Showing posts with label Paranormal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Paranormal. Show all posts

March 30, 2016

Teasers, Excerpt & Giveaway! The Relentless Series by Karen Lynch


Sara Grey’s world shattered ten years ago when her father was brutally murdered. Now at seventeen, she is still haunted by memories of that day and driven by the need to understand why it happened. She lives a life full of secrets and her family and friends have no idea of the supernatural world she is immersed in or of Sara’s own very powerful gift. 

In her quest for answers about her father’s death, Sara takes risks that expose her and her friends to danger and puts herself into the sights of a sadistic vampire. On the same fateful night she meets Nikolas, a warrior who turns Sara’s world upside down and is determined to protect her even if it’s the last thing she wants. 

Sara’s life starts to spin out of control as she is hunted by an obsessed vampire, learns that her friends have secrets of their own and reels from the truth about her own ancestry. Sara has always been fiercely independent but in order to survive now she must open herself to others, to reveal her deepest secrets. And she must learn to trust the one person capable of breaking down the walls around her.


To keep the people she loves safe, Sara left everything she knew behind. She soon learns this new world is nothing like her old one, and she struggles to make a place for herself among the Mohiri. But it soon becomes apparent to Sara and to everyone one around her that she is not your typical warrior. 

As the weeks pass, Sara builds new relationships, copes with her new trainers, and tries to manage her ever-changing powers, while keeping her unique heritage a secret. Looming in the background is the constant shadow of the Master who will do anything to find her. 

Sara finds herself on a journey of self-discovery that uncovers her true strengths and awakens a part of her she never knew existed. She experiences the delight of new friendships, the sweetness and pain of first love, and a loss so deep it could be the thing that finally breaks her. At the end of it all, she discovers that the one place she was supposed to be safe might not be the refuge she thought it was. 


Sara Grey is done hiding and done being afraid. The Master thinks he has her running scared, but she’s taking matters into her own hands and taking her life back. With the help of her friends, she sets out to find the one person who can answer her questions about her past, and who may be able to lead them to the Master. 

On her journey, Sara faces new challenges and dangers, and learns that the world of good and evil is not as clear cut as she had believed. She makes new friends, unexpected allies, and reconnects with people from her past. As her powers continue to change and grow, she transforms from a struggling girl into a strong young warrior. 

But at what cost? How much is Sara willing to sacrifice in her need for independence and her quest for the truth? And will her newfound strength be enough to save her and the people she loves when she finally comes face-to-face with her powerful nemesis? Nothing could have prepared her for what is to come, and it will take everything in her to survive the final test of courage and love.


The warrior has finally met his match. 

Nikolas Danshov is the Mohiri’s finest warrior, fearless and lethal with any weapon. For almost two hundred years, he has devoted his life to keeping humans safe from the demons that walk the earth. Revered by his people, he is a legend in his own time, a warrior undefeated in battle, and prepared for anything. Until her. 

On a routine job in Maine, a twist of fate brings Nikolas face-to-face with the one person he had never expected to meet – his mate. Sara Grey is unlike anyone he’s ever met. Beautiful and fiery, she ignites his desire, while her innocence and vulnerability awaken a fierce protectiveness in him. Now all he can think of is keeping his mate safe from the dangers that hunt her, even if she fights him at every turn. 

You know Sara’s story. Now read it again, through the eyes of her warrior. 


Audible Buy Links 
Book Buy Links 
Relentless (Free!) 
Google Play: https://goo.gl/9VhMQw
Refuge 
Google Play: https://goo.gl/YOgGRD
Rogue 
Google Play: https://goo.gl/3zJHFQ 
Warrior 
(Fall 2016) 


Relentless 

My walls fell. I was vaguely aware of something cold and slimy burrowing inside me like a parasite. The Mori shrieked in agony. Choking, dying, the Mori was dying. I’d always hated the dark thing that had been a part of me my whole life. I should be happy now that the beast would be no more. Instead, sadness bloomed in my chest and tears of grief welled in my eyes. 

Coldness reached down, inching toward the center of my being. It came up against my last defense, the gate that held back the wellspring of my power. “Let meee innn,” it commanded as icy fingers pulled at the barrier in vain. I did as it asked, and I felt its triumph as it punched through and touched the essence of me. 

Someone began to scream. 

I was on fire. No, I was the fire. Roaring, raging, I was an angry volcano spewing molten rock up from deep within the earth. The lava scorched everything in its path with a cleansing fire that burned away the coldness and filth and bore down on the ugly thing pulsing in my mind. I felt a flash of terror that was not my own, and then the pressure in my head was gone. 

My eyes opened to see the witch—I knew what he was now—stagger and fall to his knees. His eyes no longer glowed white, and his face had paled to a dark gray. “What… are you?” he choked, his black eyes full of shock and fear. 



