Monday, December 10, 2018

Check out Song of Sacrifice. What a beautiful Cover!


Song of Sacrifice
Janell Rhiannon
(Homeric Chronicles, #1)
Publication date: December 26th 2018
Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Historical
The heart of the Trojan War belongs to the women.
Mothers and daughters; wives and war prizes, whisper to us across time…
…remember our songs alongside the mighty men of myth.

As the Age of Heroes wanes, the gods gamble more fiercely with mortals’ lives than they ever have before. Women must rely on their inner strength and cunning to survive the wars men wage for gold and glory.
Clytemnestra of Mycenae struggles for control of her life after Agamemnon ruthlessly rips it apart. Leda of Sparta survives a brutal assault by Zeus, shouldering a terrible secret in silence. Penelope raises Ithaka’s sole heir alone, praying for Odysseus’ swift return. Thetis, the sea nymph, despairs of her son’s destiny and resorts to forbidden magic to save him. Hecuba of Troy mourns the loss of her second son to a dark prophesy. And Shavash of Pedasus prepares her daughter to marry the greatest warrior who ever lived.
In a world where love leads to war and duty leads to destruction, the iron hearts of heroines will conquer all.
Sing, Muse, sing their song of sacrifice…
Replaces Song of Princes as the first book in the Homeric Chronicles.
EXCERPT:
LYRNESSUS
THRITY FOUR, Briseis and Mynes
1262 BCE
“YOUR KINGDOM SOMEDAY, little one.” Briseis rested her hands beneath her round belly, as the child stretched against her ribs. Leaning to the side, she attempted to avoid the uncomfortable tightness building at her lower back. The ache eased and she breathed easy again. Standing from the reclining couch, Briseis walked to the balcony overlooking Lyrnessus’ fields. If she squint her eyes, she could just make out the pale blue of the horizon across the Bay of Edremit. Much farther to the north, she knew Troy stood as the shining citadel of the East. “In another time, that would’ve been yours. I’d thought it mine, before―” Another pain doubled her and she gripped the banister. “By the balls of Zeus! What’s happening?”
Your daughter seeks the light …
Briseis looked around the chamber. “Who’s there?”
Have no fear, daughter, I am with you.
Another pain, this time much sharper and stronger, ripped across her belly and a gush of bloody water splashed at her feet. “Bree! Come quickly! Bree!”
The princess’ chamber door flew open, as the maid servant took in the scene before her. “My lady! By the gods, it’s your time!”
Briseis’ eyes widened in fear. “So soon? I’m not ready. I have―” Her knees buckled.
“My lady!” Bree swept to Briseis’ side, lifting the princess to her feet, half carrying her to the chamber bed.
“The pain. By the … balls of … Zeus. I.can.scarce.breathe.”
There is glory in your pain, Briseis.
“Bree, who else is here?”
“No one, yet,” she said, tucking a sheet about the princess. Bree ran to the door, yelling down the cavernous hall for the midwife. Within moments a gaggle of women flew through the door clucking about the impending royal birth.
Briseis’ scream startled them all. The midwife was at the princess’ side in the blink of an eye, pulling back the privacy sheet. Her hands firmly palpated Briseis’ belly. Without a word, she pushed Briseis’ thighs apart. Her eyes widened.
“What’s wrong?” Briseis asked, tears spilling down her hot cheeks.
The midwife pressed her lips together in a grim line. “My lady, this will be a difficult birth. I must put my hand inside of you to confirm my suspicions.”
“Do it!” Briseis screamed as another pain wracked her body. She groaned in agony as the midwife’s hand pressed into her. “By the gods …”
Bree pressed a cool cloth to her lady’s forehead and cheek.
“The child is breech,” the midwife pronounced, wiping her hands on a towel. A hush settled around the chamber. They all knew it was likely a death sentence to mother, child, or both.
Briseis wept. “No. No. By the gods, no!” Another pain tore through her.
Bree dipped the cooling cloth in the water basin again. “Can nothing be done? Can you save Princess Briseis?”
Briseis rolled back against the cushions. “Save my child, please.”
If that is your wish …
Yes, save my child. “Save my child. Take me instead.”
Bree’s face whitened. “What’s she saying?”
The midwife answered, “What all women say, when faced with such a choice.”
A dusty swirl of air blew into the chamber, snuffing out the oil lamps. The women froze, as a tall, glittering woman emerged from the small storm. Her gown flashed silver and gold. They fell to their knees, heads bowed, the goddess’ name on their lips … Eleithyia.
The goddess glided to Briseis’ side, stars blinking along the hem of her gown as she moved. She reached out a pale, cool hand to Briseis’ forehead. “Calm yourself, daughter. I’m here.”
Briseis smiled weakly. “Gratitude, Goddess.”
Eleithyia signaled to Bree. “You appear a strong maid. Help me set her onto her knees and place her hands on your shoulders.” She looked to the midwife. “Watch. Learn.”
The midwife nodded, as Briseis was placed into position.
The goddess moved her hands on either side of Briseis’ hard belly, running her palms flat against the lower abdomen. “Now, push your daughter to the light. Push like a warrior afield. Push for your life and for hers.”
Briseis cried out in agony, her limbs shaking with effort. Blood spilled as the child’s buttocks crowned.
“Hold your lady tightly.” Eleithyia’s voice was steady, as her hands worked calmly. Gently, she pulled each leg to length. “Push, Briseis.” The goddess, holding the babe with both hands, slightly turned the torso, releasing a shoulder blade and freeing the arm. Then, repeated the same for the other arm. The women gasped as the child hung half-suspended, face down, from Briseis’ body. Eleithyia positioned one hand on the baby’s chest, while the fingers of her other hand cradled the neck and head. “One last push, Briseis. Victory is yours with this battle.”
Briseis’ fingers dug into Bree’s shoulders. She screamed with her final effort, as the goddess guided the slippery child to the light. The princess collapsed against her maid, weeping with her exertions and aching body. Gently, Bree lay Briseis down.
Eleithyia handed the limp newborn to the midwife. “Rub the baby with clean linen, until she cries.” Turning to Briseis, she said, “You’ve won this battle, but you’ll lose the war.”
“What do you mean? What war?”
The goddess stood to her full height, sparkling in the dimly lit room. “The one inside of your heart, daughter.” With the ominous words still hanging in the air, Eleithyia’s image shimmered to nothing.
The midwife stared at the spot the goddess had stood. “By all that is sacred, I never thought in all my days to witness this. Blessed be our princess and her child.”
“Bring me my daughter,” Briseis said, proudly. Once the weight of her baby was settled in her arms, she smiled and joyful tears filled her eyes. “Phila, for love conquers all.”


