Thursday, October 22, 2020

Residual Magic by Suzanne M Sabol


Residual Magic
Blood and Bone Legacy
Book Two
Suzanne M Sabol

Genre: Urban Fantasy, New Adult
Publisher: Soul Mate Publishing
Date of Publication: 10/21/2020
ISBN: 978-1-64716-143-9
ASIN: 
Number of pages: 357
Word Count: 104,215
Cover Artist: Rae Monet

Tagline: To save Ev and Tag, Brittany must master the powerful magic of a goddess to stop a sorcerer from raising the Goddess of Carnage from manifesting through the cauldron.

Book Description: 

Brittany is a long way from the scared witch who watched a necromancer murder her mother. She’s grown and more powerful than even she realized as the sorceress she truly is. But all the magic in the world doesn’t mean anything if her best friend and werewolf, Everett Cooper, rejects her again. How many times can a person’s heart break? Brittany isn’t willing to find out. So, when another werewolf asks her out on an actual date, she jumps at the invitation.

Caught between two werewolves, Brittany will need all her friends when one of the pack goes missing. But nothing is ever easy, and magic has a cost that they may not be willing to pay. A trail of disappearances follow in Brittany’s wake, as someone tracks her every magical movement. But to what purpose? To what end?

Brittany has been powerful. 

Brittany has been patient.

Now, will Brittany be enough to save her friends . . . and the world?


Excerpt:

Chapter 1

Caught by Surprise

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” I mumbled, as Tag’s question tumbled around in my head. My brain hitched, unable to follow. The kitchen island was a hard edge at my back as I clutched the sweating glass of soda tight in my hand. Huh, the refrigerator door was open. Did I leave that open? That’s such a waste of energy. Why was I worrying about the electric bill and the energy? God, Brittany, pull it together. Focus!

“I asked if you would like to go to dinner with me,” the werewolf asked . . . again. “On a date,” he clarified as if I hadn’t understood the first time. In all honesty, I hadn’t. I was staring at him with my mouth gaping open wide enough to catch flies but I couldn’t seem to snap myself out of a stupefied shock. His lips turned up in a teasing smirk that made my gut tighten and my brow crinkle in confusion.

“A date?” I asked, my voice uneven and hesitant as I considered. As many times as I’d dreamed of being asked that question by a werewolf—and I had, many many MANY times—the werewolf in my daydreams had never been Tag.

Stewart Taggar was long and lean, towering over my five foot six inches. I wasn’t a giant but I wasn’t tiny either. His red hair was more carrot than auburn but it seemed to shimmer when set against his bronzed skin. He was muscled but not bulky like a lot of the werewolves in the pack. He gazed down at me now in a way that was new or maybe it wasn’t and I just hadn’t noticed. He’d always treated me—I’d thought—like a little sister. Honestly, most of the pack did. Yes, I was only twenty-two and decades or centuries younger than most of the wolves and vampires but that didn’t mean I was a child. Tag wasn’t looking at me like I was a kid, that’s for sure. And I wasn’t sure how I felt about that development.

“Aren’t you a little old for her?” a gruff, clipped voice called from the kitchen doorway. Without my knowledge or permission, my body reacted to that voice in ways that made heat creep into my cheeks. Everett Cooper was three or four inches taller than me at most; lean and muscular. He seemed to be gaining bulk every day and it looked good on him. His sandy blond hair was styled away from his face, exposing the deep navy-blue of his eyes. His gaze fell on me like a weight, not crushing or overwhelming but comforting and all too familiar.

“That’s for her to decide, pup,” Tag responded, with an edge of condescension in his last word that surprised me.

Tag and Ev were friends, or at least had been, I’d thought. I wasn’t sure what was going on between them lately, but something was definitely up. Standing between them, I was ridiculously uncomfortable. Tension boiled in the kitchen until it was a physical heat against my skin as the two werewolves faced off. Sweat beaded on my upper lip. I was waiting for one of them to pee on me and mark their territory or something dumb like that. To be honest, I only wanted one of them to pee on me. Oh God, that didn’t sound right.

“She’s not going anywhere with you, old man,” Ev growled, squaring his shoulders. I perked up at that statement. I may be desperately in-love with Everett Cooper in a shameful and embarrassing sort of way, I wasn’t fool enough to lie to myself anymore about that fact. I was head-over-heels in-love with the idiot. That didn’t mean he could order me around like a piece of property. Because he couldn’t. I did not belong to him.

“Whoa whoa whoa!” I huffed out, throwing my shoulders back in irritation and raising my chin in defiance. I was a strong independent woman, darn it, and even if Ev was the man of my dreams, I wasn’t going to let him talk about me like a piece of meat.

