. It is for Father. He has been standing in the doorway waiting for me

to play for almost ten minutes. He is almost transparent and taps his watch,

pushing me to hurry.

What if I do not play my goodbye well enough for him? How can I put all the

words and memories I wished for us to have into just one small song?

I elaborate when she does not leave. “I am playing a song for Father, not you.

I must make sure I get it right. I want to play it only for his ears.”

Her eyes, a paler blue than mine or Father’s, widen. “Raven…” She pauses

and fiddles with the cameo necklace around her neck. “Your father, my poor son,

is not coming back. He is with God now. I have told you this. You must accept

it.”

I shake my head and look at Father. He tilts his head slightly to the left and

drops his arms to his side.

“No Grandmother. Father is standing right there. He has to go soon, but he is

waiting for me to play for him.”

I press down three keys and hold my breath so I do not tremble. I start the

lullaby that I used to play with Father.

I have decided that it is most appropriate; it will be a goodnight to him and my

life with him.

Grandmother marches over to me and grabs my arm. I miss a note and look up

at her furiously.

“No!” I shout and fall off the stool. I try to wriggle free, but she pulls me

across the cold floorboards.

“No! Grandmother, please. I must finish!”

“Stop being ridiculous, Raven. There are no such things as ghosts.”

I pull down on her fingers and accidentally pull off her wedding ring. I grasp

it in my sweaty palms. I see Father look sadly at us before turning away.

“No! Father, No!”

I look at the door with desperation as he fades away.

“Father!” I scream. Grandmother’s grip remains tight on my arm, and I pull

with all my might. “I hate you. You made him leave.” A lump forms in my throat

as despair grips me. “He’s gone.”

“Enough, child,” she says and tightens her grip.

I kick my legs and scream and scream until my screams are silent. I feel

nothing but rage as I kneel on the floorboards holding Grandmother’s ring.

Suddenly, the room twists around me, and everything fades to black.

The room looks different. The walls are plastered with cream paper instead of

the normal pale blue and gold.

Grandmother sits with my dead grandfather. They both look younger. A boy

plays on the floor with a wooden horse. He is only four of five years old. His

eyes sparkle with the same blue color as Father’s.

Grandmother plays with her wedding ring. I look down at the same ring in my

hand, and my eyebrows knit together.

The boy runs out of the room with a mischievous smile. Grandmother runs

after him, laughing. “Jameson, get back here,” she says through her laughter.

The memory fades from me as I feel the ring topple from my hand onto the

floorboards.

“Raven?”

I open my eyes and look into my Grandmother’s hard expression.

“Raven, are you okay?” Tears have formed in her eyes.

I can feel the pain from where her nails were digging into me. “You seemed

happier when you ran after Father in this room. When he was a boy,” I said in

clarification.

Grandmother’s worried expression is replaced with one I have never seen on

her: fear. “You and your imagination.”

I pick up her ring and give it back to her. I stand up and rub my arm. “I saw it.

He was playing with a wooden horse. I think it was real,” I say. I am as confused

by the memory as she is. “It felt real.”

The colour leaves her face. “He must have told you about the wooden horse.”

I shake my head.

“This is the last time we can let this happen.” Strands of her hair have freed

themselves from her tight bun and now dangle wildly around her face. “Nora!”

She calls for our maid.

I look at her as she runs in the room, looking flushed. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Take Raven to her room and do not let anyone in the house,” Grandmother

orders.

Nora Bonetta, whose skin is much darker than ours, looks at me curiously. “Is

the child okay?”

Grandmother paces around in a circle. “I have seen this happen before, and it

is happening again. We cannot have another Alice,” she says and stops in front

of me. She pushes me over to Nora. “We must not let her out the house. If

anyone finds out what she is…”

Nora nods, seeming to understand what I do not.

Who is this girl—I have forgotten her name already—that we cannot have



another of, and what am I?

R L Weeks is the bestselling and award-winning author of the Dead Loves Life Series, Bloodlust, The Fallen, Willow Woods Academy for Witches, Cursed, and the owner of Enchanted Anthologies, publisher of Fractured Fairytales Books 1 & 2, A Deadly World: Vampires in Paris, Things Only the Darkness Knows, and Christmas Nightmares.

She lives in a small village in the UK.
When she's not writing, she's traveling, reading (paranormal, fantasy and horror being her go to genres) and designing covers for Dark Wish Designs.