Author Bio:
In graduate school, Janell focused on the ancient history of Greece and Rome. Hooked by the “sword and sandal” world, she studied everything she could about mythology and Alexander the Great.
The Homeric Chronicles series is dedicated to merging dozens of Greek myths, including Homer’s epics, with plays, history, and archaeology. Her intent is to raise the heroines’ voices equally alongside the heroes, opening up a traditionally male focused genre to a female audience.
She lives in CA and enjoys spending time with her children and grandchildren. She has a pack of two big dogs and two cats.

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Sunday, December 9, 2018

Check out This series and enter and amazing Giveaway


The Purple Haze (The Western Lands and All That Really Matters Book 1) Being a princess is hard. Especially when you're just a little OCD. And your twin goes missing. Sure, Princess Eloise is Future Ruler and Heir to the Western Lands and All That Really Matters. And yes, her life is structured by Protocol and full of little "habits" that help her get through the day. But none of that matters when her twin sister disappears. Eloise has to suck it up to try and get her back. She sets out with her champion (a nervous, yammering chipmunk), her guard (the human incarnation of rectitude), and two horses (one an equine perfection, the other on a vow of silence). Like a kind of fantasy-world Gilligan's Island meets Discworld, a quick little two-day jaunt turns into traipsing across realms. sniffing out a trail that is getting colder by the minute. The Purple Haze is a humorous novel set in a world of weak magic, talking animals, and wäÿ töö mänÿ ümläüts. If you like quirky, clever characters, lively dialog, and fun, ripping yarns, then you'll love this fabulous debut novel from Andrew Einspruch.
Get The Purple Haze today and dive into the freshest fantasy series in years. ON Sale for $.99 

