I Just Wanna Sit Here And Read!

Insurgent by Veronica Roth: Review

noreply@blogger.com (Jess) — Sun, 27 May 2012 11:01:00 +0000

Publisher: HarperTEEN (May 1, 2012)
Hardcover: 525 Pages
Series: Divergent # 2
Genre: YA Dystopian
My review of Divergent
Veronica Roth's Blog/Website | Twitter

From Goodreads. One choice can transform you—or it can destroy you. But every choice has consequences, and as unrest surges in the factions all around her, Tris Prior must continue trying to save those she loves—and herself—while grappling with haunting questions of grief and forgiveness, identity and loyalty, politics and love.

Tris's initiation day should have been marked by celebration and victory with her chosen faction; instead, the day ended with unspeakable horrors. War now looms as conflict between the factions and their ideologies grows. And in times of war, sides must be chosen, secrets will emerge, and choices will become even more irrevocable—and even more powerful. Transformed by her own decisions but also by haunting grief and guilt, radical new discoveries, and shifting relationships, Tris must fully embrace her Divergence, even if she does not know what she may lose by doing so.

New York Times bestselling author Veronica Roth's much-anticipated second book of the dystopian Divergent series is another intoxicating thrill ride of a story, rich with hallmark twists, heartbreaks, romance, and powerful insights about human nature.

Review by Jess
INSURGENT by Veronica Roth is the second installment of the Dystopian trilogy titled Divergent. Divergent seemingly took the world by storm and Insurgent does not disappoint! Action packed with lots of drama and secrets; this one will for sure leave readers absolutely breathless!

Wow! That is my initial reaction to this novel. Just wow. Veronica Roth has left me literally speechless for a second time. After reading the first in the series, Divergent, I didn't think it was possible that she could shine any brighter but I was so wrong! Insurgent comes at you full throttle and keeps pushing. I loved the additional view of the Factionless, including Four's mother, although she is near impossible to like as a character.

Tris really stunned me in this one. She has grown so much because of the situations she's in. It's sad that she has to go through half of what she does but its a beautiful thing to see her develop so much! Though I love her as a character, I felt like her PTSD like attitude lasted too long. Though she is pretty kick butt, I wished she had continued with that persona. I'm hoping to see more of it come back in the third novel.

As I said in my review of Divergent I love Four and Tris. They are easily becoming my favorite fiction couple. Though they are set in a completely different world than our own the struggles they went through were so realistic it was practically jaw dropping. The two as a fictional couple were so real to me and the things they went through together really speak to the reader. Roth did a spectacular job creating such a real couple in such a far away world.

Overall I was stunned by this novel, Roth outdid herself when I didn't think that was even possible. Her characters are so real and its next to impossible to put this down. It will be incredibly hard to wait for the next/final novel. The Divergent series easily rivals the Hunger Games which is something I never thought could happen. Veronica Roth, take a bow, you have changed the book world!

Insanity by Lauren Hammond: Excerpt

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Sat, 26 May 2012 09:51:00 +0000

Thank you so much for having me on the blog today!

I’m so excited to share an excerpt of my latest novel, Insanity with you!

I hope you enjoy it!

**********

I can't sleep. I'm too antsy, too anxious.

I left my bedroom window open and the cool autumn breeze flits in and ruffles my curtains. Daddy's snoring is loud, but I'm okay with that. Then he won't hear, Damien, as he clamors in through the window.

I know it's risky. Sneaking him in like this with, Daddy, asleep in the next room, but I don't care. His absence has put a constant ache in my heart since he left for college and I can't wait for his touch to make that ache disappear.

I can't wait to feel his warm lips against mine.

His body next to me.

His hot breath sending a shiver of delight down my spine.

There's rustling in my curtains. Two thudding footsteps on my floor. Sitting up, I beam into the darkness as, Damien, untangles himself from a mess of yellow curtains. I rise from my bed and his blue eyes cut into the darkness, staring intensely into mine. I choke on a breathe. This almost doesn't seem real. It feels like I'm dreaming. But the reality sets in when, Damien, strides across the floor in two giant steps, grips the back of my neck, twists his fingers in my hair and lunges for my mouth.

He snakes a strong arm around my back, our bodies pressed together so tightly, its like we're glued to one another. Melted. Fused. Nothing can tear us a part. His thumbs trail across my cheeks and my fingers are raking through his hair as our passionate lip lock smolders and grows deeper and deeper by the second. He grazes his teeth across my bottom lip and in a breathless rasp says, “God, I've missed you.”

Words fail me. Escape me. Flee like a criminal with a mask, running through a darkened alley. I can't even begin to describe how torturous it was to be without him for as many months as it has been. So I show him. I show him by never breaking our lustful haze of adoring tongues, lips, and raspy breathing. I show him by walking backwards, falling onto my bed and pulling him on top of me. There's a hungry glint in his eye as he stares down at me. He gets me. Knows where I'm going with this. A playful, sexy smirk appears on his lips. “Oh yeah? You missed the that much?”

Finally I turn my head to the side and come up for air. “I've missed you every second of every minute of every hour of every day.”

Damien's deep, throaty chuckle brings a smile to my lips. “That’s a lot of time to waste on missing someone.”

I face him, gazing up lovingly into his blue eyes, touching his long dark lashes, placing my palm flat against his overheated cheek. “You're worth it.” I'd waste every second of my life on him if I could.

“I'd like you to miss me some more.”

I hear the husky, seductive tone in his voice and decide to tease him. “Oh, would you?”

He dips his head in closer, his lips almost touching mine. His eyes dart across my face, scanning, searching my soul with fire in his depths of blue. He opens his mouth, his tongue half out. Then he says, “Yes, please.”

**********

Author Links: Website | Goodreads | Twitter | Facebook

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N

Book Goodreads Page

Released: May 8th

Series: Asylum, book #1

Sometimes love...can drive you crazy.

Adelaide Carmichael and Damien Allen couldn't be more opposite.

Adelaide's mother abandoned her when she was ten years old, leaving her to be raised by her abusive and alcoholic father.

Damien on the other hand came from a wealthy family, was a local celebrity, and seemed to have a bright future ahead of him.

Despite their differences, Adelaide and Damien were young, wild, and fiercely in love.

And they had a plan.

They were going to run away.

Be together forever.

And their plan was set in motion, until tragedy struck and for some reason, Adelaide wound up in The Oakhill Institution for the insane.

Adelaide has no idea what she did to wind up at Oakhill, but she knows one thing for sure...

She wants out.

And after Damien follows her there to aid her in escaping, Adelaide slowly begins putting together the pieces of her memory that are missing.

And it doesn't take Adelaide long to figure out that sometimes...

That one true love never dies.

Also, be sure to stop by Reading Angel today for another INSANITY post!

Cleaning Nabokov's House by Leslie Daniels: Guest Post & Giveaway

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Thu, 24 May 2012 09:00:00 +0000

Today I have Leslie Daniels, author of Cleaning Nabokov's House, on the blog for a guest post & giveaway. Enjoy!

Leslie Daniel's Website | Facebook Page | Twitter

When Barb Barrett walks out on her loveless marriage, she doesn’t realize she will lose everything: her home, her financial security, even her beloved children. Approaching forty with her life in shambles and no family or friends to turn to, Barb must now discover what it means to rely on herself in a stark new emotional landscape. With only a questionable business plan in hand, Barb is determined to reinvent herself. She moves into a house once occupied by the literary genius Vladimir Nabokov, author of the notorious Lolita. She discovers what could be Nabokov’s last unpublished manuscript and from there begins a personal journey that is deliciously romantic, darkly comic, and wise. Written in elegant prose and illuminated by sharp humor and wit, Cleaning Nabokov’s House offers a new vision of modern love and a reminder that it is never too late to find loyalty to our truest selves.

Writing Tip #1: Please oh Please Don’t Bore Me

I know what I am supposed to write here. I have read plenty of author-plugging-new novel posts. I am supposed to tell you how I fell in love with my characters, how they possessed me and ran away with my life, to suggest that you too will be captivated, blah blah blah. I won’t. I won’t because it’s boring.
To me, boring someone is criminal behavior; you are robbing them of their time. If someone corners me at a party and begins to bore me, I experience it as a kind of mugging. If he or she has nothing interesting to say, that’s fine, don’t talk! Have a canapé.

Writing is the same. My first demand of a book is that it interest me, and I am impatient. Dull first sentence? Dull opening scene? Why? Why does the writer permit himself/herself to bore me, the reader? If we were back at that party, I would say, “Can I get you something from the bar?” And leave his/her ass behind, parked in the corner to bore someone else.

Because I’ve been a literary agent, fiction editor, and taught writing, I get asked for writing advice. I am usually nice (I hope). Here I am going to be fierce.

You want my best writing advice? Don’t be boring. We, as writers, are in the entertainment business.

If you want to cut the boredom from your work, edit out the blah blah blah parts. All that filler, that fluff, that puff? Take it out. Are you afraid there will be nothing left? Do it anyway.

Delete the “He crossed the room.” Throw away the ““Oh really?” she said.”

We don’t care. If it’s not interesting, edit it out. Don’t get seduced by your characters, cut dialogue! Furthermore don’t coddle them, let bad things happen (plot).

Hit your manuscript with a stick to shake out all the useless words. See what lands on the floor in my writing room: “very,” “nearly,” “sometimes,” “always,” and “it,” “it,” “it,” “it,” “it,” and yet another “it,” all over the floor like an ant infestation.

The words above represent fear of commitment to specifics. Fearful equals boring.

If a writer is boring on the page, she was scared to trust the reader with her deeply private good stuff.

She shot down her good ideas as too weird, too specific, too outrageous, too revealing, too controversial, too unbelievable. Those ideas are exactly what I, as a reader, want.

Get yourself in trouble. Write into the areas that cost you. Write dark. Write in shimmering beauty. Write in despair. Give the reader all the “special” stuff, the stuff you are saving up. Don’t hoard. Hoarders pay a whopping toll at the Pearly Gates.

Fine writers all have intense interests. They may be passionately political. They may have extraordinary taste in clothing (though most do not). Their interests are deep and specific, not casual.

In Cleaning Nabokov’s House, I wrote about having the guts to be yourself. A divorced and despairing woman on the brink of 40 opens a house of ill repute to serve the passion-deprived women of her town. The staff, or “sex workers” are from the male varsity crew team of the local university. My interests often hover around love, sex, death, food.

But it doesn’t matter what mine are, what are yours? You too have intense interests. Use them in your writing. Your deep interests define you.

What I want as a reader, besides what fascinates you, the writer, are your secrets. I want the moments of absolute privacy, the ones you alone know. I want on the page behavior only you know. What would you be doing that you would instantly quit if someone walked in the room?

For me it could be this: I dance in the kitchen. I will dance full out wild to the same song over and over again. If anyone came in the room I would stop instantly, hideously embarrassed. I believe that it is my truest deepest self, the wild woman who dances in the kitchen all by herself. That’s what I try to bring to the page: the world that I alone know.

And that’s what I seek as a reader. I long to read about other private worlds, worlds that will never be visible to me. Please put that stuff on the page. Put the weirdo moments of human behavior that are unobserved, obsessive, beautiful. Let me have them, your deep secret truths, woven artfully into your work.

And don’t worry, no one is in your kitchen watching you rock out. Writing is magnificent because it allows you to share your truth with the world in a completely private way: in your characters, in their behavior and observations, in the scenes you build.

I want to read the part of you that Googles the first guy you slept with in college, the one who grabbed a fistful of your sophomore belly when you were sitting nude on the edge of his bed, and held it to say, Look, you’re fat.

On the page I want your glee at discovering he is now a sump pump guy in the outskirts of Atlanta, driving a truck with Mister Waters on the side and his phone number.

You can print that number. He won’t sue you; he only reads porn.

Write for revenge. Write to seduce the reader¬ in me. Write to make me laugh and cry at the same time. Write to make me suck in my breath, gasp at your beauty, audacity, freedom, your individuality. Do it. Whom are you saving it for?

Thanks for stopping by Leslie!

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Body & Soul by Stacey Kade: Review {Teen Book Scene}

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Wed, 23 May 2012 09:00:00 +0000

*Series Spoiler Warning.

This is the third book in a series, please don't read if you don't want to be spoiled*

Publisher: Hyperion Books for Children (May 1, 2012)
eARC: 320 Pages
Series: The Ghost and the Goth #3
My Review of Queen of the Dead (TGATG #2)
Genre: YA Paranormal
Stacey Kade's Website | Blog | Twitter

From Goodreads. Alona Dare has been living as Lily "Ally" Turner for over a month...and it's not been easy. Besides being trapped in a body so not as good as her original one, she's failing miserably at playing the sister and daughter of people she barely knows. Plus, she can't help but think that Will Killian - the boy she hates to care about - somehow wishes the real Lily were back.

She and Will have been trying to find a solution, looking for a two-for-one miracle that would free Alona and keep Lily alive. Visits to local psychics have proven useless, but then they stumble across Malachi the Magnificent, who seems to be different. His office is full of ghosts, for one thing. But Malachi doesn't seem to hear or see them, which is odd. Plus, he bolts the moment he sees Will. To make things even weirder, Misty Evans, Alona's former best friend, is waiting in Malachi's lobby and claiming that she's being haunted. By Alona.

Will's convinced that Malachi has answers, while Alona is all kinds of pissed that someone's impersonating her. But their efforts to uncover the truth will bring them much unwanted attention and put them directly in the path of a ghost who will stop at nothing for another stab at life. Even if it means destroying Alona.

Review by Kate
BODY AND SOUL, by Stacey Kade, is the final book in The Ghost and the Goth series. I have enjoyed this series so much, I was happy and sad to read its conclusion.

As usual, I loved the flirty banter that Will and Alona shared throughout the book. Their internal thoughts never really translated properly, leaving the both of them always wondering the status of their relationship. Alona has changed so much since the first book! Her progression in personality was a treat to read. I yearned for her and Will to find a way to be together since they were so obviously perfect for each other, even though they never knew that when she was alive.

Other than the ongoing romance plot, I liked the story in this book. Alona is dealing with Lily's family and how much they care about their daughter, which is something Alona never knew she wanted. Then there was the paranormal element with Alona's former best friend being haunted by "her" and another ghost trying to push herself on Will while Alona was busy being a human. The suspense was top-knotch and it kept me glued to the pages to find out what happened next!

Overall, Kade solidified my love for her writing with this series. If you are looking for a fun, intelligent, and slightly paranormal read, this series is for you!

The Possibilities of Amy by Jaye Frances: Excerpt & Giveaway

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Tue, 22 May 2012 09:00:00 +0000

Thank you, Kate, for hosting me today on I Just Wanna Sit Here and Read. I really appreciate the opportunity to share a sneak peek at my new romance novella, The Possibilities of Amy.

High school, car dating, and the bittersweet sting of young love—all memories of adolescence, ready to surface when we least expect it. Recently, I had the opportunity to relive those years, after talking with an unknown-until-now admirer at a class reunion. Hearing the story from his perspective got me to thinking . . . and writing.

In The Possibilities of Amy, the main character, David, a high school senior, is immediately infatuated by Amy, the new transfer student. But before he can disclose his interest and approach her, he must somehow find a way to overcome his shyness. As David tries to work up the courage to ask Amy out, he learns that his friends also have designs on her, and have made her the prize in a competition to be the first to seduce her. David must now decide whether to stand in allegiance with his peers, or follow his heart in pursuing the girl of his dreams.

Here’s an excerpt:

"I had not met her, yet she consumed my every waking thought. Sometimes, sitting alone in my room, I wondered if she had any inkling of how much my life revolved around her. Every night I prayed for the chance to tell her.

The first time I saw Amy, she was leaning against the green-board, waiting for Senior English to begin. She was a transfer student—arriving three weeks after the start of the school year—requiring her to stand on ceremonious display as she waited for the teacher to provide a seat assignment.

I had never seen anything like her.

Standing about five foot five, she had thick blond hair that feathered over her shoulders to the middle of her back. Her face displayed the kind of beauty I had previously seen only in fashion magazines—shiny, little-girl bangs set over large, vivid blue eyes that flashed in sync to brilliant white teeth. Her skin was flawless, her legs and arms a warm shade of chestnut spice, the tan appearing to come from underneath, as if God Himself had warned the sun to color, but not burn.

And then there was that incredible seventeen-year-old body. A tiny mole dotted her chest just below the collarbone and, like a friendly road sign, it directed the eyes lower, to large, rounded breasts—not hung like coconuts, but each one presented in flawless contour, each one crying for attention. Even her clothes could not conceal the spectacular perfection of it all, the seam of her fitted dress revealing the half-moon valley of her waist and the perfect ripe curve of her ass.

I fell in love with that body. So did every male in the senior class.

And while I could sense many of the girls were already questioning her right to invade their pre-established numbers, I was also aware of more than a few who were considering the possibilities.

The possibilities of Amy.

From that day on—the day of Amy’s arrival into my life—I looked forward to English class the way a child looks forward to Christmas and birthdays.

After school, in the solitude of my own thoughts, I spent hours devising intricate fantasies to bring us together—euphoric daydreams that invariably plunged my beloved Amy into some horrible, frenzied conflict. Alone and terrified, she faced the ghastly predicaments of an unwilling captive, languishing without hope, until my just-in-time arrival predictably resolved every problem and vanquished every foe. My reveries always ended with Amy’s confirmation of her undying and eternal devotion, leaving us forever in love and deliriously happy."

Thanks for stopping by Jaye!

Author Website | Blog | Goodreads | FB Page | Buy on Amazon (only $.99)

Amy is the ultimate trophy girl—gorgeous face, killer body, and a vivacious personality. But there’s something else about her, something that makes her even more special. Amy is new. A transfer student from out of state, she’s starting her senior year without knowing a soul. And that means she’s up for grabs, available.

Infatuated from the moment he sees her, David is determined to meet Amy, and if the fates are willing, to spend the rest of his life with her. But his shyness prevents him from approaching her—until his friends devise a contest to determine who will be the first to prove their manhood by seducing her.

Author Bio: Jaye Frances is the author of the new romance novella, The Possibilities of Amy, and the paranormal-occult romance book The Kure, the first novel in The Kure series. She is also a featured columnist for the NUSA SUN magazine. Born in the Midwest, Jaye readily admits that her life’s destination has been the result of an open mind and a curiosity about all things irreverent. When she’s not consumed by her writing, Jaye enjoys cooking, traveling to all places tropical and “beachy” and taking pictures—lots of pictures—many of which find their way to her website. Her upcoming books include The Cruise - All That Glitters, a humorous take on a shipboard romance, available on May 15, 2012 from Amazon, and Journeys From Above and Below the Belt, a collection of adult fiction novellas and short stories, scheduled for a Summer 2012 release. Jaye lives on the central gulf coast of Florida, sharing her home with one husband, six computers, four cameras, and several hundred pairs of shoes. For more information, visit Jaye’s website, and Jaye’s Blog.