Yes, Ev had kissed me a couple of weeks ago. Yes, it had been a-maz-ing. And yes, I’d said I would wait for him to figure his stupid, insecure, man-baby crap out. But it had been more weeks than I’d like to admit since our kiss and I was tired of waiting for this grown man to figure out what he was going to do with me. If anything. Maybe a little fire under his rear end would move his addled brain along. Or maybe he’d decide I wasn’t worth the effort and let me go. Either way, it was good to know . . . wasn’t it? That’s what I told myself, anyway.

Both men turned, meeting my heavy—okay, angry—stare. I was too young and too cute for heavy. I just didn’t have the menace behind any stare to classify as heavy. Feisty anger though, I could do.

“First,” I started, meeting Ev’s deep, dark, and penetrating gaze. Ugh, he was so cute. Shake it off, Britt. Pull yourself together. “You’re not the boss of me,” I hissed. Tag snorted in laughter and I turned on him, “Second, don’t provoke him.” Tag had the good sense to drop the grin on his face and appear suitably apologetic. “Third,” I said with a bright and cheerful smile that was actually true, and my smiles hadn’t been true for a very long time. “Tag, I would love to go to dinner with you.”

“What?” Ev erupted, wide-eyed surprise clear on his face as he took an aggressive step in my direction.

Ignoring Ev’s apparent surprise, Tag stepped in front of me with his back to Ev, blocking my view of the angry werewolf. “I’ll pick you up tonight at seven.” Clutching my hand in his, Tag squeezed reassuringly and smiled down at me in a way that made me feel like I was his whole world. Something about that expression made my insides flutter and I couldn’t help but grin back at him. I hadn’t expected that look in his eyes or my reaction to his attention. Did that make me an attention-starved idiot? Ugh, maybe it did.

“I’ll be ready,” I said, feeling giddy at the prospect of just being wanted. Yep, attention-starved idiot right here. He squeezed my hand again and strode by Ev, his head just a little bit higher.

“My shift starts soon, so I’ve gotta go but dress up tonight,” he said over his shoulder. “We’re going someplace upscale.”

“We don’t have to,” I said, suddenly feeling awkward at the thought of Tag spending money on me. Somehow, I didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of a fancy date. I could clean up, for sure, but I wasn’t very comfortable—like it wasn’t me but a bizzaro-world version of me.

Tag stopped, maybe hearing the uncertainty in my voice or wanting to drive the knife into Ev a little deeper, I don’t know. He turned to me and said, “You deserve the best, Brittany,” meeting my uncertain gaze with a self-confident grin. I blinked hard at him, seeing the man instead of my friend. It was the first time since we’d met—that I could remember, anyway— that he’d called me anything but “G”. He liked to refer to me as Glenda the Good Witch of the North because, by his own words, I had been all pink-fluffy-witchy-goodness when he’d first met me.

Tag continued, “You deserve so much more than anyone can or has ever given you.” With that last parting jibe, he left to go to work at the coroner’s office.

The front door closed behind Tag and silence descended on the kitchen. Uncomfortable and now, suddenly anxious, I turned and made my way around the overly large island toward the stairs. I took the long way around the island, clutching my soda close to my chest and letting the condensation soak into my shirt in an effort to keep as much space between me and Ev as I could.

“You said you’d give me time,” he whispered, sounding pained, or maybe that was anger. I couldn’t tell. Living in a house full of werewolves and vampires meant that nothing was really private unless you worked really hard to keep it that way. At that moment, I couldn’t decipher if he was protecting my privacy or his own.

“I did,” I agreed, turning to meet his now sea-foam green eyes. His wolf was close to the surface, magic flooded his irises with his wolf’s power. That show of power would have worried most people. But not me. I knew in my gut that neither Ev, nor his wolf, would ever hurt me. “I also told you not to wait too long or you might miss your chance.” I was so proud of myself, managing to get the words out without my voice shaking too much. I made my way around him with my shoulders back and my head high, looking to escape as quickly as my two feet would carry me.

“Brit,” he sighed, reaching for me, he caught my hip with the tips of his fingers. I froze at the touch as heat pooled in my center. My breath hitched in my throat and my fingers tightened around the glass. He made me stop and meet his questioning gaze instead of retreating up to my room like I desperately wanted. Ev and I lived in the same house with the vampire colony liege, the werewolf pack alpha, and their significant other—The Blushing Death. It’s a long and complicated story. Our living arrangement had made the last few weeks . . . awkward at best. “Brit, I—” he started but didn’t seem to know how to finish.

“Ev,” I said, wanting very much to ditch this mostly embarrassing and gruesomely uncomfortable conversation. “I’m not your mate. We both know it,” I said, the words sticking in my throat a bit. Werewolves had a mystical fated mate. Some werewolves found that mate over the course of their lifetime and some didn’t. Kurt, the pack Beta, had described it as a string tugging in his chest that linked directly to his mate’s heart.