The Star of Whatever (The Western Lands and All That Really Matters Book 2)
The slightly OCD princess was doing just fine, thanks. Then she got thrown to her death. That might have put a crimp in things. Princess Eloise, Future Ruler and Heir to the Western Lands and All That Really Matters, swallowed back her "habits" and went after her missing twin sister. She found her. Awesome! And then they both got chucked into the mysterious, magical, deadly Purple Haze. Less awesome! While her champion (a nervous, yammering chipmunk) and her guard (the human incarnation of rectitude) rot in prison and her two horses desperately try to find some way to help, Eloise and her sister go deeper into the Purple Haze to discover the source of the inner tug they both feel. The Star of Whatever (book two of The Western Lands and All That Really Matters series) is a humorous, Discworld-ish novel set in a world of weak magic, talking animals, and wäÿ töö mänÿ ümläüts. If you like quirky, clever characters, lively dialog, and fun, ripping yarns, then you'll love this fabulous second novel from Andrew Einspruch. Get The Star of Whatever today, and dive into the freshest fantasy series in years. Get this new release on Amazon also available in Kindle Unlimited
Andrew Einspruch is the author of the humorous YA fantasy series The Western Lands and All That Really Matters. He's also had more than 120 children's books published, both fiction and non-fiction, that have sold around the world. Starting with the four-book "Dunkin' Dazza" series in the 1990s, Andrew's work has covered everything from basketball to DNA, biographies to histories to mysteries, outback heroes to Christmas Island red crabs, and from how the rides work at amusement parks to how the Australian Government works (perhaps the greatest mystery of all). Andrew is the co-founder of the not-for-profit charity the Deep Peace Trust, which fosters deep peace for all species. Based in rural New South Wales, Andrew, Billie and their adult daughter Tamsin run the Trust's A Place of Peace, one of Australia's largest farm animal sanctuaries. The cows, sheep, horses, goats, dogs, cats, and geese, as well as local wildlife including kangaroos, wombats, and cockatoos, are a constant source of inspiration. If you ask, he'll deny he ever programmed in COBOL for a bank. Enter to win a set of The Western Lands and All That Really Matters Series in print. A great gift for any child in your life. Fill out the form to enter

Check out Days of Fantasy for Christmas

On Tour with Prism Book Tours

Book Tour Launch for
Days of Fantasy for Christmas

We're excited to be sharing books from 13 fantasy authors with you this holiday season! Each
day different author and book or series will be featured. There is also a fabulous giveaway!
If you love reading fantasy, or are looking for a gift for someone who does, join us on this tour!

Tour Schedule
(Links won't work until the posts go live.)

December 1st: Launch
December 2nd: Gillian Bronte Adams - The Songkeeper Chronicles
December 3rd: Morgan L. Busse - Mark of the Raven
December 4th: Evangeline Denmark - Curio
December 5th: Kate Avery Ellison - A Gift of Poison
December 6th: J.M. Hackman - Spark
December 7th: Ronie Kendig - Embers
December 8th: C.E. Laureano - Oath of the Brotherhood
December 9th: Belle Malory - The Twelfth Keeper
December 10th: Melissa McShane - Voyager of the Crown
December 11th: J. Ellen Ross - The Remembered Queen
December 12th: Jennifer Silverwood - Silver Hollow
December 13th: Melissa Wright - Blood & Brute & Ginger Root
December 14th: Morgan Wylie - The Age of Alandria Series
December 15th: Grand Finale

Books on Tour




Blogs Participating

Among the Reads
An Indie Adventure
Andi's Book Reviews
Angela Walker's Reviews
Book by Book
Bri's Book Nook
Brooke Blogs
Coffee Books and Cakes
Colorimetry
Cover Lover Book Review
Deal Sharing Aunt
Declarations of a Fangirl
Heidi Reads...
Jorie Loves A Story
Locks, Hooks and Books
Mythical Books
Nicole's Book Musings
Reading On The Edge
Remembrancy
SilverWoodSketches
Stacking My Book Shelves!
Teatime and Books
We Write Fantasy
Wishful Endings

Tour Giveaway


Grand Prize #1: Winner will receive a FIRE HD 8 TABLET along with the following ebooks (open to those who are eligible for the Fire Tablet in their area can receive Kindle gifted copies of ebooks):
- CURIO, MARK OF BLOOD and ALCHEMY (The Curio Prequel), and THE ICE CHILD (a holiday novelette) by Evangeline Denmark
- A GIFT OF POISON by Kate Avery Ellison
- THE TWELFTH KEEPER by Belle Malory
- SERVANT O THE CROWN or VOYAGER OF THE CROWN (winner's choice) by Melissa McShane
- THE REMEMBERED QUEEN by J. Ellen Ross
- SILVER HOLLOW by Jennifer Silverwood
- THE FREY SAGA (Books 1-3) ebook box set by Melissa Wright

Grand Prize #2: Winner will receive the following print books (open to continental US residents):
- ORPHAN'S SONG by Gillian Bronte Adams
- MARK OF THE RAVEN by Morgan L. Busse
- SPARK by J.M. Hackman
- ABIASSA'S FIRE 3-book collection by Ronie Kendig
- The complete set of SONG OF SEARE TRILOGY by C.E. Laureano
- SILENT ORCHIDS by Morgan Wylie

