• My Review of Kristens NEW Nocturne Falls Story Miss Frost Solves a Cold Case!

    Welcome to Nocturne Falls, the town where Halloween is celebrated 365 days a year.

  • Possessed by a Dark Warrior Felicity Heaton

    A Cover Revel of Book 9 from Felicity's aweome supernatural series! don't miss out on these!

  • A Release Day Blitz of The One by Danielle Allen

    Read all about Danielle Allen's new book!

  • A Review of Winter Moon by C.D. Gorri

    A Review of Winter Moon and the Buy links for the books as well as a look at the previous 3 books!

28 Feb 2014

WW4BB & BN Presents: A Book Nerd Book Blast of Blackness takes Over by Norma Jeanne Karlsson

Posted by Amanda Masters on 5:51:00 am





Synopsis 

Shannon Kelly’s life has been anything but typical.
Her life has been altered viciously at the hands of others twice.

However horrible they have been, it’s these changes that have given her a family and career…now possibly love.
The last thirteen years she has been supported and loved by her protector, her entertainer, and her comforter, but never a lover.

When Dylan Kellerman enters Shannon’s life he changes its course in more ways than one.
He gives her hope and promise of a future she was convinced wasn’t attainable.

Just as she begins to believe she has finally turned her life into something she can build a future on…blackness takes over. 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR 


Blackness Takes Over is Norma Jeanne’s debut novel. What began as an homage to the home town of a homesick Midwestern girl, unfolded a story of love, danger, humor, and trust. She’s currently working on her untitled sophomore effort. We can’t wait to see what thrilling saga she leads us through next!

Originally from Kansas City, Missouri, Norma Jeanne recently found herself relocating to the United Kingdom. Now living in Belfast, she took hold of the opportunity to kick the 9-5 job for a chance to become an author. The best part: working from her home office, she gets to spend more time with her cast of crazy characters (written and real).

In her free time Norma Jeanne is a voracious reader and consumes books as readily as meals. She is a people watcher by nature and uses her experiences in life, observed or otherwise, to build the worlds and characters that thrive in her books. A believer in the strength of the human spirit, Norma Jeanne writes the stories of people that persevere when all appears to be lost.

“Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” –Dylan Thomas 

Giveaway 

International. | Must be 13+ to Enter 

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WW4BB & RABT Presents: See A PROMO Blitz By Jamie Magee

Posted by Amanda Masters on 5:48:00 am

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See - PROMO BlitzBy Jamie Magee

YA/NA Crossover Paranormal
Date Published:  May 2012


Forgetting who you are, your ambitions, your lover is crippling. Remembering, embracing your purpose with a new sense of determination is more than empowering. It's soul seizing. Charlie Myers is embarking on a life-altering path that will cause the damned to humble in silence…

One night, just a few friends how could it go so wrong? That was the question Charlie was asking herself when she awoke in the ER. Outwardly nothing was wrong with Charlie, she was a vision of perfect health, but Charlie knew something else was wrong, wickedly wrong. That fearful notion became even more gripping when her mind began to parade haunting visions of entrancing emerald green eyes, laced in black, before her. When she felt a hole in her heart, when the music she drowned her fears in began to amplify the ache in her soul, and caused her to crave an embrace she thought she never knew.

Charlie knew then that part of her was stolen. She was missing memories. Those memories were sacred. They held the key to her sanity. They told her that the sinister whispers, and the shadows that came to life before her, were not as ominous as she felt they were. They caused her to forget the one talent that allowed her to face the darkness that haunted her every waking hour. They also masked a much deeper bond, the face of the one that had stolen her heart, long before that tragically blinding night.

Charlie wanted to stay in NY, fight her demons where she found them, and ensure that her true home remained a sanctuary. Fate had a different plan in mind. Against her will, Charlie was sent to Salem to live with her sister. Within that small town Charlie found her memories…and so much more.
Her story begins now.


EXCERPT


“What’s going on?” I asked nervously, hitting ‘Pause’ on my phone as I watched him push the seat back so his legs could have more room.
“I told you I’d tell you how to get back,” he said, smiling faintly.
Every part of me was tingling. Yet, I was frozen in place. I had no idea how I was going to focus well enough to drive.
What would I do if I had to fight these shadows in front of him? I was horrified.
“Yeah, but I thought you meant follow you,” I said, trying to take in a breath after I said the words.
“I wanted to ride with you,” he said, pulling his belt on.
As he leaned closer to me to fasten it, I could smell the addictive aroma of his cologne. I knew that scent. My mind was firing off images of him at warp speed. His scent, his eyes, his energy, every ounce of him was magnifying fantasies I could not comprehend in the state I was in.
“Just for the record, you’re only my second passenger. Third, if you count my teacher,” I said, putting the car in drive.
“Duly noted.”
I caught myself staring into his enchanting eyes. His dark lashes framed the most alluring color I’d ever seen. It was like they were intended to be black, but a shade of the most perfect green had shattered the black canvas that they were.
Eyes that had haunted me for days...
He stared back at me with almost the same wonder, then he quirked a slight grin. “That way,” he said, pointing to the left.
Obviously I was alone in my fascination. Surely if we were anything like my minds eye was telling me we were in some forgotten past he would have said something.
Unless. Unless it was a bad past.
The tinge of pain in my heart let that dark thought enter my mind.
I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. I tried to smile through it as I turned the wheel. I crept down the gravel driveway, fighting the glare of the headlights coming from his Hummer. Just before I reached the road, he reached up and moved my rearview mirror, taking the torture of the lights away. He then gently grasped my ear buds and pulled them out. His warm fingertips brushed against my skin, and it took everything I had not to faint. I thought I heard him sigh, just after he took in a deep breath. Those long fingertips of his lingered a little longer, more than likely a second or two, but it felt like hours, then they slid down my neck taking the cords from my ear buds with them.
 I angled my eyes at him to see if I had the same effect on him that he clearly had on me.
 “You have to be able to see and hear if you’re going to get us home,” he explained, relaxing into his seat. He bit his bottom lip as he bathed me in his smoldering gaze. We said a thousand words at that moment. Words I could not hear, but wanted to.