Voicing the unequivocal fact that I was not Ev’s mate, made my heart break a little bit more each time I said it. Actually, a lot. It crushed me to my very soul. I cannot overstate this fact. Knowing I wasn’t his mate broke me on a foundational level. But the reality was, werewolves had fated mates and I wasn’t Ev’s.

He closed his eyes and breathed deep.

“It’s not fair to me to keep beating around this bush when nothing will ever come of it,” I said around the defeat lodged in my throat.

“You’re not Tag’s mate,” he growled as if that solved everything.

“No, you’re right about that,” I said, very proud of myself for not bursting into tears. “But I don’t love him,” I whispered, wishing desperately that I could suck those words back in. But I couldn’t. I’d said them out loud and to his face. There was no going back now.

His gaze narrowed on me in question and what I thought might be pity. I don’t think I could stand it if he pitied me. Before I could let that thought sink in, he asked, “Then why?”

“Because HE can’t crush me,” I answered succinctly. Blinking back the hot tears now flooding my eyes, I shifted my hip out from under his soft touch and made my way up to my room. Carefully, I closed the door behind me and finally released the tears I’d managed not to shed in front of Everett Cooper.

“Crying again?” a distant voice teased from my desk.

“Stay out of it, Cerridwyn!” I hissed, not wanting either of our voices to be heard by anyone. Everyone pretty much thought the succubus-witch that had killed ten people across Columbus and almost destroyed our house was dead. I hadn’t had the guts or the stomach to kill her. But I had managed to drag her soul out of her body and shove it into an amber amulet. Thinking back on it now, I’m not entirely sure I chose the kinder option. Maybe this was why the preternatural community thought sorceri were evil. Wynne certainly didn’t like being confined to the amulet. I was working up to telling everyone that I’d messed up on that one. Actually, I was trying to find a way to banish her so I wouldn’t have to confess my mistake to anyone. That seemed like a better idea. It was just taking longer than I’d thought. Especially if I didn’t want to destroy her soul in the process which I didn’t.

“So young and stupid,” she muttered loudly, clearly wanting me to hear her.

“I don’t need your two cents, Wynne,” I snapped. I’d come to my room for quiet but had forgotten about the nagging succubus currently residing in the amulet on my desk. How had I ever forgotten? The woman took every opportunity to gripe, badger, harass, or simply voice her opinions. I’d tried silencing her with my magic but it hadn’t worked. Sometimes my magic just did what I wanted with a single thought. Other times, I couldn’t do the simplest parlor tricks. My whole life, all I’d ever been told was how powerful I was. But since my mother’s murder, I haven’t been able to get anything to work right. It was either all or nothing at all. Unless, that is, I was cornered. Then everything seemed to work just fine.

“What two cents? I have no money,” Wynne replied, confused.

I smiled to myself at her confusion. Having been stuck in a vast wasteland of desert and mirrors the succubus-witch had dubbed the In-Between for more than a millennium, sometimes Wynne’s understanding of colloquialisms wasn’t up to scratch. I don’t know why I thought it was funny, but I did.

“Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that you are young and stupid. How many times have you cried over that boy? Too many to count by my opinion.” She huffed at me as if I was wasting her time. All she had was time. Plus, I was pretty sure she secretly loved it. I’d come to understand that Wynne liked to be needed. Who didn’t though? That was the point, wasn’t it? I wanted to be wanted and needed and it didn’t seem like Ev wanted or needed me at all. But maybe Tag did.

“Well, you’ll be glad to know that I have a date tonight,” I said, my chin high. I couldn’t keep the pleased grin from my face, even through the tears. When she stared at me, the words clearly not registering in her mind I added, “I’m going to be spending time with someone tonight in a romantic way . . . a man.”

“The boy finally became a man,” she grumbled and this time I wasn’t so sure she’d intended for me to hear her.

“Ev?” I asked, confused but continued on, “No, Tag. I’m going to dinner with Tag.”

“The soul stealer?” she asked, and I could hear the surprise and disgust in her voice. She almost spat to ward off evil spirits. I could almost see her bright blue eyes the size of saucers in astonishment from the small amulet.

“Wynne,” I said. “Redheads don’t steal souls. They just don’t.” I sighed. “But you know who does?” I asked and she was quiet for a moment, waiting. “Succubi. Succubi steal souls and that’s you.” When she didn’t respond—because I had her on that one—I said, “Tag is a nice guy. He’s steady. And he wants me.”

“Ahh,” she responded in a way that made my blood boil, as if she saw everything and I saw nothing.

“Ahh? What does ahhh mean?” I hissed, angry now. It felt good to be angry and show it. Turns out, I’d been angry for a while and keeping it pent up wasn’t doing me any favors. For some reason though, I felt completely comfortable showing anger to Wynne.