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Shadow Visions: Shadow Warriors by Gabriella Hewitt: Guest Post & Giveaway {Innovative Book Tours}

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Mon, 21 May 2012 09:00:00 +0000

What scares you?

There are some pretty scary mythological creatures in the Aztec lore. In SHADOW VISIONS, there are a few monsters bent on destroying humanity and the love of Manuel and Ixa.

One fearsome creature is the TZITZIMIME (don’t ask me how to pronounce it) it is an ancient celestial being sent down to earth to destroy humanity and cultivate the souls and bodies of people who have lived evil live or disobeyed the gods.

Some Aztec tales spoke of tzitzimime that would appear as beautiful women before lone travelers. The women would seduce the men and then turn into their terrifying form and devour their souls. Children were another favorite target. And pregnant women, watch out! You could be turned into a tzitzimime. These celestial demons were certainly not to be messed with.

The Aztec gods could be benevolent or brutal, many were terrifying. One ancient deity is METZTLI: He was the moon god, the god of the night. According to legend, he wished to be worshipped as the sun and rose up in rebellion but he was weak and cowardly. He failed because he feared fire and was forever forced to wear the carcass of a rabbit that was seared onto his face to hide his shame. In SHADOW VISIONS, he comes back to exact his revenge and extinguish the world and all humanity.

Both are frightening creatures and have immense power. As a child I used to read stories or listen to my parents tell me stories of creatures from their home countries. Freaked me out! I swear I used to look for monsters under my bed.

Both the tzitzimime and moon god are featured in SHADOW VISIONS, the second novella in the SHADOW WARRIOR series from Samhain Publishing.

Manuel has been tracking down a demon bent on sacrificing women with hummingbird tattoos. He is in danger of losing his humanity to his eagle spirit until he comes across Ixa Reyes, a beautiful San Diego Detective working on the same case, who also bears the mark of Huitzilopochtli. She is his salvation and redemption from a past filled with failure. Only she wants nothing to do with him or her heritage.

When a demon kidnaps her grandfather, the wind god, they must work together to save him and all mankind. He has twenty-four hours to help her control her elemental power over wind, that is if he can control his own desires to claim her body and soul. Because if he should fail, then the god of war will bring in a new era filled with blood and destruction.

When the last Shadow Warrior falls, so will all humanity.

EXCERPT

She’d seen death before. Vile and savage. This one was no different. The young woman lay strapped to a metal slab inside a vacant warehouse, miles from where anyone could have heard her scream. Her lifeless eyes held the horror of her last moments. Blood congealed on her body and smeared over the table and floor. A large, ragged hole in her chest obscenely proclaimed where a madman had ripped out her heart.

It was the Latina from her vision. “Mierda.” Shit was definitely the word.

The shock should have hit Ixa like a punch to the gut, only it didn’t. This vision was her second. The last had come true and now this one had too. Some gift, she thought bitterly. This was a present she wished she could return. What good were visions when she couldn’t stop the violence before it happened?

She shook off the thought and peered closer at the wound. Her badge with her identification, Detective Ixa Reyes, Homicide, hung loose around her neck. She carefully tucked it back into her jacket. Her partner, Detective Frank Boyle, returned with his notepad in hand.

“Second one in the city and again there are no witnesses. Just another anonymous tip called in to the precinct. I swear someone is playing a game with us.” Boyle scrubbed his hand over tired eyes. A veteran of twenty years, he had seen and done it all, yet he treated Ixa as an equal. They made an odd team, but they’d developed a smooth working relationship, and they treated one another with respect. The only differences between them came down to their looks. Frank Boyle stood six feet tall, two hundred and forty pounds with thinning blond hair wisped around his pudgy face and weary blue-gray eyes masked by thick glasses two sizes too large. She could have been his teenage daughter, petite, with a tan, rounded moon face and full lips accompanied by a mass of straight black hair that hit below her shoulders, currently tied back in a no-nonsense braid.

Sometimes her Mexican-American looks worked in her favor—like the time she had to deal with the locals to track down a powerful drug lord who had been terrorizing the neighborhood. She had caught him and put him behind bars, but it had sealed her as a traitor to her own people. In the eyes of her colleagues, she had earned respect. Even so, every day felt like she had to constantly prove her worth among the boys. She straddled both worlds, yet belonged to neither fully.

Ixa had learned a long time ago to suppress her heritage and assimilate. It was best to play by the rules, follow the book and never deviate from protocol. Anything less only ended up in heartbreak, which was why she pushed aside the fresh image of her nightmare vision and focused back on the case.

“What time did the call come in?”

Boyle checked his notes. “Six in the morning.”

She nodded. “Sunrise. Same as the last victim. So how’d you arrive on the scene so fast?”

For the first time, her partner looked a little sheepish. He sighed. “Dana and the kids are away. Couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d get in early and go over everything we got on this
case. I was on my way when the call came in.” He glanced down at the body and his lips tightened. “Saw right away we had another one on our hands and called you.”

Boyle drew her attention to a knife wound. “This victim has a hummingbird tattoo on her upper arm similar to the last woman.”

Ixa really didn’t need to look. The dainty painted hummingbird tattoo was seared into the backs of her eyelids. Unconsciously, she stroked her hand over her sleeve. Below the fabric she could feel her own hummingbird tattoo tingling. The sensation grew hotter, burning her bicep. She didn’t know the woman, yet they all sported the same tattoo.

Ixa bit her bottom lip. Her hummingbird tattoo had always been a part of her. Always. As a child, it had been a strawberry mark. Over time it had shaped and formed into the delicate bird—unusual and eerie, an understatement for sure. She had distanced herself from her Aztec roots, determined to make her way in a modern world, but her tattoo reminded her that she could never sever the connection completely. And this case seemed to be making the same point in a more frightening and horrific way.

“Looks like we may have a serial killer on our hands.” Although, as she said the words, deep down she sensed something far more sinister at work.

Without thought, she squeezed her arm. The tattoo radiated heat. She winced at the pain.

Boyle eyed her with acute perception. “Something wrong?”

“No. Just need some fresh air.” Ixa jammed her hands into the pockets of her slacks and exited the cavernous building.

The warehouse sat in an industrial park located between the San Diego Freeway and the Cesar E. Chavez Parkway. She’d have to check ownership of the property when she got back to the office. Slowly, she turned, taking in the dirty white exterior of the building, worn from years of salt air and erosion. From the description given by the patrolman, she knew three similarly shaped buildings occupied the property. A search of the other buildings had turned up nothing, not even cargo in the warehouse holds. Had the killer known these buildings were empty or had he simply gotten lucky?

She inhaled deeply, needing to banish the smell of death that coated her nose, throat and tongue. A combination of sea and fumes laced the misty morning air…and another odor, an incongruent smell. She inhaled again. Memories of her abuelo and his Aztec stories came to mind. The scent was familiar. Incense.

She sniffed delicately, intent on tracking it, when an eagle cried overhead. She glanced skyward, searching for the large bird, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of the bird of prey. “Aren’t you far from home, big guy?” She spoke softly, mesmerized by the beauty of the eagle.

Shaking off her fascination, she rounded the building and pulled up short. A second warehouse paralleled the first one, and up on the west corner of the building the eagle came in for a landing. She could have sworn the wings should be brown, but this eagle’s wings seemed spun of gold. The bird cocked its head, as if looking directly at her.

The bird screeched again. The magnificent eagle tugged at her, made her want to forget her responsibilities and simply fly up to the heavens. Ixa blew out a breath and dragged her gaze back to the ground, back to reality and to a killer who seemed fixated on women with hummingbird tattoos.

She shivered despite the heat generating from the hummingbird mark she bore.

Chain-link fence surrounded the property, which meant there was only one way in and out, unless he scaled the fence. But then there was no way to drag a victim over a ten- foot-tall fence with barbed wire at the top. So how did they get in? She followed the pavement that led to the back of the warehouse, aware of the tiny weeds sprouting up in cracks and the numerous tread marks smudging up the cement from trucks bearing heavy loads.

The eagle let out a screech, spread its mighty wings and took flight, leaving her alone in the tight alleyway, with only dumpsters taking up space. She paused, letting her senses attune themselves to the environment. This part of the lot couldn’t be seen from the front entrance. Ixa halted and swept her gaze over the area. Why had the killer chosen this location? What connection did he have to it?

The shadow of the eagle passed over the ground. She spotted rust-colored droplets near her foot. They looked like blood.

***

So tell me what scares you?

Leave a comment and be entered for a chance to win an ebook copy of SHADOW VISIONS.

About the author: Gabriella Hewitt is the pen name of creative writing talents Sasha Tomaszycki and Patrizia M.J. Hayashi. Together they weave tales of romantic suspense and dangerously sensual paranormals. Check out the website to find out about upcoming releases and events on her blog.

Zombie Night in Canada: First Period by Jamie Friesen : Giveaway {CBLS Promotions}

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Mon, 21 May 2012 09:00:00 +0000

Tokyo. Sydney. Beijing. Cairo. Paris. Rome. New York. Los Angeles. One by one, the world’s great cities fell to the zombie plague. What chance does a small, non-descript city in Canada like Edmonton have?

The world as we know it is finished. Civilization has collapsed and humanity is on the brink of extinction. Billions of people are dead, victims of a horrific plague.

Bi-weekly paychecks, Tim Horton’s double doubles, men’s league hockey and cheap winter vacations to Cancun. That was the life Xander Barnes had known for years until a pandemic swept the globe. Efforts to slow its spread or develop quarantine zones, in many cases were too little, too late.

Nowadays, life consisted of avoiding the plague victims, ghouls who had an insatiable appetite for human flesh and finding enough food to survive day to day. How long can one ordinary man survive in a world gone mad?

EXCERPT:

“Gentlemen, it’s going to be a race to get to the cars, so I suggest you hurry. Larry and Greg, run to the Sheriff’s office and see if there is more ammo and maybe some working flashlights. We’ll meet you at the ramp by the fountain in one minute,” Darryl said. “If you’re not there in time, we’ll leave you behind. Got it?”

“Got it!” they echoed.

Just then the doors to the Bowker Building opened again and dozens of infected streamed out. The two groups raced off. John and Darryl reloaded as they ran and got to the stairs, hiding behind a planter filled with sub tropical plants, with the older men a dozen steps behind them. Sunlight poured in from a skylight and illuminated the area. Greg glanced out the windows and saw that the Legislative Grounds were filled with dozens more infected. When the old men had finally caught up to them, they raced down the stairs. John tossed a table onto its side and shoved all three of them behind it.

“Stay,” he ordered tersely.

Larry and Greg followed Darryl’s orders and raced into the office. Greg ran into the back room and fired his pistol twice into a locked cabinet. The lock shattered and he ripped it open, pulling out a pair of pump action shotguns. He loaded shells into each and stuffed more in his vest pockets. He stuffed several pistol magazines in as well and scrambled back out to the front office, where Larry was tearing a desk apart looking for batteries.

“I can’t find any!” Larry hollered.

“Forget the batteries, let’s get going!” Greg yelled, grabbing a jacket off a nearby chair and threw it on.

Greg tossed a shotgun to Larry and jammed the half empty box of shells into his hands. Then he tore out the door without another word. Larry pulled one last drawer open and yelled, “Jackpot!” He stuffed a couple packs of batteries into his over-sized pockets and followed Greg out the door, tossing on a heavy jacket as well. A second later, Larry heard a shotgun blast. As he ran out into the hallway, he saw Greg standing there, firing his shotgun into a huge group of infected, blood and flesh exploding from the lifeless victims.

“This way,” Larry shouted and raced for the ramp that spiraled down to the lower level. Greg followed, and they took turns, running and firing, covering each other’s back whenever possible. They made it to the bottom of the ramp and saw John and Darryl firing into a group of infected, coming down the stairs that were located at the south edge of the ramp. The premier and cabinet ministers huddled in abject fear only a few feet away.

The infected from the Bowker Building were coming down the ramp and Larry turned and fired at them. In the narrow confines of the ramp, every shot finished off several infected, but their numbers suddenly seemed limitless. Dozens, if not hundreds, poured down the ramp from the ground floor.

Darryl’s pistol’s slide jacked back as the magazine emptied. “Did you find us any ammo?” he screamed at Greg.

Greg tossed over all four of the magazines he had found. Darryl shoved one in and resumed firing. Suddenly the way was clear.

“Let’s go!” Darryl hollered.

He grabbed the premier and then both he and John raced down the tunnel towards the parking lot. The two cabinet ministers followed in their steps, with the two young sheriffs firing into the ever expanding pack of infected. A door to the Legislative Annex on their left from opened, and more infected flooded into the hallway as they ran past it.

“Sir, run for the end of the hallway!” John yelled. Charchuk and two cabinet ministers continued down the darkened tunnel.

John and Darryl stopped and fired point blank into the infected.

“Last magazine, make ‘em count!” Darryl said over the gunfire to John, as he passed him a magazine. John nodded.

“Greg, Larry, come on!” Darryl shouted, as the sheriffs were on the verge of being cut off by the host of infected flowing from the Annex. They ran backwards and stood shoulder to shoulder with Darryl and John. Natural light from three periscopes flooded the hallway with an eerie light, adding to the emergency lights mounted on high on the walls.

John and Darryl fired again and again until both were out of ammunition. Darryl’s gun clicked on an empty chamber. He glanced around, looking for something, anything to hold off the infected. He ran to several nearby display cases, marked ‘Alberta Legislature’, which had a display about the provincial government. One cabinet was stuffed with replicas of both the Legislature’s mace and several medieval-era battle maces, and he smashed the glass with butt of his pistol. He jammed the pistol back into its holster and reached into the case, pulling out a pair of wicked looking maces and leaving the gaudy, gold-painted Legislative replica behind.

He ran back to John and gave him one, then attacked the infected reaching for him with an over-handed swing. The mace came down and crushed the infected teenager’s skull, sending blood and brain matter in every direction. John emulated him and they cut a bloody swath through the infected. The young sheriffs, also out of ammunition, were now using the butt end of their shotguns like clubs to fend off the infected.

They fell back slowly, responding to any attempt by the infected to get around
them. Bit by bit, they were moving closer and closer to the parkade.

BUY LINKS: Amazon | Smashwords

REVIEWS

From Smashwords:

“...Zombie Night in Canada is a fresh breath of rotting zombie corpses and gunsmoke. It has great action, a uniquely Canadian outlook (but not too Canadian as to alienate reads who don’t hail from the great white north) and great detail and an all-round exciting story. Best zombie novel I’ve read in some time.”

“Like Zombies? Like Guns? Like Canada? This book has them all. Infected Zombies are once again on the march. The plot revolves around the events surrounding an exponential zombie outbreak as it happens to the main protagonists rather then a story where they "wake up" to a world already overrun. The book is set mostly in Canada, especially Alberta with real world locations & references and contains good specific military weapon usage to help draw you into the story. Fans of the genre will appreciate the many references to other contemporary zombie stories including what I saw as a direct homage to the Dawn of the Dead 2004 remake.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Jamie Friesen was born in Lahr, West Germany while his father was serving with the Royal Canadian Air Force. He attended the University of Alberta where he obtained a Bachelor of Arts in History, and followed it later with a Masters of Arts in Communications & Technology. After obtaining his Bachelor's degree, Jamie went abroad and taught English in Japan and Taiwan.

He now lives in Edmonton, Canada with his wife and daughter, working in the Public Relations field and writes in his spare time, which usually translates to early mornings and lunch time. Blog | Twitter | ZNIC FB Page

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Shut Up by Anne Tibbets: Character Interview & Giveaway

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Mon, 21 May 2012 09:00:00 +0000

“An Interview with Mary”

By Anne Tibbets

Q: I understand your family is going through a difficult time. Tell us a little about it.

A: Crappers. I’d rather not talk about it. But, since you asked, here it goes. My older sister, Gwen, is a total disaster. She’s seventeen, and pregnant by this guy I call “The Creep.” He makes me feel weird. He says inappropriate stuff to me all the time. I don’t care for him, honestly. She’s decided she’s going to marry him, which my parents aren’t happy about, and they’re kind of freaking out. It’s put them on edge. Mom is handling it the worst. Her temper is out of control and she gets mad at me over stupid stuff, and when Mom gets mad, she gets physical. Plus, Gwen can get pretty mean and picks on me for no reason. I’m not going to lie, it can get pretty rough.

Q: How are you dealing with it?

A: Dealing with it? I don’t know. I just try and stay out of the way. That’s what my brother, Paul, keeps telling me to do. But I don’t always have control over my mouth and I end up blurting out things that get me into bigger trouble. I wish I could just shut up.

Q: Have you talked to anybody about it?

A: There’s no one to talk to. I tried to talk to my teacher about it, but she thought I was being melodramatic. So I just keep it to myself mostly. There’s nothing anybody can do anyway.

Q: Why do you think that?

A: I don’t think any one would believe me.

Q: So, what are you going to do?

A: (shrugs) I have a couple ideas. But I’m not sure yet.

Q: What are your ideas?

A: Well, if I could run away, and get a job. Maybe I could support myself and live alone. Alone, there would be nobody there to tell me every time I do something wrong, which seems to be often. But I also have a Plan B.

Q: What Plan B?

A: I keep a bottle of pills. You know, just in case I can’t take it anymore.

Q: Surely, there has to be another solution?

A: If there is one, let me know. I’m open to suggestions.

Synopsis of SHUT UP from Author: Mary's older sister, Gwen, has royally screwed up her life. Not only is Gwen pregnant at seventeen, but she's also decided to marry The Creep who knocked her up.

Now Mary is powerless to stop her family from imploding. Her parents are freaking out, and to top if off, The Creep has a gross fascination with Mary, while Gwen enjoys teasing her to tears for sport.

Despite her brother's advice to shut up, Mary can't keep her trap closed and manages to piss off Mom so much it comes to blows.

Mary doesn't know what to do, and all her attempts to get help are rejected. When she finally plans her escape, she fails to consider how it could destroy them all.

SHUT UP features mature themes such as physical abuse, sexual assault, depression and suicide. Based on events from my own childhood, SHUT UP is a book I would recommend for all teens.

Excerpt:
I used to like to skateboard alone in the side yard, which was this large cement slab with half brick walls on either side. It was quiet, out of sight from the inside of the house, and perfect for riding a skateboard back and forth a thousand times, and maybe doing a few tricks, or roller blading in circles, depending on your mood. I liked it there because it got me away from Rose, who I was stuck sharing the same bedroom. Rose was always following me around and wanting to play baby games, like dolls. Luckily for me, Rose didn’t like to skateboard.