Jamie Magee


 photo 252327_469060119774642_1944695764_n_zps847d0203.jpgI'm an obsessive daydreamer. Lover of loud alternative music. Addicted to Red Bull. I love to laugh until it hurts. Fall is my favorite season. Black is my favorite 'shade.' Strong believer in the saying: there is a reason for everything, therefore I search for 'marked moments' every moment of everyday...and I find them. Life is beautiful!





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This Blitz is brought to you by Reading Addiction Book Tours


27 Feb 2014

WW4BB & RABT Presents: Insight A PROMO Bltiz By Jamie Magee

Posted by Amanda Masters on 2:35:00 am

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Insight - PROMO BltizBy Jamie Magee

YA/NA Crossover Paranormal
Date Published:  June 2010


BOOK ONE INSIGHT SERIES

Willow Haywood has always been trapped between the worlds of the Light and the Dark. Her waking hours are plagued by her ability to feel the emotions of those around her. No matter how inward she draws, she cannot shut out the feelings of others. Sometimes she will see images - echoes of other people and places - that she can enter to influence the emotions of people she has never met.

By night, Willow experiences her only escape from this terrible insight - entering into the world of dreams. Most of these dreams are shared in blissful silence with a stunning blue-eyed boy. But every new moon she lives through something much darker: a horrific nightmare shared by another mysterious boy who is always shrouded by shadows.

One night, this shadowy figure invades her dreams outside of his appointed time. In this new nightmare, Willow is marked; a mark which follows her into the waking world and sets her on a momentous path through light and darkness, through fragmented myth and half-truths, through past lives and disturbing family secrets, all in the face of the ever-dominant Zodiac. What she finds will endanger the lives of those closest to her and will force her to make a decision that will change her world forever.

EXCERPT


I felt a blanket of peaceful love with a sense of urgency. The night air in front of me began to move; it looked like a wave gently swaying with a current. A thin light began to emerge then Landen stepped through the wave. I felt the air leave my lungs and adrenaline rush through every part of my body as my heart violently hammered in my chest.
“Landen…” I breathed.
In the darkness, I could see his haunting blue eyes widen, we were both soaked in the emotion of disbelief, along with the fear that this wasn’t real.
In that beat of my heart he’d reached my side. His hands were trembling ever so slightly as they cradled my face, and his thumbs graze the flesh of my cheekbones. He was staring at me like I was a forbidden fruit, like I was every sin in the book, desire washed over that lasting look as he leaned in and let his lips frame mine. When we melded the flesh of our lips together, his hands fell from my face and slowly waved down my body, embracing my flesh, I was doing the same to him. He was warm, he was on fire, I could hear his breaths, hear the sweet sound of our kiss, the way our clothes were moving under our touch. He was real. He was in my arms, and he was driving me wild. That first kiss was nothing compared to this, that was a dream, it was fleeting, it was something that could end at any second, this—this touch, this emotion, this pulsing of my soul was eternal.
He pressed our bodies together and held me with more strength than he had ever displayed. We both sought air more than once, but the other moved closer as soon as that gasp was taken. His warm tongue was uninhabited yet sensual as it danced with mine. I was devouring every sensation he was giving me and wanting more, so much more.
I was trembling with passion, I think he misunderstood that, he slowed our kiss, as one arm went around me and the other cradled my face. His thumb reached to my lips just as his kiss ended, he tenderly caressed the moist, swollen flesh he found there.
 “I found you,” he said with the lips of an angel. His voice was deep and entrancing, those three simple words sounded like poetry as he spoke them. 
 His eyes danced over my image, “I love you.” he said as he leaned in and kissed me once more, this was a sweet kiss, only lips, only warm sensual lips.


Jamie Magee


 photo 252327_469060119774642_1944695764_n_zps847d0203.jpgI'm an obsessive daydreamer. Lover of loud alternative music. Addicted to Red Bull. I love to laugh until it hurts. Fall is my favorite season. Black is my favorite 'shade.' Strong believer in the saying: there is a reason for everything, therefore I search for 'marked moments' every moment of everyday...and I find them. Life is beautiful!



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Buy Links


This Blitz is brought to you by Reading Addiction Book Tours


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WW4BB & IFB Presents: A Blitz Tour of The Head hunters Race by Kimberly Afe

Posted by Amanda Masters on 2:34:00 am














Series: Headhunters #1 
Release date: January 3rd 2014 
Publisher: January Sky Publishing 
Purchase: Amazon 
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/19113966-the-headhunters-race


BOOK DESCRIPTION 

Sixteen-year-old Avene was sentenced to prison at thirteen for a crime she didn't commit. Now she has a chance to win her freedom back – if she enters the Headhunters Race. Second prize isn't so bad either, an upgrade to the Leisure Prison if you make it to the finish line. To win either prize, Avene and the other prisoners must navigate one hundred and fifty miles of dense forest, desert, and worst of all, cannibal territory. 

With a mechanical collar timed to strangle the prisoners if they're not back in nine days, Avene allies herself with seventeen-year-old McCoy, another prisoner that insists on helping her at every turn and a boy she's trying hard not to fall for. Together they battle nature, other prisoners, and the timed death collars to win the coveted prize. But when Avene is tested with one deadly conflict after another, she realizes there is more at stake than winning her freedom – first she has to survive. 

