Saturday, July 7, 2018

Pulse by Kalin Gow What I Really Think


PULSE Vampire Series Omnibus Vol. 1 Books 1 – 4
Kailin Gow
Publication date: March 1st 2018
Genres: Paranormal, Romance, Young Adult
This Omnibus contains 4 Full-length Novels in the PULSE Vampire Series, now in development as a Film starting with its Prequel, Mysterious Teacher.
Loved it! Very exciting storyline, can’t wait for the next one…. – Ariana, early 20s.
Pulse is fast paced and intriguing, the story has twists at every turn and the ending leaves you open mouthed and wanting more. Kailin did a wonderful job in creating this vampire world. – Melissa Silva, The Bookshelf
Ever since I was little, I’ve loved vampire books, and this one does not disappoint. – Amy (Books, College, and Other Random Things)
I know that I seem to say the same thing everytime that I review a Kailin book but man can she write, no matter whatever she writes I can never seem to put the book down whenever I pick one up. This has become another one of my favourite Kailin series and I highly recommend it. – Head Stuck in a Book Blog
Hurray for Gow, she made up a powerful character. I recommended this, you are not going to regret. – Astrid A.
DESCRIPTION
17 year-old Kalina didn’t know her boyfriend was a vampire until the night he died of a freak accident. She didn t know he came from a long line of vampires until the night she was visited by his half-brothers Jaegar and Stuart Greystone. There were a lot of secrets her boyfriend didn t tell her. Now she must discover them in order to keep alive. But having two half-brothers vampires around had just gotten interesting….
Kailin Gow is a multiple Award-winning author, film and tv director/producer, and speaker. You can learn more about her at: KailinGow.com.


Author Bio:
Kailin Gow loves things that are edgy, cool, bright, exciting, hopeful, glittery, and jaw-droppingly awe-inspiring. She loves writing, reading, and filming stories about people whose journeys take them beyond their boundaries – physically, psychologically, intellectually, and emotionally to arrive a point and a place of inspiration and hope. Her works have been recognized by the leaders in the industry in book publishing and entertainment to be “innovative” and “disruptive”, earning her awards from ALA, The IBPA, and festivals.

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What I Really Think

It's a serious love / hate opinion of Pulse. If you liked reading Twilight (teenage angst) or watching Buffy (super fit, kickass), you will probably enjoy this book.

What I liked: The triangle relationship that is developed between the two brother vampires and Kalina was fun to read. Older brother always taking the younger brother's girl and she's attracted to both as they are different as day and night. Then there is the deceased third brother who died three months prior who she cared for deeply, but it was just a high school thing.

The mystery of how the younger brother died was intriguing. Did he die as a result of driving while drunk or was there more to it? What exactly is this vampire wine?  The problem is that you have the answers in the first part of the book.  After that, a few vampire attacks, sibling rivalry, chaste lust, and jealousy.

What I didn't like: I'd like to know who the editor was because it's someone I would never use.
In the story, there is a priest whose name is secret. He has a special ability to change wine to blood. He must remain hidden. Shortly after this is known, Father Botticelli location is utmost secret. Umm. So they just told the most important secret name to a mere mortal who is being hunted by the other vampires because really it's just the location that's the big secret ??? (That should have been cut out and the wording changed.)

I found some character traits to be implausible. She describes a cheerleader of a regional winning team as being meek and shy before having been bitten. Really? Meek and shy. Have you ever known a highly competitive cheerleader to be meek? There was never any meekness shown in the dialogue or scenes.

To be honest, I didn't choose this book because of the romance. It looked as if it would have a good mystery as well. The mystery turned out to be ... Eh. It's more telling than showing and it's mostly revealed early on.

The last chapter of Book 1 is titled Epilogue. It is not an epilogue. (Hello Editor??) It's nothing more than the last chapter which ends with a cliffhanger. Normally, this type of ending would piss me off. However, in this case you're getting the four book set, and so I won't bitch about it.

Summary: Pulse has good bones.  Unlike Twilight, I did not have a desire to throw the book across the room and the author was not overly repetitive with the same phrases. I wish the author had taken a little more time to flesh out the mystery.

Tuesday, May 29, 2018

Q&A with Bob Collopy


Today's Q&A is with Q&A with Bob Collopy, author of the dystopian sci-fi novel The Phoenix Cycle.

When did you decide to start writing stories?
I started my first story at 6 years old. It was a comic book called "Star Fleet." Apparently evil aliens attacked earth and so earth made spaceships from all the forests...and so we beat the invaders with our wooden space ships. Basically a pulitzer waiting to happen.