Paul did, though. Some days he would skateboard too. I thought Paul was pretty cool, so that was always fun. Then one day, long before the baby, long before the pregnancy, and long before Gwen and The Creep were forbidden from seeing each other, The Creep strolled into the side yard as I was skateboarding.

He usually just hung all over Gwen. I couldn’t think what made him want to come to the side yard. I didn’t think he was there to skateboard. I saw him coming from the courtyard and quickly sat on the brick wall against the house, sliding the skateboard back and forth as casually as I could with one foot on the concrete. I didn’t want to ride in front of him; if I fell, the teasing would have been endless.

“So,” The Creep said, crossing his arms and leaning back on his heels. “What are you doing?”

“Skateboarding,” I said, rolling my eyes at him. Dumb question -- there was a skateboard right in front of me. Duh!

“All by yourself?” he asked.

“Yeah. Sometimes Paul or Ralph come out and do it too.” I thought maybe if he knew others could show up he’d take a hike. After staring at him for ten seconds in silence I realized he wasn’t budging. Drat.

He grinned. “Is Ralph your boyfriend?” He looked like he was about to laugh.
I felt my stomach turn sour. He was making me feel weird again. He did that a lot. That’s why I thought he was creepy. Just then, my foot slipped from the skateboard and it rolled away, banging against the wooden gate a few yards off. I stood up and got it, feeling The Creep’s eyes on me. I sat back down quickly, with my back against the house, trying to act like it didn’t bother me. He strolled over to stand in front of me again.
“No. Ralph isn’t really my boyfriend,” I said, watching him approach. I didn’t want to tell him that Ralph had kissed me on the cheek just the week before in the bushes.

“Do you like him?”

I kept my eyes on the skateboard and started the back and forth rolling I was doing before, but it wasn’t the same. It didn’t feel right anymore.

“I think he kinda’ likes me.” I was sorry for saying that the second the words came out. I knew The Creep was having fun with me, but couldn’t think how to make him go away.
The Creep smiled, proudly displaying his newly straightened teeth, but they still had the white scars from wearing braces too long. “Ralph likes you, eh?”

I nodded, looking back at the skateboard, but giving up trying to slide it back and forth. He probably thought I was too ugly for a boy to like, just like Gwen did.
I could hear Gwen call me a fat cow and pushed it from my mind, answering, “Yeah.” I rested my foot on the top of the skateboard.

“Do you like him?” he asked again.

“He’s nice.” I shrugged, blushing. I didn’t want to talk with The Creep anymore. Well, ever, really. Why didn’t he just leave me alone?

“Have you kissed him?”

I laughed too loudly and picked up the skateboard, setting it in my lap, as if adding it between him and me would help. “No!”

“Aw, come on! Pretty girl like you? With blue eyes like that? You’ve kissed a boy before!”

I felt my face turn hot. Now I was sure he was making fun of me. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt I was far from pretty. Gwen reminded me daily. My teeth were crooked, my hair was a short mousey brown, and no one could even see my eyes behind my glasses. “I have not!”

“Sure you have! How old are you now, thirteen?”

I looked at The Creep and rolled my eyes, laughing too loudly again. “I’m twelve.”
The Creep took a step forward and leaned in, as if inspecting my face. “No! Twelve? You look at least thirteen.”

I looked down at the skateboard and rubbed the top with my fingertips, using my other hand to push my bra strap back under my tank top. I wanted to go back to practicing skateboarding but felt glued to the brick wall. I shifted slightly, feeling the pockets of my cut offs rub against the brick wall. I flipped the skateboard over in my lap and ran my fingers across the smooth British flag painted on the bottom. “I’m only in the sixth grade.”

The Creep moved closer. He stood right in front of me, his hands at his sides. I bit my thumbnail and looked up at him. He smiled. I wanted to back up but had no farther to go. “When I was in the sixth grade, I don’t remember any of the girls looking like you,” he said.

I felt my face flush and my stomach churn. The brick wall was like fly paper, with my rump stuck to it. I wanted to get out from in front of The Creep, but couldn’t move. My breath quickened, and my heart pounded in my throat.

“Yeah, right,” was all I managed to say.

“Those are nice shorts you’re wearing,” he said, eyeing my long legs up and down. His hand moved toward my knee just as Gwen appeared behind him, out of the front courtyard.
She stood at the end of the side yard and rested a hand on her hip. Gwen’s big brown wavy hair and super long bangs were the exact opposite of her skin tight jeans and tee shirt. She was like an upside down carrot. “Mary?” her eyes bore into The Creep’s back.

“What are you doing?” Gwen’s usual nasty tone was not lost on me.

“Nothing!” I answered quickly.

To my relief, The Creep took a step back and crossed his arms again. “Mary has a boyfriend,” he said, his voice instantly changing. He sounded just as irritated as Gwen.
“I do not!” I protested. The Creep cackled, head leaning back as he laughed. With long strides he walked to Gwen and slung his arm across her shoulders, turning her back to the front courtyard.

“Ralph from next door. Though, I think she has a thing for me.” The Creep led Gwen away.
“The little slut,” Gwen said. Then they were gone, back into the house and out of my sight.

I felt hot tears swell in my eyes. I did not have a thing for The Creep! I hated him! He was a total jerk!

I sat on the brick wall, shaking. I wanted to punch The Creep. I wanted to slap Gwen.

I wanted to scream!

Instead, I got up and flung the skateboard at the wooden gate. The faded avocado green paint chipped, and the wood dented as the skateboard skidded across the fence and slapped onto the concrete, landing upside down and rocking back and forth as it settled.

I saw the damage to the fence and burst into tears.

Great!

Now I’m going to get grounded for denting the fence, when all I’d wanted to do in the first place was practice my skateboarding.

Author Bio: Anne Tibbets is an SCBWI award-winning and Smashwords.com Best Selling author. Anne found her way to young adult fantasy by following what she loves: strong female characters, magic, sword fights and ferocious and cuddly animals. Anne is co-author of the middle grade time travel adventure, "The Amulet Chronicles," author of the young adult fantasy "The Beast Call," and YA contemporary "Shut Up."

She divides her time between writing, her family, and three furry creatures that she secretly believes are plotting her assassination. For more information about Anne, visit her website, her blog or on Facebook

Buy Links: Amazon | Kindle | B&N

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Timeless by Alexandra Monir : Author Interview & Giveaway

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Sun, 20 May 2012 09:00:00 +0000

Timeless has just been reprinted in paperback from Random House Children’s Books and just released Alexandra Monir’s “Secrets of the Time Society.” This electronic short story is an exciting “bridge” between TIMELESS and Monir’s second novel TIMEKEEPER. Check out the interview below with Alexandra and enter to win a Hardcover of Timeless!

Q: How did you approach the subject of time travel in Timeless?
A: I wanted to make it a good mix of science and fantasy. I studied Einstein's Theory of Relativity, which discusses the real possibilities of time travel, and I incorporated a bit of that. But all in all, the specifics of time travel came from my imagination and are based around magic. :)

Q: What are important characteristics of a strong female protagonist that you tried to incorporate in your book?
A: The most important characteristic to me is strength, in character and identity. I wanted Michele to be strong enough to overcome the sad circumstances that open the book, and also to have goals and a purpose beyond just falling in love- that's why I made her a lyricist. Ideally, Michele is a tougher, more mature version of myself at 16. :)

Q: If you could jump back in time where would you go and what would you do?
A: I'd just have to experience the Roaring 20s in Manhattan!

Q: What is your writing space like?
A: I alternate between writing at my desk, and then bringing my laptop to the couch for more comfy writing!

Q: Who/what inspires your writing?
I'm most inspired by other storytellers who I admire. J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter series is what inspired me to try writing YA fantasy, and I'm often motivated by other books, songs, movies, and theater.

Q: What are some YA books you read recently that you would recommend to fans of your book?
A: The Starcrossed trilogy by Josephine Angelini is fantastic! It incorporates Greek mythology, a strong heroine, and a heart-tugging romance!

Q: What are you currently working on?
A: I just finished the sequel to Timeless and am now starting on a new book!

Q: Would you like to say anything to your fans?
A: I feel so blessed to have these wonderful readers who love Timeless and take time out to share their thoughts with me. You guys are the best, and you motivate me every day. Thank you!! :)

Synopsis from Goodreads: When tragedy strikes Michele Windsor’s world, she is forced to uproot her life and move across the country to New York City, to live with the wealthy, aristocratic grandparents she’s never met. In their old Fifth Avenue mansion filled with a century’s worth of family secrets, Michele discovers a diary that hurtles her back in time to the year 1910. There, in the midst of the glamorous Gilded Age, Michele meets the young man with striking blue eyes who has haunted her dreams all her life – a man she always wished was real, but never imagined could actually exist. And she finds herself falling for him, into an otherworldly, time-crossed romance.

Michele is soon leading a double life, struggling to balance her contemporary high school world with her escapes into the past. But when she stumbles upon a terrible discovery, she is propelled on a race through history to save the boy she loves – a quest that will determine the fate of both of their lives.

About the Author: At the age of 25, author and recording artist Alexandra Monir released her debut young adult novel, Timeless (Random House; January, 11 2011). The book became an immediate success, with Amazon.com naming it one of the “Best Books of the Month” for January 2011, and Barnes & Noble featuring the title in their “Top Teen Picks.” The book went on to hit the Barnes & Noble Teen Bestsellers chart, and has been featured in a variety of media, from popular teen websites to The Huffington Post. Alexandra is currently writing the sequel, which publishes in 2012.

Alexandra also integrated original music into the novel’s pages, writing two songs for the book, which she recorded with producer Michael Bearden (musical director of Michael Jackson’s last concert, This Is It ). The songs were released on iTunes as a supplement to the book.

Alexandra currently resides in Los Angeles, California, where she is at work on further projects in writing and music.

Secrets of the Time Society (e-book) | Timeless (PPK) | Timeless (HC)

Excerpt | Trailer | Music

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Rotter World by Scott M. Baker: Excerpt & Giveaway {Innovative Online Book Tours}

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Sat, 19 May 2012 09:00:00 +0000

With Rotter World, Scott M. Baker pulls out all the stops in a zombie thriller that is brutal, violent and terrifying. Definitely not for the faint-hearted. -- New York Times bestseller Jonathan Maberry, author of Patient Zero and Dead of Night

Eight months have passed since vampires released the Revenant Virus on mankind, nearly wiping out both species. For Mike Robson, the situation could be far worse. He has joined up with a small band of humans and the last coven of vampires who are riding out the zombie apocalypse in an old fort along the coast of southern Maine. But the uneasy alliance between humans and vampires is strained with the arrival of the creator of the Revenant Virus. He claims to have a vaccine that will make them immune and allow mankind to take civilization back from the living dead. However, the vaccine is located in a secure underground facility five hundred miles away.

To retrieve it, Robson leads a raiding party of humans and vampires down the East Coast, which has been devastated by the outbreak and overrun by zombies and rape gangs. Yet none of the horrors he deals with on the road can prepare him for what he will find in the underground facility. Robson will encounter the greatest threat his group has faced to date, not only from zombies but from betrayal within his own ranks.

Think there are no new or original zombie authors? Think again. Scott M. Baker provides an exciting voice and fresh outlook on the undead. Fun, compulsive reading. -- Brian Keene, author of The Rising and City of the Dead

Scott M. Baker writes in the tradition of J.L. Bourne and Joe McKinney. Fans of thriller writers like Brad Thor will also find powerful, welcome similarities in Rotter World. -- Scott Kenemore, author of Zen of Zombie

Scott M. Baker (Blog) is a novelist from northern Virginia whose previous works include The Vampire Hunters trilogy, which have received excellent reviews by both Famous Monsters of Filmland and Fangoria, and numerous short stories, including “Cruise of the Living Dead” and the Christmas zombie epic “Deck the Malls with Bowels of Holly.” Scott is available for interviews.

Permuted Press was established in 2004 with a modest goal: to produce a single, high-quality zombie anthology titled The Undead. From this simple goal grew a publishing company that has published over 60 titles targeting the apocalyptic, post-apocalyptic, and survival horror fiction markets. Permuted Press has relied heavily on the power of the internet and advances in publishing technology to establish itself as one of the best known publishers in the apocalyptic niche. Permuted has utilized print on demand (POD) technology and grassroots internet marketing to catch and cater to its ever growing fan base.

Published: March 2012

Mass Market Paperback: 302 pages

Excerpt:
Chapter One

The moan of the living dead shattered the stillness of the night. More than fifty zombies congregated around the warehouse’s front façade, stumbling along with slow, awkward moves.

A handful lumbered around the abandoned military-green shuttle bus parked to the left of the building. Those in front of the warehouse clawed and banged at the sliding metal door built into the wall, each swipe leaving a smear of rotten flesh and blood. Undeterred by the futility of their attempts, the zombies kept up their assault, desperate to get at the food inside. A quiet but steady droning underscored the scene, coming from the thousands of flies feeding off of the living dead.

From their position on a hillock a quarter of a mile distant, the small rescue party carefully studied the zombie horde.

Tibor snarled between clenched fangs. “There are many.”

“Too many,” said Mike Robson. In the green glow of the night vision goggles, the living
dead resembled bees swarming over their hive. Robson removed his goggles and placed them on the ground. As the group leader, he was responsible for the lives of his team, and right now they were definitely about to go into harm’s way. He looked across the narrow sound toward the naval shipyard. He did not need night vision goggles to know it had been overrun. “This whole fucking place is swarming with rotters.”

“I don’t like this.” Dravko stared at the warehouse, the irises of his eyes fully dilated so as to see in the dim light. “We haven’t come this far into rotter territory in months. And for what? To save half a dozen survivors? It’s not worth the risk.”

“The boss thinks otherwise,” Robson protested half-heartedly.

“Then let the fucking boss get his ass out here and save them.” Lee O’Bannon spat out the words from underneath his night vision goggles.

“Knock it off,” Robson ordered. Though he would never admit it to the others, he did not like this mission one damn bit. It violated every rule of engagement they operated by, rules that had kept them alive until now. It was dumb ass shit like this that would get them killed one day.

But orders were orders.

“Come on.” Robson crawled backwards down the reverse side of the hillock, followed by the others. Even with the rotters out of their line of sight, the ungodly moaning still echoed through the dark.

The remainder of the rescue party stood a quarter of a mile away, milling around their vehicles and scanning the area for approaching rotters. Robson had brought the usual contingent for a rescue party: nine humans and three vampires; the two Mack trucks mounted with snow plough blades and twin gun mounts in the dump bed; the school bus reinforced with mesh steel gratings attached to the window frames and a cow catcher from an old steam engine welded to the front; and his command car, a Subaru Outback. It should have been more than enough to handle the situation. At least he thought so until he found a swarm of rotters between him and the survivors. He suddenly felt obscenely outnumbered.

Daytona, seated in the driver’s seat of one of the dump trucks, saw them approach. He reached out between the foot-long steel spikes welded around the bottoms and sides of the windows and quietly slapped his hand against the door to get the others’ attention. Everyone turned to Robson.

Daytona nodded toward the hillock. “What’s it look like?”

Robson waved over the others so he would not have to shout. “We got about fifty rotters hanging around the warehouse, mostly by the front doors. A few are wandering around the parking lot.”

“What about the survivors?” asked Jordan, who crouched in the open doorway at the rear of the school bus, nervously rolling the tip of a toothpick between his lips. “Did you see them?”

Robson shook his head.

“Maybe we’re too late,” Jordan said hopefully.

“Those rotters wouldn’t be trying to claw their way into that place if it were empty.

Someone’s still alive in there.”

“So what do we do now?” asked Clark, the driver of the second truck.

“We get them out.” Eleven sets of eyes focused on Robson, waiting for orders.

“Daytona, Clark. You go in first and plough the area, then set up a barricade on either side of the doors. Dravko, Tibor, and Sultanic are with me in the bus. Lee, you and Rashid take the Baker/Rotter World/5

Outback and hang back. Keep an eye out for swarmers.”

Jordan sighed. “Wish Mad Dog was with us. He could take out a dozen of those things without breaking a sweat.”

“Screw that,” said O’Bannon. “With that open cut on his arm, the smell of blood would only incite ’em into a frenzy.”

“Knock it off.” Robson said it louder than he wanted, and then lowered his voice. “We don’t have Mad Dog with us. If we do this right, we should be in and out in a few minutes. Any questions?”

None.

“All right. Let’s rock.”

Daytona pulled down over his brow the brim of the black baseball cap emblazoned with the NASCAR logo and started the truck’s engine. Clark did the same. In the bed of each truck, the gunners took up position in one of the mounts welded onto the front corners of each dump bed, strapped themselves in, and switched off the safety locks on their AK-47 assault rifles.

Caylee, the petite brunette who manned the forward gun position on Daytona’s truck, looked down at Jordan and blew him a kiss. He removed the toothpick, responded with a flirtatious smile, and then placed it between his lips.

The hiss of airbrakes and the grinding of gears accompanied the sound of revved up MP8 diesel engines as the two Macks set off, pulling away from the rest of the party and slowly gaining speed as they disappeared around the hillock.

As Whitehouse turned over the ignition on the school bus, Jordan, Dravko, Tibor, and Sultanic stepped inside and took up seats near the rear. Robson climbed in last, closing and securing the rear door behind him. The bus lurched forward and set off after the trucks.

O’Bannon followed close behind with the Outback.

The noise of the approaching vehicles attracted the zombies’ attention. The horde turned to watch the twin Macks cross in front of the hillock and race around the outer rim of the parking lot. The trucks swung left in front of the warehouse and increased speed, Daytona hugging the front wall with Clark directly behind and to his left. Oblivious to everything but the approaching food, the zombies lumbered en masse toward the trucks.

Daytona slammed into the mass of living dead, the truck shuddering with the impact.

Clark hit the outer edge of the horde a second later. Bones shattered and bodies ruptured. Some of the older, more decayed rotters exploded, venting noxious fumes from pent-up bodily gases and decay that filtered into the cabs. A gore-laden mist of human blood and dislodged flies formed around the ploughs, splattering the windshield of each vehicle. Other rotters not smashed outright were either dragged along the building’s façade and torn apart, or knocked down and crushed under the wheels. Within seconds, the two trucks had cleared the doorway, leaving behind a small lake of blood and body parts, as well as a few rotters that struggled to get back on their feet.