Ends December 19, 2018

Thursday, December 6, 2018

Book Blitz for The Seal's Contract Baby


The SEAL’s Contract Baby
Katie Knight
Publication date: November 29th 2018
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
After an “incident” on his last SEAL mission, Zachary “Z” Raybourn has been relegated to babysitting duty. He’s spent the last six months guarding the daughter of a small foreign nation, a girl so valuable to the US that she apparently can’t buy milk without him trailing along like a lost puppy. He’d joined the military to make a difference and stayed enlisted because of the SEAL team he considers family. Now all he wants is to get back to them ASAP.
Esme Hollycombe is her country’s last hope. Her father the King controls a very important port that serves as a naval base for the US. But with her father’s rapidly declining health, and her US-hating cousin next in line for the throne, Esme has been frantically searching for a loophole in her country’s law that says only a man can rule. The only thing she finds is that she can rule in the stead of any male heir she gives birth to. Unmarried and certainly not pregnant, the loophole isn’t of much use to her. Until her attention turns to the hot SEAL protector who has been pacing the palace for the last six months like a caged animal. He’d do anything to get back to his squad; and she’d do anything to keep her cousin off the throne, leaving him unable to evict the US and all their military protection from her country.
Esme offers a contract to Z: get her pregnant, marry her so the heir will be legitimate, and he can have his life back. Z eventually agrees. But being the partner of a princess comes with far more action and intrigue than he’d ever dreamed. He also finds that making a baby is an easy way to fall in love. Now, Z will have to choose: the military family he misses, or the nuclear family he’s creating.
EXCERPT:
“I’m twenty-eight years old. I don’t need a babysitter.” Her Royal Highness, Princess Esme Hollycombe of the tiny southern European country of Prylea, squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “I’ll take a regular security team with me to Washington, DC and be done with it.”
Her father’s intelligence advisors exchanged a look, then the head of security—a slightly hunched older man named Greaves who’d been hired by her father before Esme was born—gave her a quizzical stare. “Yes, your grace. But please remember that this trip is not only about you. Your ailing father, the king, will also be making the journey to get a second opinion on his condition. We cannot afford to leave either one of you unprotected during these turbulent times.”
Darn it. He had a point. And he knew just the right buttons to push. Esme would do just about anything for her father, as Greaves was well aware. Never mind the fact that the king was dying. This new opinion he was seeking in Georgetown would only slightly prolong his life, at best, or put another nail in his already well-sealed coffin. But she couldn’t turn down the chance to extend her time with him, even by one more day.
She swallowed hard against the lump of sorrow that had been lodged in her throat since her father had first been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer two years prior. Since then he’d been in and out of treatments, traveling the world to seek a cure for what was, as of yet, incurable. Still, if it gave her father some small measure of hope, she’d do whatever she could to ensure he got to see the specialist in DC.
Her fingers itched to pull out the knitting she’d brought along in her purse, but she clenched her fists instead. The hobby kept her busy and sane during these dark times and also helped her with one of her dearest charitable causes. All of the blankets she made were distributed to a charity for Prylea’s poor—under a fake name, of course. It wouldn’t do to have the royal family seen as nothing but a bunch of crafters, even for a good cause.