Why science fiction  versus the other genres?
I think everything we've been growing up thinking would happen to us soon, might actually happen to us soon now. From what I'm seeing in my own career industry, the world is going to drastically change in about 7 years.

Who is your favorite character in  The Phoenix Cycle: The Best Shall Rise and why?
It's gotta be Ramfort. He is my spirit animal. Line is a close second. He is my anti-spirit animal.

What are your plans for the next writing project?
I will either pick up where I left off on this book or I will create a novella called "The Department of Smoke" that follows Line (the radio host) and his rise to power within the Inner Circle.
I am also making a TV show, but that's something completely different.

What question do you wish I had asked you and what is the answer to that question?
Who are my characters really? The characters I have written are deceptively complex. I think a lot of people skimming the book will miss this, but it's the biggest present my book can give. Every main character is based on a philosopher and/or a philosophy. So when they fight one another, the fight isn't just between characters, but between different philosophies. This was EXTREMELY hard to do at a level I thought would do justice to each philosophy/philosopher. I hold all of them in such high respect. I had to read stacks of books many times, annotate them, write papers, take classes, and read many philosopher biographies to pull this off. I had to truly know who they were before I put them in the book and used their belief systems.
What is nice is that excerpts of my book have been used by philosophy departments in a few colleges in London. So at least I did it well enough to where I can be present in such circles.

Dogs or Cats?  
My beloved Roomba. Best pet ever. She cleans up after ME!




The Phoenix Cycle: The Best Shall Rise
By Bob Collopy
Genre: Dystopian, New Adult, Sci-fi, (mature YA)

New San Francisco is the last city standing on a world ravaged by storms of ash and debris. The city survived by putting the ideals of the American dream on steroids and inspiring its people to persevere, though they have become ruthless in the process. Its citizens are ruled by the General, who has made sure that his people understand that gentleness and pity have become weaknesses that nature no longer tolerates.

Now Steve and Leslie must choose whether they will apply for the General’s once in a lifetime opportunity to “Rise from the Ashes” and join the Inner Circle that rules the city. If they don’t, they will be damned to spend the rest of their lives in the ghettos of Edingburg, a place where virtual reality has become a government-subsidized addiction.

For Steve, the choice is easy. His loyalties lie with the IRA, a revolutionary army led by a voice only known as “Mom.” They are trying to overthrow the General and free the people of New San Francisco from the cruelties of the City Guard. Steve’s mission is to broadcast a recording of a speech that a famous philosopher died to tell. Many thousands have and will perish to get this message out, but is anyone willing to listen? 

About the Author
Bob Collopy was raised on southern values. A world of rigidity and blind faith. He was then moved to Sedona. A near cult­like world, grown from 1960's flower children. He was then moved to Scottsdale. A world of extreme wealth and vice. He then went to college and joined a fraternity so notorious it was on national and world news multiple times.
Due to these shifts, Bob always found himself the the semi­lucid observer; constantly confused and adjusting to new and opposing sets of norms few cultures would ever call normal or even acceptable.
The city Bob has created is a blending of these intense and opposing cultures and the people trying to survive and conquer them.




