Book Blitz: Moonlight And Midtown (+ Giveaway)

Moonlight And Midtown
Christina Bauer
(Fairy Tales of the Magicorum #1.5)
Published by: Monster House Books
Publication date: May 27th 2018
Genres: Fairy Tales, Fantasy, Young Adult

After battling werewolves and evil aunties, Bryar Rose is ready to enjoy her new life. No more crazy aunties. Her curse is toast. And Bry’s new man, Knox, is literally a dream come true. Best of all, Bry will soon attend a regular high school. Forget those sketchy tutors! To get ready, Bry is dedicating the rest of her summer to some serious back-to-school shopping with her best friend, Elle. It’s a blast, except for one thing:

Mysterious strangers are following Bry across Manhattan.

All these stalkers have oddly familiar scents and an uncanny ability to slip into the shadows whenever Bry tries to confront them. Even worse, their presence is making Knox act crazy with a capital C.

But Bry’s having none of it. Enough of her life has already been ruined by secrets. With Elle’s help, Bry plans to confront these strangers, find out what they want, and send them packing. Trouble is, the truth about their identity won’t be so easy to manage, especially when Bry finds out how these stalkers could change her future with Knox…and not for the better.

***An interim novella between WOLVES AND ROSES and SHIFTERS AND GLYPHS***

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play

About The Series
The Fairy Tales of the Magicorum series includes WOLVES AND ROSES (Book 1), MOONLIGHT AND MIDTOWN (Novella 1.5) and SHIFTERS AND GLYPHS (Book 2, Fall 2018). Eight full novels are planned in total.

—

EXCERPT:

“That’s why packs have Alphas,” says Knox. “You need to set her loose, and then, let her attack me.”
Every inch of my body goes on alert. “Attack you? Why?”
“Your wolf has been through a lot. Ritual fighting is how wolves work out their place in the pack. Your wolf needs a firm hand.”
I stare at my palm. “Firm hand?”
“I’m not talking about physical power here. I’m talking magic. My power is Alpha energy, but you’ve got your own magic. Once I subdue your wolf, I think you’ll get the idea.”
My head feels woozy. “Ritual combat? Really?”
“Yes. Release your wolf and attack me. Now.”
I hug my elbows. “I’m not sure. If I’m patient, my inner wolf might just calm down on her own.”
“That’s not how wolves work, even when they aren’t of the magical variety. And a werewolf? Our animals are far more intense. I’m your Alpha, and if I let this go on for one more minute, I’m putting you at risk.”
Something in his tone sets my nerves on edge. “Meaning?”
“Your wolf will go feral. When it happens, it’s fast and intense. Your wolf will take over and you’ll disappear.”
I suck in a shaky breath. “She wouldn’t.”
My wolf’s voice sounds in my head. “We will run! I demand we shift NOW!”
That manic tone to her voice is now higher than ever before. Every inch of my body trembles with the urge to shift. I reply to my wolf in my mind.
“Didn’t you hear what Knox said?” Normally, my wolf can’t help but listen in on most of my conversations. “Our mate thinks you’re going feral.”
“Mate?” The manic tone to her voice hikes up an octave. “We have no mate. All we have is the need to run.”
A chill runs up my spine. “You don’t remember our mate?”
“No mate! Run, now!”
My blood chills. No matter what happens, my wolf always knows her mate. In fact, my usual complaint is that she won’t shut up about him.
This is really happening. My wolf is going feral.
All of a sudden, it’s like I can’t pull in enough air. “You’re right. My inner wolf is losing her mind.”
“Hey, I won’t let that happen.” Knox rests his hands on my shoulders. “Breathe, Bry.”
It takes serious concentration, but I slow my racing pulse a little. “Okay.”
“Now, you need to set your wolf loose and trust me. Can you do that, yeah?”
“I can try.”
“Good.” Knox pulls off his dress shirt over his head and tosses it aside. “Set her loose.”
Normally, the urge to shift is a constant tug of war between me and my wolf. Most times, all it takes is for me to stop fighting the urge to shift. After that, I turn furry. So that’s what I do now—I drop my guard and let my wolf take over.

Author Bio:
Christina Bauer knows how to tell stories about kick-ass women. In her best selling Angelbound series, the heroine is a part-demon girl who loves to fight in Purgatory’s Arena and falls in love with a part-angel prince. This young adult best seller has driven more than 500,000 ebook downloads and 9,000 reviews on Goodreads and retailers. The first three books in the series are now available as audiobooks on Audible and iTunes.
Bauer has also told the story of the Women’s March on Washington by leading PR efforts for the Massachusetts Chapter. Her pre-event press release—the only one sent out on a major wire service—resulted in more than 19,000 global impressions and redistribution by over 350 different media entities including the Associated Press.
Christina graduated from Syracuse University’s Newhouse School with BA’s in English along with Television, Radio, and Film Production. She lives in Newton, MA with her husband, son, and semi-insane golden retriever, Ruby.

Website / Blog / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / LinkedIn

GIVEAWAY!
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Book Blitz : Ice Kingdom

Ice Kingdom
Tiana Warner
(Mermaids of Eriana Kwai, #3)
Publication date: December 11th 2017
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult

The final adventure in the Mermaids of Eriana Kwai trilogy …
Meela and Lysi have unleashed Sisiutl, legendary two-headed serpent of the Pacific Northwest. It was supposed to be an ally that would help them win the war. Instead, it has fallen under the control of King Adaro, ruler of the Pacific Ocean. If Meela and Lysi can’t stop him, Adaro will use the deadly serpent to rid the oceans of mankind.
With the American military using catastrophic weapons of their own to retaliate, Meela and Lysi must make peace between humans and merpeople before one race destroys the other. The journey will risk their lives and put their relationship to the test—but the vengeance that has been consuming Meela’s thoughts, day and night, might prove even more dangerous.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo

**Read the first book in the trilogy for FREE: download at http://bit.ly/siandmeela until Dec 25th!**

—

EXCERPT:

Somewhere on the Pacific Ocean

The young man aimed his crossbow at the water, ready to fire a bolt of solid iron at the first glimpse of flesh beneath the surface.
“Sir,” he said, “shouldn’t we have seen one by now?”
The captain turned his back to the salty wind, jaw tight. “They know we’re here.”
“So what are they doing?”
He followed the captain’s gaze. Blackness merged with the empty grey horizon in every direction. A long silence passed, filled only by gentle swells lapping against the ship.
The captain drew his own crossbow.
“Forming a plan.”
All twenty men aboard the ship readied their weapons, reacting in a chain until the last man at the stern took steady aim at the waves.
“Make ready your iron, men,” shouted the captain. “We have ripples approaching off the port side.”
A handful of places in the water puckered, as if something lingered just below the surface. The sea was too black to tell.
Then it happened. Fifty, maybe sixty sea demons burst from the water and slammed against the ship. The men wasted no time. They reacted with trained speed and agility as the demons thrust stones and jagged shells into the wood, both to break holes in the ship and to scale the sides. The men picked them off with bolts of iron and watched them fall one by one back into the sea.
But they were outnumbered. Soon the demons were upon the ship, pulling themselves across the deck with bony arms.
The young man had already shot a dozen and the water reddened with each passing second.
Slow scraping sounds threatened him from behind. He whirled around, crossbow ready. Burning eyes met his, and sharp teeth, bared to rip into his flesh. He gripped the trigger, felt the bow tighten—
And the demon was gone. The young man stared into the wide gaze of a girl his own age. With a startled cry, he jerked his aim so the bolt barely missed her.
She held a black shell in her hand, sharp at the edges and ready to use as a club. But she didn’t raise it. She just looked at him.
He lowered his crossbow.
Her blonde hair fell heavily over her shoulders, dripping beads of water down her naked chest and stomach, pooling where her torso joined her tail.
He blinked, but made no other motion—where her torso joined her tail. Scales faded into flesh like some sort of beautiful, green and tan sunset.
She pulled herself closer.
“Stay back,” said the young man, unsure what prompted him to hesitate.
He looked into her eyes—emeralds surrounded by pearl white—where moments ago they had burned red. Her sharp teeth had retracted behind rosy lips. The seaweed-coloured flesh of her upper body was now olive and raised with goose bumps from the icy wind.
“Hanu aii,” she whispered. Do not fear. She spoke his language.
He loosened his grip on the crossbow, studying her. She lifted a frail arm and pushed the hair from her eyes, then motioned him forwards.
His pulse quickened as he stared at the beautiful girl.
“Hanu aii,” she said again, her voice resonating sweetly, as if she sang without singing.
Suddenly, he was kneeling in front of her, level with her luminous eyes. The sounds around him faded but for the soft purr in the base of her throat.
She reached up and held an icy hand to his cheek, not for a moment breaking eye contact. The hand slid behind his head and pulled his face towards hers, slowly but firmly. He inhaled her sweet breath.
“No!”
He flinched. He turned to see the captain racing towards them, aiming his crossbow at the maiden.
The young man grasped the scene around him. The ship was empty. A few stray weapons and barrels bobbed serenely in the water. Blood soaked the deck in places, and even the main mast had a splatter across the bottom.
The captain fired wide. Before he could reload and aim again, the sea demon put a hand on the young man’s chin and pulled his gaze back to hers.
Her eyes blazed red. Her skin rippled into the rotten colour of seaweed. Her ears grew pointed and long like sprouting coral. She opened her mouth to reveal a row of deadly teeth.
The young man screamed.
The demon pulled him against her with more strength than three men combined, and they dove headfirst off the side of the ship.
They disappeared into the blood-red water.