The trucks circled around and made another sweep in front of the warehouse door, taking out the few zombies that escaped the first pass. This time the trucks veered left into the parking lot and stopped a few yards from the warehouse. Several zombies lumbered toward the Macks, instinctively knowing food was inside. High-pitched beeping echoed across the lot as Daytona and Clark shifted into reverse. Clark’s truck slammed into one zombie as it climbed to its feet, knocking it over backwards onto the pavement. The rear wheels backed over it, bursting its torso and spraying its organs across the asphalt, leaving only its head and arms thrashing about. The trucks pulled up on either side of the doorway, leaving just enough room between them for the bus to back into. A pair of rotters roamed between the trucks, staring aimlessly at the vehicles.

No one noticed the single zombie in a naval officer’s uniform, its legs crushed to pulp, crawling on the ground along the wall as it disappeared under the rear of Daytona’s truck.

Whitehouse drove the school bus into the parking lot and swung it perpendicular to the warehouse, shifted into reverse, and backed the bus between the trucks, placing the rear quarter between the two vehicles. He looked over his shoulder at the men in back.

“Go!”

Robson opened the rear door. He paused, fighting back the urge to retch as the stench of rotting bodies wafted through the door, along with hundreds of flies. The sound of automatic rifle fire snapped him back to his senses. They needed to haul ass before the remaining rotters closed in on them.

Sensing food, the two rotters caught between the trucks lumbered toward the school bus.

“We’ve got this,” growled Dravko.

Dravko morphed into his vampiric form. The facial features transformed, his ears elongating, his forehead furrowing, his nose flaring, his teeth becoming a mouthful of fangs, until he looked more bat-like than human. His fingers lengthened, and the fingernails extended into three-inch long talons. He jumped to the ground in front of the closest rotter, which stood only a few feet away. It jerked toward Dravko and moaned, its arms outstretched to grab its prey. Dravko slapped the rotter’s arms away and grabbed its head by the jaw and skull, careful not to get his hand close to its teeth. The rotter bit frantically at thin air. Turning his hands in a circular motion, Dravko spun its head completely around. The rotter went limp. Dravko let it go, and the body dropped to the pavement.

Tibor lunged off the back of the bus, morphing into his vampiric form in mid-flight. He landed on the second rotter’s chest, clutching its head and knocking it backwards. As they toppled to the ground, Tibor used his strength and speed to slam the rotter’s head against the pavement with such force that the back of its skull collapsed beneath his hands, covering them in gore. Tibor wiped his hands on the thing’s soiled clothes and kicked the corpse under Clark’s truck.

Dravko morphed back into his human form and turned toward the school bus. “It’s clear!”

Robson jumped out and ran the twenty feet to the warehouse. Jordan followed, taking up a guard position by the left of the sliding door. Dravko and Tibor fell back and joined Sultanic by the open door to the bus.

Robson banged on the door with a closed fist. The clanging metal reverberated over the moaning of the zombies. “Open up!”

The rate of gunfire from the Macks’ dump beds increased, accompanied by an increase in moaning. A dozen rotters converged on the vehicles, those from the parking lot as well as some that stumbled around from the sides of the warehouse, each desperate to feed. Most crowded around the cabs, clawing at the metal and frantic to get at the drivers, but unable to get through the rows of foot-long spikes that surrounded each window. A few rotters attempted to push between the school bus and the trucks, only to be taken down by the gunners. Out in the parking lot, O’Bannon and Rashid stood by the open doors of the Outback, shooting through the head the few rotters that approached.

Robson banged much harder. “Damn it! Open up!”

He heard the door being unlatched from the inside and watched as it lifted off the ground and above his head. Two men faced him. One was about fifty, with a graying beard and disheveled hair. The other wore Air Force camouflage field dress with the nametag Thompson embroidered on his left chest. Thompson pointed a shotgun at Robson.

“Relax, man.” Robson tried not to focus on the steel grey barrel aimed at his face.

“We’re your rescue party.”

Thompson lowered the shotgun. “Can’t be too careful.”

“How many of you are there?”

“Six,” responded the man with the grey hair. “Including myself.”

“Well, haul ass if you want to get out of here.”

The grey-haired man turned back into the warehouse. “It’s safe. Come on.”

Four people emerged from the warehouse, one man in Air Force cammies, two in blue overalls, and a woman in her mid-twenties in a blood-stained lab coat. Robson ushered them toward Dravko and Tibor, who helped them into the school bus. He turned to the grey-haired man.

“Is that everyone?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s go.”

Robson led the two men toward the bus when Jordan suddenly screamed with an intensity that made his blood run cold. He turned around to see a rotter in a naval uniform had emerged from under the rear of the truck and snuck up on Jordan without being seen. It had wrapped its arms around Jordan’s ankle and buried its teeth into his calf. Jordan pummeled his fist into its face, trying to push its head away, but the rotter had broken skin. Blood gushed from around its mouth. Yanking its head back, the rotter tore off a chunk of Jordan’s flesh and chewed it.

Jordan withdrew his .44 Magnum, placed the barrel against the rotter’s skull, and pulled the trigger. Its head disintegrated, showering Jordan and the wall with gore. Jordan fell back against the wall and slumped down, his face contorted in pain.

Robson ran up to his friend and examined the leg, already knowing the prognosis. The wound measured four inches in diameter and sunk through the skin deep into the muscle. Blood flowed from around the jagged edges and formed a puddle on the asphalt.

From above him in the dump bed of the truck, Caylee cried out. She unhooked herself from the gun mount and started to climb down. Robson yelled up to her. “Stay there!”

“But Jordan’s--”

“I’ve got this! Just keep the rotters off my back!” When he saw Caylee crawl back into her mount, Robson turned to Jordan. “Are you okay?”

“Damn.” Jordan averted his gaze from the wound and winced. “I’m infected.”

“Come on. Doc can fix you up.”

“It’s no use and you know it,” Jordan grunted through clenched teeth.

“At least he can give you some morphine for the pain.”

“I’ll turn before you get me back.” Jordan spit out the toothpick and placed the barrel of the Magnum against the base of his jaw. “I just hope it was worth it.”

Before Robson could stop him, Jordan pulled the trigger. His youthful features distorted
grotesquely as the bullet ripped through his skull, fracturing the skull in a dozen places and splattering his brains across the wall.

From above him, Robson heard Caylee scream. She abandoned her gun mount and started crawling up the rear of the dump bed, tears streaming down her face. Robson knew if she made it to Jordan, he would never get her back onto the truck. He refused to lose two people on this rescue. Picking up the Magnum, he aimed it at Caylee. “Get back to your position.”

“I want to be with Jordan.”

“He’s dead. Get back to your position.”

“No!”

In a single move, Sultanic jumped onto the side of the Mack and vaulted over the rim of the rear bed. He scooped up Caylee in his right arm and dragged her to the front of the truck, holding her in place. She pounded her fists against his face, screaming to be released until her yelling became a pitiful sobbing. Sultanic hugged Caylee tight, as much as to comfort her as to restrain her.

“Hurry up!” yelled Dravko.

Robson sprang up and raced back to the bus. Dravko offered his hand, but Robson shoved it aside as he climbed in. Dravko closed and secured the door, and then yelled up to Whitehouse. “Let’s get out of here!”

Whitehouse shifted into gear and pulled away from the building, pushing aside the rotters gathered around his cow catcher. Daytona and Clark fell in behind him. O’Bannon and Rashid climbed back into the Outback and brought up the rear.

Once the vehicles were clear of the immediate threat, Dravko sat down in the seat across from Robson. “There was nothing you could do for him.”

“Easy for you to say. It wasn’t one of yours that we lost.”

Dravko glared furiously at Robson for a moment before storming up toward the front of the bus. Robson knew Dravko was only trying to be consoling, but at this moment he did not really care.

As the rescue party pulled away, Robson took one last look at Jordan. Several rotters had already descended on the corpse in anticipation of a warm meal.

Author’s Bio: Born and raised in Everett, Massachusetts (just outside of Boston), Scott M. Baker has spent the last twenty-two years living in northern Virginia. He has authored several short stories, including the e-chapbook “Dead Water” by D’Ink Well Publications; “Rednecks Shouldn’t Play with Dead Things,” which appeared in the autumn 2008 edition of the e-zine Necrotic Tissue; “Cruise of the Living Dead,” which appeared in Living Dead Press’ Dead Worlds: Volume 3 anthology (August 2009); “Deck the Malls with Bowels of Holly,” which appeared in Living Dead Press‘ Christmas Is Dead anthology (October 2009); and “Denizens,” which appeared in Living Dead Press’ The Book of Horror anthology (March 2010).

Scott’s first zombie novel, Rotter World, which details the struggle between humans and vampires during a zombie apocalypse, was released by Permuted Press in April 2012. He has also authored The Vampire Hunters trilogy, which has been published by Pill Hill Press and received excellent reviews from Famous Monsters of Filmland and Fangoria, among others. Scott has finished his fifth novel, Yeitso, a homage to the monster movies of the 1950s set in northern New Mexico, which is currently with a publisher, and has begun his next novel, Hell Gates, the first in a series of young adult novels set in a world in which the realms of Hell and earth have merged.

When he is not busy writing, Scott can either be found relaxing on his back deck with a good cigar and a cup of iced coffee, or doting on the four house rabbits that live with him.

Please visit the author’s website.

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We'll Always Have Summer by Jenny Han: Review

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Fri, 18 May 2012 20:36:00 +0000

SPOILER ALERT. This book is a part of the Summer series. If you have not read the previous two books you will be spoiled…just sayin'.

Publisher: Simon & Schuster Children's Publishing (April 26, 2011)
Hardcover: 291 Pages
Series: Summer #3
Genre: YA Contemporary
Jenny Han's Website | Blog | Twitter

From Goodreads. It's been two years since Conrad told Belly to go with Jeremiah. She and Jeremiah have been inseparable ever since, even attending the same college-- only, their relationship hasn't exactly been the happily ever after Belly had hoped it would be. And when Jeremiah makes the worst mistake a boy can make, Belly is forced to question what she thought was true love. Does she really have a future with Jeremiah? Has she ever gotten over Conrad? It's time for Belly to decide, once and for all, who has her heart forever.

Review by Kate
WE'LL ALWAYS HAVE SUMMER, by Jenny Han, is the romantic conclusion to this amazing series about being a teenager and appreciating all there is to young love. We left Belly off with Conrad letting Jeremiah "have" her, leaving Conrad shippers waiting in the wings to see if they had just one more chance together.

I am so in love with this series and I am partly happy that I waited to read all of them at once, I don't know if I would have been able to wait to read each subsequent book. But I have to say out of all of them, this was my least favorite. Now hold on before throwing tomatoes at me, I did like it plenty but I did have one issue:

One of my biggest issues was the teen marriage. I tend to steer away from books that approach this issue because (1) it shows how little respect teens have for their parents and (2) it seems like an excuse to create drama, and there was enough drama and sexual tension between Belly and the brothers to give me hot flashes. Personally, I didn't like that part of it, but I'm sure others who are fans of the series might have liked it…it just wasn't for me.

Since the whole "wedding" took up most of the book, I soaked up with scenes between Belly and the brothers outside of the marriage-talk. It was interesting to see Belly and Jeremiah outside of the beach house. His true colors came out, making her realize that their life wasn't just the summer. I looooved the scenes with Conrad and Belly. They had me tied up in knots and I wanted to scream at them, "Just get together already!"

Marriage issue aside, I thought this was a perfect ending to the series. I think all of these kids did a lot of growing up in a short amount of time and I was very pleased with how Han wrapped it up. I would recommend this book as a beach read (no pun intended) or a cozy up by the fire kind of series.

Hurricane by Jenna-Lynne Duncan: Guest Post & Giveaway {Bewitching Book Tour}

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Fri, 18 May 2012 09:00:00 +0000

Excerpt:

“When I woke, Hayden hovered over me. I was outside, lying on the hard gravel of an unpaved country road.

“What purpose does this serve?” Luke spit as he leaned against the front of the truck.

“Quiet. She just needs some fresh air.” Hayden was kneeling down beside me, his body so close I could feel the sweet heat of his breath as he spoke. I didn’t want to move, but I couldn’t ignore the reality of the situation. I was being kidnapped and heading deeper into the swamp, where it was likely my body would never be found. The alligators would eat my remains, and soon there would be nothing left of me. I could see the headlines in the fictional newspapers in my head. I didn’t hesitate to think out an escape plan. Before I knew it, I was on my bare feet taking off in the other direction. I didn’t think about the alligators that were likely in the water next to me. I just knew I had to get to the main road.

“She’s running away?” I heard Hayden say in a surprising tone.

“Go get her!” Luke yelled from behind me. “

New Orleans has always been a place of intrigue and mystery; the setting of endless vampire and ghost stories. Some are more real than you may think. I wanted to tell Madame Lalaurie’s story and the history behind New Orleans most haunted mansion. It plays a brief, but dark, role in my novel Hurricane but there is a truth behind it.

When writing, I tried not to do extensive research on the house on Rue Royal. I wanted to use only information that I myself had heard growing up, making it a true ghost story.

Importance is not in the details, rather how the story is told. Of course, today I do know more about Lalaurie and the mansion on Royal Street than perhaps I would have liked to. It all goes back to the 1800’s. 1140 Royal Street was the tallest and most beautiful house at that time. Three stories high, it had a big wraparound porch on the second level; perfect for celebrating Mardi Gras activities. But, there would be no fun in that house. It was a house filled with horror. In the late 1830’s Madame Lalaurie was a socialite. To those who were her guests, she was described as kind, and charming. But to her servants she was anything but. She would severely mistreat them; beat them- she even threw a young girl off her third story balcony. One day there was a fire in her home. As the town people came to help her retrieve her valuables, they made a gruesome discovery in the attic. The servants had been beaten up and chained to the floor. After the townspeople made the discovery, a mob had called for Lalaurie’s blood. By that time, she had fled. Some say she was reportedly laid to rest in France, while others claim she never left. You can still visit the house today - if you dare. In the market for a new home? Lucky for you, the house is for sale. Its previous owner, Nicholas Cage, recently foreclosed and the house is now bank- owned.

Thank you so much for having me on your blog and I hope y’all will check out my novel Hurricane; the first book in a brand new series.

Thanks for stopping by Jenna-Lynne!!

Hurricane is a paranormal romance novel for young adults. It follows Adriana Alexander, a high school teen whose dreams predict the future. When her dream of two mysterious brothers attending her school comes true, she makes it her goal to figure out the brothers’ secret. What she didn’t predict was that the brothers would kidnap her on the eve of Hurricane Katrina. The book chronicles the trio’s evacuation from New Orleans, complete with a touch of voodoo and a vengeful ghost, and Adriana’s eventual return to the devastated city she loves. A portion of the proceeds will be donated to the New Orleans Habitat for Humanity.

About the Author: Jenna-Lynne Duncan graduated from the University of St. Thomas with degrees in Political Science, International Studies, and Middle Eastern Studies. Hurricane is her debut novel and she is planning a series. She welcomes those to contact her through her website (http://www.Jenna-Lynne.com). Email | Website | Book Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads

To purchase Hurricane: Divertir Publishing | Amazon | B&N

Excerpt:

“We’re not alone.” Luke let out what sounded like growl. He pulled me closer with his arms. “You ready?”

A tried to force a swallow and nodded.

“Whatever it is, we’ve disrupted its plan, and it’s not happy about it. Listen to me, Ana. You need to go back to the car immediately. I’ll take care of whatever it is. Go now.” Luke disappeared beside me and I didn’t hesitate to think about how I was alone in the dark swamp. My legs took off under me, faster than ever before. The adrenaline pushed me harder and faster. ‘Whatever it is’? That can’t be good. That definitely can’t be good. My heart was racing but my breathing remained steady. Should I be worried about Luke? No, surely he can handle whatever’s out there. I stopped running. Looking in both directions, not knowing which path to take. I had to listen to him this time. To stay out of trouble and meet him at his car. But the energy that was flowing through my veins told me otherwise. I felt like I could take on whatever was out there. But I didn’t want what happened last time at Club Skye to happen again. There would be no Hayden or his parents to bail me out this time. I was still wearing Luke’s shirt and it saddened me. I looked one final time in the direction Luke went and started running toward him. I ran for a few minutes with the darkness enclosed on me. Fear prevented me from stopping, a high kept me going. Luke’s black t-shirt clung to the sweat forming on my body and I slowed to a fast walk.

“Luke?” I whispered knowing I didn’t need, or want to, yell in order for him to hear me. Seconds passed with nothing but the sound of locus’s and bullfrogs. But then even those quieted and it was pure silence around me. I whispered his name again. I heard footsteps behind me. My heart was frozen in my chest. Luke.

“There you are! I have been looking for you, are you all right?” I turned around to find him, shining my flashlight in every direction. There was nothing. Nothing but dead silence. I turned in each direction, always hearing footsteps behind me. Maybe I just didn’t know where they were coming from. “Luke, it’s not funny.” The sound of the footsteps got closer. My ears were ringing and skin burned from a painful chill. “Luke!” I yelled tearing my vocal chords as I started to run. Yes, I definitely had to run. I ran as fast if not faster than before, the footsteps trailing me. Getting faster, catching up to me. Getting louder and louder as they hit the ground, sounding like a horse trot on hard pavement. Something stung my back in one sharp movement and I fell face first to the ground. I turned on my back ready to face whatever was after me. I felt the ground around me with my hands, hoping by some stroke of luck that the flashlight had just turned off but not broken. Warm liquid rolled down my face. It was too thick to be sweat.

Blood.

I sat up feeling the gash on my forehead and cringed at the pain. My breathing heaved as I waited for whatever was in front of me. Nothing was there until all at once something dark and heavy was on top of me. I kicked it off me with such force I heard its friction against the ground. I should run but I didn’t. I knew it would just come after me again. I had to stop it but how? Was it man, animal or something other entirely?

I stood up preparing to find a something I could use as a weapon. The shadow rose taller than me and split in two? There were now two things on either side of me, surrounding me.

In what felt like hours passing not seconds, I flashed back to Halloween night at Club Skye… I pictured the Hybrid, a pig’s head and a man’s body, even more disturbing then I remembered. The pig head craned its neck to the side, its black empty eyes boring into mine. The corners of its repulsive mouth drew up into what appeared to be a smile. A satanic smile. My whole body shuddered. Luke was there. He pushed me forcibly behind him.

His body was tensed and positioned in a crouch. His broad shoulders blocked my view of the hideous creature. He was protecting me that night but I had no one to protect me now.
I should fight the two dark shadows approaching me. I should never give up. I would never let them kill me so easily. But I was frozen. Frozen in the past. Locked in the memories of just one of the many times I would almost die.