Excerpt 

This excerpt is from the day the race starts and Avene is getting ready.
Hours later, when the birds start chirping, I know it's almost time to wake up. I get out of bed and change into my special clothes. The ones I've been saving for this day: a sturdy pair of jeans and a man's blue flannel shirt. Underneath I wear my white fitted tee-shirt, depicting a crudely drawn skull. I added the crossbones bearing a set of daggers with a nearly dried-up marker I found a year ago. It represents my mantra for the race: stay away from me or I'll kill you.
I tie my sheath around my thigh, re-lace my boots with longer and sturdier cord I found on a pair of men's boots in the goodie two shoes clothing pile, and then gulp down several handfuls of water. I wipe the droplets from my mouth while I pace like a caged panther. A few minutes later I slug down another five handfuls before I remember to fill my water bottle.
Zita leans up on her elbow. "You're sure you want to do this?"
"I have to, Zita. It's our only way out. The only way we'll be free."
She throws off her cover and leaps to her feet. "Well, we better do something with that hair. They'll start calling the prisoners out soon."
Zita snatches our slop container from the table. She fills it with dirt from the corner and mixes in a bit of water. "I'm not sure how well this will work," she says, stirring it with her finger. "Sit."
I sit on the ground cross-legged at her feet. She kneels beside me, takes a small lock of hair, and rubs mud all through the strands. The stringy tresses stick together, cold and wet against my cheek. After one side of my head is finished, she steps back and surveys her work. "Nope, this isn't working. Your roots are still too light."
"Why don't you wash her whole head in it?" says McCoy.
I stiffen. Leave it to him to think of dunking my whole head in mud.
"You're a genius!" says Zita. She grabs my arm and pulls me to my feet. "Help me," she says to McCoy and I cringe at the thought of him touching my head when I'm a direct competitor. He might send his ninja blade across my neck.
He grabs the sink, half full of water, water I need to drink, and dumps three quarters of it into the corner. "Hey, I need to drink that!" I say.
"You can drink ours," says McCoy.
Right. I'm not going to drink theirs. He'd love that. Especially now that he's going to have to hunt on his own and the only way he knows how is by poaching off me.
Zita stops short of pouring in handfuls of dirt. Instead she goes to the fire pit and scoops out gobs of ash. She swishes it around with her fingers, stares at it like she's not satisfied, and goes ahead and dumps in a handful of dirt anyway. "Okay, bend over, girl."
I lean over the sink while Zita pours the murky mixture over my hair and massages it in. It's gritty and gross.
"Hand me that old shirt in the corner," says Zita.
I'm looking upside down at McCoy while he retrieves the old shirt she uses as her dust rag. She wrings out my hair and then places the shirt over top and squeezes out the excess water. "I wish I had a comb," she says, flipping my head up and steering my behind back to the ground.
"It's okay, I can use my fingers," I say.
McCoy dashes into their room. "Boom has one, hold on."
I lean my head back in defeat. He's determined to help me, to make me feel obligated to help him in return, but his niceties aren't going to work on me.


Author Bio 

Kimberly is the mother of two awesome kids, wife of the nicest man in the world, and her dog's best friend. She works by day and writes middle grade and young adult science fiction and fantasy novels in her spare time. She lives with her family in the beautiful Sonoran Desert. 

Social Sites 



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26 Feb 2014

WW4BB & IFB Presents: Guest Post Blitz of Stalkers by Cynthia Shepp, Rene Folsom, Jason Brant, Elizabeth Collins, A.E. Killingsworth, S.L. Dearing, Andrea Stanet, Bart Hopkins, Chad Foutz, Eaton Thomas Palmer, Laurie Treacy, Jon Messenger, Lindy Spencer, Magen McMinimy, Michael Loring, Nicki Scalise, Phil Taylor, Nicole Clark

Posted by Amanda Masters on 12:18:00 am













Release date: November 26th 2013 
Publisher: Indie Style Press 
Purchase: Amazon 


Synopsis

Shadows follow you in the darkness of the night and the eerie sensation of being watched crawls up your spine. Your sanity pulls apart at the seams as the terrors stalk their victims, leaving you too frightened to turn off the light.
These twisted stories will leave you breathless, dreading the horrors lurking around the corner.

Seventeen authors. Seventeen tales of terror. Infinite nightmares.


About Eaton Thomas Palmer 




Eaton Thomas Palmer was born and raised in the Midwest, and entered the business world because it was the thing to do. It has never been satisfying to him. He has always been creative and finally realized that he is a storyteller. He began writing when he was fifty. Writing is a passion for him and he want to share his stories with people.

Guest Post



STALKERS

Watch your back.

This started out as a contest but grew into an idea. This is the third anthology that was created out of a contest on my Facebook page. The authors and readers were given the opportunity to write a short story using the guidelines provided. This go round I received over thirty entries. Only seventeen were chosen, but every story deserves a moment of recognition. I want to thank everybody for their time and their wonderful imaginations. The seventeen chosen are what you will find in this anthology, a collection of short stories that left me in awe at the talent of these amazing authors. These stories come from already published authors as well as readers who aspired to write.

The guidelines used to write these short stories were ones that I thought would appeal to the audience. This left a collection of shorts that will take you all over the paranormal genre.

* This anthology will have a main theme of Stalkers. That is about where my direction stops. It does not have to be paranormal, though it can be. The story can be a psychological thriller, horror, paranormal, suspense, action… whatever you want it to be. You can have a demon stalking someone in their dreams or a serial killer stalking prey, just to give you a couple examples. Whatever your twisted minds can come up with. I want stories that have you looking in the backseat of your car before you get in—stories that make the little hairs on the back of your neck stand up when you think someone looked at you just a little too long. Let your imaginations flow free and DELVE into the DARKER side of your mind… You know you want to.*

I believe that the authors of these short stories more than met the guidelines; they exceeded even my expectations. I hope that you enjoy reading these as much as I did. Please leave a review when you are
finished on Amazon or Goodreads and let us know what you think. Also, please take the opportunity to connect with these amazing authors. Author links are included on the individual title pages of the stories.

Enjoy your read!