Author Bio:
Tiana Warner is the best selling author of the Mermaids of Eriana Kwai trilogy. Her books have been acclaimed by Writer’s Digest, Foreword Reviews, and the Dante Rossetti Awards. She holds a bachelor’s degree in Computer Science from the University of British Columbia. Tiana enjoys riding her horse, Bailey, and is an active supporter of animal welfare.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter

GIVEAWAY!
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Book Blitz: The second Window

The Second Window
Erica Kiefer
Published by: CTP Pulse
Publication date: December 5th 2017
Genres: Romance, Suspense, Young Adult

As her senior year flies by on cruise control, seventeen-year-old Olivia Cole yearns for excitement—something her upscale private school no longer provides. Her job as a grocery store bagger isn’t much help…until the day she has a bizarre exchange with the cagey town recluse. When the woman abruptly surrenders to the police, Olivia feels compelled to dig deeper into her perplexing story. But the investigation stalls when Olivia receives another piece of news—Andre Steele, the golden boy of Westmont and her previous tormentor, has unexpectedly returned from his four-year stay in Brazil—and the whole school is buzzing! All at once, Olivia’s dull and predictable life is uprooted, and she wonders if “boring” was so bad after all.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

—

EXCERPT:

A stranger to me, I knew nothing about Jodie except that she lived on the outskirts of town. People referred to her as a hermit because she rarely ventured from her home, and when she did, it seemed only long enough to purchase groceries. She was nobody important to me—just the occasional name carried through the wind when there was nothing else to talk about. However, like clockwork, I bagged her scant items every Thursday at four PM. The odd interactions I’d have with the woman would sometimes be the most interesting part of my shift at Wayland’s, a discounted store that served as employment during the summer, and now into my senior year.
I met her eyes again, which seemed to never leave mine, peering at me with an intense silence that I couldn’t explain. She didn’t frighten me, exactly. On the contrary, there was a meekness about her that suggested her gentle nature. While she hardly smiled, she didn’t have a mean face. It was more like the bland expression of a person who had little to smile about. Yet I wondered at her reservation, certain she had more to say than she ever allowed.
Jodie’s slender fingers pulled cash from her wallet and she handed over the bills. When she turned to me once more, her teary eyes alarmed me. She swallowed hard, like she was washing down emotions that rose against her will.
“Are… are you okay?” I asked, hesitating as I placed her grocery bags into the cart. Her hand fell swiftly on top of mine, squeezing my palm. Startled by the sudden physical contact, I jerked my hand away. I regretted my actions the moment her expression shifted.
Eyes wide, she shook her head, her mouth opening as though horrified by her behavior. A tear slid down her cheek, and she brushed it away in haste. “I’m sorry.” Sniffling, she snatched her three bags from the cart and scurried toward the exit. “Hey!” I called after her. I exchanged a look of confusion with Marlene before following Jodie to the automatic sliding doors. “Wait! It’s Jodie, right?” She paused, sniffing once more. She looked back at me over her shoulder, eyes red and sorrowful. “Um, can I help you to your car? I really should have double-bagged that one.” I pointed to the bulging bag containing the heavy soups, grasping for an excuse to stall her from leaving.
The tiniest smile crept along the corners of her mouth. Her green eyes brightened beneath the sheen of tears. Relieved, I smiled back. Her next words fell from her lips in a low, quiet tone. “You take care of yourself.” Then she walked out into the cool air.
I stood there perplexed, watching this strange woman escape to the parking lot. Jodie had been a consistent presence in my life for months now, a once-a-week visit in which she spoke no more than a murmured, Thank you. Why did I feel a sudden permanence to her goodbye?
A familiar female voice called out from behind me. “I need a bagger on lane three please!”
I rolled my eyes and flipped around to see my friend Jordyn standing at the other end of the store, hollering into her cupped hands. I glanced at Marlene. My grey-haired co-worker pushed out her lips with a frown, throwing a hand onto her plump hip. I cringed and held up my index finger. “One minute,” I mouthed, and hurried toward Jordyn before she could garner anymore unwanted attention from my employers.
“You know Marlene hates when you stop by, right?” I said to my best friend. She beamed confidence at me with her wide smile, her lips stained in a bright coral that I could never pull off. Though only one-eighth Native American, the tan skin she’d inherited helped her get away with wearing colorful makeup combinations that I would never attempt on my fair skin. Jordyn also relished in the theatrics that I shied away from.
“I’m a paying customer,” she said, grabbing a box of powdered donuts off the shelf. She held them up to make her point, waving wildly at Marlene’s scowling face. Jordyn raised her voice again, like she was hollering at the deaf elderly. “She’s just gonna bag these for me and I’ll be on my way!”
I shook my head at her. “You’re going to get me fired.”
“You’ve got other problems to worry about.” Jordyn put her hands on my shoulders, and spun me around.
“What am I looking at?” I asked, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. Leave it to Jordyn to make me guess, rather than just tell me. She rotated me forty-five degrees.
“Not what. Who.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Past the cashiers. Aisle twelve.”
I loved her to death, but sometimes her games were a bit much. “Jordyn, come on—” I stopped, suddenly very aware of just who she was pointing out to me. I caught a glimpse of his smile first, gleaming brightly against his bronzed skin—a deeper brown than I remembered, and a compliment from his Brazilian mother. I’d almost missed him, hidden behind the cluster of kids clamoring for his attention. But then I heard his laugh, boisterous and infectious. Unique.
And stirring memories I resented.
I crossed my arms over my black apron. “What is Andre Steele doing back in Arizona?”
Jordyn inhaled noisily, letting out her breath as she spoke. “I don’t know, but Brazil sure did a nice number on him.”
I scowled and nudged her with my elbow.
“But we still hate him,” she corrected, giving a nod of solidarity.
“Of course we do.” We watched him disappear down aisle nine with his posse. Another burst of laughter trailed behind him, coupled with giggles from the girls hanging on him and the other guy slapping Andre’s back like they’d never heard someone so funny.
“Then again,” Jordyn added, “Four years can change a person. Maybe he’ll surprise you.”
I stepped away from her, returning to my position at the end of the register. I grabbed the boxes of toothpaste and floss sliding past Marlene and tossed them into a fresh bag. “I never liked his surprises.”