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Monday, May 28, 2018

Looking for Dei David A. Wilson


Looking for Dei
David A. Willson
Publication date: March 23rd 2018
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult
Fifteen-year-old Nara Dall has never liked secrets. Yet it seems that her life has been filled with them, from the ugly scar on her back to the strange powers she possesses. Her mysterious father refuses to say anything about her origins, and soon, she and her best friend must attend the announcement ceremony, in which youths are tested for a magical gift.
A gifted youth has not been announced in the poor village of Dimmitt for decades. When Nara uncovers the reason, she uses her own powers to make things right. The decision sets her on a path of danger, discovery, and a search for the divine. In the process, she learns the truth about herself and uncovers the biggest secret of all: the power of broken people.
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EXCERPT:
PROLOGUE
Southside Orphanage
Fairmont – Capital of the Great Land 652PB (Post-Breshi)
The toddler blew at the dandelion bloom until its seeds broke free and floated away on a breeze that gusted past the man watching her from the bushes. His breath hitched as his burdens were lifted and briefly forgotten.
It had taken ten years to locate her. A life of study, prayer, and service to Dei in a monastery had not prepared him for so many years on the run, hiding under false names while he searched for the one he feared he might never find. His grizzled, greying goatee and unkempt hair might have labeled him a beggar or a desperate criminal, but the hope in his eyes told a different story.
Oblivious to the nearby threat, the girl dropped the crumpled dandelion stem and stumbled clumsily near a pile of stones. No more than two years old, she waddled across the overgrown orphanage courtyard, her cloth diaper askew. She plucked more flowers, her red hair dancing as she hopped after the seeds. She seemed to favor the world as her playmate, ignoring the twenty other children in the courtyard. She bumped into a small boy, fell down, and hopped back up with a baby-tooth grin before trotting off.
When she fell, a glimpse of her back jolted the man to his task. It was the blemish that beckoned him here—an ugly red scar stretching from upper back to waist, announcing her identity as the prophetic treasure he had sought for so long. The weight of the manuscript in his backpack grounded his thoughts, and he glanced around the area. There were no fences, plenty of bushes for cover, and a single matron leisurely surveying the yard. The woman sat on the aging building’s back steps, watching the little ones as they ran about. She wore a dress and would be unable to chase him. How long would it take for her to alert the authorities?
As he surveyed the grounds to plan his escape, the girl waggled her hand at a passing butterfly and giggled as it flew away. Fortune favored his plans when she ran to a group of dandelions just a few feet from his hiding place. Squatting, she grabbed several stems, preparing to blow and release the seeds.
The man looked over to the matron, who had turned away to manage a quarrel between two other children. Knowing this might be his only chance, he burst forward and scooped the babe up in one arm, then raced back through the bushes behind the orphanage. He ran as fast as he could, unable to avoid jostling the child in his arms. She began to cry at the shock of her abduction, still gripping the dandelion stems in one tiny fist.
Back at the orphanage, the matron in the dress looked toward the back of the yard. The only evidence of a disturbance was a cloud of dandelion seeds that drifted upon the air, scattering in the light breeze. She turned to the many children she cared for, oblivious to the crime that had just been perpetrated under her watch.


Author Bio:
David A. Willson has worked as a restauranteur, peace officer, and now, author. Taught by his mother to read at a young age, he spent his childhood exploring magic, spaceships, and other dimensions. In his writing, he strives to bring those worlds to his readers.
Much of his material is inspired by the “Great Land” of Alaska, which he has called home for over 30 years. He lives there with his wife, five children, and 2 dogs. He is passionate about technology, faith, and fiction—not necessarily in that order.
Looking for Dei is Willson’s debut novel, set in a land where many more adventures will take place. Stay up to date with his ongoing efforts through the Looking for Dei Facebook page or visiting the website at davidawillson.com.

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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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Thursday, May 24, 2018

Midnight Moss Carissa Ann Lynch



Midnight Moss
by Carissa Ann Lynch
Genre: YA Fantasy

Fresh out of high school and stalling on college, all Dorothea wants is a little freedom. So when she's offered the opportunity to move into her late grandmother's house in Black Cat Springs, she simply can't refuse the deal. Cheap rent and distance from her parents is exactly what she's always wanted...and a handsome new neighbor seals the deal.


But as soon as she moves in, she's drawn to a mysterious fence in the woods. Despite her better judgement and dark stories beyond, she sneaks inside, learning that some things from her past are better left contained...

A twisted town with a mind-boggling past is about to become Dorothea's future. And one thing is certain–she cannot trust her instincts.