Cynthia Shepp

www.cynthiashepp.com
www.cynthiashepp.wordpress.com
www.facebook.com/cynthiashepp
www.apocalypseanthology.com


Every Thorn



Rene Folsom

About Rene

Rene Folsom, author of paranormal romance and erotica, lives in Florida with her husband and three kids. She has officially diagnosed herself with creative ADD and, if it weren't for her day job as a graphic designer, she would have a million and one writing projects going at once. In addition to web design, she is also a graphic artist who loves to create custom book cover designs for indie authors. She is definitely an artist at heart and would love nothing more than to be elbow deep in clay during her waking hours.

Rene believes that all fiction is based on some form of reality—otherwise we would never have the inspiration or knowledge to dream up the realistic situations we portray with our words. She is proud to say that her personal experiences have been inspirational, though perhaps not always identical to that of her fictional characters. Where reality and fantasy diverge, however, must remain her little secret…


Stalk Rene

Website: www.renefolsom.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/renefolsom
Amazon: www.amazon.com/author/renefolsom

More from Rene

Soul Seers Boxed Set: http://amzn.to/17O2fgI

Excerpt

Later that evening, Brittany lay in her bed and stared at the rose she placed on her nightstand. A dull, soothing breeze lingered from the patio
and made her sheer curtains dance gracefully in its wake. The moon shining through the open sliding glass doors lit her room with dark hues of blue and gray. The purple rose looked almost black with the muted lighting.

“Why purple?” she murmured, unsure what the gesture meant.

With curiosity burning a hole in her mind, she grabbed her cell phone from the nightstand and searched the web for purple rose meaning.

Enchantment; Love at first sight.

“Well, that’s a little bit of sweet and a whole lot of creepy,” she said out loud while locking the keys on her phone and placing it back on the table next to the rose.

Thinking twice about the implications of this random rose, Brittany slid out of bed and tiptoed over to the doors leading to her patio. The light wind tickling her bare skin made a shiver roll up her spine. Sliding the heavy doors closed with a low whooshing sound, she breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the click of the lock latching in place.

Slinking back into bed, she settled down against her soft pillow and stared at the rose once more. The rose giver continued to plague her mind as her eyelids grew heavy, and she began to doze off.

That night, Brittany dreamed of purple roses and stalker eyes.


Dead Ringer

Jason Brant

About Jason

Jason Brant grew up in the mountains of western Pennsylvania where he eventually graduated with a Bachelor of Science degree from Indiana University of Pennsylvania.

After spending more than half a decade working as a Digital Forensics Analyst contractor for the Department of Defense, Jason prefers to spend his time writing and watching movies.

As a Steelers fan living outside of Baltimore, Jason and his wife Erin spend most of their days dodging flying cans of National Bohemian Beer being thrown at them by Ravens fans.


Stalk Jason

Facebook: www.facebook.com/jmbrant
Blog: www.jasonbrant.blogspot.com
Twitter: www.twitter.com/jason_brant

Read More from Jason

Devoured: http://amzn.to/I83ZpZ

Excerpt

“Mr. Ryan! Such a pleasure to see you again!” The desk clerk beamed at me across the counter.
My head swiveled around, inspecting the rest of the lobby behind me.
I was the only one in there. The clerk waved at me, beckoning me over to the front desk.
“I was afraid we wouldn’t see you again!” A broad grin cracked his serene demeanor.
And then it clicked.
This man thought I was James Ryan, former second baseman for the Milwaukee Brewers. After last season concluded, the Brewers traded James to the Marlins. But you’re already aware of that, aren’t you?
That’s why you’re here.
You’re probably asking yourself what a baseball player has to do with me, right?

Autumn (The Season Where Everything Dies)

Elizabeth Collins

About Elizabeth

Elizabeth Collins resides in Michigan with her husband and twin sons. She enjoys researching the random things that pop in her head, rain, and going to home improvement stores just for the smell of it. If she could, she would spend all her time reading or writing, preferably on a beach or in the woods with no one else around. She’s mesmerized by all forms of art, loves office supplies, and hates housework. So much so that her dream is to eventually earn enough money writing to be able to hire someone else to do it.

Stalk Elizabeth

Facebook: www.facebook.com/ElizabethCollinsAuthor

Excerpt

“We belong together,” I whisper, and then I can’t hold back any longer. I lock my arm around his waist and cover his lips with mine. Before I can coax them open with my tongue, he rips himself away.
“The fuck?” he sneers, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. He slides around me and re-buckles his belt.
I’m stuck where he left me, my chest turning to ice and then cracking down the middle. The anger in his eyes doesn’t make any sense—I know he wants this. It has to be her.
“What the hell are you thinking, Autumn? I’m married, and your boss. Are you crazy?”

Don’t Kiss the Dead, Fred

A.E. Killingsworth

About A.E.

A.E. Killingsworth is a writer from Alabama, who favors paranormal and urban fantasy. She has a love/hate relationship with her degree in English and a passion for exploring Southern culture. She loves Jane Eyre, vintage glassware, and hiking in the mountains. Most importantly, she’s married to her best friend and soul mate. She thinks her puppy is pretty special too.
Also, I would never have done this if it weren’t for my CCR writing group. Thanks for the accountability, ladies!

Stalk A.E.