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Monday, April 16, 2018

Bound Alexandrea Weis & Lucas Astor


Bound
Alexandrea Weis & Lucas Astor
(A Magnus Blackwell Novel #2)
Published by: Vesuvian Books
Publication date: April 17th 2018
Genres: Adult, Supernatural
Magnus Blackwell’s past is about to catch up with him.
An evil force has seized New Orleans. Pestilence, suffering, and darkness cloak the city. The citizens are scared and need their mambo to guide them, but Lexie Arden can’t help anyone. A diabolical presence has taken Lexie’s power and severed her ties with the other side.
Magnus Blackwell is fighting demons of his own. Torn between his devotion to Lexie and a spirit from his past, Magnus’s loyalty is put to the test. He must revisit his sins to uncover the key to the hatred ripping the city apart. If he doesn’t, Lexie’s reign as mambo will end.
Their search for answers leads them deep into the darker realms of voodoo—until a desperate Lexie does the unthinkable, and Magnus can do nothing to spare her from her fate.
EXCERPT:
Will went to the doors leading to the balcony. “Do you hear that?”
Lexie got up from the sofa, and as soon as she came up to him, a low buzzing came through their back door. “What is it?”
Will hooked her waist. “Get behind me.”
“Why?”
“Just do it, Lexie!”
She curled into his back with her hands on his shoulders, looking around the nape of his neck while he reached for the door handle.
The buzzing got much louder when he cracked the door.
Her breath coming in quick gasps, she stared out into the night.
A wave of black shot up from the courtyard as if alerted by the light escaping from their door. The humming became deafening. Her eyes adjusted to the dark, and then Lexie became paralyzed with terror.
Flies, thousands of them, swarmed like a flock of birds, dipping and rising with a single mind. While poised over the pond, their mass obscured the floodlights from the adjacent buildings.
Aghast, Lexie’s nails dug into Will as the swarm pulled into a giant ball. A black wave flowed over the mass, bending and twisting in different directions, forming a shape.
“Have you ever seen flies do that?” Will mumbled.
Never taking her eyes off the object, she whispered back, “No. Never.”
Right after Lexie spoke, the ball suddenly contracted into a tight, flat orb.
She could not see the flies anymore, but their buzzing remained. Depressions sank into the orb; two eyes, a dip where the nose should be, and a thin line for the mouth.
The face reminded Lexie of a large black skull.
The skull then exploded, and the flies flew off in every direction.
“Holy shit!” Will slammed the doors and set the bolt. “What the hell was that?”
Lexie went around him to the window and peeked outside.
The only things hovering above the pond were a few bright beams from a neighbor’s spotlight. The flies had disappeared.
She stepped back, trembling. “It’s a warning.”
“Any idea who’s sending it?”
She rubbed his back, eager to feel his warmth. “No, but I’m sure I will find out soon enough.”
“Are you all right?” Magnus arrived in her living room. “I came as soon as I felt the black presence nearby.”
“We’re fine.” She looked up. “Just spooked.”
“Who are you talking …?” Will’s voice faded. “Oh my God. Is that …?”
Lexie held her breath as Will stared openmouthed at Magnus. “Can you see him?”
Will closed his mouth and cleared his throat. “Oh yeah.”
She rubbed her head, fighting the tension headache coming on. “This is all I need.”
“Others have seen me, why not him?” Magnus maneuvered closer. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Will.”
Will’s cheeks blanched, but he managed a courteous nod.
“Yeah, it’s nice to know you’re real.”
Magnus smugly grinned. “I’ve always been real.”
A long lapse of silence followed as each of the men—well, man and ghost—sized the other up.
Since she’d first met Magnus, Lexie longed for Will to see him, to know he existed. Her wish finally granted, she questioned if seeing Magnus was good for her husband. Will had stayed on the fringe of her world, opting to support her in any way he could, but leaving her to run her responsibilities without his assistance. She’d preferred things that way, seeking guidance from Titu instead of Will. He had his architecture firm and she her shop. Could they go back to their comfortable existence, or had the tide turned?
“Why is this happening?” Will staggered backward. “Why am I seeing him?”


Author Bio:
Lucas Astor is from New York, has resided in Central America and the Middle East, and traveled through Europe. He lives a very private, virtually reclusive lifestyle, preferring to spend time with a close-knit group of friends than be in the spotlight.
He is an author and poet with a penchant for telling stories that delve into the dark side of the human psyche. He likes to explore the evil that exists, not just in the world, but right next door behind a smiling face.
Photography, making wine, and helping endangered species are just some of his interests. Lucas is an expert archer and enjoys jazz, blues, and classical music.
One of his favorite quotes is: “It’s better to be silent than be a fool.” ~Harper Lee (To Kill a Mockingbird)
Alexandrea Weis is an advanced practice registered nurse who was born and raised in New Orleans. Having been brought up in the motion picture industry, she learned to tell stories from a different perspective and began writing at the age of eight. Infusing the rich tapestry of her hometown into her award-winning novels, she believes that creating vivid characters makes a story memorable. A permitted/certified wildlife rehabber with the Louisiana Wildlife and Fisheries, Weis rescues orphaned and injured wildlife. She lives with her husband and pets in New Orleans.