A gush of wind, one after the other blew past and the dark shadows were gone as far as I could see. A new presence came with the wind and I knew that the shadows hadn’t just left, they had fled. This was getting out of control and fast. The sounds of bugs and nighttime creatures returned and I knew I was alone for the time being. “Luke!” I called out to him again. Where was he? I knew he could hear me. Why did he have to believe in me so much, this was a stupid idea. I had wished Hayden was here, he would know just what to do. I felt the ground with my hands working my way over to the trees. I dug through the cold mud pulling up a promising branch I could use if necessary and started moving once again to find Luke. I had debated whether to walk or run. Running didn’t pan out too well last time but as I heard the impeding silence around me again I knew it was my only option. Before I could sprint away, I felt a hard, angry arm around my waist and I was lifted into the air. I still had the stick in my hand and prepared to use it until I realized what, or who, had caught me.

“Drop the twig, Ana”

“Hayden?” The combination of his touch and smell brought back all the familiarities at once.

He didn’t answer. I let out a slight squeal as I was thrown over his shoulders. Hayden felt like a rock underneath me. “Hayden?” I pleaded for some sort of response and when I didn’t get one I changed my tone. “Put me down! We have to find Luke.” Wrong words. Hayden tensed slightly at my comment.

I heard footsteps in front of me, and I quickly panicked.

The footsteps slowed “Whew!” Luke. “All I have to say was what the f—“

“Shut it, Luke.”

“Geez, somebody came back from Texas cranky. Ana is that you?” I slumped against Hayden’s death grip, my mind running through everything that happened in the last ten minutes. I had lost Luke, came close to death, and Hayden came back early from Texas. “Damn. I thought I told you to go back to the car!”

“And you expected her to comply. “ Hayden scoffed sarcastically.

Hayden dipped down and picked up the keychain I had dropped earlier. The adrenaline that ran through my body now eased, leaving me a headache from the extra blood that shot through my head. I winced.

“Are you ok?” Hayden and Luke said simultaneously and I felt Hayden’s head snap in the direction of Luke. There was too much tension in the air. I dreaded when I would have to answer questions about what I was thinking to go along with something like this. Even though it wasn’t Luke’s fault, Hayden would blame him anyway.

“I’m fine”. I finally answered.

When we got to the gate I only saw one car and wondered how Hayden got here.
“Where’s the truck?” I mumbled.

“It’s already at home.” The lights on the car flashed as it was unlocked it.

My head throbbed again as Hayden sat me down in the back seat.

“I’m driving.” Hayden said as a command to Luke.

Luke threw up his arms in surrender. Not even he wanted to push Hayden any farther tonight.

“Hayden…” I started as we pulled away from Lafitte.

“Not now, Ana. I’m not ready to talk about this now.” His jaw muscles clenched.

“Why the hell not?” Luke butted in, obviously deserting his previous position of not pushing Hayden. “You can’t shelter her from the underworld forever. She needs to know.

Has to know. She saved the guys life for God’s sake. This could be something.”

My eyes shot up. I had been able to change the future?

“We are not doing this now.” Hayden said through his teeth.

“Whatever, man. It was amazing. She was amazing. Think about it, now we don’t have to go hunting later. How lucky did we get that that thing, or things, weren’t human.”

Hayden froze at Luke’s last word. But his emotions quickly changed into something else.
Anger? Jealousy? I didn’t know. “Are you really that stupid? You could have got her killed! I know you’re all bent on destroying your own life but leave my girlfriend out of it. You say you love her but then you put her life in danger. If you truly loved her, you would leave her alone. She is with me. Whatever you are trying to do to prove otherwise is not working and is going to get her killed!”

“Don’t start with me. Yeah, yeah we all know your sob story. Well who the hell cares you’ve been waiting a 100 years for her, she is my true One and you know I will never, can never, stop trying to make her love me.”

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Highland Shifter by Catherine Bybee: Spotlight & Review {Sizzling PR}

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Wed, 16 May 2012 09:00:00 +0000

Helen Adams has a knack for finding lost objects, but the Simon McAllister she finds isn’t what she expected. The missing California teen is now a grown man—a kilted, sword wielding, Highland warrior.

A mysterious Druid book and Helen’s sixth sense send her to Scotland in search of a missing boy. After being attacked by strange men dressed in medieval garb, a handsome, desirable hero answering to the boy’s name rescues her. No one is more surprised than she to find herself in sixteenth century Scotland. Unable to deny the reality of time travel, Helen discovers smoldering passion with a man destined to leave her.

Simon has lived his Druid life in two very different worlds, two vastly different times, and when Helen practically lands in his lap, he knows his life is about to change forever. There are enemies in California lying in wait for her, and an army in Scotland closing in on his family. Simon is the only person who can protect her. But when she learns his most guarded secret, will she still want him? Can Helen love a Highland Shifter?

Review by Kate
HIGHLAND SHIFTER, by Catherine Bybee, is a fantastic romance novel filled with time travel, intrigue, and lots of romance.

I hadn't read any of the MacCoinnich Time Travel series prior to this book but I have to say (unlike other books that claim to be "stand alone") I was never lost. But I do intend to go back and read the previous three books to get more of a background on these characters.

I really enjoyed this book. I liked the magical elements of the Druids and time travel. And the romance was right up my alley. Simon and Helen had an immediate connection that sucked me in right away. Outside of the romance, this book had a really good plot and I found myself racing to the end to see how this couple would come out of it.

I enjoyed my second book by Bybee (first was Wife By Wednesday, review HERE) and I am so excited to add more of her books to my TBR pile!!

Excerpt:

Simon stepped closer and felt the heat of her skin. She smelled of the strawberry shampoo she used in her hair. Helen’s hands slid from her hips and fell to the side.

“’Tis time we clear up a few things in your lovely head about me.”

He stepped closer, and Helen, the wise girl, took a step back until her bottom met the edge of the desk. She reached behind her to steady herself and keep from falling.

Like a predatory cat cornering his prey, Simon towered over Helen, watching her body twitch as her eyes travelled over his.

“Really?” Her voice wavered. After clearing her throat, she asked. “Like what?”

Simon licked his lips and glanced at hers. “I’m not evil.”

“Uhm….” Her eyes never left his mouth while he spoke.

“And I’d never lure a child into my presence.”

Simon leaned into her, their thighs touched and Helen’s breathing started to quicken. He placed one hand on the table beside her, leaving her very little room to escape should she want to.

From the hunger in her gaze, and the heat coming off her body, he didn’t believe she would.

“A woman, however, might tempt me to entice her attention.”

******

About The Author: New York Times, USA Today and Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author Catherine Bybee has been addicted to romance since her teens. After spending a decade of her life working as an RN in urban emergency rooms, Catherine is now dedicated to writing happily-ever-afters for the world to love. Catherine is married and raising two sons in Southern California.

She loves hearing from her readers so feel free to visit her: Website / Blog / Facebook / Twitter

Fall From Grace by Charles Benoit: Review {Teen Book Scene}

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Tue, 15 May 2012 09:00:00 +0000

Publisher: HarperTeen (May 8, 2012)
ARC: 208 Pages
Genre: YA Contemporary
Charles Benoit's Website | Facebook

From Goodreads. Grace always has a plan. There’s her plan to get famous, her plan to get rich, and—above all—her plan to have fun.

Sawyer has plenty of plans too. Plans made for him by his mother, his father, his girlfriend. Maybe they aren’t his plans, but they are plans.

When Sawyer meets Grace, he wonders if he should come up with a few plans himself. Plans about what he actually wants to be, plans to speak his own mind for a change, plans to maybe help Grace with a little art theft.

Wait a minute—plans to what?

Review by Kate
FALL FROM GRACE, by Charles Benoit, is a character-driven novel about a girl, a boy, and a painting. I had a lot of fun reading this book and it was definitely a unique story!

My favorite character was Grace. Although she didn't like talking about her past, she was full of life and a very passionate person. I liked how she brought Sawyer out of his mundane life even for a couple of hours at a time. I found myself doing a lot of fist and teeth-clenching while reading because I absolutely hated Sawyer's girlfriend and parents. They were controlling and idiotic and I would have loved to jump into the book and pummel them (like I've said before, if an author can make me hate their characters, it makes me love the author that much more!).

One thing that bugged me was the character progression of Sawyer. I thought his life would turn out different then it did. I expected more of a change from him but it turned out Grace's character progressed a lot more. I absolutely loved how the book ended though. The last pages made me smile and wrapped up a really good book.

Shadow of Destiny series by Leia Shaw: Series Spotlight {Sizzling PR}

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Mon, 14 May 2012 09:00:00 +0000

After fleeing her native city — and nightmares of a traumatic childhood — Sage Peterson meets the overbearing, pretentious, yet haunted Professor Elias. He’s the only one who knows about her mysterious powers, which seem to be spiraling out of control. When he convinces her to train with him, she finds herself thrust into a five hundred year war and on the run from vampires, werewolves, and even worse — her budding feelings for James Elias.

Erin Bolton knows her former foster sister is a sorceress and a witch, but she wants nothing to do with that world. The day before her twenty first birthday, a tall, dark, and terrifying vampire, Marcelo, turns Erin's world upside down. He convinces her that he was sent to escort her to the safety of the Underworld, where her sister is waiting. But she wonders, who will keep her safe from him?

They call her The Huntress. A vampire with lethal focus, Natalia hunts rogue werewolves and kills them without mercy. She buried her heart centuries ago. Now she lives only for revenge. But when she’s forced to team up with the alpha of the northwest werewolf pack to catch a werewolf serial killer, her carefully controlled world is shattered by the passionate Cristian. Will Natalia accept Cristian’s claim on her heart even if it means sacrificing a part of who she is?

Excerpt for Destiny Unchained

“How can you stand it?” Natalia asked, her nose scrunched in disgust. “It doesn’t smell anything like Chinese food.” The offending odor was called General Tsao’s chicken. It was unlikely General Tso Tsung-tang of the Qing dynasty had favored – or even eaten – fried chicken soaked in sickeningly sweet-smelling syrup. Take-out Chinese food was one of the many atrocities that made her glad to be a vampire. It was right up there with tanning beds and sagging breasts.

“And how would you know what real Chinese food smells like?” Cristian asked, popping a piece of chicken in his mouth.

They sat at the small table in the motel room, the six o’clock news filling the background as they half paid attention for clues. Sleep that day had been oddly refreshing, especially considering she’d shared a bed with a werewolf. Not to mention he was a blanket hog. “I spent a few years in the Kunlan Mountains during the seventeenth century. I know what real Chinese food smells like.” She opened one of the cookie packages and sniffed it. “What do they make these out of? Cardboard?”

He grabbed the cookie from her hand. “Miniature life lessons.”

“They make them out of miniature life lessons?”

A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest. “No, you’re likely right about the cardboard. But it’s what’s inside that’s important.” After he broke the cookie apart, he regarded the fortune thoughtfully.

“Well? What’s it say?”

His brows furrowed. “A handsome blonde will enter your life bearing words of wisdom and a big –”
“Head?”

He looked at her. “Not what I was going to say.”

She tried, unsuccessfully, to smother a smile. “Give me that.” She snatched the paper from his hand and read it.

Love is for the lucky and the brave.

“So,” Cristian said, waggling his eyebrows, “feeling lucky?”

She chuckled, wadded up the piece of paper, and threw it at him. He beamed, likely proud he made her laugh. Gods only knew why he was obsessed with it.

“Luck I get,” she said when they’d sat in silence once more. “But why brave?”

He shifted in his seat then sat forward, his gaze piercing through her. “Because, Natalia, love is a risk. Love from the depths of your soul requires a certain amount of sacrifice. It bids you to give yourself wholly to another. To allow someone to view you like a prism, assessing you at every angle, examining every flaw. You must lay yourself before them, open and bare, and say, ‘here I am. I hold nothing back. I am yours, mind, body, and soul.’ And all you can do is hope they don’t crush you.” He leaned closer. “But the man who truly loves you will tend to your heart like he tends a garden, nurturing it until it grows and blooms under his hand.”

She was on the edge of her seat, her gaze locked on him. Finally, she tore away and fiddled with her hands. Clearing her throat, she forced herself to say, “Well said, Romeo.”

I began my writing journey while I was stranded at the airport waiting for my delayed flight. I browsed the Border’s kiosk and grew frustrated that I couldn’t find the “it factor” — the perfect combination of alpha male-ness, ass-kickery, strong females, magic, and sex. So I spent the next four hours on an airplane writing my first book on scraps of paper and an airsick bag (which thankfully I didn't need to use).

Now I spend too much time in my head, plotting evil villains and the hot men (and women) who ruthlessly kill them. I think far too much about fae politics, dragon power games, and how fast werewolves can change forms. But writing my paranormal romance series has given me a productive place to express those dark places in my mind.

I live in New England with my husband and two kids. Though I will go to my grave denying it, my husband insists I would be thrilled if he suddenly sprouted fangs. Website / Facebook

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A Hero Rising by Aubrie Dionne: Giveaway {Philia Book Tours}

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Sat, 12 May 2012 17:22:00 +0000

Series: A New Dawn, #3

Genre: Sci-Fi Romance

Length: Novella

Release Date: February 2012

ePub ISBN: 978-1-937044-83-1

After watching his love leave on a colony ship, James Wilfred must save those left behind from a planetary apocalypse. Their salvation lies in an unfinished ship tucked away in a secret government base, and only James can break in and pilot him and his people to freedom on a nearby space station.

Skye O’Connor’s boyfriend never returns after his gang attempts an assassination of the Governor, and the State Building is destroyed. Worse, crazed moonshiners addicted to the chemical Morpheus have stormed the city, and she must find a safe place for her and her boyfriend’s daughter. When a heroic man saves her, Skye asks to accompany him on his quest to find the last colony ship left on Earth.

As the city falls around them, James and Skye must work together to build a new future, all the while rediscovering their ability to love, before the apocalypse claims them both.

About the Author: Aubrie Dionne is an author and flutist in New England. Her writings have appeared in Mindflights, Niteblade, Silver Blade, Emerald Tales, Hazard Cat, Moon Drenched Fables, A Fly in Amber, and Aurora Wolf.

Her books are published by Entangled Publishing, Lyrical Press, and Gypsy Shadow Publishing. She recently signed her YA sci fi novel with Inkspell Publishing titled: Colonization: Paradise 21, which will release in October 2012.

When she's not writing, Aubrie teaches flute and plays in orchestras. She's a big Star Trek TNG fan, as well as Star Wars and Serenity. Her dogs are appropriately named Jedi and Princess Leia.

You can find Aubrie online at the following places: Twitter| Blog | Website | Goodreads

Aubrie welcomes email from her fans at abriedionne@yahoo.com

A Hero Rising is available at the following online retailers: B&N | Amazon

Excerpt:

Chapter One
Left Behind

Clutching his retractable cable, James lowered himself down the glassy surface of the high-rise as the wind stole the warmth of the sheets he’d just left behind. He glanced at the fluttering curtain three stories above his, wondering how Mestasis would feel when she awoke to an empty bed. He detached his grappling hook and slipped inside the balcony of the building, fast as a diving raven’s shadow.

If only I could stay longer. If only things could be different.

His wristband flashed another message. If you don’t get down here within the hour, I’m coming to look for you.

The thought of Dal stumbling through the abandoned subway by himself sent adrenaline rushing through James’s veins. The lower levels had been dangerous since Dal was a boy, but with the introduction of Morpheus, the desperate scavengers had grown into vicious savages.

James typed a message back, hoping Dal would believe him. I’ll be there. Stay where you are.
Mestasis will have to understand.

He took an elevator down as far as it worked, holding onto the slim hope he’d have a chance to give Mestasis a decent good-bye later. The elevator creaked to a halt and the doors parted to a corridor lit by one flickering bulb. Crumpled rags and broken vials dusted with the dried, silvery sheen of Morpheus lined the floor.

The lower levels.

No one decent ventured down this far, so the government didn’t find it necessary to cover low level repairs. It would only bring up gangmen, like himself, to the upper levels. But some of us are good. It’s those Razornecks that give gangs a bad name.

He jogged to the end and slid down a plastic recycling chute to Level Five. The chute ended with a rusted metal grating piled high with cracked bottles and compacted cans. He kicked out the grating and emerged on a stairwell landing. Cracked bottles rattled around him as he shuffled through the debris to Level One, the place where only the bravest, or craziest, treaded alone.

The scent of dank air and old garbage wafted up from the moldy floor. It smelled like home. He’d been away too long. James ducked through a shattered window to an alley between the buildings.

Twilight spread through the sky, stretching the shadows of lumbering heaps of old mattresses, broken ionizers, and tattered plastic bags. Using the darkness as his cloak, he climbed through the debris and checked over his shoulder. The alley lay as silent as a wasteland. Residents had boarded most of the windows to keep out thieves, but apartments lay empty and dark as deep space.

Three windows down, a small child with wispy black hair peered out, clicking off a flickering light stick. The child disappeared as he approached. James reached in his pocket and left an orange on the sill before ducking away.

A stone stairway loomed at the end of the alley like a mouth to the underworld. James slipped down a corroded railing to an old subterranean transportation system once used by his ancestors in the days before the mega-high-rises and the elite’s reign of the upper levels.

Pitch-black oozed from under the brick, and his hair glowed neon green as the darkness enveloped him. The radiance was just enough to light his path, the permanent dye a trademark of his gang. James picked up his pace and jogged along the tracks, approaching a thick cement door with graffiti scribbled in hasty strokes.

He raised his hand to knock, but he paused with his fist in midair. Shuffling echoed down the track to his right. No one could see him entering the Radioactive Hand of Justice’s underground facility—he had to find out who had found him and make sure he or she wouldn’t talk.

James slipped past the door and tiptoed closer, his hair casting light a few feet around him in every direction. No one could sneak up on him.

Was it Dal?

“Hello?” His voice echoed down the shaft.

The shuffling continued and James froze, listening for footsteps. The motion sounded more like the fluttering of bats than any tapping of feet. Bats didn’t scamper on the ground.

Someone snickered and then sucked in a long breath before cackling lightly like a witch in a fairy tale. The person smacked his lips together. James narrowed his eyes.

Oh great—some desperate savage, looking for anything he can sell for Morpheus. Maybe I can knock him out and leave him on Level One where he came from.

“Stay where you are.” James’s voice was deep and authoritative.

The shadow moved toward him in a flurry. The smell of mold and rotten food clogged his throat, and James resisted the urge to gag. Where had this man been?

“I said, stay where you are.”

He blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, the figure had scuttled ten feet closer, arms writhing like snakes in the air. James stumbled back. He’d only seen them from the safety of the city walls before.

Oh geez. A moonshiner gone over the edge.

Moonshiners got their superhuman speed from the drug Morpheus, a chemical mined on the moon. Too bad the drug also caused an insatiable urge to kill. James had heard about the moonshiners who lost their minds from stories the city wall guardians told. He reached for his laser, but the man scurried closer like he was in an old movie on fast-forward.