Website: www.aekillingsworth.com

Excerpt

He had the softest smile on his lips. His eyes were sleepy, and when he leaned in close, my heart did funny little jumps in my chest. Was this it? Was this finally the moment I’d always remember as my first kiss?
I shifted my head the tiniest bit closer and, just before our lips met; he groaned real low. I took it for desire and pressed my lips against his, but they were unyielding. He leaned heavily into me, and I instinctively pushed against him.
Imagine my surprise when he keeled over backwards and with a crack, and split his head open on a concrete column. The doctors said it wasn’t the blow that killed him—it was a heat-induced heart attack not even a minute before. It seemed like that blood would never come off my porch.
I also never thought I’d kiss a guy and bury him within a week…

Bernice

Chad Foutz

About Chad

Chad Foutz has been writing since the age of seventeen, but always had an irrational fear of submitting any of his work. A lover and collector of books, he spends much of his time reading and writing. He is fairly inept at certain social media, preferring not to be bothered, but recently realized the importance of networking. A lifelong lover of Herman Melville and 80’s hard rock and heavy metal, he spends hours on end listening to old CDs and hoping to one day write a masterpiece nearly as good as Moby Dick.

Stalk Chad

Blog: www.mrhyde93.blogspot.com

Keep an eye out for Chad’s book of short stories, coming soon.

Excerpt

Bernice Hawkes dutifully rose from her desk.
Harlan Berry was her Elvis Presley and her Adam West, her star crushes, all wrapped into one. He was not as tall as Batman, nor was he as handsome as the Memphis rock star, but to her, he was the perfect male…

Destination: Death

Eaton Thomas Palmer

About Eaton

Eaton Thomas Palmer was born and raised in the Midwest, and entered the business world because it was the thing to do. It has never been satisfying to him. He has always been creative and finally realized that he is a storyteller. He began writing when he was fifty. Writing is a passion for him and he wants to share his stories with people.

Read more from Eaton

Paranormal Anthology with a Twist: http://amzn.to/1e63lDv

Excerpt

The end was near. Anticipation was mounting to an explosive level. Almost three years had passed since the plan was implemented—so many had died. And now it has come down to this meeting. This final person. Was this old woman the key?
How many people have I stalked, deceived, only to discover they did not have the power I needed to die? They had to be killed. It has been a long journey, too long. This end, this long-awaited end, will justify the means. Now I shall reach my destination… Death.

Freezer Burn

Jon Messenger

About Jon

Jon Messenger graduated from the University of Southern California with a Bachelor’s Degree in Public Relations. His passion for writing began in college and has continued throughout his military career, to include two combat deployments in Iraq. His four full-length science fiction novels and two short stories directly portray his combat experiences.

He lives in Washington, D.C. with his wife, son, and small petting zoo.

Stalk Jon

Facebook: www.facebook.com/jonmessengerauthor

Read More from Jon

Burden of Sisyphus: http://amzn.to/1bbooq9

Excerpt

“Sarah, we’ve got to go.”
He didn’t hear a reply, other than the ongoing hum of the hair dryer. Sighing, he stood from the bed and walked over to the bathroom door. He knocked lightly.
“Baby? Are you almost done?”
She should have been able to hear him from the closed door, but she didn’t respond.
“Sarah?” he said, suddenly concerned. He turned the door handle and let the door swing open.
The bathroom was empty…

The Watcher

Lindy Spencer

About Lindy

Lindy Spencer currently lives in Oklahoma with her superhero family - Amazing Husband and Super Smart Dog. When she’s not writing, she’s most likely reading, riding motorcycles, or shooting things with a Canon.

Stalk Lindy

Facebook: www.facebook.com/LindySpencer.Author
Twitter: www.twitter.com/_Lindy_Spencer

Read more by Lindy

The Boomerang Effect: http://amzn.to/1ellVbp

Excerpt

Coming back to reality, I remembered my manners. “Hold on, let me get my purse, just one sec.” I took a step back into the house and turned, setting the vase on the hall table to free my hands. As I carefully set it down, I ran my hands up to the stem of the vase to make sure it was settled.
“Ouch!” I jerked my hand back. A dot of blood on the tip of my index finger was growing; I lifted my hand to my mouth and sucked to make the bleeding stop. The room seemed to shimmer for a moment, as if the sun were reflecting off a shiny secret…

Say My Name

Michael Loring

About Michael

Michael Loring was born in Bristol, CT, but has lived in a variety of places such as Florida and Tennessee. He likes to think of himself as an amateur Lycanthropologist, studying werewolves ever since he was eight years old when he first saw An American Werewolf in London. Today he writes to help fill the itch to let his constant daydreams out into the world, in the hopes others enjoy them just as much as he does.

Stalk Michael

Facebook: www.facebook.com/pages/Author-Michael-Loring/273293846073390
Website: www.michaelloring.com

Read more from Michael

Dehumanized: http://amzn.to/1dmM4cY

Excerpt

Oh God.
He was back there again. He knew it before he opened his eyes, from the way the icy air chilled his bones. The muscles in his back clenched tight in fright. The smell of sulfur was in the air, wafting around like a bog in the darkened world. He opened his eyes apprehensively, staring at the familiar terrain that has been his dreamscape for who knows how long. It was a world of total darkness, the only light being the small circle he stood in—as if in a spotlight—a thin mist circling him like a predator would its prey…


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25 Feb 2014

WW4BB & BBT Present: A Spotlight & Review on Earth’s Blood by Ann Gimpel

Posted by Amanda Masters on 9:12:00 am

Earth’s Blood
Ann Gimpel

Publisher: Musa
ISBN: 978-1-61937-681-6
Release Date: 2/7/14
Genre: Urban Fantasy/Romance
99,000 words

Clinging to their courage in a crumbling world, Aislinn and Fionn vow to save Earth, no matter what it takes.



Book Description

In a post-apocalyptic world where most people have been slaughtered, the Celtic gods and a few humans with magic are all that stands between survival and Earth falling into alien hands. The combination of dark sorcery leveraged by the enemy is daunting. Destruction is all but certain if the small enclaves of humans who are left can’t get past their distrust of the Celts.

Captured by the enemy, Aislinn Lenear wonders if she’ll ever see her bond wolf or Fionn, a Celtic god, again. She’s had nothing but her wits to rely on for years. They haven’t failed her yet, but escape from her current predicament seems remote.