“Nothing,” she clipped, pleased with herself. “Just . . . ahh. Have fun on your . . . date,” she said with a snide lilt. And in the blink of an eye, she was gone, retreating back into her amulet to let me stew. I hated when she did that. She put just enough doubt in my head to make me second-guess everything. Wynne was just mean.

“I will!” I snapped at her, knowing full well she wasn’t listening. I plopped down on my bed and sighed. I would have a good time with Tag. I always had a good time with Tag. We were friends and I wouldn’t let Wynne’s nagging doubts cast a shadow on our date. This wouldn’t be weird at all.


About the Author: 

Suzanne M Sabol is the author of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance. She is a graduate of The Ohio State University and has two Bachelor of Arts degrees with majors in Criminology, International Studies, Russian, and Political Science. She has a Master’s degree from The Ohio State University’s John Glenn School of Public Affairs. She is married with one child and lives in Columbus Ohio.

The Blushing Death Series and the Blood and Bone Legacy are published through Soul Mate Publishing. Editor, Debby Gilbert, can be contacted through their website at www.soulmatepublishing.com












 

 



a Rafflecopter giveaway

Soul Seeker by Kaylin McFarren #SupernaturalThriller

 


Soul Seeker
Kaylin McFarren

Genre: Supernatural Thriller
Publisher: Creative Edge Publishing
Date of Publication:  Oct 27, 2020
ISBN: 9798665284903
ASIN:
Number of pages:308
Cover Artist: Amanda Yoshida

Book Description:

The battle between good and evil resides with...

While awaiting his execution for murdering his son, Benjamin Poe confesses to his lawyer the true story behind his crime, a harrowing tale of a manipulating, soul-collecting demon named Crighton.

Following Poe's death, Crighton continues his malevolent duties, until he's kidnapped by members of The Sovereign Sector. This group of scientists, notorious for experimenting on supernatural creatures, forces Crighton into a soulmate relationship with the very angel he was sent to capture for Lucifer.

However, with secrets revealed and loyalties shifting, Crighton soon becomes the target of Lucifer's revenge, and his journey to redemption and freedom–or eternal enslavement–begins. 

Amazon

Book Trailer 1: https://youtu.be/ZdopUKpfHpM 

Book Trailer 2: https://youtu.be/yJG9_9xUQUA

 


 Excerpt:

"Are you aware of our situation?"

"Of course, I'm aware," Poe snapped. "The date is approaching fast and we're running out of options."

Beaudoin sighed. "It would seem so. But I haven't given up hope just yet. We can still try for an insanity plea, although I know how you feel about that." He paused a moment to study Poe's tired eyes. "I've seen it work even this late in sentencing. If there's one chance to keep you alive, Ben, then we need to–"

"Counselor, it's over. You and I both know that. I'm done fighting. If I plead insanity, they'll send me away to the State hospital...and I don't want to spend what time I have left in that place. But I don't want to go home either. There's nothing left for me there." He leaned forward, resting his elbow the counter. "I know I'm not crazy, and I understand the seriousness of it. But I swear to you it was never my intention to kill him." He paused. "Not Gabriel. Not my son."

"Can I be frank with you, Ben?"

He nodded.

"Any ordinary case would have resolved itself by now, but as you're very well aware, this is far from ordinary. Your son's blood was found on your clothes. The same caliber revolver found in your possession matched his wounds, and you never denied firing it. Yet you continue to claim your innocence. Which begs the question..." Beaudoin paused briefly, choosing his words carefully. "If you didn't kill your son, as you'd like me to believe, then who did?"

Poe tipped his head to the side. "I never claimed he was killed by someone else, Mr. Beaudoin. If you read the transcripts, my story has never changed. Not one iota." The crease between Poe's eyebrows deepened. "I was the one who pulled the trigger. I was the one who fired all six shots. My son Gabriel died by my hand, but like I said, it was never my intention to kill him. The six rounds I fired were meant for someone else."

Beaudoin slapped his hand on the counter. "Right! That's what you said before. Someone else was there. But who, Mr. Poe?" He paused, exasperated. "And why? Because you refuse to admit your guilt. You refuse to take responsibility for your actions. Yet here I am...trying my best to keep you alive."

Poe sighed. "I've accepted my fate, Mr. Beaudoin. I don't expect any favors, but after everything you've done for me, you deserve to hear it all. The whole truth. I've never shared this with anyone because no one would ever believe me. But there's no point now in keeping it a secret any longer. I just want to leave this world knowing I held nothing back."

Beaudoin shook his head. "And you wait until now to share this?"

"I know, but I swear the story I'm about to tell you is the God's honest truth."

Beaudoin could see his own reflection in the Plexiglas barrier and it looked as shocked as he felt. He shrugged and said, "Very well then, you've got my full attention, Mr. Poe."