Karen Lynch grew up in Newfoundland, Canada, a place rich in colorful people and folklore to which she attributes her love of the supernatural and her vivid imagination. She moved to Charlotte, North Carolina years ago and was immediately charmed by the southern people, but she says she will always be a Newfie. 

Though she loves supernatural fiction, she has a soft spot for Charlotte Brontë and Jane Austin. She is a fan of classic rock, country, and classical music, but her favorite music is the sound of a good thunderstorm or a howling blizzard. Two of her favorite pastimes are baking artisan breads for her friends and spending quality time with her two German Shepherds. 


March 28, 2016

Teasers & Giveaway! Ameerah: Paranormal Thriller by Rebekkah Ford


Sometimes even the dead seek salvation.

In 1925, eighteen-year-old Ameerah Arrowood is murdered in an insane asylum. She finds herself transported to a dreary realm that turns out to be a recruiting station for the dark spirits. With animosity in her heart toward humanity, she decides to join them.

For the next ninety years, Ameerah possesses soulless humans, living a hedonistic, mischievous and sometimes vengeful existence, but now she's seeking salvation so she can crossover and save her lost love who is stuck in the lower world. 

Ameerah enlists the help of her dark spirit friend Derek, who is straddling the line between Heaven and Hell. She tells him how it all began, weaving between historical timelines to now, hoping to gain understanding about why her parents betrayed her and wanting to get rid of the guilt weighing on her heart. In the end, the unexpected unfolds, throwing Ameerah a curve ball which changes her forever.





Rebekkah Ford grew up in a family that dealt with the paranormal world. Her parents Charlie and Geri Wilhelm were the directors of the UFO Investigator's League in Fairfield, Ohio. They also investigated ghost hauntings and Bigfoot sightings in addition to extraterrestrial cases. Growing up in this type of environment and having the passion for writing stories is what drove Rebekkah at an early age to write tales dealing with the paranormal world. Her fascination with the unknown is what led her to write the Beyond the Eyes trilogy, its companion Tangled Roots, and Ameerah.
Rebekkah resides in rural North Dakota, in a farming community of about 1,800 people and loves where she lives. She has an irreverent sense of humor, loves coffee, and yummy food makes her happy. She also loves books, history, antiques, animals, connecting with her fans and other authors, as well as watching her favorite TV shows.


March 22, 2016

Excerpt & Giveaway! The Vampire's Daughter by Leigh Anderson


When Ethan discovers that the love of his life, Victoria, is actually the child of a monstrous beast and must marry another man to save her family, he retreats to a monastery to live out the rest of his days alone. But the Church has other ideas. Ethan’s mentor asks him to lead famous vampire hunter Dom Calmet back to his home village to rid the town of the vampires that plague it. Ethan must then take a journey, emotionally and literally, back to the town of his youth and choose between love and faith when he once again meets The Vampire’s Daughter. Containing many tropes of a classic Gothic novel combined with the sensuality of a passionate romance, The Vampire’s Daughter will leave you gasping for more.




Victoria rode her horse Gregory toward the village at a steady pace. She was looking forward to seeing Ethan, and Gregory was glad to be out of the barn. As she got close to the village, she could sense something was wrong. She could hear the faint sound of a woman crying. Sorrow seemed to hang on the air. As she got closer, she could see a few people moving about quickly and quietly. Some were boarding up their windows; others were reinforcing their animal enclosures. Riding through the town, the usually cold people looked at her with disgust. In one house, she saw a little child pointing at her until the mother came up to close the drapes. A group of older women gathering firewood stopped and mumbled as she got closer. She dismounted at the blacksmith’s and greeted the man with a smile, but he did not repay her in kind.

“Thank you for watching Gregory for me for a few hours, sir,” she said as she tied him in his usual stall.

“No need to thank me,” he replied as he untied the horse and gave her back the reigns.

“Why?” she prodded, confused.

“You should not be here,” was all he said as he headed inside.

She led her horse back out into the street and looked around. There was hardly anyone about. A few prying eyes watched her from the houses.

“I have just as much right to be here as any of you,” she thought to herself as she held her head up high. She felt herself getting mad, but she wasn’t sure why. Why were the people staring and pointing at her? Why would the blacksmith say she didn’t belong there? What had she done to any of them? She decided to go to her future home and see if Ethan was there.

She tied her horse to the hitching post at the end of the walk. She approached the house and ran her fingers through what looked like claw marks on the oak front door. She did not remember seeing them there before.

“Hello?” she called inside as she opened the door. A small fire was going in the fireplace, telling her Ethan had been there and most likely would return. She felt herself calm down and her anger at the people melt away. The room was warm and safe. She closed the door and looked around the cottage. It already looked so homey, fully furnished with curtains on the windows and rugs on the floors.