Esme took a deep breath and looked across the room to where her usual contingent of security guards stood. Most of them were middle-aged and indistinguishable from the others. They blended into the background as their job demanded. Silently watching and waiting for danger to rear its ugly head, then they’d spring into action to defend and protect.
One man, though, a relative newcomer, stood near the window, the sunlight striking his blond hair and making it look like spun gold. After six months of service, he was still an enigma to Esme. She was intrigued by him, watching him as closely as he watched her, and not because he was gorgeous either. Sure, the guy had the ripped physique of an ex-military man. He was a former Navy SEAL after all. But there was something more about him, a lingering haunted look in his gray-green eyes that had her wondering exactly what had happened to him during his time as a SEAL. She’d tried to find out by snooping through his employment records, but with everything else going on, she hadn’t had time to do a proper in-depth search.
“Your highness, we need an answer before you leave tonight,” Greaves said, his stern, jowly look setting her nerves on edge again. She didn’t like being forced into a corner. “We must insist on the security detail, princess. If you refuse, we’ll be forced to send your cousin Silvester in your place.”
Oh, he was good.
Silvester had once been a friend who’d now turned rival. The guy was only interested in power—namely the throne of Prylea. Unfortunately, Esme’s father had failed to secure her place in the line of succession for the country by changing the outdated rule in the Prylean constitution that said a woman could not rule. So very nineteenth century. So very irritating.
The last person on earth she’d want representing her or her country in the United States was her cousin Silvester. Esme was having a hard enough time trying to figure out how to get around her country’s antiquated rules without thrusting her power-hungry cousin out on the world stage to strut about like the overblown peacock he’d become.
“Fine.” She took a deep breath. “But I choose the team lead.”
“Fine.” A muscle ticked in Greaves’s cheek, but otherwise his face remained stoic. He leaned closer to whisper to his cronies then turned back to Esme. “We agree. But you must choose from the current team members already in the room.” His beady black eyes glittered behind his wire-rimmed glasses, as if he’d just pulled off some wonderful coup. “May I suggest Sutherland. He’s quite accomplished and has long served your father with loyalty and distinction.”
Sutherland was a short, stout man of brisk manners and few words. He and her father were old friends. “He’s fine to guard the king. I’ve got someone else in mind for head of my detail.”
Greaves raised a bushy white brow but remained silent.
“I want him.” She pointed to the blond Adonis still leaning against the wall by the window, looking for all the world as if he were bored to tears. “Zachary Raybourn.”
“But, your grace—” Greaves sputtered. “He’s not even been with the team for a year yet. And he’s not a Prylean citizen. He’s American.”
“All the better.” Esme bit back a smile at the way the old man said that last word, more like an unsavory curse than a nationality. She pushed to her feet, blood pounding and knees wobbling. Her late mother had always said that being a good monarch demanded firm judgment and a will to succeed. Esme had the drive to become the next queen down pat. The judgment part was still in question. But Raybourn was really the only choice she had. All the other men were loyal to the Prylean constitution. At least Raybourn didn’t give two hoots about her country or its dark-age ways. He was here for the job, at least from what she could tell. And he kept his mouth shut, which was even more important. Heck, he’d barely said more than two words beyond the normal civilities to Esme the entire time he’d been in the family’s employ. “I want him to be the lead of my personal team or no deal.”
She gave a quick side-glance to see Raybourn had straightened and was looking as stunned as she felt. Good. She raised her chin to him. “Do you accept the position?”
Raybourn hesitated, then smoothed a hand down the front of his black suit coat. “Yes.”


