October 31, 2015

Book Blast! Excerpt & Giveaway: Devil's Jawbone by B.J. Sheppard

As night descends on the town of Devil's Jawbone, no one is safe. The veil between the living and the dead is at its thinnest, and the darkest side of human nature is boiling to the surface. The supernatural and the natural are colliding, and in this sleepy town, the bump in the night is taking human form. Innocence will be lost; the villain will become the victor; spirits will rise and Satan himself will come to town. 

In an eerie collection of short speculative fiction, author BJ Sheppard will grab your imagination, bringing new life to the classic campfire tales synonymous with the scariest of occasions. Halloween will never be the same again.

Janine Richards had been the first to see the body, arriving an hour early to train for that Friday’s track meet. Through the indigo rays of morning, she had expected peace and quiet but instead had been gifted with the body of the football team’s quarterback hanging from the centre bar of the goal post. The police had arrived after her frantic call and all the yellow tape in the world couldn’t stop the student body from stopping to share in the horror, the grief that had blanketed DJ High.

Riley fought his way through the crowd and stopped only when Logan’s body, still hanging one hour after its discovery, swung lazily on a gentle autumn breeze. His stomach lurched and his eyes prickled, yet he couldn’t peel them away.

What, only one day previously, had been a generally happy, albeit momentarily pissed, Logan Greenway was now reduced to a bloating blue-black sac of meat swaying from the goal that Riley himself had scored over several times at practice the night before. The soccer net around his neck had bitten bloodily into his neck, which was pitched at an awkward angle and coated with what looked like thick black paint under the gentle rays of morning sun. Riley fought the urge to run, closed his throat against the violent clench in his stomach that had only occurred before when he was sick, and turned from the body that was once his teammate.

Logan had not been suicidal, that much was the truth. He had been distracted, pissed at Coach for his harsh behavior, but Logan Greenway had been the boy who had it all. Nothing about his life had held a suggestion that things weren’t going exactly the way he wanted.

Riley thought to his own home life, to the secret of his father’s sudden departure that lingered on the tip of his tongue ready to be spilled. Everyone has a secret, he thought, playing nervously with the straps of his rucksack. But what was Logan’s?

It didn’t matter anymore. Logan Greenway was dead. And school was out for the day.

My name is BJ Sheppard and all at once I found myself an author. Such a strange sensation to actually feel you deserve the thing you had aspired to for many years. After all, all it took was computer access and an inner world that reads like a Sheryl Crow song to pound the keys and translate my crazy ideas onto the page. I feel like I could have business cards printed. Maybe wear a black roll neck and perch my glasses on the tip of my nose. I could drink whisky and smoke a cigar and do all those really stereotypical things I imagine all writers do. Perhaps I could get laid a little more? This is not the end. Nor the beginning. Hell, it isn’t even about me. My boys write themselves; I really don’t have that much say in the matter. As long as my characters need a voice, I have two chubby typing fingers and a need to please— watch this space: there is more to come.

Release Day Blitz! Ain't That A Kick, Drifting Sinners & Wayward Angels #2 by Katia Wildermann

Cash Jefferson is a costumed panhandler—or as he prefers, performance artist. He spends his evenings on the Las Vegas Strip singing and dancing for tourists. His life revolves around his art and getting laid, but he’s beginning to feel like something’s missing.

Shelby is a runaway, down but not quite out. She came to Vegas with a friend and a plan to hustle tourists out of enough money to survive, but her friend got arrested and she’s been muddling through on her own.

When Shelby meets Cash and his friends, Cash is drawn to her bravery and her beautiful soul. With a little help from her new friends, Shelby starts a sensual new chapter in the story of her life.

Ain’t That a Kick is an erotic love story between an artist and a runaway. Cash’s search for connection and raw beauty has led him to Sin City, the vibrant crux where life, art and sexuality meet. Looking for something more than mere survival, Shelby is ready to find happiness and healing in the cracks between the broken pieces of her life.

Being caught—literally—between her nerdy neighbor and the MMA fighter her agency managed wasn't as bad as Lyla might have expected. That is, if she'd ever expected to be in this situation.