She ascended the wooden steps to the second floor and opened the first door to a room on the left. It was small with equally small furniture - most likely a child’s room. She imagined that one day, her and Ethan’s children would be playing on that floor looking up at her with wide-eyed wonderment. Then their eyes reflected fear, and she thought of how the townspeople reacted to her today and how, even now, she was an outcast. She sighed, frowned, and shut the door on the frightened children she imagined were there.

She opened a door on her right and found the master bedroom. She entered the room, took off her cape, and hung it on a hook by the door. She walked over and placed her small hand on the large pine spindles of the bed. She walked to the far side of the bed, running her fingers over the covers. A multi-colored crotched blanket overlaid a beautiful pink and ecru quilt. She folded the blanket back so it only covered the foot of the bed and the quilt could be more fully seen. The quilt was so soft to the touch. She bent down and put her cheek to the fabric. She sighed in delight. She looked at the door and listened to see if anyone was there. When she only heard silence, she took off her shoes, climbed up onto the bed and laid long ways across it. It was a large bed. She stretched her hands way above her head and still could barely touch the other end. She laughed at herself and how she found such delight in such a simple thing.

“What are you doing?” a voice asked.

“Ahh!” she screamed and sat up straight and turned toward the voice. “Ethan! You startled me!”

“I startled you?” he asked. “What are you doing in my house?”

“Your house?” she asked. “I thought this was our house.”

Ethan began to laugh as he put the wooden club he was carrying by the door. “You should see yourself,” he said. “Why were you so afraid? I did not mean to scare you.”

“Oh, I do not know,” she replied, settling herself down. “Everyone was just acting so strange when I got here. I guess I am just on edge...” she trailed off, noticing the club. “What is that for?”

“Oh, well, do not worry about that,” he said, taking off his coat and sitting on the other side of the bed. “Everyone is a little nervous. Some wolves came into town on Sunday night and killed a man.”

“Oh, my goodness,” Victoria said, putting her hand to her mouth. “That is awful. Who was it?”

“Mr. Stanek,” he said. “We just had the funeral this morning,”

“I am sorry I missed it,” she lamented.

“It’s all right; you had no way of knowing about it.”

“Still, I feel awful.” She laid back and placed her head on one of the pillows.

Ethan looked at the sorrow on her face. He knew Father James was wrong about her. She cared and felt deeply for every person.

“Wait!” she said, sitting straight up again. “You said ‘wolves’ as in many of them? Is that what clawed the front door?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “There were five by my count, but some people saw more.”

“A whole pack attacked the town?” she asked. “That is like something out of an old legend, back when werewolves ruled the woods at night.”

“I know,” Ethan said. “The whole town is worried about the next full moon. Everyone is boarding up their windows and reinforcing their doors. I’m sure they are overreacting, though. Werewolves. How silly. They were just normal wolves. This cold weather probably has them desperate for food.”

“You actually saw them?” she asked. “My God, are you all right? You were not injured, were you?” She crawled over to him and put her hand on his face.

“No, no, I’m fine,” he said, chuckling over the fuss she was making. He liked how much she cared for him. “I’m fine,” he whispered, looking at her beautiful face. His face turned stone serious and he exhaled slowly.

She could tell by the way he was looking at her he wanted something. He turned his body to face her, reached up and pulled her toward him. She closed her eyes and let him kiss her. He stood up to kick off his shoes. She lay on the bed with her head on a pillow. He crawled up next to her and just looked at her for a moment. She pulled her feet up under her gown in a fetal position and put her hands under her cheek on the pillow. Ethan reached over and took the pins out of her hair, letting it frame her face. She looked so innocent, so pure. Her white skin was flawless and her dark eyes were glossy. She was not evil. If anything she was godly, angelic. He leaned over to kiss her, but she pulled back.

“Ethan,” she said. “Do you…would you mind if…maybe we…” She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but she needed to ask him something.

“What?” he asked. He reached a reassuring hand to her and rubbed her shoulder. “What is it?”

“It’s …maybe we could not do that today. I still have not confessed from last time, and it has been a bad couple of days. Things have not gone well at home. I don’t need any more sin on my conscience right now.”

“Oh, sweetie. That’s all right,” he said. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“Have you talked to Father James yet? I really need to see him.”

“Oh, yes. I did speak to him…” He didn’t want to tell her what Father James had said, but he did not want to lie to her, either. “He was not happy, as expected,” he said. “He still wants me to go to Rome, of course.”

“Of course he would,” she agreed.

“He is still upset; I doubt he would absolve you of anything right now. Or me for that matter. I actually never confessed after last time either. Don’t worry, though, I am sure that in a few days, he will calm down and see that we are doing the right thing.”