Author Bio:
Erica Kiefer’s debut novel Lingering Echoes was published by Clean Teen Publishing in November 2013. She continued the series with Rumors (A Lingering Echoes Prequel) and her newest release Vanishing Act. All of her books can be read as stand-alone contemporary YA fiction, touched with romance, emotional drama and suspense. With a degree in Recreation Therapy from Brigham Young University, Erica’s experiences working with at-risk youth have influenced the realistic and relatable nature of her writing. Her first inspirational non-fiction entitled Borrowed Angel (published in April 2014 with Currawong Press) describes the loss of her infant son and her journey towards healing.
Married since 2005, Erica resides in Las Vegas, Nevada with her four children and can often be found satisfying her sweet-tooth with chocolate-chip cookies and a glass of milk. Now and then, she dusts off her collegiate rugby skills and dives back into the game.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter

GIVEAWAY!
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Book Blitz: Arabella Park

Arabella Park
Meiling
Publication date: October 1st 2017
Genres: Mystery, Young Adult

Everyone knows that losing friends is a natural part of the high school experience. It’s all a game of musical chairs, really. Yet, what happens when a friend doesn’t intentionally “go ghost” but is abruptly taken away?
Kameron, Grayson, Mikey, Yasmin, and Jenna have been thick as thieves from childhood. Rightfully so—they make up the American minority in the German twin city of Arabella Park. When one of the five suddenly turns up missing, the remaining friends must find a way to bring her back while keeping up the facade of leading ordinary small-town lives.
As they search for their missing friend, they discover things about themselves and one another that will catapult them into an explosive climax and the ultimate revelation of who done it.
A multi-faceted mystery told from the alternating points of view of five friends, Arabella Park brings to life what it means to endure the most frightful, profound time of one’s life—the teenage years—while being stretched to the limits of what it means to be an adult, even a hero.

Goodreads / Amazon / Kobo

—

EXCERPT:

From non-Catholics, Father had often been presented with the question of why it was necessary for the laity to confess their sins to a priest. After all, weren’t priests just sinful men like everyone else?
Father’s rehearsed response to this question usually included scripture passages from James 5 (Confess your sins one to another) and John 20 (If you forgive anyone’s sins, they are forgiven.) Afterward, he’d explain the church’s longstanding tradition of designating holy men to council confessors and thus help them back on the road to holiness.
For those who held the sacrament in such great contempt that this explanation would not suffice, Father would add this to his reply: “Yes, priests are sinful. We, like all other men, must go to confession as well.”
This was the truth of the matter and usually an answer that settled the argument, at least for a time.
Father himself made it a point to go to confession three times a week, though in years past he’d gone nearly every day just to make sure that he had the grace to overcome even venial sins.
Yet, there came a time, some days after he’d heard that certain confession of murder, he was sure that he was in a state of mortal sin.
Thus, he went to visit Father Kaiser at Dom zu Eichstätt, the largest Catholic church in Arabella Park.
Father went smoothly through the beginning ritual of confession with Father Kaiser. It had been a week since his last confession. He stated his smaller sins—watching too much television, failing to say his morning prayers on Wednesday, entertaining an impure thought.
At last, Father reached the Great Sin, the one that had brought him there to begin with. He hesitated, breathed, closed his eyes.
“Are you okay?” asked Father Kaiser after some time.
“Yes,” Father answered. “I have one more sin to confess.”
Father Kaiser was silent, save his easy breathing.
“I’ve done something terrible. I don’t know if I can say it.”
“Don’t worry. Jesus will forgive whatever it is, so long as you confess. You’re in the right place.”
Right. That was right. Jesus could forgive anything, even….
“Murder,” Father said finally. “I am an active accomplice to murder.”

Author Bio:
I've lived the most ordinary life ever. Thus, I write for my own entertainment and hopefully, one day, the entertainment of millions of others. I'm a guitarist/singer/songwriter and above all, a hard worker. (At least, I'd like to think so.) Not sure what other clever thing I could say, so [insert clever line right here.] :-)

Tumblr / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram

GIVEAWAY!
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Book Blitz: Charm -

Charm (A Cinderella reverse fairytale)
J.A. Armitage
(Reverse Fairytales, #1)
Publication date: September 26th 2017
Genres: Fairy Tales, Fantasy, Young Adult

You all know the story of Cinderella…
The kingdom needs an heir and Princess Charmaine is quite aware that the job rests solely upon her shoulders. The problem is, she has no intention of ever getting married, let alone pushing a child out of her ladyparts. When her elder sister dies, Charmaine has to take her place at the ball designed to find her a husband. The problem is, she doesn’t want to choose between a hundred eligible bachelors. She just wants to live her life in peace and find love in her own time.
Cynder knows about the impending war between the people of magic and those of his masters, but working as an underpaid servant in the palace kitchens leaves him with little power to do anything about it. On one hand, he’s a staunch supporter of equal rights for his own kind, but he can’t deny the attraction he feels for the daughter of the king and queen he works for.
When the two meet, sparks fly and not just the magical kind…
Charm is the first in the Reverse Fairytale series by USA Today bestselling author J.A.Armitage. Take everything you think you know about fairytales and turn it on its head.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

Author Bio:
Born in a small town, J.Armitage longed for adventure and travel.
Age 20 she moved to Dublin, then to San Diego, then Sydney and back to California where she did a brief stint working at Universal Studios being a minder to Sponge Bob.
Once back in Britain she got married, had babies and decided to write about the adventure she was now missing out on. She works full time, is a mum to three kids and has had a surrogate baby.
She has skydived twice (and survived), climbed Kilimanjaro and hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon. She has also worked as a professional clown and banana picker amongst other jobs.
Somehow she finds time to write.
Reviews for J.A.Armitage's work.
Endless Winter is a unique story that takes place in a beautiful world. J.A. Armitage's writing is lyrical and almost poetic. Janelle Fila for Readers' Favorite
I devoured this book like a rich box of chocolates. Sara C Roethle
If you'd like to get my books for free, sign up to my mailing list here http://eepurl.com/bDGV7T

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter

GIVEAWAY!
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Book Blitz : Red Dagger

Red Dagger
H.G. Lynch
(Reaper Born, #1)
Publication date: August 24th 2015
Genres: Paranormal, Young Adult

Ruairidh is a Demon Hunter, like his father. But when his father is murdered by a demon he was hunting, Ruairidh must move back to Scotland to live with his mother and brother.
He vows to kill the demon who murdered his father, but he struggles to balance Hunting with college, and his hostile brother makes it clear he wishes Ruairidh had never come back.
Doesn’t help that Ru is falling for the girl his brother is crushing on.
Life is going to get very tricky for Ruairidh, but as long as he has his sword and his wits, he’s ready to take on whatever comes at him.

Goodreads / Amazon

On sale for $1.99 for a limited time only!

The tie-in novella releases the same day – Poison Arrow (A Reaper Born Novella)

—

EXCERPT:

The Catchi loomed up in front of me and grinned, its fangs dripping venom. Then it brought one clawed foot down on my reaching hand, its curved toenails sinking into my wrist, and I cried out in pain. I glared up at it and yanked the hunting knife from the sheath on my thigh, slicing it cleanly through the demon’s calf. It howled and hobbled back as the lower half of its leg hung on by a few threads of muscle. I’d cut through the bone.
Pulling the dismembered foot free of my hand, I tossed it aside and rolled to my feet, blood leaking down my fingers and dripping onto the floor. I knew I had to move fast because Catchi could regenerate limbs – I hadn’t crippled it for long; all I’d done was really piss it off. The neon green blood gushing from its severed leg was already slowing, the stump already knitting flesh to bone and stretching out.
Without waiting for it to heal any more, I lunged while it was still off-balance. I crashed into it at the waist, tackling it to the ground. We skidded along the wreckage-strewn floor and slammed into the wall. The demon scrambled to shove me off, its claws raking my arm, but I ignored the flare of agony and brought my blade down in a vicious arc, ramming it hilt-deep in the demon’s throat. Green blood sprayed over me as I yanked the knife to the side, ripping open the Catchi’s neck.
The monster’s eyes widened, its mouth opening to display brown fangs the length of my pinkie finger, but the only sound that came out was a faint gurgling. Breathing hard, dripping blood – both its and mine – I started to get up, but the demon grabbed my arm, and with one last surge of energy, head-butted me in the stomach. I gasped as I felt the poisonous spikes drive into my gut and stumbled backward, clutching a hand over the wound.
The Catchi went limp, finally dead, but I couldn’t enjoy the success because it had just condemned me to death along with it. “Fuck,” I wheezed, already feeling the venom going to work, the acid eating at my insides.