"You'll think I'm crazy. That much is certain. You might even demand that I plead insanity after you hear my explanation. But all I ask from you is to hear me out. Nothing more. Then you decide if the devil was there...or if he's sitting in this room right now."

Beaudoin eyed Poe, trying to decide if this bit of storytelling was worth his time. He tugged on his shirt sleeve and glanced down at his watch. It was 10:58AM and he had more than forty minutes to spare before his next meeting. So what did he have to lose, aside from his patience? Blowing out an exaggerated breath, he answered, "Okay, I'm listening."

Poe shifted on his seat and appeared to be collecting his thoughts. Or maybe he was formulating his story. Then he began.:

"It happened two weeks before Christmas. The fire at College Inn. Do you remember that?"

Beaudoin nodded and waited for him to continue.

"It was the night that everything was destroyed, including my life. You see, Mr. Beaudoin, up until then, I was a good Christian man, a loving father. I made an honest living. I provided a comfortable life for my family. I did everything by the book...everything that was expected of me." Poe rubbed his eyes and before he pulled his hands away, he continued, "I didn't know until that night that the world is full of monsters. Monsters with dark souls and claws, waiting for the chance to tear you apart."

 

 

About the Author:

Kaylin McFarren has received more than 50 national literary awards, in addition to a prestigious Golden Heart Award nomination for FLAHERTY'S CROSSING - a book she and her oldest daughter, New York Times/USA Today best-selling author Kristina McMorris, co-wrote in 2008. Prior to embarking on her writing journey and developing the popular THREADS psychological thriller series, she poured her passion for creativity into her work as the director of a fine art gallery in the Pearl District in Portland, Oregon; she also served as a governor–appointed member of the Oregon Arts Commission.

When she's not traveling or spoiling her two pups and three grandsons, she enjoys giving back to her community through participation and support of various charitable, medical and educational organizations in the Pacific Northwest. Her latest time-travel adventure, HIGH FLYING, asks challenging questions that will linger long after the final twists are revealed. Recently jumping to the supernatural thriller genre, Kaylin's clever SOUL SEEKER series leads readers into the pit of Hell, through the mechanisms of secret societies, and across the earth's crust, ever raising the stakes for her leading duo—a wicked demon and a saintly angel with secret earth-shattering agendas. With each story she writes, this author delivers unexpected twists and turns and keeps her readers on the edge of their seats, leaving them guessing and thoroughly entertained.

http://www.kaylinmcfarren.com/home

https://www.instagram.com/4kaylinmcfarren/

https://www.facebook.com/kaylin.mcfarren

https://twitter.com/4kaylin

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3184417.Kaylin_McFarren



Tuesday, October 20, 2020

Join the Live Haunted Halloween Spooktacular Facebook Party Wed October 21 10am-10pm EST


Join Bewitching authors as they chat about their books and Halloween.

Play games, win cool prizes including free books, Amazon gift cards, and more.

Author Schedule

10-11am Laura Bickle

11am- 12pm Catherine Stine

1-2 pm Celia Breslin

2-3pm  Susan Mac Nicol

3-4pm Nancy Gideon

4-5pm Roxanne Rhoads

5-6pm Happy Hour Mix and Mingle- Readers Can Ask Authors Questions

6-7pm Barb Jones 

7-8pm Tena Stetler

8-9pm Louisa West

9-10pm  Kim Richards

Join the Live Haunted Halloween Spooktacular Facebook Party Wed October 21 10am-10pm EST


Join Bewitching authors as they chat about their books and Halloween.

Play games, win cool prizes including free books, Amazon gift cards, and more.

Author Schedule

10-11am Laura Bickle

11am- 12pm Catherine Stine

1-2 pm Celia Breslin

2-3pm  Susan Mac Nicol

3-4pm Nancy Gideon

4-5pm Roxanne Rhoads

5-6pm Happy Hour Mix and Mingle- Readers Can Ask Authors Questions

6-7pm Barb Jones 

7-8pm Tena Stetler

8-9pm Louisa West

9-10pm  Kim Richards

Alpha’s Revenge by Catherine Stine - Haunted Halloween Spooktacular



Halloweenish Playlist by Catherine Stine Enjoy!