“I hope so,” she said.

“Did you tell your father?” he asked.

“No, I have not been feeling well; I have not even seen him since Sunday. I think my nerves are making me tense. It has only been a couple of days; there is still plenty of time.”

“We have all the time in the world,” he said and smiled. His tone and happy demeanor calmed her so much she almost forgot about the wolves, and the priest, and the way the people in town were acting, and the women back home. All she wanted was to be with him forever. She leaned over and gave him an enticing kiss.

“I thought you were feeling guilty!” he said, pushing her gently away.

“If I die without confessing my already many and egregious sins, I suppose it makes no difference if I have one more added to the list, does it?”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t!” he said, climbing onto her, wrapping his arms all the way around her, holding her just as close and tight as he could. He rolled over and let her lay on his chest as they kissed. She straddled him to keep from falling over. She ran her tongue down his neck and kissed his chest. He reached down, pulled up her dress and caressed both of her legs. He ran his hands up to the top of her thigh-high stockings and touched her soft skin. She put the full weight of her body on top of him and he kissed her forehead. He slowly removed one of her stockings, feeling her bare, exposed skin from her thigh to her toes. He then removed the other stocking, a little more quickly this time.

Victoria breathed heavily; the room was hot. Ethan was burning for her. Ethan’s hot breath on her skin was almost more than she could handle. She reached a hand under his shirt and touched the skin of his rigid stomach. The sensation of her cold touch on his skin made Ethan gasp, but he took it as a sign that the shirt needed to be removed. He sat up and removed it while she still straddled his lap. He suckled and bit her neck and chest and caressed her thighs while she ran her fingers through his hair. The way his muscles had a slightly moist sheen in the subdued light filtering in from the window dressings excited her.

She reached around her back to try to find the many buttons that ran from her neckline to her waist. Ethan’s hands followed hers and realized what she was trying to do. He laughed a little, out of surprise and joy. He had an easier time removing the buttons from their loops than she did. He only got about halfway down when he thought the dress would be loose enough to take off. They both got up on their knees and he helped pull the heavy gown over her head. His face sank for a moment when he saw the full-length shift she was wearing underneath a fully laced corset. She laughed when she saw his expression.

“You did not think it was going to be that easy, did you?” she asked.

“Sorry if I seem a bit eager,” he said.

She felt relieved; she could breathe better and she felt lighter with the gown off. Ethan kissed her while she ran her fingers down his naked back. He reached around her and began pulling at the laces on her corset. She did not protest. She did not care if Helena noticed the lacings or not. She did not care if her father found out. What could he do about it after it was already done? If she gave herself to Ethan, let him have her most prized possession, it was hers to give. Ethan removed the corset and laid himself fully on top of her. She undid the top button on his pants. She moved her fingers deeper inside his pants to undo the next one and he groaned in anticipation.

“Victoria,” he said, propping himself up and looking at her. “Victoria. I love you so much.” He reached up and brushed some stray hairs away from her face. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“I want you, Ethan,” she said, running her hands up his back. “I love you.”

He leaned back down and sucked on her neck. She held him tightly to her. He moved both of his hands to her legs and pulled her chemise up almost to her waist. He kissed her so strongly and his tongue prodded her mouth so deeply he almost gagged her, but she did not dare protest for fear he would stop. Her breath quickened. He did not want to go too quickly. This was the first time for both of them. He wanted to make sure it was perfect.

She was about to tell him to take her when a terrible feeling flooded over her. It was as if someone inside her head told her to run. She froze, trying to listen to the voice.

Ethan felt her tense up. He stopped because he was afraid he had hurt her or that she had changed her mind. “Victoria?” he began.

“Shhhhh!” she said, holding up a hand to silence him. Her harsh tone shocked him. She did not mean to sound cruel, but something was certainly wrong. He saw a disturbed look on her face. All of her senses seemed to come alive - she could see and hear everything around her. Hushed tones, the light clang of weapons, the smell of the cold air wafting in through an open door.

“Ethan!” she said, letting go of him and sitting straight up. “Someone is in the house!” She had a feeling it was more than someone simply looking for them – they were in danger.

“What?” he asked as he got up, closed his pants, and moved toward the door. She stood on the far side of the bed, pulled down her undergarment, and looked around for something she might be able to use to defend herself, but there was no time. As Ethan reached for the door, an unimaginable sense of danger overwhelmed her.

“No!” she screamed.

He stopped, but it was too late. Someone kicked in the door, and several of the village men entered the room followed by Father James.




Leigh Anderson is an American author and editor living and traveling in Asia. She has a master’s degree in English and her thesis was on Gothic imagery in vampire literature. You can learn more about her at her website LeighAndersonRomance.com.