Lyla Mason knows she'll have her hands full when her boss assigns her to babysit Callum Reed, MMA fighter and her PR agency's latest client. He is used to getting his way, and hotter than hell, both in the cage and in the bedroom, or on the floor, in the elevator.... Social media sites are rife with photos of him in compromising situations, and she's been tasked with cleaning up his image before he launches into the most important season of his career.

Game designer Adam Rhodes has been trying to figure out how to get in Lyla's pants ever since she moved in a year ago. His apartment shares a paper-thin wall with hers, and hearing her make use of her vibrator on a nearly nightly basis has his firm attention. Her rack and rockin' body is totally worth putting his PS4 controller down for. She'd totally freak out if she knew he'd hacked into her webcam so he could watch....

Callum Reed never expected to clean up his wicked ways, but his trainer insists he'll never get good sponsors if he keeps sexting to barfly hookups and having his junk turn up on the internet. He resisted the whole idea of letting a PR Agency dictate his "brand" until he catches sight of Lyla. She may hide behind her glasses and power suits, but she is a sex kitten just waiting to be set free.

When Lyla and her bosses decide Callum needs to lay low while they start the image makeover process, Cal rents the apartment across the hall from Lyla. Little did anyone know that a simple change of address would throw gasoline on a smoldering fire.

My name is Katia Wildermann. I'm not real. I'm the alter ego for an author who prefers to keep her smutty work separate from her sweeter work. I call what I write dirty-sweet, blunt erotica. Try it. I think you'll like it.

I've started a series of standalone novellas set in Las Vegas: Drifting Sinners & Wayward Angels. I gave it that title because Las Vegas is often referred to as Sin City, full of wicked lost souls. As far as I'm concerned, Wicked doesn't equal Evil. Many so-called sinners are people who are just out to have a good time. They live in the moment, for the moment. Their lives aren't perfect, but they're not trying to hurt anyone. They just want to feel good.

They are choosing to laugh with the sinners rather than cry with the saints. Who am I to say that's wrong?

Excerpt & Giveaway! Bad to the Bone by Wendy Stone

When her Uncle Jack is arrested on drug charges, Sammie Murphy hops the first plane to Key West. Being rescued isn’t on her uncle’s to-do list, though. When he admits guilt and instructs her to go home, Sammie knows with 100% certainty something is seriously wrong.

Veteran DEA agent Enrique Santos knows when a bust is solid. So why is he allowing Jack Murphy’s niece to mess with his head? He’s been set-up and nearly killed by a woman like her before, and he’s not about to make that mistake again.

But then things at Murphy’s bar take a turn for the dangerous, leaving Sammie entangled in Enrique’s dark past. Forced tosecond-guess his convictions, Enrique has no choice but to kidnap the one woman who could destroy everything...including his heart.

There were vices. And then there were V-I-C-E-S. For some people it was food. For others it was booze or gambling. 

Not her. Sammie had the much more lethal variety. What stood before her was the epitome of her particular V-I-C-E. 

The guy had bad boy written all over him. From the bandana he wore over dark hair, to the five o’clock shadow on his face, to the piercing black eyes, to the biceps made of granite, to the long legs, well-defined and visible through the tight fit of his jeans, he was one heaping dollop of trouble. She could see it, sense it, and smell it with every fiber of her being.

He removed the wobbly tray from her with one hand while he held out his other to help her up. She grabbed on and tried to ignore the fireworks sparking up her arm. As soon as she got steady on her feet, she let go and scooted away. No sense tempting fate.

Her willpower was for shit when it came to this particular vice. One touch was enough to sway her to the dark side.

Think safe. Think predictable. Not this guy before her with a silver earring in his ear and an enigmatic smile.

“Are you all right?” Deep and sensual, his voice sent shivers racing down her spine. Her head spun while her hands felt clammy. This could not be good. 

Damn. Couldn’t he have a squeaky feminine-like voice, or at the very least some kind of good-ole-boy drawl? Either one would be enough to sidetrack her hormones, at least temporarily.

“I’ve got this.” Reinforcing her take-charge statement, she retrieved the tray from him and shook off the sparks arcing between them. Had to be her imagination. She didn’t have time for flirting, even if she couldn’t help but notice his gaze trailing up her legs. 