Author Bio:
H.G. Lynch is a Paranormal Romance author from Scotland. She is an avid reader, and cat-lover. She spends most of her days writing, while wrestling her cat off her laptop. She loves horse-riding, Star Trek, and snow.
Her books are dark paranormal romances.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter

GIVEAWAY!
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Read the 1st Chapter of "The Holtur Enigma"

Many thanks with Cameron for sharing this with us...

Chapter 1

It seemed like a good idea, avoiding the fight while conscripting others. Well, it did until the wagon driver’s insides began to rain down from the sky.
“WYVERN!” one of the merchants screamed, then grasped at the abandoned reins.
Vivian fought back the bile rising in his throat. He saw it all, the grey wyvern that fell from the sky without warning. It appeared similar to the lizards he had seen in his garden, except for the fact that this thing was about six metres long, and that its front claws were supporting large leathery wings. It took the driver of the wagon, raised him into the sky, then released that foul crimson. The white fabric covering the roof and sides of the wagon were now painted with death. It had filled the merchants he rode with—and himself—with fear.
“Shit! That’s Gerald!” The merchant driving the wagon gave Vivian a horrified gaze. “I told you this was suicide!”
“What? You mean that was Gerald?” Vivian appeared terrified for a moment. He then shook his head, flailing his long, black ponytail around, then snapped his attitude back into place. “It’s imperative that we get to Holtur,” he said, pointing onwards with his dusty brown gloves. “If we don’t, you’ll all be consumed by what is coming. Besides, you didn’t seem to mind all that much when I handed you the gold.” Vivian Patressi wasn’t the most confident of men, in fact, many would call him a coward. One thing he could do, however, was inspire others to be brave on his behalf.
“That was a lot of go—” A deep roar blurred out the merchant’s words and drowned out the sound of the wagon. The wyvern had obtained the undivided attention of all on board.
“Maybe this was a bad idea?” Donna’s green eyes grew wide with fear, her soft lips trembling with each word. “Surely we could have waited a few more suns…”
“You want to return to a massacred Silverton?” Vivian scowled at his assistant. “Every sun we allow to pass, is another sun those serpents venture closer to our home. We need to recruit those slayers before it is too late.”
“You won’t be able to recruit anyone if that wyvern consumes you first,” the merchant steering the wagon spoke back. “We should have waited for the frozen suns!”
Vivian shrugged, he didn’t understand what these merchants meant by frozen suns. How could something as hot as a sun possible freeze?
“And she’s entered her blood lust!” A strong looking man, wrapped in an odd cloak, emerged from among the merchants. “Should make this interesting!”
“Interesting?” Donna’s jaw dropped. “How is our impending destruction interesting?”
“Because I, my dear, am a slayer of all things wicked.” the man threw off his dark cloak revealing an arsenal of weapons, then grabbed for a spiked mace. “The name’s Marrozte, I’m a slayer working for the Bristrunstium.”
“Thank Silvaste,” Vivian gave a sigh of relief. He hadn’t really noticed the man before now, and had thought he was just another merchant. They kept to themselves, those merchant types, not really wanting to talk unless it is about gold. Knowing they had a slayer among them filled him with confidence.
“The Bristrunstium?” Donna asked, only to be ignored by the man. He was now climbing his way across the horses that were pulling the wagon.
“Did you do any research on Holtur?” Vivian was annoyed. He had only just been granted an assistant, but clearly he was going to have to mold her to be more useful.
“No, I just figured I’d learn on the road,” she said. The confidence of her youth made him smile.
“The Bristrunstium are a collective that study all variety of creatures and monsters,” Vivian spoke, updating his assistant’s knowledge. His eyes also watching Marrozte swing into action. “The group originated in Holtur, that’s why it is of the utmost importance that we make it there soon. Hopefully they know of the serpents that are attacking the Krone Divide, hopefully they can stop them.”
“Eeyah!” Marrozte called out from atop the lead horse, detaching it from the wagon. “Let’s play, you filthy grey!”
“He’s insane!” one of the merchants called out.
“We have to help him!” Donna looked over the other weapons that were concealed in Marrozte’s cloak.
“It may be best to let him handle it,” Vivian remarked. It didn’t stop his assistant looking through the weapons though. They were all made for close quarter combat, bar a single crossbow. He couldn’t imagine neither Donna nor himself wielding any of those mighty weapons, but that didn’t stop her picking up the crossbow.
“Can someone help me with this thing?” Donna struggled with the weapon.
“Do you even know how to use one of those?” Vivian questioned, helping his assistant pull back the bowstring. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“How hard can it be?” She steadied herself on the rear of their wagon, lifted the crossbow up, and attempted to track the pale grey wyvern. It flew across the grassy plain towards them, clawed wings outstretched, its deep roar vibrating through the air.
The wyvern went to release another roar, but was silenced with something striking at its head. “Haha, you weren’t ready for that now were you brute!” Marrozte laughed, arcing his arm around, preparing to throw another hammer-like projectile at the creature.
“I’ll support you!” Donna called out to the slayer, then released a bolt which flew straight past the creature. “Damn it! Vivian, help me load another!”
“I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be my assistant,” Vivian said, then helped Donna load the crossbow once again. “Do you really think it would have much affect on that wyvern? Surely if it was an effective weapon, Marrozte would have used it himself.”
“It’s better than just hoping we can get away,” Donna said, readying herself once again.
Vivian didn’t quite agree with her, but didn’t argue either. He watched another hammer strike the wyvern. It flapped its wings, swinging itself away from the wagon, its hind claws and tail out in front of itself.
“Time to taste mace, wyvern!” Marrozte taunted with a swirl of his spiked weapon, racing towards the creature that was between him and the wagon.
“Now I’ve got you,” Donna yelled at the wyvern. She looked confident, like she had lined up the perfect shot. She held her breath and begun to squeeze the trigger.
“Brace yourself!” the merchant driving called out. He then ran over something which jolted the wagon.
The bolt had been fired, but not before they had struck whatever it was they hit. Vivian could see that the horse Marrozte was riding had leapt through the air, the wyvern’s hind claws outstretched towards it. The slayer’s arm was arcing down, bringing the steel of his mace to meet the leathery skull of the stone wyvern. All seemed good, until he saw that bolt puncturing Marrozte's chest.
It looked like Marrozte wanted to scream, but blood was all that erupted from his mouth. He still struck the wyvern, but with much less power than required. The talons of the wyvern then clasped around his midsection. The pain would have been unbearable, ending with the wyvern’s jaws detaching his head from his body.
“It has him!” Vivian cried to the driver. “Faster, go faster damn it!”
“We can’t go any faster!” the merchant screamed back. “We’re down a horse, remember?”
“I’m sorry…” Donna threw down the crossbow, her eyes beginning to well up. “It’s my fault, I wish I could use that thing better…”
“It’s not your fault,” Vivian assured his assistant. Even though it was her fault, if she hadn’t picked up the crossbow, she wouldn’t have hit the slayer. He was frustrated about that, but scolding her now would do no good. He had also assumed, that the fearful merchants didn’t witness the consequence of Donna’s actions, best to keep it that way too. “The wyvern bested him. You can’t blame yourself for that. It’s not your fault that you aren’t proficient in a field that you haven’t devoted your life too.”
“Sure…” she responded.
“How far from Holtur are we now?” Vivian questioned the merchant. “Can we get there before this wyvern consumes everyone in the wagon?”
“I doubt it…” The merchant’s face was emotionless, like he had come to terms with what was happening. “We aren’t all that far, but still not close enough. All I can recommend is that you pray to your gods, only they can help you now.”
“It seems to be leaving us alone?” Donna wiped her face dry, using the sleeve of her brown dress. “Could it be done with us now?”
“Wyverns aren’t like you and I,” the merchant said, “the more they eat, the more hungry they become. Once it has consumed Marrozte, it will be back for the rest of us.”
“When do you think it will come after us again?” Vivian nervously scratched at his long black hair, unintentionally pulling out strands from his ponytail.
A deep roar echoed off the nearby hills, indicating the wyvern’s mouth was free of flesh. “About now,” the merchant spoke in a dry tone, then whipped at the reins.
Donna grabbed the weapon. “Help me load this damn thing! Worst case scenario, nothing changes.”
“Let’s work for a best case scenario!” Vivian pulled the bowstring back. He then looked to the merchants, all huddled in the back corner of the wagon. “Can any of you aim a crossbow at all?”
“I had a cousin who was a top archer,” said a fat merchant with sweaty butterfingers while placing his hand in the air. “I could try.”
“I think I might take the shot thanks.” Donna moved over to the rear of the wagon and set herself up. “I can’t see it…”
Another deep roar echoed from the mountains ahead of them. “It must be ahead of us.” Vivian swiftly turned towards the front of the wagon, swinging his long khaki coat as he moved.
“No,” the driver argued, “these hills play tricks on you, there is no way it could have moved ahead of us.”
The wyvern released another roar, much louder this time. “I can’t see it anywhere,” Donna screamed hysterically, waving the loaded crossbow around in a frightened frenzy.
“Keep looking!” Vivian urged, his brown eyes flickering in all directions, seeking out the creature that was toying with them.
A deafening roar boomed through the entire wagon, forcing the crew to cover their ears. The vibrations intensified, and it was apparent that the wyvern was incredibly close.
With the roar completed, Donna readied the crossbow once more. “It’s here!” she screamed as the creature appeared right beside them. She wildly fired the bolt, but it just bounced off its grey leathery hide. The wyvern gazed at her, then swooped towards them, crashing into wagon.
Gravity seemed to lose its hold over everyone, and the wagon was flung from the muddy tracks. It continued to tumble and twist, snapping and crunching, while it rolled across the ground.