I Feel Like a Monster – The Ruffians

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nwK02Rrn-J4

I Put a Spell on You – Nina Simone

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xDprYZ-tgiA

Alice Underground – Avril Lavigne

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JMeiP69HlCM

The Devil Went Down to Georgia– metal version by Leo Moracchioli

(Original by Charlie Daniels Band)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LTdeQIY0jjs

Season of the Witch – Donovan

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JAzTnsSgs2s

Heartless – The Fray version

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LBTdJHkAr5A

Black Magic Woman – Santana

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wyQUCYl-ocs

Mephistopheles of Los Angeles – Marilyn Manson

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V-sD5Xy2N-E

Hunting for Witches – Bloc Party

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CmPNuruWMTA

Deep Six – Marilyn Manson

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R5Dpcm8_6Kw

Heavy Like a Witch – All Them Witches

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KhzvanE-O14

Do You Believe in Magic? – Lovin’ Spoonful

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mDYNuD4CwlI


Alpha’s Revenge
Royal Alpha Wolves Club
Book Three
Shared World Series
Catherine Stine

Genre: Werewolf Shifter Romance
Publisher: Konjur Road Press
Date of Publication: September 3, 2020
ISBN: ISBN: 978-1-7333901-4-9
ASIN: B08CWVBZM7
Number of pages: 165
Word Count: 42k
Cover Artist: Crown Atlantic

Book Description:

A heartbroken furious alpha, a forbidden childhood crush revisited.

Will karmic justice destroy them both?

From the languid, sexy heat of New Orleans, all the way to the icy Canadian Wilderness, supernatural creatures live shadow lives amongst mortals. But what if one of the most powerful and regal of beings—wolf shifters—found their packs disappearing through longstanding battles and vicious payback?

The Royal Alpha Wolves Club, a worldwide, ancient organization formed to keep order and secrets safe among werewolf packs is faced with this very dilemma. So, when the club leader gives the dire order for all royals to find a mate and produce an heir within a year it’s in the wolf shifters’ best interest. Wayland, though, is not on board.

Meet Wayland Leblanc—legendary royal alpha, hell-bent on revenge for his murdered mate. When the edict comes down from the leader in his new territory that all royals mate and produce an heir within the year or lose royal status, Wayland hits the road. He’s not ready. Instead, he charges up to Canada in his mini-camper, to wreak revenge on Thorn, the Tundra shifter who killed his mate Sabine and their unborn babe. He conscripts an army of coyote shifters in his revenge plot, and stuffs down his lingering heartache by partying with neighboring witches.

What he doesn’t plan for is falling hard for Stormy, Thorn’s mysterious sister. But pursuing a star-crossed Juliet to his Romeo just might cost Wayland and Stormy their lives.

4 books. 4 authors. 4 alphas. 1 shared world.



“Who are you?” It was dawning on him. Could it be his old Tundra playmate, Stormy? They hadn’t seen each other for years. It was rumored that Thorn had kept her so protected it was like she was locked in his ivory tower prison. Holy damn, if it was Stormy, he should have nothing to do with her. She was Thorn’s little sister. Could he still be confused? He’d just been hit so hard that maybe his brain had gone freaking haywire. “Where’s Ransom?”
          “He’s alive but you messed him up good. Why are you coming around, so angry, gunning for a fight? You look so familiar, but… ” She ran a cooling cloth over Wayland’s swollen eye. She smelled of forest phlox and river moss—of the Canadian tundra in summer. He struggled to get up again and realized she’d tied his arms, torso and ankles down with thick vines. He didn’t believe in hurting a woman. But his rage bubbled dangerously close to the surface. If he stayed like this too much longer, and she leaned closer to him as she cleaned his wounds he might not be able to stop from snapping his head up and biting her.
          “Why the hell did you tie me up?” he snarled.
          “For your own safety and for mine. You seemed unhinged. Who are you anyway? You look so familiar.”
          “Wayland. I used to live around here.”
          “Wayland!” She stopped cleaning his swollen eye and stared down at him. “Wayland Leblanc.”
          “Yeah, a damn Leblanc. The Tundras, led by your vicious brother slaughtered us a year ago in case you need reminding. Bunch of fucking savages,” he growled.
          “I know who you are. Your father killed my father.”

          “So, you are Stormy, Thorn’s sister,” he muttered. The very man I’m hunting down.

 

About the Author:

Catherine Stine is a USA Today bestselling author of historical fantasy, paranormal romance and sci-fi thrillers. Witch of the Wild Beasts won a second prize spot in the ‘19 RWA Sheila Contest. Other novels have earned Indie Notable awards and New York Public Library Best Books for Teens. She lives in Manhattan, grew up in Philadelphia and is known to roam the Catskills. Before writing novels, she was a painter and children’s fabric designer. She’s a visual author when it comes to scenes, and she sees writing as painting with words. She loves edgy thrills, perhaps because her dad read Edgar Allen Poe tales to her as a child. Catherine loves spending time with her beagle Benny, writing about supernatural creatures, gardening on her deck, traveling and meeting readers at book fests.