Self-conscious, Sammie yanked down her jeans skirt, scurried to an upright position, gathered what remained of her dignity, and made her way behind the bar. Absorbed in the mundane tasks of setting up, she kept her focus off the fact Mr. Trouble followed right behind.

“Those swinging doors should have hazard lights around them.” His lips curved in an almost smile, revealing a set of nice white teeth. “I didn’t think—”

“Really, I’m fine.” She didn’t need the distraction of a flirty way-too-good-looking-to-be-for-real guy messing with her head right now. 

“At least the beer mugs made it out alive.” 

She couldn’t help but smile. “There’s that.” Sammie pulled at the towel in her hands to avoid looking at him. But she couldn’t seem to keep her gaze averted—sort of like train wreck. She needed him to ‘Step Away from the Bartender’ but couldn’t think of a way to get that done, especially since she didn’t want him to. 

She tamped down the lustful sensations running rampant through her body. He was so close she could practically see the testosterone floating in the air. She pushed back the carnal thoughts spinning through her head even as his sultry vibe threatened to suck her in. 

Leaning over onto the bar top, he moved his face inches from hers. Every nuance popped into her awareness: dark, thick eyelashes surrounded those deep coal-colored eyes, prominent cheekbones brought an angular quality to the shape, a straight nose nestled between those cheekbones, a strong jaw complimented the sharp edges, but the slight curve of his mouth pulled everything together.

Wendy lives in the Chicago area. She has a Masters in Social Work and worked in the child welfare field for twelve years before she decided to pursue her dream of writing.

Between teaching college classes, trying to get her morbidly obese cat to slim down and tempering the will of her five-year-old granddaughter, who's determined to become a witch when she turns six so she can fly on her broom to see the Eiffel Tower and put hexes on people--not necessarily in that order--somehow Wendy still manages to fit in writing. She spendsthe remainder of her days inflicting mayhem on her hero and heroine until they beg for mercy.

She has written three books in the Hard Targets trilogy, Hard to Kill, Hard to Trust and Hard to Stop. In addition, she has two books through Entangled Publishing, The Millionaire’s Deception, and Bad to the Bone, two self-published books, The Christmas Curse and Accused, and two interracial romances, Fractured and Mama Said.

October 30, 2015

Excerpt & Giveaway! An Erie Halloween by V.L. Locey

Templeton Reed has been hiding his inner polecat since he was a child. Keeping his animal secreted is hard for a shifter, especially when one is living in a secret community of mystical beings. It`s the wolf shifters that cause Templeton the most trouble with their darned sensitive noses. 

Templeton has a run-in with the Lake Erie pack and their alpha, Mikel Lupei, at the Office for Transmogrification Registration (OTTER). Templeton has a desk job checking registration papers and dealing with wolf shifters is not part of his job description. After that upsetting meeting the meek and mild office worker suddenly finds himself in the center of not only civil unrest among the shifter community, but a violent plan for a coup aimed at rousting Mikel. 

Templeton and Mikel, a skilled tracker of rogue shifters, are soon not only fighting for their lives, they`re also fighting the rigidly archaic rules of their kind, as well as the person responsible for trying to take over Mikel`s pack from the inside. Can this magical odd couple turn a passionate attraction into a full-fledged love affair?

Buy the book: SAVE 50% by using this code: eriehalloween at checkout.

As I walked, I rolled odd change around inside my coat pockets. The streets were busy as last minute shoppers ran to get their candy and costumes for the big night tomorrow. Head down and mind running a mile a minute, I never saw the brick wall disguised as a man I ran into. Face into the wind, I never smelled him either. The amber eyes and brindle hair were all that stopped me from either screaming or shifting. Mikel pulled me into a small bookstore. I went along because I really had no choice, but once inside the quaint bookery, I jerked my arm from his grasp. Several patrons glanced at us. Mikel muscled me into a row holding non-fiction and historical. He grabbed a book and opened it, his sharp gaze flitting between me and a fascinating how-to grow-your-own-beets book.

“Is there a reason you abducted me from the street?” I asked, moving back slightly when his big body pressed closer to allow a woman to pass behind him. His proximity was beyond distressing. It was arousing. Now that he had me cornered, there was no getting away from the heady scent that he exuded: Part sin, part warm fur, part earthy pine, wholly distracting.