March 18, 2016

Excerpt, Author Interview & Giveaway! Daughter of Magic by Teresa Roman


Lilli sees things no one else does.


Desperate to make sense of the dreams and visions that have plagued her since childhood, Lilli confides in Devin, her closest friend, and the boy she’s fallen for.

Instead of questioning her sanity, Devin confesses to secrets of his own, which are far darker. His revelations about magic, witches and demons stun Lilli. But it’s what he knows about Lilli’s mother, long believed to be dead, that leaves her feeling betrayed. Despite her anger, Lilli will have to learn to trust Devin again, because he is the only one who can protect her from a dark danger that’s coming for her from a world away.




The third round of knocking was accompanied by a voice. “Lilli, it’s me. I know you’re in there. Open the door, please,” Devin pleaded.

At the sound of his voice, my heart shattered into a million pieces. I rose from my chair and started for the door, my need for him intense. Halfway there, I stopped. I wanted to open the door and run into his arms, but I was afraid. For a minute I considered pretending I wasn’t home, but I knew that wouldn’t do any good. He could probably hear me from where he was. 

“Go away,” I shouted. It hurt to say those words, they were the last thing I ever wanted to tell him, but the look of agony on his face from earlier was etched into my mind. I refused to cause him pain like that again. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” His voice sounded as tortured as I felt, and I was afraid that it was me hurting him all over again. “I’ll stay out here all night and all day and the day after until you open this door and let me talk to you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you again,” I said, trying to be strong, not only for myself, but for him, too.

“The only thing that hurts is being away from you. Please, just let me in,” he pleaded. “You won’t hurt me. I can help you. I can teach you how to control your power.” 

“No.”

“Lilli, please … I need you. I can’t breathe without you. I love you.” His voice cracked and I wondered if I’d heard him right, but then he said it again, and again, and again. 

Forgetting everything else, I ran to open the door and threw myself into his arms. Relief flooded through me as he wrapped his arms around me. I seriously doubted I’d ever be able to let go again.


Q. Why do you write? 

A. I love books. After being such a die-hard reader for so long my head became filled with all these ideas that I just needed to get out. I want people to smile when they finish reading my books, just as so many authors have made me do. 

Q. What is the inspiration for the story? 

A. I've always really liked the fantasy and paranormal genres. I just find stories about magic and supernatural creatures to be so much fun. There really are no boundaries when your story is a fantasy. The main character in Daughter of Magic is quiet, a loner. That was me at her age, and I constantly fantasized about my life being bigger than it was. Books gave me that escape, and that’s what I wanted to create with Daughter of Magic.

Q. Where can readers find out more about you? 

A. I have a website - www.teresaromanwrites.com. You can also find out more about me on my Amazon author page, Facebook and Goodreads.



Teresa currently lives in beautiful Sacramento, CA with her husband, three adorable children and a dog named Parker that her son convinced them to adopt. When she's not at her day job or running around with her kids, you can find her in front of the computer writing, or with her head buried in another book. If you'd like to find out more about her, she can be found at www.teresaromanwrites.comwhere you can also sign up for her newsletter to receive exclusive book release information.



Excerpt, Guest Post & Giveaway! Nature of the Beast, Tangled Bonds #1 by Aimee Brissay


After sorceress Alexandra tries to kill her insane father, her fae uncle expels her from the Otherworld in an attempt to keep her safe. Living among humans, she keeps her connection with the supernatural by working for vampires and werewolves.


When she stumbles upon a hurt werewolf pup her efforts to heal him inadvertently break the bonds tying the young lycan to the pack, making her his new alpha.

This is the least of Alexandra’s worries though, for back in the Otherworld her father has not forgotten her. He dispatches an assassin to kill her. But just who is this mysterious foe, and what will their arrival mean not only to Alexandra but to the delicate balance of the world?

Nature of the Beast is the first book in the Tangled Bonds series.


Don’t miss the March Sale! All Wayward Ink Titles titles are 35% off on the WIP website and 30% off on AllRomance, and 30% off on Amazon.






“WHY DO WE have a werewolf sleeping on the couch?” Sean dropped the takeout bag he was carrying on the kitchen table and frowned at us.


“You knew about them?”

“Of course.” Sean turned and stared at Chris. “You didn’t?”

“No.”

“You believe that fae are real, but werewolves are not?”

Before Chris had a chance to retaliate, I intervened, trying to switch the topic to something a bit friendlier. “Where have you been?”

“At Erica’s.”

Chris’ face turned red and he muttered something beneath his breath. So much for a safe topic.

My stomach growled at the enticing aroma of spices and soy sauce rising from the bag on the table. I reached for it and started pulling out containers.

“What did you get?” I asked; not that it would matter much, not with my hunger.