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Wednesday, December 5, 2018

April in Atlantis Book Blitz


April in Atlantis
Alyssa Day
(Poseidon’s Warriors #4)
Publication date: November 5th 2018
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense
She’s Poseidon’s first and only female warrior…
When April, Poseidon’s first-ever female warrior, meets Pine–“don’t call me a werewolf” — prince of the European wolf shifters, she saves his life and then gives him the finger, because the sound of his sexy Scottish accent when he said “I think I’m in love, lass” gave her shivers in places shivers had no right to be. She’s a warrior, not a werewolf groupie. But now she’s trapped between the werewolf who wants her and the werewolf who wants her dead.
He’s Europe’s werewolf prince…
Pine wanted April the moment he saw her, just before she saved his life. Then he knew he must make her his. But the appearance of his long-lost and presumed-dead twin complicates Pine’s plans, and this time it’s April’s life at stake. Together, April and Pine are so much stronger than they are apart, but the heat between them may be enough to burn down the world.
Can two such unlikely allies find their way past danger to love? Or will mutual seduction be the beginning of the end?
Warning: This book contains magic, Atlantis, Poseidon, warriors, a wolf shifter, an evil twin, archery, wolf cubs, Europe, Scotland, Scottish accents, a king and queen, sibling rivalry, a black sheep, bad boys, paranormal romance, fantasy, matchmaking, laughter, danger, kisses, and a happily ever after. Read at your own risk!
You can also grab book 1 – January in Atlantis – for FREE!
Amazon / B&N / iBooks / Kobo
EXCERPT:
Atlantis, the war room adjacent to the throne room, April 1st…
April stalked back and forth past the scarred wooden table that dominated the room, fists clenched at her sides, muttering creative suggestions under her breath in ancient Atlantean as to what the king and Denal could do with their idea. She’d expected to be kicked off the team after she’d been so rude to the man she’d only later found out had been an actual freaking prince. Instead, they’d hit her with this.
King Conlan, tall, dark, and gorgeous in that uniquely Atlantean royalty lineage way, leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure the throne would fit up my ass, and if Cerberus ripped my arms and legs off, my wife and son might be rather annoyed with you.”
She froze. “You heard that?”
Denal, one of the king’s elite fighters and now the leader of her team of Poseidon’s Warriors—or Denal’s Desperate Dozen, if you hung out in taverns for any time at all—blew out a sigh and shoved his hands into the pocket of his faded jeans. “You see, Conlan? Hopeless. This is a terrible idea. Also, April, I know you haven’t spent much time around royalty–”
“Try none.”
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “But a little respect might be nice. Or I’ll take you to the training grounds and kick your ass.”
She scowled. Unfortunately, this was a threat that carried some weight. Denal had been a warrior for longer than she’d been alive, because Atlanteans lived very long lifespans. He was unbelievably hot, in that “look at me and I’ll kill you” feral kind of hot way, but she hadn’t the slightest interest in bedding him. She just wanted to impress him.
To impress the king.
Great start, fool.
She abruptly knelt and inclined her head. “My apologies, your highness, if I have offended you. Well, of course I offended you. Gah. I mean, the throne up your ass thing might have come across worse in translation…”
She smacked her forehead. After muttering dire insults to the king, she was now questioning whether he could understand ancient Atlantean, the language of his royal ancestors.
Maybe she could stab herself in the kidney next and get the pain over with faster.
Conlan laughed.
He laughed?
“April. For Poseidon’s sake, get up. And if you call me ‘your highness’ again, I’ll be the one kicking your ass on the training grounds. My sword play is a little rusty these days, but I can take on a youngling like you.”
She leapt to her feet, a hot rush of denial searing up her throat, ready to boil forth in a mass of words, when her brain kicked in: He’d said a youngling.
Not a female.
She was a youngling, compared to his five hundred or so years, so it would be ridiculous to be offended, and she was getting tired of looking for offense from every corner. She’d made it—she’d been accepted into Poseidon’s Warriors, even if on a misfit kind of team.
“Look.” Denal strode over to her and poked her in the shoulder. Hard. “Try not to be a jerk. I’m telling you, as the head of this insane team of misfits, that you’re going to be an ambassador to the wolves.”
She refrained from poking him back and gave herself a hundred points for her massive amount of restraint. “For how long?”
“A year.” Denal studied her face and then glanced at the king, whose face was impassive. This was Denal’s decision, then.
“Six weeks,” she countered, without much hope, but it was fun to watch that nerve in Denal’s jaw jump.
“Six months, and if you argue with me again, it’s going to go back to a year,” he said, his eyes narrowing.
“I’ll take it.”
“Good call.”
The king stood up and stretched. “I have politics to play, crushing boredom to endure. Or maybe I’ll go chase my son around the garden for a while. April, do a good job. If you put me in the middle of the wolves’ civil war, we’re going to have a problem.”
His eyes darkened, and the genial king façade disappeared, so that April saw the dangerous predator lurking beneath. Conlan had been a fierce warrior for hundreds of years before he took the throne, and she could tell that nothing had changed.
“Yes, your highness,” she stammered, taking a step back.
Conlan’s face lit up with a huge grin. “You did it! I warned you. Now you can meet me on the training grounds in an hour for a bout. You’d better warm up your sword arm, warrior, because I’m not holding back.”
Denal groaned. “Don’t hurt my newest team member, Conlan. Do you know how hard it is to find good fighters?”
April blinked. He thought she was a good fighter?
“It’s not hard at all,” the king said, his calm voice completely at odds with his narrowed eyes. “Or else somebody at the younglings’ training academy needs to lose his or her job.”
Denal raised his hands. “Fine. It’s not hard to find good fighters, but it’s hard to find people with the skills and temperament to be one of Poseidon’s finest, as you well know.”
He thought she had the skills and temperament to be one of Poseidon’s finest?
April swallowed. This meeting hadn’t gone at all like she’d imagined. She’d thought she was going to be booted off the team. Instead, she found out she was one of Poseidon’s finest, who was going to be an ambassador to the European wolves, after she sparred with the king.
She needed a drink.
Conlan pointed at her. “One hour. Be there or I’ll track you down.”
She nodded to them both and then walked out of the room. Maybe she’d have that drink after her sword fight…
With the king.
Of Atlantis.
In one hour.
She started running.