“I`ve been trying to contact you for days. Why didn`t you return my calls?” he whispered, keeping his big chest plastered to my left arm. My spine was firmly against a bookshelf.

“There are several reasons,” I replied trying to sound snooty but sounding meagerly twitterpated. "One is that our classes don`t mix. . .”

“That`s a paltry reason, Templeton,” Mikel said gruffly, snapping his beet book closed.

“Well, it may be for you, but when one`s boss tells one to keep his distance and – hey!” I grabbed for my glasses when he plucked them off the bridge of my nose. Folding my arms over my pea coat, I glowered at the oaf. There would be no leaping up and down. Those days ended when I left high school. The touch of his fingers on my chin brought out an age-old response. I jerked back hard. The bookcase behind me wobbled dangerously. Mikel dropped his book to steady the shelving unit. My heart was trying to explode through my chest like an alien baby. The lycan inhaled several times then gave me a dark look.

“Calm yourself, Templeton, your odor is growing stronger.”

“Sorry, it`s just this is all too – too much,” I gasped, working to calm myself before the tingling at the base of my spine began. The bells over the front door tinkled melodiously. Soft conversation bounced off the spines of books. Mikel tipped my head back and kissed me. Right there in the middle of the non-fiction. His lips were soft. Sinfully soft. It took my lashes a moment after his mouth left mine to flutter upward. Squinting skyward, I tried to read his face but it was a blur. My glasses were placed back onto my face, albeit crookedly, and then I could see the glow of golden eyes. Oh my . .

V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, two dogs, two cats, a flock of assorted domestic fowl, and three Jersey steers. 

When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand. She can also be found online on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and GoodReads.

Book Blitz! Excerpt & Giveaway: Zia, The Teenage Zombie & the Undead Diaries

Zia would give anything to be a typical teenager... again. Heck, she’d settle for being a vampire or smelly werewolf, but a member of the walking dead? The lowliest of all the monsters? No way! Nothing is worse than being a skin-sloughing, limb-losing, maggot-housing, brain-craving undead girl. Nothing.

It wouldn’t be so bad if humans didn’t insist on “Living Impaireds” wearing bands to keep their insatiable appetites in check. And if LIs want to coexist with humans, then rules must be followed, no matter how ludicrous they might seem. Why do undead teenagers have to go to high school anyway?

Zia does her best to blend in and go unnoticed, but when a new group of LIs are bused in from another school and she finds herself part of a growing horde, all bets are off.

Besides, rules are meant to be broken—especially when an unbeating heart is pulled in two different directions.

It’s weird to have a finger in my pocket. No one else knows it’s there, and only Lewis notices it’s missing from my hand.

"Umm... you had five fingers on that hand this morning, didn’t you?" He takes a big bite from his lamb sandwich—his usual. It’s chilly outside, but not too bad, and so we sit together on a bench under the school marquee.

"Yeah." I reach in my pocket and pull it out to show him.

Lewis is a good friend. He doesn’t even back away. "That’s nasty." He takes another bite of his sandwich.

"I know." I shove the wrinkled digit back in my pocket. "Eli says he can help me fix it."

He tips his head and raises an eyebrow. "Eli? As in Eli Olsen?"

I nod before I sip at my thermos. Gooey chunks of meaty flesh and blood slide down my throat.

"I thought he was expelled for punching Marcus in the face last week." Marcus is a vamp—a mean one, at that. He’s a least six-foot-five and weighs over two hundred pounds. I can’t imagine Eli punching him in the face. He’s not tall enough, for one thing, and it would have surly gotten him killed for another. Since Eli is still alive, it seems like something is wrong with the story.

"I have no idea. He’s here, that’s all I know."

"So how the heck is he going to fix your finger?"

"Not sure. He told me to meet him in Mr. T’s room after school."

"The wood shop class?" Lewis cringes. "There’s a lot of stuff in there that could be used to kill you. Are you sure that’s a good idea?"