“Chinese.”

My eyes flew to the door to the lounge, where Nicolae was bracing himself against the frame. He stared at the food, and clutched the blanket with which I’d covered him. He dry swallowed, eyes glued to containers, but he did not come in, nor did he ask for something to eat.

I took one of the little boxes, opened it, and inhaled.

The kid swallowed again, but still didn’t say anything. I had to admire his restrain.

Tilting the container, I offered it to him. “Care for some?”

Nicolae shrugged, trying for casual, but the furious rumble coming from his belly denied his action. “I could eat.”

“I’m sure. Come in, take a seat.”

He pulled up a chair, his movements unsteady. He paused, his hand hovering over the container.

“Go ahead, take your pick.”

“Thank you.”


About working on a schedule

Or how not to meet any single deadline, ever! 

Everybody says you should set a goal and stick with it. Write, write, write all the time. Hell, next thing I’ll hear will be to write in my sleep as well, and to be honest, I would if I could. But sadly, this doesn’t work for everyone. 

What happens when you cannot meet the deadlines or the goals you set for yourself? What happens when you cannot comply with the given rules? I used to get depressed every time this happened to me, and believe me, it happened quite often. I work nine hours a day and spend at least two commuting to and fro. I have three cats, a house and a garden to tend to and clean, and a love life to balance, so writing every day is not always feasible. I used to get depressed every time I was reading about other authors writing thousands and thousands of words each day, or simply putting words on paper, when I could barely get a few hundred a day and that only a couple of times per week. I used to think I was lazy, and that there was something wrong with me. That I wasn’t competitive enough, that I didn’t want it bad enough. But guess what? I do want it and I am damn competitive. 

So I worked myself into the ground, writing for three, four more hours after the end of my regular work day, trying to prove that, yes, I can. World, look at me, I’m the real deal! The quality of my work didn’t improve much and not only that, but I was writing less and less as my physical and mental health deteriorated, because that wasn’t a rhythm I could handle. I was missing deadlines, goals I’d set up for myself in my madness, and I was beating myself up about it. It was a vicious circle. I was too tired to write so I pushed myself into becoming even more tired.

Now, I found a pace I am comfortable with and try to make the most of it. So what if my output is about two-three thousand words per week, if that? I still managed about twelve thousand words in the first two months and have big plans for this year. I have Nature of the Beast already out and at least five more titles by the end of December. And if I don’t manage all that? I will live with that because I’m doing what makes me happy, without burning myself up and that alone will be enough. I will get there, to being a full time writer, but it will take longer. I am fine with that. To me, it would mean that I obtained it in a sustainable way.

My point is, do whatever feels right for you and don’t focus on what other authors might be doing. You stand with them, not against them, and what is good for them might not be the same for you.


aimee-brissay

Born in Romania, land of the Iele and Vlad the Impaler, AIMEE BRISSAY has spent all her life surrounded by books. She has ridden side by side with d’Artagnan and The Three Musketeers to retrieve the Queen’s diamonds, set sail on the Erasmus in search of the Japans, fell in love with Rhett Butler and roamed the Wild West along Old Shatterhand. She has walked on the footsteps of the Olympian Gods and searched for Zalmoxis’ sanctuary in the Carpathians. In her mind, she’s never been the damsel in distress but rather the knight in shiny armor fighting for a cause.
With a background like this, turning to writing was no surprise.
Aimee discovered erotica early on in life and has never looked back. Now she can write anywhere, even in a crowded room or a busy subway station, but she loves solitude.
When she’s not at her evil day job, she can be found writing or playing with her cat. She welcomes messages from readers and promises to answer all of them as soon as possible.



March 11, 2016

Excerpt & Giveaway! The Necromancer's Dance, The Beacon Hill Sorcerer #1 by S.J. Himes


In a world where magic is real and evil walks amongst humanity, a young sorcerer is beset upon by enemies, both old and new. Angelus Salvatore is the only necromancer in all of Boston, and his name is whispered warily by the undead and fellow sorcerers alike. He and his brother Isaac are the lone survivors of an attack by an army of the undead, in which Angel used a spell so powerful it forever marked his place in history. Now, years later, Angel struggles to balance his career as a teacher of the higher magical arts, his role as big brother, and a tenuous relationship with an Elder vampire from the local clan. When his brother's boyfriend is used as a pawn in a mysterious plot to draw Angel out, Angel is once again drawn back into the old hostilities that fueled the Blood Wars and led to his family's death.

Leaning on others for help is something Angel cannot do, and while he searches for clues into who may be targeting him and his brother, Angel finds his heart steadily growing occupied with Simeon, Elder and vampire. Dealing with death magic and vampires on a daily basis may leave Angel jaded when it comes to life and staying that way, but the more time he spends fending off the ancient vampire's attention and affections, the more he realizes he wants to give in. 