***

“Vivian, breakfast is ready,” a sweet and familiar voice called out.
Vivian shot up, almost leaping out from the soft feather down bed he had been resting in. “The wyvern attack, it was just a bad dream,” he mumbled to himself, then patted his body down, making sure he wasn’t injured. “All these stories about monsters… I need to distance myself from those damn scholars at the tower.”
“It’s going to be cold by the time you get down here!” A splash of urgency melded with the soft, loving voice.
“I’m coming!” Vivian called back, then raced down the stairs of his home.
“Good early sun Daddy,” a small girl said. She intercepted him, reaching out with her two stubby arms. “I love you!”
“I love you too Dandy.” He embraced his daughter, carrying her through the house. “Good early sun Sal, smells amazing in here!” Vivian kissed his wife on the cheek, then sat down at a wooden table in their dining room.
“Are you ok? It’s not often you sleep in so late!” Sally placed a plate of fish and bread in front of him. “Especially on a working sun!”
“I’m fine, really.” Vivian pulled some fish flesh off with the bread. “How about you two beautiful girls, everything been running smoothly here at home?”
Sally looked sideways at him. “Of course they are, why wouldn’t they be?”
“I’m a princess daddy!” Dandy called out to her father. She had a pink hat upon her head and was waving her hands in an odd manner. “Look at me!”
“Yes dear, you’re a princess.” Vivian smiled, but couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Come on Vivian, what’s going on?” Sally continued to nag. “You adore Dandy, but you’re barely giving her any attention this sun.”
“Ugh,” Vivian sighed. “It’s just all this monster stuff that’s been going on. These serpents attacking Cape Krone have my supervisors on edge, they want me to push conscription to further reaches.”
“What serpents dear?” Sally tilted her head to the side. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“I told you before didn’t I?” Vivian rubbed his face in confusion. “Are you sure I didn’t tell you?”
“What’s the matter Vivian?” Sally’s lovely voice began to sound croaky. She tilted her head, almost ninety degrees then repeated herself. “What’s the matter?”
“Ugh…” Vivian’s thoughts became clouded, he suddenly felt incredibly confused and overwhelmed. “I don’t know…”
“What’s the matter Daddy?” Dandy spoke in a mature voice.
Something turned the sky outside their windows black. With a thunderous boom, dark serpents began launching themselves into their house, breaking through the windows, while screeching loudly. Vivian began to panic, looking around, but being unable to move. He was frozen with fear. He looked at his wife and daughter, who stared straight back, asking in unison. “What’s the matter?” The table began to rumble, then they both released a bloodcurdling roar.

***

That deafening roar reverberated through Vivian’s body, pulling him out from his dream-like state. “A bad dream?” Vivian attempted to sit up out of his bed, discovering that this time, he was in the wreck of the wagon he had been travelling in. In an instant, everything came back to him; the threat of the serpents, travelling so far south of Silverton, and being attacked by that damn wyvern.
He pulled himself through some torn white cloth that covered his body, realising the wreck of the wagon had scattered over quite a distance. He couldn’t see the horses, which he assumed must have bolted or been eaten. He also couldn’t see anyone else he had been travelling with.
Vivian looked down over his body. Fortunately, despite the damage done to the wagon, he had managed to survive the crash with little more than a few scratches, grazes, and a pounding headache.
“Leave me alone!” Donna screamed from a distance.
“Donna…” Vivian pulled the last pieces of wrecked wagon off himself and began moving towards the source of her voice. He didn’t call out to her, gaining the attention of the wyvern was certainly something he could do without, but he also didn’t want any harm coming to his assistant.
“Go away!” Donna yelled out.
Vivian caught a glimpse of what was scaring his assistant, it appeared as though a white furry animal, not much taller than a man, had taken a liking to her. He hadn’t seen, nor heard of such a creature before, so approached quietly, hoping not to startle it. He reached for a large twin bladed axe that was wedged into the ground, then began to pull on it. It was stuck in the mud tight, but he managed to pull it out, falling to his butt as it came loose.
“Shit!” Vivian swore, gaining the attention of the furry animal. It roared as it turned around, a wretched noise, but nothing compared to the booming of the wyvern that took out their wagon.
 With the axe in his hand, he stood up and looked at the creature, realising it was much more intimidating than he had expected. From the front, the creature appeared almost human-like, only more masculine, really masculine. The muscles on its chest burst out from the shaggy white fur. Its face appeared almost rodent-like, with long white ears, and blood red eyes.
“Help me Vivian!” Donna cried out.
“What am I sup—” the creature screeched and turned away from Vivian who was fumbling with the axe. It then grabbed Donna, throwing her over its shoulder, and quickly disappeared into the trees at the base of the hills, “—posed to do?”
Donna continued to scream. Vivian felt terrible, having no idea what that thing was going to do to her, but there was nothing he could do about it. He was as far from being a slayer as one could be. The creature was fast, Donna continued screaming, but it didn’t take long for her voice to fade from ear’s reach.
“Is anyone else still alive?” Vivian called out across the wreckage of his previous transport. He waited a few moments, but no one stirred. “Damn… I really didn’t think we’d come all this way just for this to happen.”
He slung the heavy axe over his shoulder and began to walk back up to the road they had been following. He looked back in the direction they came from, back towards Silverton that was oh so far away. Looking straight ahead, he wondered if he could help Donna. She had been taken into the mess of trees at the base of some hills. He then turned his head in the direction they were originally travelling, towards Holtur. It was the place he was told that he’d find the help his home needed. Surely the people of Holtur could help save Donna too.
Vivian sighed, then continued down the path towards Holtur. He assumed it would be at least ten kilometres until he reached his destination. If the wyvern—or the bunny-bear—was to return for him though, there’d be no chance he would make it there alive.
He thought of all the reasons he was doing this, for his wife and daughter, and to stop those damn serpents from destroying everything he held dear. He had to succeed in his mission, there was no option for failure. He held his head high and continued onto Holtur, his speed increasing with the sound of the wyvern roaring in the distance.
The journey to Holtur was almost over, but little did Vivian realise, he may not return from this place alive.

The Book 

Title: The Holtur Enigma

Author: Cameron W. Smith

Blurb: The monsters you fear are nothing compared to the ones you do not.
With the threat of a monstrous army arising, Vivian has set off towards the town of Holtur. His job is to conscript the toughest men he can find, in a location known for producing some of the best monster slayers around. However, Holtur has its own issues, and helping this stranger is far from a priority.
Will Vivian convince the people of Holtur to help his cause? Or will he fall victim to the beasts, wyverns, or horrors that surround the town? It doesn’t take long for him to discover that he was nowhere near prepared for this godforsaken land.
Sticking to his action packed style of writing, Cameron Wayne Smith merges horror elements into his fantasy world, bringing you The Holtur Enigma.