An enticing blend of urban fantasy and romance, this second volume of the Earth Reclaimed Series provides fertile ground for Aislinn and Fionn’s relationship to deepen. Headstrong and independent, the pair runs up against each other’s demands time and time again. Fireworks spark. In the end, they learn to savor every moment in a bittersweet world where each day may well be their last.


My Review


Earth's blood by Ann Gimpel
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I really enjoyed this book it was just as great as the first! Anne is a fantastic writer and I am a big fan of her work!

Captured by the enemy, Aislinn Lenear wonders if she’ll ever see her bond wolf or Fionn, her Celtic god lover, again. She’s had nothing but her wits to rely on for years. They haven’t failed her yet, but escape from her current predicament seems remote.

Filled with excitement, mystery, love and intrigue Anne takes us on another roller-coaster ride of adventurous with Aislinn, Fionn, their wacky Celtic God friends and of course you can't forget the dragon! and together they all embark on yet another perilous journey that is sure to get them all killed and captured.

No one tells a story quite like Anne Gimpel! are full of fantasy yet with enough realness in them to make you really fall in love with each character. I really get a kick out of the fights each and every time between the dragon and Aislinn. The dragon is so bossy and entitled as a dragon should be I suppose. the bond mates are another fav of mine they are a unique part of the story, something you don't normally see in books and I think it gives these stories that something extra.

The Dark ones in the story couldn't have been written any better! I always say a story should have a excellent villain and wow! these are some of the best! I love how Anne wrote them into the story and I can't wait to see how the story progresses.



View all my reviews

Excerpt


Fionn tumbled through a gateway and leapt to his feet. Something was decidedly wrong. The wolf and raven were right behind him, but he’d lost all sense of Aislinn’s presence in the traveling portal. It made him half-crazy with fear, but there was nothing he could do until the spell spit him out. Mouth dry, heartbeat thudding in his ears, he waited to see who would follow him out of the ragged hole he’d left in the ether.

For the love of the goddess, please let me be mistaken about this.
Rune emerged. A howl split the still air. “Where is she?” the black and gray timber wolf demanded. He reared up and plunked his paws on Fionn’s chest. “What happened to my bond mate? I cannot feel her anywhere.” He howled again. It was a mournful sound, full of grief. Fionn wrapped his arms around the wolf, but Rune dropped to the ground, apparently not interested in comfort.

“Yes, where did Aislinn go?” Bella demanded, bouncing forward with her awkward avian gait. Ever cantankerous, the raven was bonded to him, so Fionn was used to her moods. She spread her large wings, took to the air, and cawed her displeasure. He stared after her and struggled to manage a mounting sense of panic while balling his hands into fists. Both bond animals knew the truth: Aislinn had disappeared somewhere between Ely, Nevada and wherever they were now. He barked a word to close off his magic. The place they’d rolled out of shimmered and disappeared.

He loosed a string of Gaelic curses. “What the fuck went wrong?” he muttered. Fionn drew magic to augment his night vision and gazed wildly about for clues. They were in the midst of rubble that could well be Salt Lake City. So at least that part of his casting had been true. No, an inner voice corrected him, I doona know that. This could be anywhere. He shoved straggling strands of blond hair out of his eyes and sent his magic spinning outward to gather data. His heart beat a worried tattoo against his ribcage.
The air to his right took on a pearlescent hue. Bran and Arawn leapt through a portal in a flash of battle leathers, the snug-fitting garments indistinguishable from Fionn’s attire. Arawn barked a command; their gateway winked shut. His midnight gaze scanned the small group. “Why is Gwydion not here?” he demanded. “He left afore any of us.”

Rune threw his head back. Another desolate howl split the night.
Bran’s coppery eyes narrowed. “Aye, and where is the lass?”
“And that Hunter scum, Travis,” Fionn growled. He spread his hands in front of him. “I havena felt Aislinn since a few moments after we entered the portal. Join your magic to mine so we might figure out what has happened.”
Bran nodded curtly. “Aye, Travis must have lied to us, but to what purpose?”
“To save his own sorry hide, what else?” Fionn snapped. “Or mayhap because he wanted Aislinn for himself.”

The air took on an iridescent waviness. Gwydion stumbled out of the odd-looking place. Tangled in a welter of blue robes, he clutched an intricately carved staff; blond hair swirled around him. “Be gone, I say—Wait, what happened to—?” He took in the tableau as he lurched unsteadily to his feet. Fionn almost heard wheels turning as Gwydion tallied who was missing. The warrior magician pounded the end of his wooden staff into broken asphalt. Lightning crackled from the end of the staff, betraying his annoyance.

Something snapped in Fionn. Bright, brittle anger lanced through him He launched himself at Gwydion and drove the other Celtic god to the ground. “Bastard,” he screamed. “Ye were in charge of Travis. What? Ye couldna control a simple human? Look what your slipshod seeds have sown—” He raised a fist and drove it into the side of Gwydion’s face. It was more satisfying than using magic. Closer and more personal.

Rune jumped into the fray and sank his teeth into Gwydion’s leg. Bella cawed her disapproval. She tangled her talons in the mage’s long hair and pulled as she pecked at him. Gwydion bellowed in pain. The air thickened and developed an electric quality as he reached for his magic.

Fionn had just cocked his arm back to hit Gwydion again—before his fellow Celtic god shielded himself—when strong arms closed about him and dragged him back. Magic surrounded him, forming a barrier.

“That willna help,” Arawn, god of the dead, revenge, and terror, said, voice stern with command.

“Aye, it willna get your lass back,” Bran agreed. God of prophecy, the arts, and war, he often had a gentler approach than the other Celtic deities.
Gwydion rolled to a sit, looking dazed. He placed his hands on the wolf and raven, muttering in Gaelic. After a time, both animals retreated. He touched the bloodied places on his thigh; the flesh mended quickly. The master enchanter and god of illusion did not make any move to get to his feet. He settled his blue gaze on Fionn, bowed his head slightly, and said, “I am most sorry. Ye are right to be angry with me. The lad came at me flanked by Lemurians. I never even knew how many. When I sent my magic spiraling out to find Travis, he was gone beyond my reach.”