James had enough time to deflect the moonshiner’s jaws with his elbow as the man’s face came into view. Sunken cheeks held shadows where the chemical spread like ink underneath the skin.

James pushed back against the man’s weight, throwing him off. The moonshiner lunged at him before James could recover, scratching his chest with jagged fingernails that had grown so long, some of them were curled. James kicked him in the gut, but it did no good. The moonshiner was past the point of reacting to pain.

The man pushed James over and fell on top of him, jaws clacking an inch from his face. James held him back with one arm while the other worked his laser out of its holster. The man’s eyes had turned into black holes, the pupils bleeding over the whites to give him a fiendish glare.

Strands of hair shed from his scalp, trailing down his arms to tickle James’s face. The moonshiner’s head was disproportionately larger than his body, as if his skull had begun to grow and change, morphing into an oval.

Yeah, this moonshiner is past gone. Must have been using for years. Why didn’t the guard take him out when he entered the city?

James yanked his arm free to fire his laser directly into the man’s midsection, and the moonshiner fell back with the force. Jumping to his feet, James raised his laser again. He shot the moonshiner three more times in the chest and shoulder, but the man scrambled up and kept coming.

Panic rose inside James in a riptide. Would the moonshiner never tire or die? Hissing with a black-toothed grin, the man crashed into him, pushing James into the wall and knocking the air out of him. Even the guy’s teeth looked different—inhuman, pointed like a shark’s incisors. James banged his head against the cement and dropped his laser. He struggled to focus as the world warped.

Would he die like this? Torn to pieces by a druggie monster?

No. Too many people needed him. He had to see Mestasis one last time.

James fought, wrestling the moonshiner to the ground. He rolled over and stretched his hand out, clawing for the laser. His index finger curled under the trigger and he brought the gun up in one swift motion. The man caught his wrist, and James struggled to point the laser at the moonshiner’s head.

Just a little lower.

The moonshiner opened his mouth, and a dry, rasping voice whispered, “Aliens. They left something behind on the moon.”

“What the—” James hesitated, and the moonshiner lunged for his neck. He fired at the man’s head and the moonshiner stilled and collapsed.

Pulling himself up, James tried to calm his racing heart and think straight.

Where did this moonshiner come from? What brought him into the tunnels? And what aliens?
James didn’t have time to decode the strange riddle leaking from a moonshiner’s crazy mouth.

Worried about Dal, he rushed to the cement door and banged five times: two quarter notes followed by three eighth notes. If anything had happened to them while he was away, he would never forgive himself—even if it meant regretting his last hours with Mestasis.

The door creaked and three laser barrels poked through the crevice. James held up his hands. “Whoa, guys. It’s only me.”

An older man with a tuft of white hair stared back at him. Relief shone in his bright blue eyes.
“James, we thought they got you.”

“The Razornecks, the government, or the moonshiner I just blasted in the tunnel?”

“Any. All three.” Dal clapped him on the shoulder and led him inside while two guards stayed behind to close the entrance. Even though the cement locked in place, James had a hard time letting go of the encounter outside. The hideout didn’t feel safe any longer.

“What’s happened while I’ve been on the upper levels?”

“Nothing good.” Dal led him through a tunnel to the concrete bunker underneath the subway system. He talked over his shoulder as they hurried down the steep incline.

“As you can see from your new friend lurking by the door, moonshiners have infiltrated the sewers, climbing through miles of pipeline to rise to the lower levels.”

“Yeah, the one I met smelled like death.”

“That’s not all. A crazed mob of ’em storms the city walls as we speak. Guardians pick them off with gallium laser blasts, but they don’t have enough firepower to keep them back.”

“Hold it now.” James stopped midstep and Dal halted beside him. “The walls are five feet thick. No way the moonshiners can get through, even if they clawed with their fingernails all day long.”

Dal shook his head slowly. “They are, and they will. Some of them still have part of their brains left, and they’ve been tossing hypergrenades at the cement.”

James scratched his head. “Jeez, where have I been?”

“Making sure three hundred of our people got the hell out of here.” Dal squeezed his shoulder. His voice was shaky. “Did it take off?”

James shook his head. “Not yet. But it’s on schedule. I’d like to see it leave, so if we could hurry…”

“I understand.” Dal clapped him on the back. “Just checking to make sure my grandkids made it safely.”

“If you’d tell me why I’m here, I could make sure of it.”

“Yes, yes. Let’s go. There’s something I have to show you.”

James followed him to a low-ceilinged room lined with wallscreens displaying input feeds from all over the world. In the dim light, Dal’s wispy hair glowed like James’s, giving the old man a halo of green, otherworldly light.

Dal sat in a rolling chair across from a circular desk and gestured for James to follow. James waved his offer away. “I prefer to stand.” Every second counted. He knew Mestasis wouldn’t wait for him—shouldn’t wait for him. She’d probably think he’d left to avoid such a painful good-bye.
“You may want to sit down when you hear what I’m about to tell you.” Dal gave him a sad smile.
“I can take it.” James’s gaze passed from a riot in Mexico to a volcano warning in the Hawaiian Islands to flames consuming Utopia, the last giant greenhouse that fed all of New England and the surrounding states. “No place is safe, is it?”

“No.” Dal pressed a button, zooming in on the ruins of Utopia. “One of our spies got a lowdown on the Razornecks’ counterattack…”

“A counterattack? Already? I thought most of the Razornecks died in the blaze?”

Dal shook his head. “They have cells throughout the city, and they’re all seeking revenge.”

James ran a hand through his hair. “What is it this time?”

“Assassination attempt. Governor Ursula Grier. They found out she was the one who ordered the counterstrike on Utopia after they took it over.”

That’s why Dal had called him down so quickly. “Should I organize a team to stop them?”

Dal clicked a button and the screen changed. “No.”

“No? What do you mean no?”

“The Radioactive Hand of Justice shouldn’t get involved in government affairs. Besides, she’s got enough guards and artillery to defend herself, and in two days’ time, she’ll be leaving on the Heritage, along with the other heads of state. The government in New York will be nonexistent.” The inevitability in Dal’s voice sent a shiver down James’s back.

“They’re going to abandon us?” Government officials didn’t just get up and leave their posts. This was serious.

“It’s their only choice for survival.” Dal clicked on another screen, bringing up a meeting of world leaders from at least five countries, all sitting around a circular table.

“More problems?” James studied the screen, recognizing the faces: most from the World Coalition. “What are they saying?”

“They want to nuke the areas with the largest concentration of moonshiners before the mobs grow out of control. As it is, the force outside these gates could rip through this entire population within days.”

“They’re targeting us? Citizens?”

“Bingo.” Dal sighed. “We think this bunker would hold during the attacks, but we’re not sure we could live here until the fallout dispersed. We have the fluorescent greeneries, and the stocks are piled high, but it would take years for the radiation to return to safe levels.”

“Not acceptable.” James shook his head, refusing to resign to such a fate. “There has to be another way.”

“There is.” Dal’s fingers flicked across the keypad and a picture of a gigantic chrome hull loomed over their heads.

“The Destiny.”

“Wait a second. We were deemed unfit for the Expedition. Who’s to say whoever built this ship wouldn’t conclude the same thing? I’m sure they have their own people to transport.”

“The project was abandoned three months ago. It’s not finished. The biodome hasn’t been completed, and it isn’t stocked with enough energy cells. It won’t be able to fly us on a hundred-year journey, but with a little work it could get us off this doomed rock.”

James put his hand on his hip. Every paradise planet he’d heard of was hundreds of years away, which could only mean one thing. “You’re thinking Outpost Omega, aren’t you?”

“It’s the biggest space station within a parsec of Earth, fully equipped with biodomes, solar panels, and energy cells.”

“It’s also the most important and the most heavily guarded. They’d never let a ragtag army like us live there. Only government workers are allowed to set foot on it.”

“Then we’ll take it by force.”

James exhaled a long, slow breath. “No. It’s too dangerous. Too many deaths.”

Dal leaned back in his seat and raised his hairy eyebrows like when he had a winning move at chess. “And staying here isn’t?”

James considered the impending attack of moonshiners coupled with the plan to nuke them all. Even if his group survived the mob and stocked their shelves high, did they really want to huddle underground for the rest of their lives, hoping rations wouldn’t run out? “You’ve got me there.”

“Exactly.” Dal slumped forward, clicking off the screens as if in resignation.

James’s mind whirled with all the possibilities and probable outcomes. “Even if we secure this quasi-built ship, who’s going to fly it?”

The room had gone black, and only their haloed heads illuminated their faces. Dal folded his hands on the table as if further discussion was unnecessary. “You.”

“You’re kidding me. I’ve never flown anything that large.”

Dal grinned. “Practice makes perfect.”

James’s wristband beeped. He glanced down at the time and his stomach sunk. “Dammit, Dal, the Expedition is leaving in fifteen minutes.”

Dal gave him a knowing twitch of his eyebrow. “Do you really want to see it take off?”
“I have to.” James shot toward the door, adjusting his backpack.

“Whatever you do, don’t try to defend the governor. Leave that to her bodyguards. They view all gangs as threats, and you’d be killed along with the Razornecks.”

“I won’t.” Although the governor had always been a thorn in his side, James still worried about her and her family surviving the attack. Yes, she blew up Utopia and planned to abandon her own city, but she didn’t deserve to be taken out by the Razornecks. Besides, James needed some sort of structure until the Expedition took off and he could get to the Destiny. If the Razornecks gained control of the city, every street would go to hell. He pressed the panel and the sides parted, revealing a crowded corridor.

“James, you never agreed to fly the Destiny.” Dal’s voice was a gripping force, holding him back.

James turned around. “You know me better than that, Dal. You know it’s a yes.”

Dal’s face softened. “All the more reason to be careful. We can’t have the most important person in the Radioactive Hand disappearing on us. Every time you go through those passages, you risk your life.”

James shot Dal a steady stare. “I’ll be back. Besides, some things are worth the risk.”

© 2012 Aubrie Dionne

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Charlinder's Walk by Alyson Miers: Interview {Novel Publicity Blog Tour}

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Fri, 11 May 2012 09:34:00 +0000

What is your process for exploring your characters?

They rattle the bars of their cages until I agree to sit down and acquiesce to their demands.

In all seriousness, I think about my more prominent characters in the planning stages, and I take notes on who they are before I begin the text. Sometimes additional details come to mind mid-story.

Are you a plotter or panster?

I do a bit of both, to be honest. I write up the setting, premise, plot outline and major character development first, but I'm too impatient to get all the nitty-gritty worked out before I jump into the text. I tend to alternate between writing the narrative and planning out later parts. I sometimes go back and revise in mid-stream to smooth out plot or setting weaknesses.

What is your writing space like?

Comfy and informal. I do most of my writing either on my laptop in my living room in an armchair from Ikea, or on my iPad during my commute on the Metro. The latter isn't so comfy, but I make it work for me.

If you could sit down with 5 authors (alive or dead) who would they be and what one question would you ask each of them?

Mark Haddon: where are the veins you open up when you sit at the typewriter?
JRR Tolkien: what part of your childhood were you unable to leave behind?
Alice Hoffman: how does the maiden/mother/crone model resonate for you?
Torey Hayden: what would Jade Ekdahl tell your readers if she could get you out of the room for an hour?
Toni Morrison: what role did Polly Breedlove's employers play in her family's troubles?

What is one book you have read recently that you would recommend?

Silver Sparrow by Tayari Jones.

What are you working on now?

Far too much. I've completed the rough draft of a women's fiction which is currently on the back burner. I am in the mid-stages of a dystopian/LGBT novel and earlier stages of an urban fantasy. I've sketched out an idea for a contemporary YA novel.

Thanks for stopping by Alyson!

Wanna win a $50 gift card or an autographed copy of Charlinder's Walk?

Well, there are two ways to enter...

Leave a comment on my blog. One random commenter during this tour will win a $50 gift card. For the full list of participating blogs, visit the official Charlinder's Walk tour page.
Enter the Rafflecopter contest! I've posted the contest form below, or you can enter on the official Charlinder's Walk tour page--either way works just as well.

About the author: Alyson Miers was born into a family of compulsive readers and thought it would be fun to get on the other side of the words. She attended Salisbury University, where she majored in English Creative Writing for some reason, and minored in Gender Studies. In 2006, she did the only thing a 25-year-old with a B.A. in English can do to pay the rent: joined the Peace Corps. At her assignment of teaching English in Albania, she learned the joys of culture shock, language barriers and being the only foreigner on the street, and got Charlinder off the ground. She brought home a completed first draft in 2008 and, between doing a lot of other stuff such as writing two other books, she managed to ready it for publication in 2011. She regularly shoots her mouth off at her blog, The Monster's Ink, when she isn't writing fiction or holding down her day job. She lives in Maryland with her computer and a lot of yarn. Connect with Alyson on her website, blog, Facebook, Twitter or GoodReads.

Get Charlinder's Walk on Amazon or Barnes & Noble.

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Stealing Breath by Joanne Brothwell: Interview & Giveaway {Bewitching Book Tours}

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Fri, 11 May 2012 09:00:00 +0000

How old were you when you realized you wanted to be a writer?

When I was four years old I wrote several illustrated books of poetry and a few short stories. My mom still has them!

What genre are you most comfortable writing?

I like paranormal romance. I enjoy everything supernatural, and so I just love spinning tales about anything strange and freaky. I’m drawn to writing about relationships because in my day job, I’m a marriage therapist, and I’m truly fascinated by how people relate to one another. Writing about it is the best part.

How long does it take you to write a book? What is the average word count?

It takes me six months. I used to be able to bang off a first draft in three, but the revisions were ridiculous. Now, I find if I take my time, the revisions are much more surmountable. Average word count is 80,000.

Do you have a critique partner(s)? Do you ever use beta readers?

Yes, I’ve had three critique partners in the past, all with incredible writing skill.

They’ve proven absolutely invaluable! I’ve found with beta readers, the quality of feedback is quite variable, so I haven’t been using them much lately.

What was one of the most startling things you learned during your experience as a struggling writer?

How all-consuming writing is and how nobody else can relate. My family and friends were just so disinterested. I was like – Hey! I wrote a damn BOOK here! I had to realize that non-writers have no frame of reference. They have no idea how many hundreds and hundreds of hours goes into this career. Connecting with other writers has helped me a lot.

Do you have any helpful suggestions to help struggling writers become better novelists? If so, what are they?

Join a writing group. Get critique partners, learn from other authors – the internet is a wealth of information. Just make sure you go to reputable sites!

Were there any major revisions to your debut novel? How long did they take?

Yes! My content editor said my manuscript looked like a rough first draft! I was crushed! But I got over my hurt feelings, and after licking my wounds, got right to work. It took about six months of back and forth revisions before it truly was ready to go.

Five rules for writing fiction that you live by?

Be passionate about what you write. Be consistent. Be open to criticism. Have faith in yourself. Most importantly, have fun!

Tell us about your latest project How was your story birthed? What was your motivation?

My latest WIP is called The Fifth Daughter of Eve, and it is based on characters and a storyline that I’d developed from an earlier draft of my first novel. During the revision process, those characters and that part of the story were cut. But the story and those characters were so great, I just had to resurrect them!

What do you know now that you wish you knew back when you started in the business?

Just because you wrote a novel doesn’t mean you’re a good writer. That one took me a long time to really understand and accept.

Would you be willing to share your query blurb with us? Sure:

Deep in the backwoods of North Dakota, twenty-one year old Sarah Ross is searching for a missing child when she is attacked by a glowing-eyed, transparent creature known to the Navajo as the Skinwalker. Sarah survives, destroying the monster by using mysterious abilities she didn’t even know she had.

Bloody and bruised, Sarah flees the scene and runs directly into Evan Valente, a handsome, charismatic stranger who helps her back to safety. But what is Evan doing out in the forest at five in the morning?

Turning to a healer, Sarah is shocked to learn her eyes bear the mark of the Indigo Child—an evolved human with the ability to feel the emotions of others. But her indigo aura also makes her an easy target for not only Skinwalkers, but others those who wish to consume her powerful essence.

Soon, Sarah is falling deeply in love with Evan and wants nothing more than to follow her heart and trust that he is the man he says he is. But she can't ignore the lingering feeling that Evan is hiding a terrible secret. The deeper she digs, the more danger she faces, leading her on a course that will force her to face the darkest, innermost parts of her soul.

Thanks for stopping by Joanne!

Deep in the backwoods of North Dakota, Sarah Ross is searching for a missing child when she is attacked by a glowing-eyed, transparent creature.

Using mysterious abilities, Sarah escapes, only to run directly into Evan Valente, a handsome, charismatic stranger who helps her back to safety. But why is Evan out in the forest so early in the morning?

Sarah learns her eyes bear the mark of the Indigo Child, an evolved human with the ability to feel the emotions of others; unfortunately, her indigo aura is highly desirable to those who wish to steal her powerful essence.

Soon, Sarah falls deeply in love with Evan and wants nothing more than to follow her heart, but she can't ignore the lingering feeling that Evan is hiding a terrible secret. The deeper she digs, the more danger she faces, forcing her to face the darkest, innermost parts of her soul.

Amazon

CHAPTER ONE

I awoke to rustling outside my tent. The crunching of footsteps on gravel, twigs and branches snapping. Was that a voice? I lay motionless inside my sleeping bag, heart pounding, listening.

“Help.” A disembodied whisper. Was it right outside? I strained to hear but the throbbing pulse in my head drowned everything else out. I sat up. The atmosphere within the domed tent was wet, ripe with morning breath. The tip of my nose was cold as an icicle.

“Help.” The murmur came a second time, more audible than the last. I was sure it was a child’s voice. My heart skipped a beat. Could it be the voice of the eight year-old, Jessica Crow, who had gone missing from the neighboring Indian Reservation three days ago?

I thought of the drive out to the campgrounds when my friends, Amber, Kate, and I had been listening to the radio report on the status of the missing girl from the Wakina Reservation.

Poor Amber. Once again, she’d cried at the reminder of her third cousin, Jessica, lost and alone in the forest. Everyone in the community, including Amber, had been searching for her night and day but had found nothing. I’d practically dragged Amber along camping, telling her she needed a night off from her worries. It was a hard sell, but she’d finally agreed.

I glanced at where Kate and Amber should have been laying, but their sleeping bags and pillows were missing. The last I’d seen them had been around the bonfire at two in the morning. They could have ended up crashing just about anywhere, and I wasn’t about to go peeking into random tents to find them.