 Free on Amazon

Read more about the book: HERE

Spotlight On: Ewan Pendle and the White Wraith - Read an excerpt

Spotlight On:

Ewan Pendle and the White Wraith

Title: Ewan Pendle and the White Wraith
Author: Shaun Hume
Blurb:Ewan Pendle was weird. Really weird. At least, that's what everyone told him. Then again, being able to see monsters that no one else could wasn't exactly normal.
Thinking he has been moved off to live with his eleventh foster family, Ewan is instead told he is a Lenitnes, one of an ancient race of peoples who can alone see the real Creatures that inhabit the earth. He is taken in by Enola, the mysterious sword carrying Grand Master of Firedrake Lyceum, a labyrinth of halls and rooms in the middle of London where other children, just like him, go to learn the ways of the Creatures.

 Buy on Amazon 

- Excerpt - 

Sleep was a restless affair for Ewan. The thought that he had to get up extra early and, therefore, had to fall asleep as quickly as possible in order to get a decent amount of shuteye, only kept him awake for longer. When Max’s snoring started, he didn’t think he would get any rest at all.

In the early hours of the morning, when sleep finally did come, it was anything but peaceful. Ewan was visited by dreams of wide open green fields with a singular white blurry figure set on the pristine horizon. Every time Ewan tried to get closer to the figure and see who, or indeed what, it was, it would only get blurrier until it finally disappeared altogether and turned into a wisp of smoke that then became a massive and monstrous pale cloud, dominating the sky above him.

‘Ewan … Ewan.’ Blown over by a mighty gust of wind, Ewan tumbled to the ground. A voice was demanding he get up and follow the cloud as it shot across the sky like a floating city.

‘Ewan – Pendle!’ Ewan woke suddenly to see a wide and shimmering head glaring down at him through the darkness. It was Moham. ‘On your feet,’ he said in the quietest voice Ewan had ever heard him utter. Although his voice was dim, it carried with it no less foreboding of what the result would be if its request was not immediately carried out.

‘Pain Yard – five minutes,’ said Moham, then turning and walking away.

Ewan dressed as quickly as he could and then tiptoed past all of the other snoozing cadets and out of the dormitory. A few smouldering embers in the gigantic fireplace puffed sympathetically as he crossed the darkened common room. The empty corridors of Firedrake were still asleep too, and Ewan did his best not to wake them as he tried to achieve a balance between speed and silence. He thought with a little shudder that right now Betony could have probably sneaked up on him and snapped his neck before he had even known that he was no longer alone.

As he stepped outside a few minutes later, the chill early morning air bit at Ewan’s face and neck like a million tiny flies, all of them trying to take the largest chunk or leave the most painful mark as they nibbled at his skin. Moham was standing in the centre of Pain Yard, curiously staring up at the peach coloured sky. Ewan approached him slowly, but the tall Master did not unclench the grip his singular visible dark eye had on the brightening sky until Ewan was close enough to touch him.

‘Laps,’ said Moham in a low voice. Ewan complied immediately.

As Ewan set out on his first lap of the long and wide rectangular Pain Yard, he bent his eyes towards the high walls of the Lyceum, there being nothing else but sand and Moham in the Yard itself to look at. For the first half a dozen floors or so, all four walls that frowned down onto the Yard were the same height. But after this the roofs were mismatched and the tiles and gutters chased each other up and down and in all directions. 

Firedrake Lyceum was slowly waking, the tips of its highest flat glass eyes blinking and glinting in the sun.

Ewan knew that the widows in the boy’s Grade One dormitory looked down onto the Yard, but he had no idea that the girl’s did too. Casting a wistful look up in the direction of his bed and the beds of the other sleeping Grade One cadets, Ewan spotted someone waving to him from a long and thin window set into the honey coloured stone of the Lyceum, like a shiny welt on rough skin.

Ewan focused his sharp hazel eyes.

Mathilde was sitting on what must have been the wide inside sill of one of the windows of the girl’s dormitory. Still in her pyjamas and cross legged, she offered a vehement wave and a wide smile that Ewan couldn’t quite make out but was still sure was there. Suddenly the wind didn’t seem so fierce, the barked instructions from Moham for him to lift his knees didn’t thump against his eardrums so thickly, and Ewan picked up his pace.

For a whole hour Moham made Ewan run, and for that whole hour Mathilde sat and watched, offering another short wave every time he looked up. It was strange that the thought which came to Ewan so clearly now had only just arrived, because he had been through a lot already with Mathilde and Enid. But as he lifted his head back up for his regular once-every-five-minute look towards the high windows of the dormitories, something warm trickled down Ewan’s throat, settling itself in his stomach and welling up like a bowl being slowly filled with warm soup.

This, Ewan thought, must be what it feels like to have friends.

 

Book blitz: Tantric

Tantric
Tricia Barr
(The Bound Ones, #2)
Publication date: July 1st 2017
Genres: Paranormal, Young Adult

The Four Corners have been defeated, and Phoenyx and her friends are free…or so they thought.

Lily has been taken, and Phoenyx and the others have five days to save her, and themselves. But Phoenyx has a new friend, Ayanna, who has the power to bring back the memories from all of Phoenyx’s past lives. The knowledge that is unlocked sends the Bound Ones on a several-millennia-long journey for an ancient artifact that might free them once and for all. Can they find it in five days, or will they all face death once again?

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

Haunting black ashes covered the floor, echoing the horror that had happened in this once holy place. The smell of burnt flesh still hung in the air, even though it had been weeks since the incident.

Vincent Mallick was a handsome and sturdy man of fifty-seven years, with salt and pepper hair thinned slightly by age. The skin on his face was a map of the interesting life he had lived as a member of the High Council of the Four Corners, the ancient society to which he had devoted most of his life. But nothing in all his years with the society could prepare him for the horrifying sight before him, or its implications.

The ritual to remove the Elements from their vessels and place them into a new one took place three weeks ago. Vincent had been in the Headquarters in Prague with the rest of the High Council, awaiting word of victory after centuries of research and hunting. But no communication had come from any of the members. Out of clemency, the Council waited three days, and then out of fear, waited seven more, too afraid of what the silence meant. Finally, they sent Vincent to inspect.

“Mr. Mallick,” one of the young male members hailed. “What should we do about him?”

Vincent Mallick turned to see the boy kneeling over the stiff, motionless body of Dexter Mauldiv, his former apprentice. He had raised Dexter from boyhood after his parents, both loyal members, died in an earthquake—one of Earth’s most destructive calamaties. Dexter had been given the best tutelage the society could offer and was the epitome of all the Four Corners stood for. And now he was nothing.

“Oh, my poor boy,” Vincent sighed, coming to kneel beside his beloved protégé.

Dexter’s body was pallid and shriveled, seemingly lifeless, but his skin was warm and his pulse betrayed that he was indeed alive, but only just. His lips were cracked and dry, his skin the color and thickness of one extremely malnourished. He had obviously not eaten nor drunk in a long time. That he was still alive as a miracle. His face was expressionless and unresponsive, as though he was unaware that any of them were there at all; but his eyes, which were wide open, were the eyes of one screaming on the inside.

“Dexter?” Vincent said, shaking his shoulders.

Dexter still did not react. His eyes didn’t appear to be looking at anything at all. He was but a shell of himself. What had been done to him?

“Sir?” the boy next to him asked.

Vincent was deeply shaken, but he snapped back to business easily. “Uh, yes, put him on one of the stretchers and get him to a physician,” Vincent instructed. “Show me the surveillance tapes, I want to see what happened here.”

The boy nodded and the five other members did as they were told. Vincent watched as Dexter’s helpless body was lifted up onto the stretcher and taken away. Dexter was supposed to be their answer, their salvation. He had been the perfect choice. Of course, Vincent, in his old age could not take on the task, for he would likely die before they could accomplish any of their goals with the power they sought to take from the Bound Ones. But if Vincent could not do it, Dexter was the obvious second choice to be the new vessel. Dexter, whom Vincent had raised and groomed to be the Four Corners’ Grand Master, the apple of the High Councils’ eyes… No longer.