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Friday, April 13, 2018

Wings of Flesh and Bones Cathrina Constantine


Wings of Flesh and Bones
Cathrina Constantine
Publication date: April 13th 2018
Genres: Fantasy, Paranormal, Young Adult
An Angel. A Witch. A Demon. And A Choice.
Creatures from outer realms suck, as any gatekeeper worth their salt will tell you. Welcome to Rogan’s life, an orphaned seventeen-year-old who lives and trains with other misfits under her uncle’s roof, keeping Earth safe from non-human realm jumpers. Rogan’s biggest issue concerns her uncle’s short leash with her freedom—that is of course, until she’s taken by a notorious witch, and her life begins to unravel. Soon, the supernatural beauty discovers there’s a reason her uncle kept such a tight lock on her whereabouts, and that she has more than angel blood running through her veins.
Eighteen-year-old Max is an angel, and Rogan’s mentor and guardian. He’s well aware of her tenacious inability to obey orders, though he also knows she’s a fierce fighter. When he’s involved in a scheme that ultimately gets Rogan kidnapped, he must battle his way back to her in an attempt to save her from the darkness threatening to possess her.
EXCERPT:
I’m breaking Castle’s rules. Do I care? Not really—not yet.
Rogan’s skin prickled as she snuck through the portal leading to the city, exhilarated to be patrolling on her own for once. She walked along the sidewalk on her way to Pink, a dance club for teenagers. Although, her choice in destination would not involve dancing or enjoying the hyperactive ambiance. No, she was primed and ready to release bottled-up steam threatening her peace of mind. Deviants would be mingling with humans, and she’d be there to put a stop to it.
Crisp autumn air stirred. Inhaling its musky scent, she noticed the lengthening shadows, and prayed to be home before she was missed. I’m seventeen, she thought with pride, a gatekeeper. At least, that was what she’d been training for.
Keeping her eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary, she tossed her braided hair over her shoulder, catching a few heads turning to look at her. You’d think they’d never seen a girl wearing leather and boots before.
A pungent odor pressed in on her, which stopped her in her tracks. Up ahead, blocking the sidewalk, was a giant of a man. The fortuitous encounter took her by surprise, sending her creepster vibes off the charts. With her legs rooted in a rigid stance, she flexed her fingers. As if the giant had been awaiting her arrival, he approached in a blur of motion, whipping his knuckled fist and clipping her on the chin.
Grimacing, her eyes watered as blood pooled over her tongue. She spat a mouthful onto the sidewalk and moved her throbbing jaw from side to side.
She recognized the Vorg towering over her, jutting his demon chin at a superior angle. To humans, he looked like an unnatural hulk of a man, but Rogan saw past his artificial veneer.
“Had enough, sweetmeat?” His sandpapery voice rubbed her the wrong way.
“Screw you.” Fast as a snap, she jerked her elbow, smashing him in the jaw.


Author Bio:
Cathrina Constantine is the Best Selling author of Don't Forget To Breathe. Her book won Readers' Favorite International Book Award for 2015. New Apple Medalist for 2016. Literary Classics Gold Award. Literary Classics Seal of Approval. Her Paranormal Fantasy, Wickedly They Come has been awarded the 5 Star Seal from Reader's Favorite. Tallas from her dystopian series received Literary Classics Silver Award and Literary Classics Seal of Approval.
Cathrina resides in Western New York. I am blessed with a loving family and forever friends. My world revolves around them.
I grew up in the small village of Lancaster, NY, where I married my sweetheart. I'm devoted to raising 5 cherished children, and now my grandchildren.
I love to immerse myself in great books of every kind of genre, which helps me to write purely for entertainment, and hopefully to inspire readers. When not stationed at my computer you can find me in the woods taking long walks with my dog.




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Thursday, April 12, 2018

Crust No One Winnie Archer



Crust No One
A Bread Shop Mystery #2
by Winnie Archer
Genre: Cozy Mystery
Business is booming at Yeast of Eden. But with a deadly mystery taking over the seaside town of Santa Sofia, the Mexican bread shop can’t possibly leaven a killer’s appetite . . .
For once, Ivy Culpepper feels fulfilled. An apprenticeship at Yeast of Eden has opened her world to time-honored baking techniques under owner Olaya Solis’s guidance—as well as the freshest small-town gossip, courtesy of chatty regulars known as the Blackbird Ladies. Ivy even begins accepting that she and restaurateur Miguel Baptista may never again rekindle their romance—despite the undeniable tension between them . . .
But she’s tied to Miguel again when his trusted produce supplier goes missing. Old Hank Riviera’s financial troubles would make anyone consider running away forever. And with his relationship woes, there are plenty of people who might want to see Hank disappear. As Ivy, with the help of her octogenarian sidekick, turns to the loose-lipped Blackbird Ladies for leads, she soon finds herself caught in a web of lies stickier than a batch of Olaya’s popular pastries . . .


The indefatigable Winnie Archer is a middle school teacher by day and a writer by night. Born in a beach town in California, she now lives in an inspiring century-old house in North Texas and loves being surrounded by real-life history. She fantasizes about spending summers writing in quaint, cozy locales, has a love/hate relationship with both yoga and chocolate, adores pumpkin spice lattes, is devoted to her five kids and husband, and can’t believe she’s lucky enough to be living the life of her dreams.



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Imagine a room with ten people sitting at a table. One sentence is scrawled across a whiteboard hanging on the wall. A large clock is counting down. The people at the table are focused on the paper or whatever writing implement they have chosen. The minutes go by. The scribbling pen picks up speed. Fingers tapping on keyboards are consistent. The ending alarm chimes. Ten fresh storylines are born.
This is the Ten-Minute Writing Prompt. One simple statement or a piece of dialog igniting the creative flame for fiction writers. Take ten minutes of your day to stir the embers and keep the muse strong and alive.
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