Having fallen asleep in my jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, I slipped on my jacket and shoes, pulled the ponytail holder off my wrist and wrapped my hair into a tight bun. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Then, unzipping the door flap of the dome tent, I stuck just my head out.

Nothing was out of place. Empty cooler bottles atop the picnic table, charred wood in the fire-pit, and the car we came in. Every campsite around us was nearly silent. The sounds of late-night make-out sessions, pounding music, and yelling were replaced by the occasional snore.

Using my empathy, I focused on trying to pick up on the emotions of any lucid person around, hoping I would hone in on Jessica’s emotions. Normally, the waking feelings of others hit me like a gale force wind, without my even trying. In fact, it had always felt like a bit of a curse that I was a walking sponge for other people’s pain. But right now, all I felt was…nothing.

The voice had seemed right outside the tent. Could I have imagined it?

I slipped out. A low, white fog blanketed the earth, enveloping the world in silence. The temperature hovered around freezing, way too cold for camping. And last night’s vodka was no longer taking the edge off. I shivered.

After checking around the cars and circling the campsite, I started down the road. Inside the forest, the eerie glow of early morning and the cool fog blanched the world a ghostly white. The moist nip in the air sharpened the scent of pine needles that littered the camp ground. I continued down the road for about ten feet until it led to the mouth of a hiking trail.

Now that I was half-frozen and shivering, the May long weekend at the campgrounds of Greater Slave Lake, North Dakota, seemed like a very stupid idea, even if it was the annual spring kick-off party.

“Help!” the diminutive voice called out again, this time, louder.

The memory of Jessica’s face flashed through my mind when I’d met her last summer; honey-brown eyes and springy hair that always stuck up around her head with static, and her sweet smile, part baby teeth intermixed with adult teeth. She was such a sweet, innocent child. If she had survived this long, she could be dangerously close to death from cold. My heart battered against my chest wall, and I fought off the urge to start running, directionless, into the bush to find her.

The voice had originated from further within the tree-line, I was sure of it. Closer now, yet still far away. I entered the trail and headed straight.

“Jessica?” I called out. No response but the echo of my own voice from the trees around me.
The trail was straight and narrow for well over a hundred feet, the trees like two solid walls of green on either side of me. Then the trail began to snake back and forth until it forked into several side-trails. I stopped to listen.

A dry crackle emerged from the trail to my right, and I immediately followed the sound. This far into the forest it was darker, the only light filtered through evergreens and fog. I looked back. The vapor had closed in behind me, obscuring the pathway like a curtain of white. Shivering transformed into shaking.

Despite running these trails in the early morning numerous times, today it looked different. I cursed under my breath and shoved my hands into my pockets.

“Hello?” I called, my voice immediately diminishing, muffled by the woods. Other than the odd bird chirp and frog croak, the forest was quiet. If the voice really had been Jessica, she would need help and most likely immediate medical attention. I forced myself forward.

The trail wound to and fro, the brush dense, the fog almost material as it clung to the spruce needles. The path grew thin and sparse, barely enough room to place one foot in front of the other, with the way the underbrush encroached on the trail. I stumbled on twigs and logs as branches clawed my cheeks and pulled my hair. I began to trip, reaching out for something to hang onto. I fell, my hand forced into a thorny bush.

Damn it! I stood up and peered at my scraped hand, blood beading out of paper-cut sized scrapes. I’d been out here for at least ten minutes, but still, I heard nothing but the crunch of my feet snapping the twigs underfoot and my breath echoing through my own head. Ready to turn around and head back to my tent, the high-pitched voice rang out once again.

“Help.”

Author Bio: Joanne Brothwell is the author Stealing Breath, a paranormal romance from Crescent Moon Press, who has also published Vicarious, the prequel to Stealing Breath. Joanne lives in the country with her family where her stories are inspired by the dead things that appear at her doorstep on a daily basis. You can find her online at her website, blog, YouTube, Twitter, Facebook, and Goodreads.

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Rest For The Wicked by Cate Dean: Book Spotlight {Bewitching Book Tours}

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Fri, 11 May 2012 09:00:00 +0000

Excerpt:
ONE

Claire guided her unhappy customer through her shop, one arm around the hunched shoulders.

“You know I don’t do love spells, Mildred.”

“But I know if he could see me, really see me, he’d fall desperately in—”

“Would it be real, if he’s under an enchantment?”

Mildred pouted, not a pretty sight on an eighty year old woman.

“What happened to the customer is always right?”

Biting her lip on a smile, Claire walked her through the open door.

“Never been my policy. And I have good reasons for that.” She rubbed the old woman’s arm, laid her own enchantment over the discontent. “You go on home, now. I’ll phone you when my new shipment of crystals shows up.”

Leaning against the narrow porch post, Claire watched her toddle down the sidewalk, sunlight bouncing off the thin silver poodle curls. The morning gloom had burned off early, and it looked like the start of another beautiful day.

She crossed her arms, cold despite the sweater she slipped on earlier. It took longer to warm up lately, a fact she did her best to ignore.

“Are you cold again, Claire? It’s got to be at least 80 in the store.”

Unless, of course, a well-meaning friend shoved it in her face.

She turned around, forced a smile.

“Is it, Annie? I must have forgotten to turn it down this morning.”

“How could you not notice? The candles are sweating.” Annie moved to her, caught one hand before Claire could shove them in her pockets. “You’re like ice. Again.” She looked down at Claire, concern in the warm brown eyes. “And you’re avoiding. Again.”

With a sigh, Claire squeezed her hand before easing out of it. The warmth in Annie’s fingers made her skin tingle, yearn.

“Time to turn that heat down before the candles become a puddle.”

Annie followed her back inside, hovering while she adjusted the thermostat to a more reasonable temperature. She would need a heavier sweater.

“Come on,” Annie said, hands on her hips. “Give.”

Shaking her head, Claire smiled, a real smile this time.

“Would I’m just cold and tired do it for you?”

“Hardly.” Annie stood in front of the counter, looking like a golden Amazon ready to do battle. “But it’ll have to until I can get you drunk and pry the truth out of you.”
Laughter burst out of Claire.

“I’d like to see that.”
“Yeah, so would I. If you actually touched the stuff.” She gave Claire a wicked smile. “I could always slip you a mickey.”

“You could—if I wasn’t able to smell it from across the room.”

“Slapped down again. Hey—what if we just tried—”

“Not again. Never again.” Claire still felt the residual agony from her one failed attempt at social drinking.

“How do you do that?” Those warm brown eyes narrowed as they studied her. “How do you always know what I’m going to say?”

Claire reached up and patted her cheek.

“I’m a witch, sweetheart. It’s what I do.”

“Wait.” She grabbed Claire’s hand, pushed her sleeve up to reveal the bandage that started to peek out. “Another tattoo? What is it this time?”

Claire flushed. The second reason she put on a sweater this morning.

“A triquetra.”

“More protection? Jeez, Claire, the pentagram isn’t enough?”

“There is no such thing as too much protection.” She pulled free and walked around the counter. “And the subject is closed.”

“Okay—I can take a hint.” Annie strode to the door, her long legs taking her through the small shop in a few paces. She paused in the doorway. “Hey, Claire—I’m worried, and I poke when I’m worried. I’ll leave it alone for now. But if you don’t get better, I’ll do more than poke.”

“Annie.” She stuck her head back in. “Don’t you even think about taking on Mildred’s love spell.”

Color rushed into her cheeks.

“I wasn’t—”

“I mean it. Last time you nearly had your victim falling in love with her cat.”

“Never gonna let me live that one down, are you?”

Claire smiled.

“Not if it keeps you from trying again.”

Annie cursed under her breath and stalked out.

Chuckling, Claire made a mental note to put feelers out. Annie had just enough power to make her dangerous.

Without warning the pain stabbed her, a blade of ice in her gut.

Bracing her hands on the counter, she fought to breathe, fought to keep herself upright. Shaking so hard her rings clattered against the granite countertop, she gained enough control to lower herself to the chair she recently added out of necessity.

“God above—” She pressed both arms against her stomach, prayed for a slow morning. If she believed God would actually listen to her, she’d ask the single question that haunted her.

Is this how it feels to be dying?

Book One The Claire Wiche Chronicles

Claire Wiche – an ordinary woman, running her Wicca shop in an ordinary California beach town.

But Claire wasn’t always ordinary, and she isn’t quite human. She hides a secret, and a past that she desperately wants to put behind her.

When that past explodes into her present, threatening the people she loves, and the community that has offered her a place to finally belong, Claire must become what she left behind in order to save them.

About the Author: Cate Dean has been writing for, well, ever. She grew up losing herself in the wilds of fantasy worlds, and has had some of her own adventures while tromping through the UK, and a few other parts of the world. A lover of all things supernatural, she infuses that love into her stories, giving them a unique edge. When she’s not writing, she loves cooking, scaring herself silly in the local cemeteries, and reading pretty much anything she can get her hands on. Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads

Comeback Love by Peter Golden

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Thu, 10 May 2012 09:00:00 +0000

Like Nicholas Sparks and Robert James Waller, first-time novelist Peter Golden knows how to write the kind of nostalgic fiction that men and women alike fall for. In Comeback Love, a universal story about lost love, he offers an evocative debut that begins in the tumultuous 1960s and ends in the feverish thrill of present-day New York City.

Over thirty-five years ago, Gordon Meyers, an aspiring writer with a low number in the draft lottery, packed his belongings and reluctantly drove away, leaving Glenna Rising, the sexy, sharp-witted med student he couldn’t imagine living without.

Now, decades later, Gordon is a former globetrotting consultant with a grown son, an ex-wife, and an overwhelming desire to see Glenna again. Stunned when Gordon walks into her Manhattan office, Glenna agrees to accompany him for a drink. As the two head out into the snow-swept city, they become caught up in the passions that drew them together before tearing them apart. And as the evening unfolds, Gordon finally reveals the true reason for his return.

Comeback Love is a bracing journey into the hearts of two lovers who came of age in the 1960s. Plumbing the depths of youth, regret, and desire, Peter Golden deftly illuminates the bonds that mysteriously endure in the face of momentous change.

About the Author (from author website): Peter Golden is an award-winning journalist and the author of 6 full-length works of non-fiction and fiction.

Some of Peter Golden’s work has appeared in the Detroit Free Press Magazine, Albany Times Union, New Jersey Monthly, Microsoft’s eDirections, Beyond Computing, Electronic Business, Midstream, The Forward, and Capital Region Magazine.

Golden’s Quiet Diplomat, a biography of industrialist and political-insider Max M. Fisher made the Detroit Free Press bestseller list. Among those he interviewed were Presidents Nixon, Ford, Reagan, and Bush; Secretaries of State Kissinger, Haig, and Shultz; and Israeli Prime Ministers Shamir, Peres, and Rabin.

With J. Stanley Shaw, Golden wrote I Rest My Case: My Long Journey from the Castle on the Hill to Home, a memoir that chronicles Shaw’s life from his childhood years under the supervision of the Brooklyn Hebrew Orphan Asylum in the 1930s to his career as one of the preeminent bankruptcy attorneys in the United States.

Peter Golden’s O Powerful Western Star, a history of the Cold War, will be published in 2012. For that book, Golden re-interviewed Henry Kissinger, George Shultz, and other world leaders, including Mikhail Gorbachev.

His novel, Comeback Love, was published in April 2012.

Goddess Interrupted by Aimée Carter {Blog Tour}

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Wed, 09 May 2012 09:00:00 +0000

Stop #3 – Till Death Do Them Part: Notable Quotables About the Union of Kate and Henry

“Till Death Do Us Part” takes on a whole new meaning when you’re immortal. Get to the know the emotional rollercoaster that is Kate and Henry’s marriage with these “Notable Quotables.”

From Kate, teenager-turned-immortal, married to the Ruler of the Underworld, Henry:

“I wasn’t an idiot. I knew part of Henry would always be in love with Persephone. After all, he’d lost the will to continue after she’d given up her immortality to die and spend eternity with a mortal, and he wouldn’t have felt that way if his entire existence hadn’t revolved around her. But I could give him the one thing she never had—requited love.”

From James, Kate’s best friend; more commonly known as Hermes:

“If you really are happy and you two love each other equally, then great,” said James. “Good luck to you both. But if you don’t—if you wake up one day and realize you’re forcing yourself to love him because you think it’s the right thing to do, not because he makes you happier than you’ve ever been—then I want to make sure you know you have a choice. And if you ever want to leave, all you have to do is say the word, and I’ll go with you.”

From Ava, Kate’s closest girlfriend and confidante, more commonly known as Aphrodite:

“Oh, Kate.” Ava hugged me, taking care not to mess up my hair or makeup. “Of course he loves you. He’s never been very good with physical affection, that’s all, and he’s a man. They’re never good at realizing what we want and acting on it, especially when they’ve been alone for as long as Henry has been. Do I really have to spend the next six months making sure you know how much he loves you?”

From Henry, Ruler of the Underworld, newlywed and a man of few words:

“I would like for you to give us both some time to adjust to this. It is a new life for us both, and I wish to grow into it together rather than war. There is no need to rush. We have eternity.”

Please visit Total Bookaholic for the next stop on Goddess Interrupted Blog Tour and Summer Goddess Giveaway.

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N| Harlequin | Indiebound

Kate Winters has won immortality. But if she wants a life with Henry in the Underworld, she'll have to fight for it.

Becoming immortal wasn't supposed to be the easy part. Though Kate is about to be crowned Queen of the Underworld, she's as isolated as ever. And despite her growing love for Henry, ruler of the Underworld, he's becoming ever more distant and secretive. Then, in the midst of Kate's coronation, Henry is abducted by the only being powerful enough to kill him: the King of the Titans.

As the other gods prepare for a war that could end them all, it is up to Kate to save Henry from the depths of Tartarus. But in order to navigate the endless caverns of the Underworld, Kate must enlist the help of the one person who is the greatest threat to her future. Henry's first wife, Persephone.

About Aimée Carter: Aimée Carter was born in 1986 and attended the University of Michigan. She started writing at age eleven, focusing first on fan fiction and later on original work, and hasn't stopped since. The Goddess Test trilogy is her first series. Check out her website at www.aimeecarter.com.

Twitter | Facebook | Blog

Godess Test Novels website| Book Trailer

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Check out the rest of the tour:

Stop #1 – Monday, May 7 – A Good Addiction

Stop #2 – Tuesday, May 8 – I am A Reader, Not a Writer

Stop #3 – Wednesday, May 9 – I Just Wanna Sit Here and Read

Stop #4 – Thursday, May 10 – Confessions of a Total Bookaholic

Stop #5 – Friday, May 11 – Books Complete Me

Stop #6 – Saturday, May 12 – Katie’s Book Blog

Stop #7 – Sunday, May 13 – Page Turners

Stop #8 – Monday, May 14 – I Read Banned Books

Stop #9 – Tuesday May 15 – Once Upon a Twilight

Stop #10 – Wednesday, May 16 – Mundie Moms

Stop #11 – Thursday, May 17 – Allison Can Read

Stop #12 – Friday, May 18 – All things urban fantasy

Fall From Grace by Charles Benoit: Author Interview {Teen Book Scene}

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Tue, 08 May 2012 09:00:00 +0000

Tell us a little about yourself.

I used to be 5’ 11”, but I think I’m closer to 5’ 10” now. While I like peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwiches, I don’t like peanut butter on its own. I still hold my high school’s record for number of pennies (200) balanced on an elbow, then caught when you bring your arm down fast. For the past 16 years, my wife and I have taken a picture every day, holding up a paper with the date on it. Green beans are my favorite vegetable. I straighten-out twist-ties and save them in a special box. I don’t mind cutting the lawn as much as I pretend to. I think Hawaiian pizza is amazing. I was once caller number five. When I give blood or get a shot, I like to watch the needle go in. I have a stand-up desk at work. I once talked like a game show host for a full day just to annoy my sister. It takes me ten minutes to shave my head every day, twenty if I want to get it super close. I use the terms sir and miss a lot. I never shot a man in Reno just to watch him die. I like watching sports I don’t understand. Clint Eastwood once asked me if I knew where the men’s room was. I was not a very good soldier when I was in the Army. I tend to mispronounce the word robot. I don’t have a favorite color, but if I had to pick one I guess I’d go with blue. I only drink coffee for the caffeine and because I like the way it smells when it’s brewing. My old neighbor had a cat that could say hello. Whenever I play my sax, I have to play this little four-bar riff thing right before I’m officially done. I would rather have a finger broken than eat a marshmallow. Although I have been attacked by evil monkeys in Bali, India, Thailand and Kenya, I like monkeys and we generally get along quite well. Scuba diving is easier than it looks. For years, I had a fear of being locked in a store after it closed, but then it happened and it wasn’t so bad. I refuse to use the word “thusly.” Videos of laughing babies crack me up.

As a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?

In order, from kindergarten to high school graduation: astronaut, The Green Hornet, construction worker, game show host, cartoonist, bank robber, private detective, race car driver, stunt man, zoologist, radio DJ, artist, soldier, policeman, forest ranger, ninja assassin, book store owner, architect, movie producer, bartender.

Who is your closest friend? Why?

Rick. We’ve been best friends since his gang beat up my gang in 4th grade. I don’t care why we’re best friends, I’m just glad that we are.

Where do you see yourself in five years? Ten?

Ten years ago, I was teaching in Trinidad and was considering moving to Lahore, Pakistan to work in the hotel industry. Five years ago, I was in Thailand, writing my third around-the-world adventure novel. I tend to reinvent myself every few years, so I truly don’t know what I’ll be doing or where I’ll be doing it. But as long as Rose is with me, I’m sure I’ll be happy.

What do you hope to accomplish in your lifetime?

I have lots of personal goals, but those are, well, personal. The professional goal I am most excited about is one day attending a book launch party for a new author who I helped get started.

If you could change one part of your life without repercussions what would you change?

Two words: Facial Tattoo.

Thanks for stopping by Charles!

Publisher: HarperTeen (May 8, 2012)
Pages: 208
Genre: YA Contemporary
Charles Benoit's Website | Facebook

From Goodreads. Grace always has a plan. There’s her plan to get famous, her plan to get rich, and—above all—her plan to have fun.

Sawyer has plenty of plans too. Plans made for him by his mother, his father, his girlfriend. Maybe they aren’t his plans, but they are plans.

When Sawyer meets Grace, he wonders if he should come up with a few plans himself. Plans about what he actually wants to be, plans to speak his own mind for a change, plans to maybe help Grace with a little art theft.

Wait a minute—plans to what?

Dark Parties by Sara Grant: Tens List {Teen Book Scene}

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Mon, 07 May 2012 09:00:00 +0000

Top Ten Traits of a Good Heroine

First, thanks to I Just Wanna Sit Here and Read for inviting me and suggesting such an engaging topic.