Can Angel find out who wants him dead, and keep his heart safe in the process? How can he fall for a vampire, when his whole family was torn apart by an army of the undead? 

Death stalks the streets of Boston's historic Beacon Hill....and there is no one more suited to battle against death than a necromancer.




He must have passed out, too damn tired from a long day at work, interrupted sleep, and a semi-major working that consumed a huge portion of his reserves. It took power to use power, and even though Angel fueled the spell with ambient magic, he still had to control and shape the working. It was a bitch, doing magic cold like that, and he would have been better off if he hadn’t gone into it stressed out and tired. Not to mention he couldn’t remember the last time he ate anything more substantial than tea and a muffin. Isaac moving out meant Angel forgot to eat more often than not.

Angel woke wrapped up in his favorite blanket, his bed warm and welcoming. Something was tickling his face, and he worked a hand free from under the blanket to swipe at his cheek. Feeling cool skin and soft lips, Angel opened his eyes.

He was in Simeon’s arms, laying half on his clothed chest, their faces so close together the vampire’s deep green eyes were all he could see. 

Angel’s hand was caught up in Simeon’s, their fingers intertwining. Angel’s eyes drifted shut as Simeon closed the tiny distance between them, his soft and cool lips ghosting over Angel’s. He pulled in a deep breath of Simeon-flavored air, the vampire’s scent filling his mouth and nose.

The scent of fresh blood was in there too—Simeon must have fed before taking Angel home, the potent tang of hot metal impossible to miss. The sensation of Simeon’s lips barely touching Angel’s did unrepeatable things to his nervous system, setting him on fire with a cool flame.

His body jerked, just a little, freezing and alternately relaxing as Simeon’s lips settled over his in a full kiss, with a hint of tongue and the nip of sharp teeth.


I'm a thirty something woman with way too big an imagination, but that comes in handy when I'm writing. I have been writing since I was a child, when I took a four-page assignment on what I was going to do on summer vacation and turned it into a 100 page fantasy epic all written by hand...in crayons. No joke.

I work a day job, but I can't share for who, since the Old Man isn't as liberated as the people who read my books. I'm married, I have furbabies, and I live with loved ones. I adore a certain show about a British consulting detective and his grumpy army doctor, and that spawned an addiction to Johnlock fanfiction, which then evolved into me writing it. Gawd, that's embarrassing. Put this down in the TMI section of my Bio, okay? I enjoy martial arts, movies where things blow up, and I wish I lived in a Marvel movie. 

I live in the beautiful and lonely Berkshire County in Massachusetts, and I see way more wildlife than I care to on a daily basis (bears!). My perfect day is reading surrounded by friends and family who don't think it's odd I want to hang out but not talk, and my favorite scent of all time is a cool fall evening with leaves burning.... less a scent, and more of an experience.



Excerpt & Giveaway! Twisted Fables Anthology


This collection of revamped fairytales is certain to entice and excite your senses. From Cinderella to Red Riding Hood, Twisted Fables takes you on a journey through the many fairytale worlds with a sensual twist.

These twelve stories are penned by both seasoned scribes and new authors; the anthology provides readers with the perfect opportunity to explore offerings from their favorite storytellers as well as find a new favorite or two. 

Containing M/M and F/F stories from authors Angora Shade, Samantha Kate, Angelique Voisen, Jamie Lowe, Shira Glassman, Lynn Townsend, Asta Idonea, Kay C Sulli, T Strange, Sheri Velarde, and Nicole Wilkinson, Twisted Fables is sure to have something for the fantasy lover.





From The Dragon’s Gift by Angora Shade -- A single clawed digit pushes into my mouth, spreading my lips apart and caressing over the flat of my tongue. I create an O shape around it and curl the edges of my tongue around her finger. The tip of my tongue slides smoothly over her pointed tip as she withdraws, and I enjoy the light smacking sound our actions make from my suction once she’s left my mouth. My mind wanders as I imagine gliding in and out of multiple places… Extra long fingers reaching extra, extra deep… If this is really happening, I tell myself I cannot let her down.

I reach with both my hands to grasp the hand still floating in front of my face. I kiss each knuckle in turn, and then lick the space between her thumb and pointer finger with the tip of my tongue. The texture of the costume is rough in the opposite direction of the layered fabric, and smooth as glass down the other way. I taste something I imagine to be the remnants of stage makeup she might’ve helped a fellow actor draw on, but it’s the warmth radiating from underneath that lures me further; I want to feel it all over my body. Grasping her hand tightly, I place it over my face, guide it down over my features to my neck, and push into the dip of my shirt collar. I feel the trail linger like a mild burn long after her hand cascades onto my shirt fabric and pauses above my rapidly beating heart.