Excerpt
Today is the day I had dreamed of…
Ever since I hit puberty and grew to hate my mother, I’d wanted to live on my
own. At the age of twenty, I’d since grown to like her again. Nevertheless, the
day was still here. Time to move out, or “leave the nest,” as my old psychology
teacher used to put it.
I had gotten a part-time job as soon as I had been old enough, and I’d been
saving up my tiny paychecks for as long as I could remember.
While most kids spent their weekends partying and playing Xbox, I had been
working the backline at Burger Barn and babysitting kids in the neighborhood.
When I hadn’t been working, I had been shopping…but not for clothes or
makeup, or anything teenagers generally like.
No, I had spent my days off at Costco and Target, planning,
dreaming…organizing my perfect future life.
But all I’d planned for was the stuff, not what I’d do with it once the time
came or who I’d do it with.
My closet was filled with hand towels and unopened bars of soap. Plastic
packs of salt and pepper shakers were wedged between shampoo bottles and
shaving cream, and stacks of washrags were piled on top of a brand new vacuum
in its box.
Another box, labeled ‘Cleaning Supplies,’ contained everything I could
possibly need to keep my house germ and dirt-free, bleach, detergent, Magic
Erasers…enough cleaners to last me a lifetime. And did I mention that I rarely
clean?
Everything was labeled with neat yellow stickers.
There were candles and frames in this box, and there were plates, bowls, and
cups in another. One had oven mitts, tin foil, and a jumbo roll of plastic wrap.
There was even an entire box dedicated solely to ‘Spices’.
Staring at the boxes now, I couldn’t help feeling a little lame. I’d put so much
stock in this moment, this move, that now it seemed like a letdown.
All of this planning for one moment, and now the moment was here.
But why did it feel so colorless?
And what’s with this feeling of guilt? Why can’t I shake this feeling that,
despite all of my preparations, I’m totally unprepared for what lies ahead?
My mother wasn’t angry at me for moving out, but she wasn’t eager to get rid
of me, either. During this whole process, her attitude was a perfect blend of,
“You don’t have to go, but I’ll support you if you think you’re ready.”
She’d helped me pick out furniture and had even paid for the U-Haul.
I tried to imagine her sitting down to eat dinner, one lonely dinner plate in a
sea of overstuffed food platters, sipping white wine by herself.
Would she eat at the table, maintaining our seven o’clock dinner schedule? Or
would she take her plate and wine, wander out to the back porch, maybe watch
the sun dip down low behind the mountains? What if she got lonely?
I guess what it boiled down to was, I was worried about her. She had never
been the type to get depressed, but she had never been all alone, either.
My dad had left when I was little. Memories of him were mostly hazy or
nonexistent.
After all these years, she had never even dated. All she’d had for company
was me, until now.
My milky white reflection in the dresser mirror looked older than I
remembered, more like stone than flesh.
There was a soft knock on my bedroom door.
“Ready to load up?” Mom opened the door, letting herself in.
I tried to feign excitement, nodding and smiling as I scurried over to the closet
to grab my first load of boxes.
We carried one after the other, and just when it was time to lift the heavy
furniture, my brother Nolan showed up.
He was fashionably late, as usual. His dark black hair was a mess, with
cowlicks all over. It looked like he’d just gotten out of bed. Unlike me, Nolan
didn’t plan for anything. He was older than me, by three years, and he had no
plans to go to college. He worked part-time at a local bar, drinking for free and
spending his tips on God knows what. You’d think that with his lifestyle he
would still live at home with us, but he mostly crashed at his best friend
Cooper’s house or his girlfriend’s place, but his “girlfriend” changed every other
week, so I couldn’t keep up with the latest.
“A little late, aren’t ya?” I teased, smiling despite myself. His green eyes
looked droopy and bloodshot, but they twinkled all the same.
“Ready for your big day?” He went straight for the red fabric sectional,
breaking it apart to make the process of lifting it easier.
“I guess. I’m a little nervous,” I admitted, moving to the other end of one half
of the sectional, lifting when he told me to. I’d been storing it in one of our spare
bedrooms, but Mom and I had managed to drag it outside on our own before he
arrived.
Lifting it up and into the U-Haul left me feeling breathless.
He smirked. “You, nervous? Yeah right. You’ve been planning this forever.”
My mom came outside, pleased to see Nolan. She was carrying a painted blue
box that looked like it was about a hundred years old. It wasn’t that big, but from
the way she was carrying it, it looked heavy and important.
There was a hand-painted peacock on the front of the lid, the colors faded by
time but still brilliant.
“Uh…that’s not mine,” I said, coming over to help her.
“It’s not mine, either.” She gave me a strange smile. Nolan moved over beside
us, looking at the box with a bored expression.
“This was your grandmother’s. It’s been in my closet for years. I found it after
she died, stored away in the attic.” She carried the box to the back of the U-Haul,
resting it on the edge of the cargo area. There was an ornate latch with a rusty
brass knob to open it.
Grinning at my brother and me, she turned the box toward us, and it made a
small creak as she opened it.
I don’t know what I expected. Treasure or secrets, perhaps?
Whatever I had expected, it had been something more interesting than what I
saw, faded scraps of paper and cheap looking costume jewelry.
My mom stuck her hand in and shuffled through the papers and plastic.
“Here it is!” She pulled out a vintage skeleton key. It was bigger than any key
I’d ever seen, and it glistened in the fading sunlight. I took it from her hand,
surprised by how heavy it felt. It appeared to be made of gold.
“That’s the key to your house,” Mom said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“But we had keys made.” I stared at the crooked shiny key, mesmerized by its
intricate design.
“Yes. But that is the original key to Doris’s house. It belongs to you, now.”
Carissa Ann Lynch is the USA TODAY Bestselling and award winning author of the Flocksdale Files trilogy, Horror High series, Dark Legends, Searching for Sullivan, Things Only the Darkness Knows, Shattered Time, 13, Grayson's Ridge, and This Is Not About Love. She resides in Floyds Knobs, Indiana. 


When she's not writing, she's reading and collecting books. She has a background in psychology and corrections.