My debut novel Dark Parties is a story of rebellion and forbidden love with a strong female hero at its heart. I wanted to develop a main character inspired by the type of protagonist that appealed to me – from Scout Finch in To Kill A Mocking Bird to Katniss Everdeen in Hunger Games. As a reader, I need to identify with and cheer for the main character, but I also need a heroine that keeps me guessing.

I tried in one way or another to incorporate the following traits into my main character Neva.

1. Flawed – I’m not interested in perfection. Perfect is boring. I want to write and read about characters who are perfectly imperfect. I tried to craft every character in Dark Parties with a light and dark side.

2. Feisty – I want someone with a fire and a passion. Someone who stands up for what they believe in – and sometimes has to break the rules to do it.

3. Smart – I want someone I can admire intellectually. They don’t have to be Einstein but I want them to solve the puzzles before I do and think of solutions that never would have occurred to me.

4. Motivated – I want them to get up off the couch, step away from the computer and get their hands dirty.

5. Heart – Ideally I want a main character whose motives are honorable – whether it be looking for love, solving a mystery, questing for treasure or bringing down an evil empire.

6. Leader – I often like a reluctant leader, but a leader nonetheless. I quite like someone who believes she is ordinary but is pushed to the extraordinary.

7. Impulsive – I know I said I want them to think, but it’s no fun if they do the smart, thoughtful thing every single time.

8. Loyal – Most heroes have a sidekick and a love interest. I demand loyalty. Yes, there may be blips of betrayal but in the end my heroes will return to what’s important and possibly sacrifice themselves for the ones they love.

9. Quirky – I love a character that’s not a cardboard cut-out from the hero handbook. I want the writer to introduce something fresh and interesting. Give ‘em a quirk that turns out to be important to the story and you’ve hooked me!

10. Relentless – I want a character who gets knocked down but gets back up again and again and again.

And, finally, I prefer a female lead. Many children’s book editors encourage writers to develop male protagonists so their books can appeal to both boy and girl readers. I even had one editor tell me that readers wouldn’t be interested in a kick-ass female hero. (This was before Hunger Games showed us that strong, fiery female characters can have mass appeal.) Females are the perfect protagonist in a story of rebellion – and I think we need to provide more literary role models that demonstrate how woman can change the world.

What traits have I missed? What attracts you to a main character and keeps you thinking about them long after you’ve finished the book?

Thanks for stopping by Sara!

Sixteen-year-old Neva was born and raised in an isolated nation ruled by fear, lies, and xenophobia. Hundreds of years ago, her country constructed an electrified dome to protect itself from the outside world. What once might have protected, now imprisons. Her country is decaying and its citizens are dying.

Neva and her friends dream of freedom.

A forbidden party leads to complications. Suddenly Neva’s falling for her best friend's boyfriend, uncovering secrets that threaten to destroy her friends, her family and her country -- and discovering the horrifying truth about what happens to The Missing. . .

Bio: Sara Grant was born and raised in Washington, Indiana. She graduated from Indiana University in Bloomington, Indiana, with degrees in journalism and psychology, and later she earned a master’s degree in creative and life writing Goldsmiths College, University of London.

Sara is senior commissioning editor for Working Partners, a London-based company creating series fiction for children. She has worked on ten different series and edited more than 75 books.

Dark Parties is her first young adult novel. Email | Twitter | Website

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Shadow Visions by Gabriella Hewitt: Excerpt {Innovative Online Book Tours}

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Sun, 06 May 2012 09:00:00 +0000

Manuel has been tracking down a demon bent on sacrificing women with hummingbird tattoos. He is in danger of losing his humanity to his eagle spirit until he comes across Ixa Reyes, a beautiful San Diego Detective working on the same case, who also bears the mark of Huitzilopochtli. She is his salvation and redemption from a past filled with failure. Only she wants nothing to do with him or her heritage.  When a demon kidnaps her grandfather, the wind god, they must work together to save him and all mankind. He has twenty-four hours to help her control her elemental power over wind, that is if he can control his own desires to claim her body and soul. Because if he should fail, then the god of war will bring in a new era filled with blood and destruction.

When the last Shadow Warrior falls, so will humanity.

EXCERPT:  
“Don’t come any closer or I’ll shoot.” Her gun shook in her hands as if she were a damn rookie. She fought to control her emotions but they swirled inside her. If she didn’t pull it together another tornado would manifest, and that frightened her more than the half-naked man with the eagle eyes in front of her.  

“Not another step,” she ordered, but he continued to stalk towards her.  

She held her stance. Her finger trembled on the trigger.  

He reached her. His chest pressed to the muzzle. He easily towered over her. She stared up into his golden eyes. No fear. Instead, she read another emotion in his eyes.    

Desire.  

She should have felt threatened, and she did, but not because she believed he meant to hurt her—it was much more fundamental than that. Her whole body seemed to come alive in his presence. Her breath shortened and she felt a flush stealing up underneath her tanned cheeks. She lowered her gaze and let her weapon fall to her side. Keeping her fingers tightly wrapped around the grip reminded her to remain grounded. Her reaction to him was so totally unlike her.  

Up close, she found herself staring at a broad chest covered with a mantle of feathers. The man was made of solid muscle. Without volition, her gaze traveled upward, noting the powerful shoulders, the hard jaw, the firm lips and the stern expression he wore.    

“You’re very brave, but your gun won’t help you against the tzitzimime.”    

Ixa swallowed, searching for her voice. “Who are you? What are you?”    

His hand came up. Gently, he traced the image of the hummingbird tattooed on her right bicep. Her muscle quivered under his touch. “Just as I thought. You bear the mark,” he murmured.  

In the distance she heard the confused shouts of her fellow officers. “They’ll be here soon.” They would have heard the shots. They’d be searching for her.  

“I distorted the sound so they check in a different area. They will not be upon us yet.”  

“You can do that?” It didn’t seem possible, except she didn’t have an explanation for anything that had happened. Her brain seemed to be functioning in first gear, unable to catch up to anything that required substantial thought.    

“I can do many things, you will find.”  

He cupped her chin and tilted her head. His golden eyes came closer until his head blotted out the sky and everything around her. Helpless, she waited for his lips to touch hers.  

His lips brushed hers, once, twice. She let out a sigh. He pressed down a third time and she leaned into him, but before she could deepen the kiss, he released her and stepped back.  

Her entire body zinged with energy. She stared up at him, bemused.  

He chuckled, which snapped her out of her daze. Had she lost her mind?  

“Don’t ever do that again.”    

He smiled, an incredibly sexy smile that made her nerve endings sing with need. Before she could lash out at him again, he raised his arms up. A breeze passed around them, ruffling the feathers adorning his chest. His image wavered and bent. She heard bones cracking, reshaping. Wave after wave of feathers burst forth in a soft, rippled covering. Where a warrior once stood, now a large eagle spread its wings and gave a loud cry. The eagle flapped its wings and took to the skies.  

Ixa gasped. The gods will find a way to convince you. Her abuelo’s words echoed in her mind.

About the author: Gabriella Hewitt is the pen name of creative writing talents Sasha Tomaszycki and Patrizia M.J. Hayashi. Together they weave tales of romantic suspense and dangerously sensual paranormals. Check out the website to find out about upcoming releases and events on her blog.

Accidentally Married to...a Vampire by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff: Promo & Giveaway {CBLS Promotions}

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Sat, 05 May 2012 22:59:00 +0000

Mimi Jean Pamfiloff's ACCIDENTALLY MARRIED TO...A VAMPIRE, Book 2 in her popular "Accidentally Yours Series", recently hit #34 on the NYTimes Best Seller List (Fiction eBooks)!! "VAMPIRE" has also earned a well-deserved spot on both the Amazon and USA Today Top/Best Seller lists! To celebrate, Mimi Jean is giving away an eBook copy of not only ACCIDENTALLY MARRIED TO...A VAMPIRE, but ACCIDENTALLY IN LOVE WITH...A GOD, Book 1 in the "Accidentally Yours Series", as well, to 20--yes, you read that right, 20--lucky winners!

Accidentally in Love With...a God?
(Book 1, Accidentally Yours)
Contemporary Paranormal Romance by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff
"4.5 out of 5 Stars for Accidentally in Love With...a God? (Amazon)!"

Blurb:
Twenty-two-year-old Emma Keane has a secret friend. He’s powerful, mysterious, and devastatingly handsome. In her dreams, anyway.

In real life, he’s an enigma. Maybe just a teensie jealous. Definitely overbearing. He’s also a voice only she can hear.

So who or what is he? He won’t say. But if she wants to be free, to be normal, Emma will have to trek to the jungles once ruled by the Mayans and find the forgotten ruin holding the answers.

However, the ruthless deity she’s about to unknowingly unleash on the modern world might not be so easily extracted from her life. Bottom line, he’s got enemies, and now, so does she.

Excerpt:
With his golden face beaming, the man smiled as he stroked my sopping wet hair and cradled me against his warm, smooth chest. “I love this dream,” I said with a breathy voice, then stretched my arms above my head, gazing happily into the most striking set of luminescent, turquoise green eyes I’d ever seen.

To boot, they belonged to a breathtaking, masculine face, a face one would expect to see on the cover of a magazine named something like, I’m Way Too Hot to Be Your Man, or In Your Dreams, Honey.

Oh, yeah. Without a doubt, I’d topped myself this time. Sculpted cheekbones, thick dark lashes, chiseled jaw, and lips so full they simply had to be meant for kissing or eating something really juicy. He was way hotter than the specimen of perfection from my last dream, and bonus, he didn’t have that scary vibe. I reached up and ran my fingertip along the ridge of his hard-lined warrior nose.

“Emma, what in the name of the gods’ creation are you doing?” he scorned. “We really don’t have time for your immature little fantasies. We’re in the middle of a crisis. Do you not remember?”

I blinked and slowly moved my eyes from side to side.

Jungle? I was in the jungle. And my clothes were wet. Come to think of it, for a dream, I didn’t feel so hot. My lungs burned, my body felt like it’d been chewed up, and my head was throbbing. So, aside from the perfect man with long, damp, wavy black hair holding me in his arms, none of this felt like a dream. It felt…

“Holy Mother!” I pushed myself away and rolled into the dirt, pointing in disbelief. “Wha—you—you—?”

“Aaah. So eloquent as always, my sweet. It is astounding; you actually have a college degree, yet cannot find better words.” He pushed himself up off the ground.

As he rose, my heart stopped, started, then went into overdrive. His legs and spine straightened into a towering mass of unforgiving muscles. With shoulders like a lumberjack and thick, powerful thighs, I didn’t know if I wanted to run away or climb him like a tree. He was utterly enormous. Jolly Green Giant enormous. Except, obviously, not green. More golden brown. He was a gorgeous, towering mass of golden brown perfection.

No. Definitely not a cave-dwelling, wart-infested troll. Great. Just great. Now I knew I wasn’t crazy—Guy was definitely real—but now I also knew I was way over my head. He was gorgeous.

I stood in awe, my mouth gaping as my eyes attempted to register every rope of muscle, every capacious curve packed with power. Christ, he had to be at least seven feet tall.

“Six nine, actually,” he said, guessing my thoughts.

“This can’t be possible,” I whispered, my eyes continuing to dart up and down the length of his body, stopping right on dark trail of hair that started just below his navel and continued down, down, down to his enormous beast of a—“Oh! You’re naked.” I turned sharply, but only to stop myself from reaching out to touch it; no man could be that…that…endowed. Wow. “This can’t be happening.” I covered my face.

“Emma,” he moved behind me, placing his powerful hands on my shoulders. A jolt shivered its way through my body.

I was wrong about the vibe. Way wrong. This man, or whatever he was, radiated hazard. He should come equipped with a set of blinking lights or flares. He was…“Bad. Very, very, bad,” I mumbled, pinching the bridge of my nose.

And pathetically, after everything that had happened, all I could think about was this naked, hard-bodied, glorious “man” who’d just permanently seared his image inside the storage compartments of my female DNA. All men from this day forward would have to survive a mental side-by-side comparison against him. They’d all lose.

Available for ONLY $0.99 at:
Amazon | B&N | Smashwords

Accidentally Married to...a Vampire?
(Book 2, Accidentally Yours)
Contemporary Paranormal Romance by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

"4.5 out of 5 Stars for Accidentally Married to...a Vampire? (Amazon)!"

Blurb:
“If you love her, set her free. If she comes back, she’s yours. If she doesn’t...Christ! Stubborn woman! Hunt her down, and bring her the hell back; she’s still yours according to vampire law.”--Niccolo DiConti, General of the Vampire Queen’s Army.

The Determined Vampire:
Niccolo DiConti has faithfully served as leader of Her Majesty’s army for over a millennium, but he’d rather sunbathe in the Sahara than spend another grueling day under his demented queen’s command. However, no one has ever left her side and lived to tell. So when a powerful goddess prophesizes he will meet his salvation—a human woman he must turn into a vampire with her consent—he eagerly rises to the challenge. After all, how hard could it be to seduce a human female into taking the immortal plunge? Harder than he thinks. Because his mate won’t be born for another three centuries, and when he wakes up in the goddess’ tomb, not only is his life a mess, but his destined female isn’t about to settle for a coldhearted vampire. Can he win her over before it’s too late? Not if his enemies have anything to do with it.

An Unwilling Bride:
On the night Helena Strauss meets the fierce, devastatingly handsome vampire who saves her life in the jungles of Mexico, she knows her world will be forever changed. Because an attraction this mind blowing only comes along once in a lifetime—or existence. And when he claims she is his one true mate, destined to be his for all eternity, it’s a fairytale come true. So what if her knight in shining armor is a vampire? Nobody’s perfect. But discovering the powerful, overbearing immortal doesn’t “do love”? Deal breaker. Helena will flee and set out to accomplish the impossible…sever the otherworldly bond between them. And it turns out, Helena is just the leverage Niccolo’s enemies need to break the mighty warrior and wipe out his people.

Excerpt:
What the hell is this place?

Then Helena’s eyes focused on something else she couldn’t quite grasp. In the middle of the room, lying across a stone altar, was a naked man with dark symbols tattooed down the length of one arm. But he was not just any man. He was a male so perfect that words would catfight each other just for the honor of describing him. He was a god. A bona fide deity. He had to be. Because a normal man wouldn’t give her the urge to fall to her knees and worship at his feet. Or drool.

The torchlight licked his sculpted cheekbones, angular jaw, and full, sensual lips. Every capacious curve and ripple of hard muscle looked to be packed with raw power, and his size left no doubt that he’d been built in another time. A time when giant warriors roamed the earth, looking to rescue lame tourists wandering the Mexican jungle at night.

In my dreams. Wait...this is a dream! It has to be.

“Move closer my sweet, delicious woman.” The deep voice radiated from every direction, filling the room.

Helena’s blood pressure crashed to the floor. She gasped as the weight of her body slammed back against the cold chamber wall to keep from falling.

“Hel-hello? Can you hear me?” Fists clenched, Helena waited for a response, her eyes continuing to soak him in. Every inch of him.

Was he real? No, he must be a statue. Too perfect. His full lips were built to nuzzle a woman’s neck. Specifically, her neck. And that hair—thick, long waves of black satin—was the kind a woman could grab fistfuls of while being driven insane by those lips.

Then there were the diamond-cut grooves of his abs, his perfectly shaped navel, the fine dark hair adorning his lower belly that trailed down to his awe-inspiring man-gear. The size and thickness, even in its slumbering state, was something women dreamed of and scores of artists throughout history attempted to immortalize in marble. He was every woman’s fantasy, she thought. And by every woman, she meant hers…’Cause I’m not gonna share.

“Kiss me, Helena,” the seductive voice rumbled.

Had the man said her name? No. Clearly, his lips hadn’t moved. The margarita amoebas were attacking her brain and she was losing her mind.

“Kiss me, woman. I command you,” the voice echoed, this time compelling her to obey.

Helena’s survival instincts gave her a hard kick, jarring her back into the horrific reality of the situation. But as she tried to regain control of her body, her tongue slipped from her mouth and wet her lips.

Traitorous tongue. Backstabbing lips. What the hell are you doing? Her body inched closer.

“Sì, that is it, my love. I can smell your blood.”

Blood? What the...? Every nerve in her body fired on all cylinders, but she couldn’t run even if her hair had been on fire. It seemed the harder she fought, the stronger the force controlling her became.

“Brush it against my lips, my love. I want to taste you when you kiss me.”

Without realizing it, her hand stretched down to coat her fingertips with the thick, nearly dried blood from her knee. Trembling, she smeared it over his lips.

“Now, kiss me, my love. Awaken me, my bride.”

“No! No! Let me go!” Helena struggled, but her body’s betrayal persisted. Her head dipped, and her lips rested on his sensuous mouth. In that instant, the compelling force dissipated and her entire body lit up into one glorious pyre of life.

Had she been asleep the last twenty-four years? Because she could swear she’d just taken her first breath. Ever.

Holy hell, what was that?

The torches flickered, and the wind kicked up around her.

The altar was empty.

She crumbled to the cold, dusty floor. A pair of strong hands gripped her shoulders from behind.

“Oh, Christ. You...you’re behind me, aren’t you?” she whispered.

The deep dark voice replied, “Sì, my love. Stand, and let me see my mate.”

Helena slowly rose to face the naked god behind her.

Available for ONLY $0.99 at:
Amazon | B&N | Smashwords
One hundred percent (100%) of all royalties received from the sale of Accidentally Married to a...Vampire from both B&N and Amazon THIS SUNDAY will be donated to The Breast Cancer Foundation.

COMING IN SEPT 2012!
Sun God Seeks... Surrogate?
(Book 3, Accidentally Yours)
Contemporary Paranormal Romance by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Blurb:
Twenty-four-year-old Penelope finds herself in all sorts of hot water, vaporous and otherwise, after agreeing to become a surrogate mother for an eccentric, wealthy, and devastatingly handsome man who isn’t exactly a man.

About the Author:
Before taking up a permanent residence in the San Francisco Bay Area, Mimi spent time living near NYC (became a shopaholic), in Mexico City (developed a taste for very spicy food), and Arizona (now hates jumping chollas, but pines for sherbet sunsets). Her love of pre-Hispanic culture, big cities, and romance inspires her to write when she’s not busy with kids, work, and life…or getting sucked into a juicy novel.

She hopes that someday, leather pants for men will make a big comeback and that her writing might make you laugh when you need it most.

Website: http://www.mimijean.net
iTunes: http://itunes.apple.com/us/artist/mimi-jean-pamfiloff/id498303364?mt=11
Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/MimiJeanRomance
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Mimi-Jean/218935048190356
Email: mimi@mimijean.net

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