Author Bio:
Alyssa Day is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than forty novels filled with kissing, laughter, mystery and magic. Alyssa's paranormal series include the Poseidon's Warriors and Cardinal Witches paranormal romances and the Tiger's Eye Mysteries paranormal mysteries. In an Alyssa Day book, the good guys (and gals!) always win and happily ever after always prevails!
Alyssa's many awards include Romance Writers of America's prestigious RITA award for outstanding romance fiction, and the RT Reviewer's Choice Award for Best Paranormal Romance novel of 2012. Her books have been translated into a zillion languages but she's still holding out for Klingon.

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Monday, November 12, 2018

Book blitz for Celestia


Celestia
Yumoyori Wilson
(Unicorn Blessed Chronicles #4)
Publication date: November 11th 2018
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance
The Darkness is always portrayed as evil, but what if the Darkness simply wants to be accepted like any other element? To be…good and save humans and shifters alike?
Celestia Rainbow goes from the lands of the living to another realm far darker and more depressing than she’d ever imagined. Not only does she have to accept the darkness inside her, she must now change her perspective and realize that there are two sides to every tale.
Without her men and family to assist, it’s time for Odion to help Celestia find the realtruth of who she is – or inevitably, who they all were in the past. A journey into the Dark World opens a door of memories and delivers all the answers she needs to be the unicorn shifter she was destined to be.
Time is running out as dimensions across the galaxies are being overtaken by the Darkness. It’s up to Aslan’s Elite Unicorn Shifter to use everything she’s discovered, reunite with her lovers, family, and trusty familiar, and save the world as they know it before it’s engulfed in black.
Will she be able to find her rainbow crown and fulfill the true prophecy she was destined to achieve? Only one way to find out.
CELESTIA 4 is a new REVERSE HAREM, paranormal series. Recommended for 18+ audiences, containing mature sexual content, violence and strong language.



Author Bio:
Yumoyori Wilson is from Toronto, Ontario. She's a Full-time author who loves to write many different genres. On her down time, she bothers her Mom and likes to drink bubbletea while reading and playing video games.


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The Water is Wide book tour!


THE WATER IS WIDE by Laura Vosika, Time Travel/Historical Fiction, 451 pp., $16.99 (paperback) $4.99 (kindle)


Title: THE WATER IS WIDE Author: Laura Vosika Publisher: Gabriel’s Horn Press Pages: 451 Genre: Time Travel/Historical Fiction

After his failure to escape back to his own time, Shawn is sent with Niall on the Bruce’s business. They criss-cross Scotland and northern England, working for the Bruce and James Douglas, as they seek ways to get Shawn home to Amy and his own time.

Returning from the Bruce’s business, to Glenmirril, Shawn finally meets the mysterious Christina. Despite his vow to finally be faithful to Amy, his feelings for Christina grow.

In modern Scotland, having already told Angus she’s pregnant, Amy must now tell him Shawn is alive and well—in medieval Scotland. Together, they seek a way to bring him back across time.
They are pursued by Simon Beaumont, esteemed knight in the service of King Edward, has also passed between times. Having learned that Amy’s son will kill him—he seeks to kill the infant James first.

The book concludes with MacDougall’s attack on Glenmirril, Amy and Angus’s race to be there and Shawn’s attempt to reach the mysterious tower through the battling armies.