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Wednesday, May 23, 2018

Night Stalker R.L. Weeks



Night Stalker
Dead Love Lives Book 1
by R.L. Weeks
Genre: YA Paranormal Fantasy
Winner of Best Paranormal Fantasy by Virtual Fantasy Con Book Awards 2017


Casey and George are traveling around Japan's notorious suicide forest when they see something move in the tree line and Casey can't shake the feeling that someone has been following them.
Later that night, Casey wakes up to find a woman in their room. After breaking free of the woman's entrancement, Casey wakes George, who convinces her it was just a dream. 
George has been acting off since their visit to Japan. Now they're home, the worst happens and George is killed in a freak accident.
It's one year later and she's about to leave her small hometown, Pleasant Springs - in hopes that her nightmares would end. Since his death, her dreams have been haunted by a mystery guy who is hellbent on causing her pain, but, before she makes it to the airport, Casey is kidnapped and taken to the hotel from her nightmares. 
She is plunged into a creepy world filled with the supernatural, underground cities, and sick games. 
Her mystery guy tells her he is trying to save her from the others. However, her ex - George could be behind her kidnapping in the most sinister way. 
Nothing is as it seems in the dark world of the Stalkers.




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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Tuesday, May 22, 2018

Eternal Victim Dexter Morgenstern



Eternal Victim
by Dexter Morgenstern
Genre: Paranormal Horror

From the author of "The Slender Man" comes a fast-paced, terrifying tale, filled with gruesome murderers, ghostly abominations, and a dark puzzle that connects them all to the Witness.


Follow the Witness as she travels through a perpetual series of nightmares, haunted by a mixture of pernicious serial killers and their imprisoned, undead victims, known as preta. As she wanders through time and memories shared by the killers and their victims, she fights to solve the puzzle of their connection to each other and to herself. Her only hope of salvation lies in connecting key victims to the souls who can rescue them, thus waking her from the nightmare, but one killer follows the next, bringing forth a new set of victims, a new score of preta, and immediately landing her in a new terror.



Excerpt

I gasp, pulling my head out of a metal tub, and slip down the side, landing in a heap on the dirty floor. I cough, spit-ting up the fetid water I’ve swallowed, then gasp again, finally heaving some stale oxygen into my lungs.

What nightmare is this? I rub the water from the eyes, shivering beneath the icy droplets and frosty air. I just drowned… in someone else’s body. I stay like that for several minutes, staring at the rusted tub and trying to force myself to comprehend what just happened. How am I alive? Am I even alive? I finally turn over to see another sink across from me, a mirror looming above it.

I let out an exasperated breath that seems to fog up the entire room before managing to pull myself upright. I stand and hobble over to the sink. In the mirror, there is still no reflection. I look back at the bathroom doorway. The door itself seems to have fallen apart, and a dark passageway stretches into black.

I look back into the mirror. For a moment there is nothing; and then I fall, that silhouette appearing once more.

This time, it doesn’t send the world spinning. I crawl back, all the way to the wall, clutching a hand to my mouth, though there is no voice, no scream to suppress.

A head emerges from the mirror, then shoulders. Two pallid hands reach out and grab the sink. I close my eyes, hoping the monster will go away, but when I open them, it—she—stands directly over me. I flinch again, but when I look back, nothing but a hand is offered.

“Come with me,” she softly instructs.

Hesitantly, I take the hand. As she pulls me to my feet, the light in the room flickers back on, illuminating us both. Before me is a brown-skinned, black-haired young woman.

Like Ada, Christiana, and me, the bruises and scars along her skin tell the tale of what I can only assume was a brutal and bloody murder. The dimness in her once-brown eyes betrays no emotion.

“You don’t have a lot left in you. You have to move,” she says.

I take a few breaths, trying initially to respond, but she shakes her head. She knows I am without a voice. I look toward the doorway and then back to her. She nods.

“You don’t have time to wait here and panic. The killer gets closer with every breath. The closer it is to finding you, the more the balance is in its favor.”

She flickers, her widening eyes finally betraying the fear within her.

“You can’t let him hurt you again. Not here, not when the balance is this close to darkness,” she explains. “Witness and learn, and the balance will return to you. Then you can escape.”



The balance? Witness? What?
Dexter is a Southern-born Seattle author and model. Homeschooled after a diagnosis of mild Asperger’s, he learned to play to his strengths as an energetic, creative artist. He began writing at the age of fifteen, and published his first novel two years later. Outside of art, Dexter spends his time gaming, studying, and socializing with other ambitious minds. As an army brat, he attained a pragmatic sense of discipline that he uses to balance his artistic endeavors with his academic ones. Dexter’s ultimate goal is to contribute to the subjugation of humanity by artificial intelligence.



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