I shrug and take another sip from my thermos. It always tastes better at 98.7 degrees. I settle for room temperature. "If I show up at home without a finger, my dad will start crying again. He already feels bad enough for doing this to me. If I can’t get it fixed somehow, he’ll just end up feeling even worse."

"What about the school nurse?" He pops some strips of uncooked bacon in his mouth.

"How would she fix it? With a band-aid? Besides, we both know she would never help someone like me. She’s too afraid." I slurp what’s left at the bottom of my thermos. It’s never enough and I’m still hungry.

"You’re probably right. Well, I guess it can’t hurt to see what Eli can do. Worst case scenario, he ends up killing you."

"Gee, thanks."

Lewis pats me on the back before he stands and makes a jump shot, landing his sandwich wrapper in the garbage can thirty feet away. Too bad they won’t let him on the basketball team. Our one-win-in-five-games team could use his help. Humans are stupid sometimes.

He starts to walk away but turns to look at me once more. "If you don’t make it out alive, I sure am going to miss you." He smiles, and his dimples make their appearance on his handsome face.

Too bad he’s a werewolf.

Moreover, too bad I’m a zombie.

I hear voices. Tiny fictional people sit on my shoulders and whisper their stories in my ear. Instead of medicating myself, I decided to pick up a pen, write down everything those voices tell me, and turn it into a book. I’m not crazy. I’m an author.
For the most part, I write contemporary Young Adult novels. However, through a writing exercise that spiraled out of control, I found myself writing about zombies terrorizing the Wild Wild West—and loving it. My zombies don’t sparkle, and they definitely don’t cuddle. At least, I wouldn’t suggest it. 
I live on the benches of the beautiful Wasatch Mountains with two lovely children, one teenager, and a very patient husband. I graduated from Utah State University with a B.A. degree in English, not because of my love for the written word, but because it was the only major that didn’t require math. I can’t spell, and grammar is my arch nemesis. But they gave me the degree, and there are no take backs. 
As a child, I never sucked on a pacifier; I chewed on a pencil. I’ve been writing that long. It has only been the past few years that I’ve pursued it professionally, forged relationships with other like-minded individuals, and determined to make a career out of it.

Excerpt & Giveaway! Troll by Ashley C. Harris

At the age of sixteen, Abby is undergoing major household changes. Her mom is getting ready to remarry and her new step-brother is driving her insane. She is just trying to keep herself busy with school and her part-time job when a most deliciously handsome stranger moves to her little seaside town and won't leave her alone.

New arrival Wilhelm is unlike any other student at Abby’s school. His emerald eyes and tattooed body don’t truly reveal what he really is: a creature emerged from thousands of miles underground, seeking revenge, treasure, and a key that once belonged to an old enemy – a key Abby wears suspended from a chain around her neck. Why she has it is a mystery that Wilhelm will need to solve, and fast, in order to defeat a powerful mortal adversary.

As an attraction between Abby and Wilhelm develops, more creatures like Wilhelm are drawn from beneath the ground to Abby’s town; wreaking havoc as they offer Abby’s classmates the fulfillment of their deepest desires. Will Abby and her new family survive as a game of magical warfare is unleashed? Her ability to reverse Wilhelm’s bargain depends on it.

Seconds went by and he found nothing, except a distraction. It wasn’t the human’s heartbeat drumming steadily on the second floor that he found unnerving, most likely it was the fact that she was reading a rhyme aloud – that wasn’t a human thing as much as it was a trolls’: “A kiss was made,” he heard her voice whisper, trying to ignore it. “A rose was dropped.” He looked up when she said the word rose. “A heart was snapped in half. The love of your life has left you in a world that’s dark and black.”

He moved toward the sound. Perhaps she was really one of his kind in disguise, here to spy on him.

“Thunder sounds, the sky turns gray, there is nothing recognizable at all. The love of your life has left you in a world that’s sad and small.” The words made him think about Helena, his Helena, kissing Klaus, while he had her fully under his control. It was sickened him and pissed him off.

He crept down the bookcase where a girl was reading from a book out loud, unaware of his presence. She was definitely not a troll, he concluded when he got a good look at her, growing bored. “But then the sun comes out. A rainbow appears. An angel has come to tell you, your hope is stronger than fear.”