“Why didn’t ye tell me?” Fionn growled.

“How?” Gwydion countered, sounding weary. “Communication isna possible in the portals.”

Fionn groaned inwardly. He knew that. Where were his brains? Taking a wee holiday, a sarcastic inner voice suggested. Fionn jerked against the magic holding him. “You can let me go now,” he told Arawn and Bran. “I’ve returned to my senses.”

He stepped forward and extended a hand to Gwydion, who grasped it. “I am sorry I lost my temper.”

Something sparked from the mage’s blue eyes—compassion laced with pity. Gwydion stood, and then brushed off his robes; dust flew in all directions. He bent to retrieve his richly carved staff. It glowed blue-white when he touched it and he arched a brow at Fionn. “See, the staff knows battle lies ahead. The important thing is what we do now. A good start would be not tearing one another to bits.”

Though Fionn agreed, he secretly wondered if Gwydion might have tried harder were it not for the bad blood between them over Tara, Aislinn’s dead mother. As a MacLochlainn, Aislinn was bound to him, just like her mother had been. But Tara had loved Gwydion. To avoid marrying Fionn, she’d given herself to a stranger and run away to America, effectively severing an age-old bonding. Tara MacLochlainn had been an Irish queen. Under laws of blood and dynasty, she should have belonged to him, Fionn MacCumhaill, Celtic god of wisdom, knowledge, and divination…

Guess she had other ideas about that. What a fankle. Mayhap one we are still paying for. Fionn forced his mind to stay in the present. No point in dragging old bones out and chewing
them half to death. Rune’s large black and gray head rammed his side. The wolf bared his fangs and growled.

“I understand.” Fionn settled his blue gaze on Rune. “We have to find her. And we will.”

“Let us go over what we know.” Bran stepped closer. Blond braids were tucked into tight-fitting battle leathers. He had a dreamy look about him, but Fionn wasn’t fooled. The god of prophecy’s mind was sharp as a whip.
“Good idea,” Arawn echoed. Dark hair cascaded down his leather-clad shoulders. Looking as grim as the dead he commanded, his face etched into harsh lines. Eyes so dark iris and pupil were indistinguishable, flashed fire.
“Let us ask the goddess’ blessing,” Fionn intoned. A weight like a cold stone settled into his guts. They couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. Aislinn’s life depended on them getting this right the first time. And my life right along with it. Fionn thought about the next thousand years without the only woman he’d ever truly loved; his soul shriveled. He cursed his immortality. Life without Aislinn wouldn’t be worth very damned much.

Gwydion began a Celtic chant. The other three joined in at proscribed intervals punctuated by Bella’s shrieks and Rune’s barks, whines, and howls. Night yielded to a sickly orange sunrise as they sang.

“I believe we are ready,” Gwydion murmured.

“Aye, I feel a goddess presence.” Arawn spoke reverently. “’Twill provide a balance point against all our male energies.”

“Let us return to cataloging what we know.” Fionn gestured impatiently. Though he understood the wisdom of securing divine assistance, he wanted to get moving before something lethal happened to Aislinn. A vision of her being tortured—long limbs splayed over a rack—rose to taunt him. He muffled a cry, but his mind wouldn’t clear. Blood ran down Aislinn’s face and blended with the red of her hair. Her golden eyes were glazed with pain. He bit down hard on his lower lip, feeling powerless. Adrenaline surged; it left a sour taste in the back of his throat.

“We are, indeed, ready.” Bran nodded.

Fionn latched onto the sound of Bran’s voice and let it pull him out of the black pit his mind had become.

Bran inhaled sharply. “The Hunter, Travis, sought us out. I dinna try verra hard to test his words, but there was enough truth in his tale to satisfy me.”
“And I, as well,” Gwydion agreed. “So mayhap his small group of humans truly was set upon by Lemurians—”

Fionn snapped his fingers. “I have it. That putrid poor-excuse-for-a-human cut a deal to save himself. Mayhap part of it was designed to wrest Aislinn away from me since he was in love with her, too. She told me—” The words curdled in his throat. He couldn’t bear the thought of Aislinn fucking anyone else. She’d been with Travis once. If she was telling me the truth… Mayhap she was with him many times and softened the telling to spare me.

Arawn cocked his head to one side. “Even though ye stopped midstream, what ye did say made sense. Travis agreed to serve as bait in exchange for his life—and mayhap the life of his bond animal as well. If he had his eye on the lass afore all this, well, the pot would have been all the sweeter.”

Fionn waved him to silence. “Ye say ye felt Lemurians?” He looked at Gwydion who nodded. “Well, then, she must be in Taltos. Where else would they take her?”

Relieved to have a destination and something to do, Fionn pulled magic, intent on leaving immediately.

“Hold.” Gwydion put up a hand.

“What?” Annoyed, muscles strung tighter than a bow, Fionn locked gazes with him. Blue eyes sparred with a nearly identical set.

“Ye canna go off half-cocked. There are not enough of us.” Gwydion hesitated. “As the god of wisdom, knowledge and divination, Fionn MacCumhaill, I would think ye would know that without me having to tell you.”

Frustration fueled rage. Fionn opened his mouth to tell Gwydion what he really thought of him. “Why you sanctimonious—”

“Never mind that,” Bran spoke up. “We need a strategy.”

“And mayhap more of us,” Arawn added.

“Aye, and what about Dewi?” Ignoring Fionn’s bitten off words and the challenge beneath them, Gwydion furled his brows.