My eyes closed sometime during the action, but I open them to confess what I’ve always wanted to say: “I want you.”

Maxine doesn’t speak a word, but her head tilts from side to side again. I wish she’d say something—anything—to assure me of her intentions. A few touches, some light kisses—they mean less to me without the emotional connection inflicted by words. I’d like to hear her tell me she’s always secretly desired me, been curious. A confession of mutual love would send me over the moon….


Nicole Wilkinson has been an active writer for the better part of ten years. Raised by parents who embraced the arts no matter the style, she has always been fascinated by imaginary worlds and the characters who inhabit them.

Born on the West Coast but raised on the East Coast, she often comments that the two distant shores might as well be foreign worlds for all the similarities between them. She currently lives in North Carolina, but has also spent time in Oregon, Washington State, South Carolina, and Virginia. She has become a pro-mover by now and has learned to love a life in constant transit. 

She loves to write. Or as she is prone to say, "I write for the same reason I breathe - Because if I didn't, I would die," which is a famous quote attributed to the great Isaac Asimov. 


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Samantha Kate works as a paralibrarian (that’s library support staff) for her day job. In her free time, she tries to pursue more creative projects than is humanly possible. “Bottom of the River” is her first published work; her first novel, Cinnamon and Cigarettes, will be released by Torquere Press in 2016.


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After enduring several evil stepmothers, T. Strange was finally swept off her feet by a dashing Prince(ss) Charming. Or, in actuality, attempted to sweep the larger Prince(ss) of her feet. They lived happily ever after in the charming, far-away land of Canada with their animal friends. One cat helps with the chores.


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Asta Idonea is the MM pen name of Nicki J. Markus. She was born in England in 1982, but now lives in Adelaide, South Australia with her husband. She has loved both reading and writing from a young age and is also a keen linguist, having studied several foreign languages.
Nicki works as a freelance editor and proofreader, and in her spare time she enjoys: music, theatre, cinema, photography, sketching, and cross stitch. She also loves history, folklore and mythology, pen-palling, and travel.


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Jamie Lowe is a mixed contemporary and fantasy author who has released a novel as well as a number of short stories through Torquere Books and Dreamspinner Press in the past. After completing a Creative Writing MFA, Jamie is back to writing on a part time basis when not working, traveling, or studying in her passion areas of Greek and Roman history.


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A bisexual, twenty-something, type-2 diabetic MM erotic romance writer, Angelique Voisen also likes experimenting with different sub-genres. Her stories may include dominant alpha males, cuffs, fangs, space battles, kinky magic systems and happily-ever-afters.


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Sheri Velarde lives in New Mexico with her husband and their two dogs.
Being an avid reader since an early age, she has wanted to be a writer for as long as she can remember. She has been writing all her life, but only recently started to actually try to pursue her dream of writing for a living. She specializes in all things paranormal and that go bump in the night. Her heart truly lies in exploring unknown worlds or adding the supernatural to our world. If it goes bump in the night or has magical connotations, Sheri writes about it.
She is constantly putting out new material with various publishers, so it is best to keep up with her on her website www.sherivelarde.weebly.com. 


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Angora Shade is a multi-published American author living in what she lovingly refers to as "Sheep Shit Nowhere" Europe. In an attempt to add some spice to her small town life, Ms Shade began writing explicit erotica as a form of entertainment. Exploring the boundaries of acceptable sexual literature, she often seeks to create stories that not only entertain others, but also expose and push against the negative stigma surrounding sex in modern day society. She believes that sex, in literature, art, personal thought, and physical nature, should be celebrated and expressed freely and as easily as any God given freedom. Her favorite themes in writing include revenge, self-discovery, alternative materials for love play/bdsm, as well as anything that produces a good tingle, sizzle, or laugh. When not writing, Ms Shade enjoys red wine, travel, dancing, classic cartoons, baking, and creating fine art.

Facebook Author Page: www.facebook.com/angorashadeauthor

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Lynn Townsend is a geek, a dreamer and an inveterate punster. When not reading, writing, or editing, she can usually be found drinking coffee or killing video game villains. Lynn's interests include geek comedy music, romance novels, octopuses, and movies with more FX than plot.



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Kay C. Sulli is a queer asexual writer of historical, supernatural, and contemporary fiction. She can often be found scribbling in the wilds of the American West. Her imagination is filled with cowboys, patriots, nature guides, werecritters and more demanding their stories to be written. When Kay is not writing she can be found reading everything she can get her hands on, hiking, and practicing outdoor photography.

Website/Blog - http://www.kaycsulli.com

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Shira Glassman is a bi Jewish violinist from Florida. Not for use in microwave.