“Are you sure that’s what an angel would say?” he asked.

Her blue, puppy-like eyes shot up, her body nearly jumping out of its skin from being startled. “Where did you come from?” she squeaked as she looked around, her heartbeat doubling.

“About five shelves over,” he answered as he looked her up and down. She was a tiny, petite thing compared to himself, with light brown hair and blushed fair skin that made her blue eyes pop. She also had four freckles on one cheek and three on the other. This human was both plain looking but also strangely captivating compared to others in the building.

“Oh, I see, and were you standing there the entire time?” she asked, her free hand going to her hip, as she tried to stand up straighter, trying to seem tall and authoritative. He could see she was irritated at being disturbed, and that was the most entertaining thing of all.

“Yes, is that a problem?” he asked with a smile.


“I’m sorry … I thought you worked here. I was just looking for some help,” he lied. Did she think he wouldn’t notice the fact that she was standing next to a filing cart and wearing a library badge that read: Abigail? That, and the feelings of servitude and obligation that he could smell all over her. 

“Oh, I – I do,” she said, as if this had just occurred to her. She was unable to wipe the annoyance and unease off her face, as she looked down his arm, judging him because of his numerous tattoos. Humans...so sadly sheltered. “How can I help you?”

He didn’t answer. This irritated her more.

“The college used book section is downstairs, and so is the art and tattoo section,” she suggested, trying to guess his reason for pestering her.

“Do I really look old enough to be in college to you?” he asked, half insulted because college years for humans were death years for his kind.

“Yes,” she said honestly as she took in his tall, six-foot-five frame. “You look at least twenty.”

“Nope, time to get your eye’s checked maybe?” he asked, stepping closer, letting her guess his age; this seemed like a game she didn’t want to play.

“Well you’re definitely a least eighteen,” she replied as she turned part of her body away from him, her eyes back to her books; as if being eighteen put him in a different category than her. “You’d have to be to get a tattoo, now is—”

“Or maybe I had really cool parents,” he cut her off. “And I’m seventeen. That was an enchanting poem you read by the way. Who was it by?”

He took another step closer as she took a step back, nearly colliding into a bookshelf. “Amber Paris.” She handed him the book she’d read from and appeared much more comfortable when he was looking at it and not her. He examined it with only partial interest. “She got it published when she was fifteen.” she seemed to know all about the subject.

“Well, that explains why it’s so good, then. People always come up with their best work when they’re young. I bet at twelve her poems were even better.”

Each word he spoke was like a hook, spinning magic to pull her in to him even as she wanted to get away. “Where are you from, exactly?” she asked as she noticed what he was wearing; heavy jeans instead of the more typically Floridian surfer shorts, and a thick dark green shirt that went down to his elbows, only showing off half of his tattoos. Probably weird attire for the hottest months of Florida, but as a troll he craved warmth and hated the cold. “Are you from up north?”

“No, not at all,” he said, offering no other explanation. “So, why read a poem aloud? What about you does it relates to?” he asked with a grin, it was a pretty personal question and yet she’d have to tell him. Soon his powers if he kept talking to her would be able to push Abby to do all sorts of things... for a short time anyway, until a price was paid.

He read over the beginning lines of the poem again. “A kiss was made, a rose was dropped.” The words tripped him up, making him think about Rosabel’s last feelings before she died. Feelings that held a deep meaning for him, letting him know that even though she had never been able to claim him as an inheritor, she still had cared about him more than any other treasure.

His eyes could have almost teared up just thinking about his murdered mother. Trolls could be insanely emotional – good thing for him he was better at shielding how he felt than most. He turned his face away, getting a hold of himself, as the little human rambled, her voice a comforting distraction.

“I don’t think it relates to me. I just write poetry so my teacher asked me to look over another writer’s work.”

“Because maybe you want to be like this writer, famous and well liked?” he stated to test if her interest in the author was shallow, sensing what she didn’t even know was one of her most hidden desires. Humans could be so naive about their own ambitions, but these were easily recognized by trolls. This one clearly had no idea what her body and mind were capable of yearning for.