Catherine on Facebook:

Subscribe to Catherine’s Newsletter:

Goodreads:

Amazon Author Page:




a Rafflecopter giveaway

Fighting for Home by Kim Richards - Haunted Halloween Spooktacular


Fighting for Home
Descendants of the Amazoi
Book One
Kim Richards

Genre: fantasy/historical fantasy
Publisher: Kim Gilchrist
Date of Publication: July 2020
Print ISBN: 978-1-952564-00-0
Digital ISBN: 978-1-952564-02-4
Number of pages: 241
Word Count: 87,616

Cover Artist: Dawné Dominique DusktilDawn  Designs

Book Description:

In 300 B.C.—the Greco-Roman Age—tribes of warrior women thrived near the Black Sea. The area is now modern-day Turkey. The Greeks called them Amazoi (meaning Mankiller).

Inspired by their story, Fighting for Home sings the tale of one tribe as they battle to save their way of life. Healing magic is real! Ilenea and Saphira, the wolf sisters, battle close to home with others of their generation. A healer priestess named Essla travels to a temple of Artemis at Anthela with her male slave, bringing a call to arms for the pending war. She meets and falls in love with a Roman General.

Whatever the outcome, this war changes everyone.

Amazon      Kobo       BN       Smashwords


Excerpt:

Thup. Thup. The second archer cried out as two of Xanthi’s arrows buried themselves into his thigh and hip. He let his own arrow fly. Leaves rustled where his arrows disappeared among the tree branches. He fumbled with an arrow, trying to notch it quickly when he heard the rustle again.

The archer looked up as Xanthi leaped from the bushes with her spear in hand. There was no time for him to raise his bow before the bronze point burrowed its way through his leather cuirass, seeking the tender flesh beneath.

At his wretched cry, the shield man to the left took a wild swing with his sword. He caught Xanthi just below the left collarbone. It sliced through her leather jerkin, taking breast flesh with it.

Crying out from the pain, she fell to her knees as blood poured from the gash. One hand pressed against the wound as her other fumbled for her knife.

Xanthi’s man turned his attention from her. He should’ve advanced. Celete used it to her advantage and swung her axe up the inside of his shield. It’s blade cleaved his stomach wide open. His guts spilled out over her hand—hot and sticky. He toppled sideways, landing in the dirt before Xanthi. With a roar befitting any lioness, she clawed at his face for what he did to her.


About the Author:


Kim Richards lives in Northern California with her husband and pets. She loves the genres of horror, science fiction, and fantasy. Her hobbies include reading, writing, sewing, LARPing, and listening to music.













a Rafflecopter giveaway

Monday, October 19, 2020

Queen’s Ascension by Barb Jones - Haunted Halloween Spooktacular


The Perfect Monster Party for Kids

I love planning parties, so that’s why I am a Special Event Coordinator on the side, in addition to my many other facets.  This party was such a success for my kids (when they were smaller) and I’ve been planning Halloween parties each year for friends, family and strangers.  

First, know the age group of the kids.  This party is planned for those that are between 6-10.

Invites:

One of the most important steps in party planning is the invite.  This sets the tone.  I created my own invites (using the computer) that outlined all sorts of monsters (no so scary for the little ones but enough to entice the older kids).  

For this invite, I used the following wording:

Do you DARE join us for an amazing monster hunting party?  This is your chance to either slay all the monsters or chase the hunters…..

(Enter party details)

Provide your preference: Monster or Hunter (tell us when you RSVP)

Décor:

Decorate the house or yard to the best you can to simulate monster hunting.  Allow enough room to hide, shoot those arrows, and run!  Yes, run!  That’s the best part.  For the parties, I have a collection of hanging spider webs, coffins, zombies, witches, a lifesize cut out of Van Helsing even.  Decorate your home, keeping with the theme as much as possible.

Guests:

Separate the kids into the two groups, hunters and monsters.  Because my daughter was 4 years older than my son, I hired her and her friends to be additional monsters (after all, it’s Halloween).  They dressed up as Frankenstein, Dracula, Witches, you name it.

Food:

Probably the most important part!  I had two tables: one for the monsters, one for the hunters.  Of course the monsters had foods like “Bloody Eyeballs” (which was simply watermelon scooped into balls), “Intestines” (fruit salad), “Human Fingers” (Hot Dogs),  You get the idea.

The Hunters had things like Hamburgers, Hot Dogs, etc.  

Of course, they could eat off the other table but I made sure each table was similar but definitely meant for the chosen character.  

Drinks were Gatorade, Bloody Water (Shirley Temple), Acid (Green Juice)

And of course, lots of candy.

Games:

The game is Monster hunting of course.  I let the monsters run around and the hunters had their gear.  The kids ran around for hours, stopping only to eat.  What was planned to be a 4 hour party turned into an 8 hour party because the kids had so much fun.


Queen’s Ascension
Blood Prophecy
Book Three
Barb Jones

Genre: Paranormal
Publisher: World Castle
Date of Publication: August 17, 2020
Print ISBN:  9781953271013
eBook ISBN:  9781953271020
ASIN: B08DKK66PM
Number of pages: 236 pages
Word Count: 86107 words
Cover Artist: Steven J. Catizone

Tagline: Bloodshed. Heartbreak. Revelation.