Once Dexter’s body had been safely removed, Vincent followed two of the members to the security room to watch the video feed. Since no one had been here since that day to operate the equipment, the video from that day was the most recent. They didn’t have to rewind very far. In the fuzziness of rewinding, Vincent caught sight of a terrifying image on the screen.

“Stop!” he said. “That’s it.”

The operator pressed play, and all drew in to watch the video.

They were watching the beginning of the ritual. Four young people were strapped to the stretchers as hooded figures all around them chanted. The electrocution began and the prisoners began to writhe and cry out. It all looked good so far. But wait! The orange-haired girl in the bottom right stretcher wailed loudly and angrily, and suddenly, to Vincent’s horror, all of his faithful brethren ignited from within and burned until they were nothing but ashes settling to the floor. Vincent covered his mouth in shock. He wanted to look away but he could not, for Dexter had been spared Fire’s wrath. The orange-haired girl’s restraints singed away and she was approaching Dexter, whose flight attempts were thwarted by suddenly appearing walls of flame. The orange-haired girl reached out to grab Dexter, and then he fell backward, in the exact same position in which they found him.

Vincent cleared his throat of the emotions that tightened and dried it, then said, “Can you roll that back and play the audio? I must know what she did to him.”

The operator rewound it and turned up the volume.

“You will never speak again,” the orange-haired girl said to Dexter with a voice filled with hatred. “You will never move again. You will see nothing and you will hear nothing for the rest of your life. You will be a shell of your despicable self, and you will have to suffer for the rest of your days with the shame and guilt of what a terrible person you are until it eats you alive.”

The video played on, but Vincent saw nothing else. Amazing the power Fire wielded. Amazing and petrifying, quite literally. She had to be stopped. This was exactly why the Four Corners needed to release the Bound Ones and reclaim the power they had given them. Powers such as these should not be in the hands of ignorant, whimsical children. It was only by chance that the Bound Ones had never developed their powers to use them against the world in all their history. The Four Corners had to act now before the Bound Ones used their powers in the modern age.

“The Bound Ones know of their powers now,” Vincent said to his pupils. “We cannot allow this. Remove the artifacts—the dagger, the necklace, everything. They’re no longer safe here.”

Author Bio:

Tricia Barr is a Professional Engineer and award-winning author. Her novel WYNDE earned a Gold Medal in the 2014 Independent Publisher Awards for Best Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Horror e-Book. She co-authored DK Publishing’s ULTIMATE STAR WARS (2015), which compiled all canon material moving forward prior to the release of “The Force Awakens.,” followed by the new STAR WARS: THE VISUAL ENCYCLOPEDIA (2017), which includes content from “Rogue One.” An expert on storytelling, Barr pens a regular series on the Hero’s Journey for the print publication Star Wars Insider magazine. She founded the respected website FANgirl Blog, and her writing can be found on a variety of websites, including Lucasfilm’s StarWars.com, and PopSugar, and Random House’s SUVUDU. She provided editorial services on Del Rey’s STAR WARS: THE ESSENTIAL READER’S COMPANION (2012).

Tricia Barr is an accomplished podcaster, co-hosting the popular Star Wars podcasts Fangirls Going Rogue and Hyperspace Theories. In her spare time, she competes as an amateur equestrian, earning top ten spots three times in national finals.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter

GIVEAWAY!
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Book Blitz: Darkest Days

Darkest Days
N W Harris
(The Last Orphans, #4)
Publication date: May 22nd 2017
Genres: Post-Apocalyptic, Science Fiction, Young Adult

The ancient slave mongers who killed the adults and enslaved the children have angered a more advanced species of aliens. Composed of pure energy, this superior race has attacked the Anunnaki home world and is now setting a course for Earth.
The energy-based aliens believe in a system of trial by battle. They seek to push Shane and his friends into the arena with the ones who killed their parents. The results will determine if humans deserve to live, or if they should be made extinct as well. It’s up to Shane to keep his friends—and an army of kids who look up to him—alive. They’ll be fighting not just for their own lives, but for the fate of the entire human race. Can the enemy of Shane’s enemy be his friend, or is this just another species determined to exploit and destroy them?

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Smashwords

—

GUEST POST BY N.W. HARRIS:

What would I tell a new author?

What to tell a new author, hmmm… There is so much to tell, though every writer’s journey is different. First off, I’d tell them to write for themselves. If one writes just to get published and make money, I think they’ll go mad and/or quit before they ever get close. Why? It takes years to polish one’s craft enough to be published by a creditable publisher. I think writing has to be looked at as a hobby that could become a career. A writer has to want to write because there is something that is inside them that needs to get out. Write for a creative outlet. Write like it doesn’t matter if anyone besides you ever reads it. Write almost everyday, but it is important to take days off too.
Much of the education for the profession comes from practical experience. Sure, a writer draws from their experiences and traditional education. My educational background is mostly based in science, biology and anthropology, and it provides a volume of information to draw upon. But, I had to learn the craft of writing by trial and error. Every writer has to find his or her voice. That can take years, and it can only be discovered by hard work.
I’d tell them to persist. It’s my favorite word. You have to write a novel. Destroy it. Rewrite it. Invest countless hours and sometimes even years. Then you have to be willing to let all that work go because it was just the classroom where you polished your craft. You have to swallow rejection after rejection and keep fighting. When you get criticism, you have to listen to it. I’m not saying a budding writer should try to oblige every critic, but growth is critical and growth comes from taking in criticism. Deal with any pain it might cause quickly, and then get into the game again by applying what you’ve learned.

Author Bio:
Born at the end of the Vietnam war and raised on a horse farm near small town north Georgia, his imagination evolved under the swaying pines surrounding his family’s log home. On summer days that were too hot, winter days that were too cold, and every night into the wee morning hours, he read books. He lives in sunny southern California with his beautiful wife and two perfect children.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter

GIVEAWAY!
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Excerpt: The Unforgiven

Excerpt

When the piles of deadwood reached halfway up the trunk, Cian stood up. He lifted my chain. “Van. It’s time.

I glanced at the sun. It hovered over the mountain peaks, its bright rays of gold, orange, pink and rose-blush streaking eastward as though yearning for the dawn. As you love me, your lordships, I prayed silently. As you love her, help me through this.

I offered no fight as Cian and Kado untied my hands only to retie them behind the stout, dried trunk of the old oak. Just more tinder to catch hold. I gazed down at the pile that shifted uneasily beneath my feet. I leaned my head back against the bark and shut my eyes. Focus, damn it. Focus.

Concentrating, I slowed my breathing, my heartbeat. I focused on my sword. If you’re there, I said, deep within my mind, I need you now. Slowly, too slowly, I sank deeper into a trance. Only by casting out all distractions might I call upon the sword’s power. As it lay outside my own, perhaps it was not constrained by the cold pewter collar around my neck.

“May you be reborn in Paradise,” Cian called, safely returned to the ground with Kado in tow.

His voice broke my infant trance. Frantic to reclaim it, I felt it slip from my grasp. I heard a torch lit with a whoosh, scented its smoky flame. I knew someone, probably Yestin, handed it with devout ceremony to Cian.

Down, I thought, my mind fogged, sluggish. Down, deep and down.

The trance hovered at the threshold of my mind, calling to me.

At my feet, flames licked the dry wood and found it palatable. Heat rose to warm my body, and smoke teased my nostrils, burned my eyelids. Ignore it, my mind whispered. Ignore it and control thy fear. Fear is your enemy. Make it your ally.

Dropping deeper into a trance, I called to my own blood, captured deep within the sword. Hear me. Feel me. I am yours and you are mine.

I hear, the sword hissed in reply. I obey.

The flames rose higher, hungry, feeding on the dry wood. I needed no eyes to witness Cian fall back, shading his brow against the terrible heat. I saw within my mind his companions curse in dreadful fascination as they stumbled into one another, seizing arms, tripping over themselves in their haste to escape the licking fires of hell.

Sweat burst from my pores only to dry an instant later under the searing heat. The pain from my busted ribs felt as naught to the savage terror that filled my soul, my heart. The trance slid back, panic emerging, my throat raw and ready to scream. I’m going to die!