“No,” she lied, as if insulted. “That’s crazy. I’ve never wanted that; it’s just an assignment.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, as her hidden wants started calling to him – they tasted satisfying too. Her craving for freedom, he could use that to trap her, and then trap all the humans here. He’d have some real fun after a day of anger and sorrow as he played with these fools until they broke.

Leave her alone! a small boy’s voice suddenly screamed into his ear. He turned around, startled, only to find no one behind him.

“Are you okay?” he heard Abby ask him. His face must have looked haunted. That’s when he sensed where the book that he had been searching for was. 

“Yes.” Finding the book and his key were far more important than this girl or having a little fun. He looked back in Abby’s direction, now needing to get rid of her. She looked nervous and still confused by his presence, still not knowing why she was continuing to talk to him. He decided in that moment to show her the kind of mercy and kindness his mother Rosabel should have received. Besides, he really didn’t feel like killing anyone innocent so the knights couldn’t find them later. 

Before she could move, he reached out and gripped her shoulder, sending heat through her body, making her look deep into his eyes. “If you ever see me or anything like me again, anyone that has markings like this…,” he lifted his sleeve so she could take in his entire arm. His tattoos on it came to life and moved hypnotically, numbing her senses and making her go into a trance. “… you probably shouldn’t trust us. You should be smart and stay away from anyone like myself that you ever come in contact with.”

And with those words, he had given her a precious gift he hadn’t given any other human in a very long time. If any more trolls came along she’d stay out of their way now, wanting nothing to do with them. He watched her walk off in a beautiful daze. She’d certainly stay away from him if he changed his mind in the next few moments and decided to pursue her after all. Trolls often did change their minds about most things. He imagined her lips would have tasted pretty good, for a human anyway. Her body would have most likely felt nice …

Please leave her alone! he heard the boy scream again, the voice coming from his head. He was hearing a past memory, one that was too dangerous for him to think about. He ran his fingers along the book spines one more time. They led him right to the familiar texture he had been looking for. To the very storybook a young knight had checked out and carried in his backpack years before Wilhelm had found him.

Author and film director Ashley C. Harris resides in Florida. Ashley was first recognized for her edgy writing and unique film work when she wrote and directed the teenage film "Lines". Lines was the first feature film in the world captured using only Mac Laptops. 

In 2013 she teamed up with Barclay Publicity to release the first in a new young adult novel series, "Shock Me". Ashley then went on to author eight other titles, in multiple genres, as she also worked behind-the-scenes on a morning news show that aired on ABC. In 2014, four of Ashley's books landed on the Amazon's Best Selling Top-Ten-List. In 2015, she received her first publishing deal for "Troll", a KindleScout novel winner. 

When Ashley is not dreaming up new manuscripts and working on film sets, she loves spending time with her family, obsessing about biblical mysteries, and watching lots of Doctor Who. Keep an eye out for her newest releases!

Cover Reveal & Giveaway! Velicious, Part Two by Shelique Lize

Justice Labelle has lost too much in this war of monster and men, and it needs to stop now. After her run in with Erin, which left her lying in a hospital bed, black and bloody blue, Justice is no longer going to sit by and simply accept the twisted hand, that has been dealt. Especially since she now has superhuman powers, all thanks to her being a Doll. Her one and only passion-- To get through College and practice law at a top tier firm, is fading from her grasp and its all because of Calvin, Dante, Vampyres and the Cerberus. But you know what? Justice has come up with her own master plan and heaven help the Vampyre, monster or human that gets in her way!

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Shelique Lize is an awesome mother of two beautiful baby girls, and a wife to the luckiest man on the planet. It took her five years to write Velicious Part One but once her first daughter was born, she decided to revisit the world that she had created. Falling in love with her characters all over again, she wanted to finish their story. Velicious Part Two was written in half the time.

Shelique loves anything to do with the paranormal world. She’s a proud Canadian but dislikes winter. She prefers watching the snow falling beautifully from inside a warm home. The movie Grease is her all time favorite movie. She thinks everyone should still watch Disney movies. Sailor Moon is her favorite anime. Currently she likes to listen to The Weeknd and Lana Del Rey, and she’s pretty open to every other genre of music.

Shelique likes to surround herself with positivity and she enjoys a good meditation. Photography, a Shopaholic, and she’s an Aries.