Fionn blew out an impatient breath; his anger receded. The others were right. Dewi, the blood-red Celtic dragon god, was linked to the MacLochlainn women. She’d also spent centuries in the tunnels beneath Taltos, spying on the Lemurians. Yes, they definitely needed the dragon.

“All right,” he ground out through gritted teeth. “I get it. I agree we need Dewi, and probably more of us as well.”

“We must return to Marta’s house. As soon as we can.”

The wolf’s voice startled Fionn. He turned to look at Rune. The wolf padded closer. “I have been to Taltos both ways,” the wolf reminded him, growling low. “It is much easier and more direct if we enter through the portal in Marta’s basement. That way we maintain the element of surprise. The Mount Shasta gateway is akin to going to their front door and ringing a bell.”

Fionn kicked himself. Even the wolf is thinking more clearly than I am.

Rune had been bonded to Marta and knew her secrets. She’d been onto the Lemurians, delving deep into the extent of their lies. Before they’d killed her, she’d managed to figure out that the war against the dark gods was a sham. The Lemurians were actually in league with the dark. They were the ones who’d masterminded cracking the veils between the worlds to allow the dark ones access to Earth. An ancient race, the Lemurians understood they were dying. They needed an infusion of magic so they’d cut a deal. Access to Earth in exchange for—

Fionn filled his lungs with air, blew out a breath, and did it again. He had to get hold of himself or he’d be less than useless hunting for Aislinn. That will not happen. Focus, goddamn it. Pull it together. Fionn pushed the ache in his heart aside and buried it deep. He couldn’t afford emotion. Not now. Or mental forays into Lemurian treachery. When he’d met Aislinn, she’d been a foot soldier in the Lemurian army, branded so she couldn’t use her magic against them.

Voices flowed over him. When words fell into coherent patterns again, he heard Gwydion ticking off a plan on his fingers. Apparently one the others had formed without any input from him. How dare they? Anger flared hot and bright. Fionn welcomed it like a drowning man might grab a spar. He needed the energy to find the woman he loved.

“…agreed, Bran will hunt for Dewi. Arawn will return to the Old Country to muster as many of us as he can find. Fionn and I and the bond animals will return to Marta’s house. We will sneak into the tunnel a time or two to see what we can discover, but we will not move to rescue the lass until you arrive with reinforcements.”

Gwydion nailed Fionn with his blue gaze. “Aye and ye have returned to us. Did ye hear—?”

“Aye.” Fionn cut off Gwydion’s next words. “Let’s get moving.”

The master enchanter inclined his head. “As ye will.”

Fionn looked at him and wondered if it were mere coincidence Gwydion would end up babysitting him. He decided to test those waters. “I really would be fine with just the bond animals, feel free to join either Arawn or—”

“Pah!” Gwydion interrupted. “Not on your life. I know you, Fionn MacCumhaill. If ye returned alone, ye would turn Taltos upside down to find your lady love. Then the rest of us would have two to search for.”

Arawn moved forward and laid a hand on Fionn’s arm. “Remember,” he said, “the Lemurians came from Mu. They may still have a way to retreat there. If they do so, we will not be able to follow. Or they might strike a deal with the five remaining dark gods and go to one of their worlds if they feel threatened. We can travel to the border worlds, but it isna pleasant. Nay, if they have truly taken Aislinn to Taltos—and we do not know this as a fact—it is imperative they remain there. So, doona do anything foolish.”

“I understand.” Fionn clamped his jaws shut. Thoroughly chastised, he felt like a child again. He hadn’t considered either of the alternatives Arawn had just outlined. Apparently they’d come up in the part of the conversation he’d missed while wrestling with himself.

“I know ye do.” Arawn favored him with a rare smile. “Bran and I are leaving.” The words had scarcely left his mouth when the air around both mages took on a numinous quality.

Fionn locked gazes with Gwydion. “Are ye ready?”

“I am.” Rune took up his traveling position next to Fionn’s side.

“As am I.” Bella settled on his shoulder in a flutter of wings.

Fionn stared at the bond animals. They’d returned to audible speech; that must mean they’d gotten their anger under control. If they can do it, so can I.
Gwydion nodded slowly. “I do not believe there is aught else to be done right now, so the answer to your question would be aye.”

The air thickened as Gwydion drew magic to open a portal. Blessedly numb inside, Fionn added his own to the mix, buried a hand in Rune’s neck ruff, and stepped through.

About the Author


Ann Gimpel is a mountaineer at heart. Recently retired from a long career as a psychologist, she remembers many hours at her desk where her body may have been stuck inside four walls, but her soul was planning yet one more trip to the backcountry. Around the turn of the last century (that would be 2000, not 1900!), she managed to finagle moving to the Eastern Sierra, a mecca for those in love with the mountains. It was during long backcountry treks that Ann’s writing evolved. Unlike some who see the backcountry as an excuse to drag friends and relatives along, Ann prefers her solitude. Stories always ran around in her head on those journeys, sometimes as a hedge against abject terror when challenging conditions made her fear for her life, sometimes for company. Eventually, she returned from a trip and sat down at the computer. Three months later, a five hundred page novel emerged. Oh, it wasn’t very good, but it was a beginning. And, she learned a lot between writing that novel and its sequel.

Around that time, a friend of hers suggested she try her hand at short stories. It didn’t take long before that first story found its way into print and they’ve been accepted pretty regularly since then. One of Ann’s passions has always been ecology, so her tales often have a green twist.

In addition to writing, Ann enjoys wilderness photography. She lugs pounds of camera equipment in her backpack to distant locales every year. A standing joke is that over ten percent of her pack weight is camera gear which means someone else has to carry the food! That someone is her husband. They’ve shared a life together for a very long time. Children, grandchildren and three wolf hybrids round out their family.

www.anngimpel.com
http://anngimpel.blogspot.com
http://www.amazon.com/author/anngimpel
http://www.facebook.com/anngimpel.author
@AnnGimpel (for Twitter)

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