Not yet.

The sword’s power caught my mind, my heart. I saw through its empty eyes, felt its calm regard, listened to its silent voice. It knew me. I knew it. Like lovers reunited after a long absence, we rushed toward each other. We collided like twin moons in the aether, sparks and smoke erupting in showers. I now owned its absolute power, the kind of power the gods themselves outlawed eons ago.

Break it.

Hot, lethal flames surged upward, licking my knees, straining toward my thighs. Raging hot flame climbed up my body, burning, destroying. I knew, distantly, my boots had melted and only my feet smoldered, not quite burning.

Break it!

I sharpened my mind and focused my will. Now!

With the sound of six-inch thick ice breaking, the collar about my neck shattered. As though hit with a divine hammer, it dropped into hundreds of pieces, into the licking flames, gone. My power roared through me, restored, my birthright. The agony of my injuries receded as the new flood of adrenaline forced it to the sidelines.

In a blink, I was airborne. The ropes that once bound my hands dropped to the flames, consumed. My falcon’s small form rose high into the violent colors of the sunset, my screech of triumph breaking across the sound of crackling flames and the scent of burning wood. My wings forced the dark smoke into roiling behind my tail, coiling like deadly serpents before the light evening breeze set it adrift. I soared high and free, climbing into the dusk.

“No!” Cian screamed, his voice echoing through the mountains.

Finish it. The soft voice whispered in my ear.

Yes. Let’s finish it. If I don’t kill him now, I’ll never be free of him or his vengeance. It’s time he met the true Zeani.

Folding my wings, I dropped like a stone. Straight toward the hot fires he set, the death he planned for me, I aimed my raptor’s beak. The wind whistled past my ears, rustled through my tail feathers. My keen eyes saw him, far below, watching the skies for me, his mouth open in a howl of despair. His boys flanked him, watching the sky, the wood, the mountain, huddled together like sheep before the onset of a storm. They feared me. They were right to fear me.

I was always the best. I won every contest. I defeated every prior champion. I could change forms on a pinfeather and slay with the fangs of a tiger before my enemy knew what killed him. My enemies feared me. My friends wished they could be me. No one ever bested me in a fight. I didn’t intend to lose now.

A rod from the ground, I changed.

Striking the ground in my human shape, sword in hand, I charged. From the darkness I rose, unseen. They searched the skies as I dropped among them. My first strike took Kado across the face, splitting his mouth from ear to ear. He smiled as he pointed his arrow at my knee. Then let’s permit him to smile forevermore.

His scream of agony alerted the others and they broke apart in panic. Cian yelled and seized steel, bellowing orders his men didn’t heed. Darkness hadn’t yet fallen completely, and the firelight glinted off our bared blades. Only the first stars twinkled from the heavens, and I half-wondered if Zeani watched from afar and hoped her lover would win this bout.

As Yestin and Tris reached Kado to succor his injury, Cian and I met. Our swords rang against one another, slithering in a shiver of sparks as I fought to kill him and he fought not to die. His fear worked against him just as my rage worked for me. I parried his amateur stroke and feinted a blow to his left. When he swung to block it, I lunged in, under his blade, to his right. The tip of my sword cut his thigh near the groin. Not close to his femoral, but enough that his leg buckled under him. I feinted again, striking close to his head. He ducked, parried and responded with a quick cut to my belly.

I jumped back easily, avoiding his blade and slashed downward and sideways. His sword swung hard left, harmless, leaving his right shoulder exposed. I cut backward, slicing through tough muscle and tendon.

His sword clanged to the ground as he staggered, blood gushing from two wounds. As desperate as he was, I expected him to change, to shift into a new body. His favorite form was the fox: swift, clever, and nimble. As a quick predator, he might escape my blade and my wrath. Instead, Cian cried aloud, screaming names, calling for reinforcements. “Broc! Yestin! Help me! Help!”

Finish it.

I swung my blade hard, from left to right, across his throat. Blood fountained high, spattering into the growing darkness. He stood still, his eyes wide and staring. What the hell? I know I killed him. Still he stood, gaping at me in astonishment. His mouth worked. His eyes bulged in his head. The scar across his cheek paled to a dim pink as the blood drained from his flesh. Damn it, why aren’t you dead? I tilted my head sideways, considering. A swift glance downward showed me a clean blade glinting in the bright firelight.

Uh, did I kill him or didn’t I?

“Van,” he mumbled, his lips moving slowly. “For–forgive me.”

Oh, bloody unlikely. I lowered my sword and watched in casual amusement as his head slowly, like a mountain collapsing, tilted sideways. Only a thin thread of flesh that my sword missed kept his head on his neck. Then it split, torn, as Cian’s head fell to the tundra and rolled, over and over, bumping his nose, to rest near my bare feet.

His body slumped to the stony soil, bleeding out from his empty neck, pooling in thick clots amid the thin grass and fallen pine needles. I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat. I killed a member of my own family. He was my kin, a Clansman, after all. But he sent my girl into the hands of a murdering prince with all the thought of ordering his next round of ale. For that, I kicked his head into the rushing river.

“You killed him,” Tris said, his tone low with awe and disbelief.

Broc, Yestin and Drust slowly rose from a still groaning Kado and stepped on light, cautious feet toward me. Zorn ran in, nocking an arrow to his bowstring, raising it, aiming. Their bared swords gleamed in the firelight as they circled me round, their eyes glowing redly. Spinning my sword in a tight circle, I raised my free hand toward them, grinning faintly.

I lowered my face and spat on Cian’s still twitching corpse. “I reckon you boys want to join your master, eh? C’mon, then. Let’s dance.”

Drust rushed me first, yelling for all he was worth, his sword raised. I lifted mine, braced to meet him head on. Instead, something from the near darkness seized him by the shoulders and yanked him high. His despairing scream of agony and terror trailed down to me at the same instant his sword clanked to the ground at my feet.

What the–

Zorn’s arrow whistled past my head as Drust’s flayed body, his skull crushed beyond recognition, fell to the ground behind me. I whirled to defend my rear. I saw nothing to defend against, yet the hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention. Blood poured from the myriad cuts and slices to his body, his neck half severed. His slowly glazing eyes stared at me, accusing. You did this.
No, I swear, I didn’t.

Tris rushed me, his eyes bugging with not just fear but outright terror. His sword swung so wildly, all I needed do to avoid it was step aside. I never bothered to raise my own. He staggered past me–and screamed. Something huge and darkly shadowed lifted him from the ground and hugged him close. I heard his bones snap as his ribs and spine gave in, his last breaths of life broken with bubbles of blood.

Thudding hooves warned me in time.

Spinning, my sword high and my body low, my narrowed vision watched as a huge dark creature galloped into the firelight. The red-orange flames glistened off black hair, black hide, a rayed star high above with gold gleaming around his throat. Moon and fire licked off a raised sword, but the creature’s face dropped my sword’s tip to the dirt. Oh, no way, this isn’t right, this isn’t happening–

About the Book

When the moon and the sun

Are joined as one, 

From tears of strife, from the bitter ashes,

From sorrow and from rage 

That what was once parted 

Shall again be one.

First Captain Vanyar: Disgraced. Outlawed. Haunted by the chilling murder of his own men, he is consumed by guilt and knows he can never find redemption for his crimes. The most talented Shape-Shifter ever born, only he can save Princess Iyumi from a Witch's evil, and help her find the child of prophecy. But his Atani brothers, seeking justice for the slaying of Vanyar's unit, plan his private execution against the King's orders.

Princess Iyumi: She is the legendary "She Who Hears", the voice of the gods, and the gods' chosen tool. Only she knows where to find the child spoken of in the ancient prophecy, the child who will unite two feuding countries and protect the world of magic from obliteration. Caught between two warring men, only her love is hers to give, to offer to the only man she ever wanted.

Prince Flynn: Despised by his own people, cruelly abused by his father, he fights to hide his magical gifts from those who would slay him for possessing them. By blood and by fire, he gains a terrible power, and condemns his own soul. He must find Princess Iyumi and the child, and bring them to his father's mistress, the Red Witch. Or the only people who ever mattered to him, his mother and his sister, will die.