Book Description:

When the darkness was compelling and the heart knew no bounds, was there really a right choice? With Michael’s life hanging in the balance, Amber had a choice: save her star-fated love or keep on the crusade to unite the magical community.

For Amber, her fate was sealed even before her birth and it was her destiny to fight the great battle ahead of her. But, when it came to her heart -- her friends, her great love -- Amber’s torn. Not only was she the Queen, but she was a human in every sense of the word. She was vulnerable. And so the very people -- Chloe and Michael -- that gave her strength, quickly became her weakness. It wasn’t her fault she loved too much, was it?

Nevertheless, the Tall Dark Man had set a plan in motion that could threaten the very existence of the Blood Prophecy. Would he gather his dark forces and succeed in destroying Amber once and for all? Or, would she assemble her powerful friends and save the world?

Amazon     BN


Excerpt:

 Malakai, Seattle, Present Day

With the betterment of both Michael and Rae, Malakai was glad that they were well and fine; nevertheless, he needed some time to decompress. All the magical commotions that had occurred were too overwhelming for him. He needed some sort of release.

He enjoyed the brisk jog in the park, as he cut through the sharp wind of the cold night. But this did nothing to lift his spirits. He was happy that Amber’s smile finally met her eyes. That was all he’d ever wanted for her: happiness, that’s it. There was nothing more he could ask for—she was his priority. Yet, in the back of his mind, as in his heart, he couldn’t help but believe the ancient legend that he’d heard so long ago was the certifiable truth, as it was written in Eschmun’s scroll.

…her fate is tied to the true alpha of the wolves. A blood drinker will stand formidable, but it is the nature of the child to call upon the true alpha and bring him to the queen’s inner heart.

Could this be the truth? he often wondered as he traveled the world collecting artifacts and evidence supporting this notion. Yes, he’d crafted a reliquary, quite accidentally, and people assumed it was to keep the magic insulated, away from the humans. But that wasn’t the case, at least not for him.  He so wanted to believe, just from the sheer fact that it was said in the scroll. But Malakai was a man of logic, driven by cold hard data. Although wanting to romanticize that his destiny was tied with Amber’s, he needed confirmation. He wanted validation for the strong emotions he was feeling. 

***

Zaraquel, Seattle, Present Day

Walking the cemetery grounds as she so often did without the knowledge of her parents, Zaraquel wandered at a leisurely pace. She whipped out her phone and checked the time, which read midnight. Her brow quirked in confusion, as she had expected Loquiel some time ago. With her long hair styled in two braids and her bright red coat to keep her warm, she sat down on a bench.

She was elated that her best friend, other than the one that was currently running late, was alive and breathing. Rae had given Zaraquel a terrible fright, for she had never known the death of someone close to her heart. She shook, not from the cold, but from remembering the tragic vision she had of Rae’s demise.

A throaty growl awoke her from her thoughts. She heard the fast footfalls of someone, something, running toward her, and she put her fight training to use. Zaraquel spun around, so much so that her wings unfurled. But that did not deter the undead man from attacking her. His decaying flesh was a sight she instantly wished she could unsee, but she had to fulfill her duty and protect the people, which meant ridding the world of this monster.

She punched him in the stomach as her father had taught her, but that did nothing to stop him from throwing his fists at her. She dodged his poor attempts at aiming for her and grabbed his arm, twisting him around so he fell to his knees. Her weight on his back caused the corpse to fall to the ground. It growled in anger, shaking its head savagely, as if it couldn’t wait to get back to its feet. Zaraquel, however, had plans of her own. She stood briefly to step on his neck to keep him from moving, and whispered a spell she’d learned from a book.

“Capite obtruncato intestinisque extractis.”

She heard the cracking of his bones, the stretching of his skin; with a pop! his head flew off, gore spattering in every direction. His body went limp, as it was before he had risen from the ground.

Zaraquel sighed in frustration as she walked off, disappointed from another unnecessary and unjustified kill. She continued to walk the grounds and felt a rush of warm wind, the kind she felt every time Loquiel was near. She turned and there he was, right behind her. 

About the Author:

Barb Jones is a paranormal thriller author, IT professional, and the mother of two fantastic children. She is known for her ability to create relatable characters and detailed settings without compromising her unique plots. When people have asked her who she is, she's been quoted saying, "It can be hard to write at times, but never give up on what you're passionate about." She's a mother, first and foremost, and an author and supernatural enthusiast after. She currently resides in Sarasota, FL, but is a Seattle native at heart. When she's not writing, she's traveling and looking for new inspiration for her books.













a Rafflecopter giveaway