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As the shadows lengthened, Shawn cleared his throat. “Any thoughts on where to spend the night? Is there a Holiday Inn around here?”
“There’s no inn of any sort.”
“Yeah, and that’s a problem,” Shawn said, “because last time I slept in the great outdoors, a wolf climbed into bed with me, and it didn’t really end well for either of us.” He rubbed his thigh, where a long scar would forever remind him of the night.
“You did well.” Niall cocked a grin at him. “It almost makes me glad to have you at my side, despite your infernal complaining.” The sky over the leafy canopy grew grayer as they climbed another hill.
“I haven’t complained for half an hour, and considering I’m stuck with you, that’s pretty impressive.” An owl hooted, low and mournful. “I’m pretty sure that knocks a couple months off any Purgatory time I’d racked up.” The river crackled, cold water splashing against thin ice on the edges, beside them.
“Any time?” Niall chortled, a candle against the darkening wood. “You’ll be fortunate to get as high as Purgatory, and if you do, you’ve racked up so much time there, they’ll have to kick the rest of them straight into Heaven to make room for all the Purgatory you need!”
“I don’t think it works like....” Shawn stopped at the top of the hill, staring at the sight before them. “Holy ruins, Batman. What is that?”
Niall and his pony halted by his side. The animal tossed its head, and nuzzled Niall’s arm. Before them stretched a wide expanse of broken stone walls, stone buildings with mouths and eyes gaping wide in the twilight, on either side of a long road. One vast length of wall held numerous niches. Thirty yards away, crumbling walls enclosed rows of short, stout, stone posts. Beyond it, a stairway led down into a dark maw. Bushes sprang from cracks. Trees grew in and among the abandoned structures. Shadows stretched everywhere, as the sun sank, sending fiery orange and pink rays down the center road, lighting the mist that swirled along it.
“That,” said Niall with a smile, “is our inn. God provides.” He touched his heels to his pony, starting down the gentle slope.
Shawn coughed loudly. “Uh, yeah, He sure does. The question is what has He provided? What is this place?”
“A Roman fort.” Niall led his pony down the center path, the remains rising on either side. A bird called somewhere in the trees.
“The Roamin’ in.” Shawn used English for the last two words. “God has a sense of humor.”
Niall smiled, pointing to the stairs leading down. “There. ’Tis indoors.”
“It’s a pun,” Shawn clarified. “It’s a whole lot funnier if you see it spelled out.”
“No doubt,” Niall agreed. “Shall we gather firewood? Keep any more wolves from climbing in bed with you?”
“Yes, let’s. And what keeps away the ghosts of the Roman legionnaires? Or their victims?”
“One sight of your face ought to scare any spirits back to the underworld.”
“If that doesn’t work,” said Shawn, “your pathetic attempts at music will.”
“Perhaps you could brag of your exploits with women.” Niall grinned. “Even Hades is better than having to listen to that.”
Shawn laughed. “You’re jealous.”
They picked their way over the darkening path strewn with stones. In the trees above, an owl hooted.
“What happens tomorrow?” Shawn nodded at the limping pony.
Niall’s mouth was taut. “We hope he’s better. If not, we let him rest, and spend the time learning to play the lute. We’ve shelter, walls and a roof, which is more than we expected.”
They stopped before their intended room. Shawn sighed. It would do no good to stay in the open, but the stone structure, with its empty eyes and stone stairs descending into darkness, was hardly welcoming.
“We’ll need wood,” Niall said. They tethered the ponies to a tree springing up near the ruin, left the lute beside them, and set out to gather branches.
The sky was now deep blue, the ruins cloaked in shadow. A wolf howled in the distance. The air grew chillier as they worked, till a night among ghosts looked inviting, even homey, as long as it was warm. They piled the kindling on the lowest step outside their chosen abode, where it would warm the room, but send its smoke up into the sky. Niall scraped flint, and soon, they had flickering light by which to eat their hard bread and berries. Shawn settled back, content with his stomach less than empty, and pulled out the lute. He adjusted a couple tuning pegs, tried a few chords, and began one of the songs he’d played on guitar. Niall relaxed against another wall, watching his fingers, humming along. “Let me try,” he said at last. Shawn handed it over, giving instruction as Niall leaned over the strings, working his fingers into unfamiliar positions for chords, and picking out melodies.
Outside, a pony whickered. Niall and Shawn froze, looking to the doorway, where they could see only black night beyond the glowing fire. Niall laid the lute down gently. “We've been careless,” he said softly. They reached for their knives.
“I’m kind of hoping it’s only a ghost,” Shawn whispered back. The familiar tingle of adrenaline began, a tremoring of the nerves in his arms. His muscles tightened. “Do we wait for whoever it is to come in?”
Niall shook his head. “And wait for a whole army to come in on us? If I’m to die tonight, ’twill be fighting for my life.” He rose, back against the wall, and inched around till he stood pressed by the doorway, where the fire crackled. On the other side, Shawn did the same, his heart pounding hard. Niall pointed to his chest, then to Shawn, and held up fingers in a silent count: One. Two. Three.
He sprang over the small flames, into the night. Shawn leapt behind him, knife ready, heart beating triple time, nerves screaming! The fire threw shadows across the pony, who balked against his tether. Shawn saw nothing. But he heard the crack of a twig just beyond the light. He and Niall lunged. The single crack grew into a panicked flurry of rustling leaves, cracking twigs, branches snapping back in their faces as they gave chase. Shawn ducked and swerved, saw Niall ahead, veered, and suddenly, there was a pile of arms, legs. He dropped his knife.
“Get down!” Niall roared. Shawn threw himself to the ground, hands over his head.
All became silent for a heartbeat...two.
Then the forest erupted with sound!
“I didn’t mean you!” Niall said indignantly.
“I’ve done naught, Milord! Don’t kill me!”
Then Niall was laughing, great gusty roars of merriment. “Shawn, get up! You’re hiding from a boy!”
“Don’t kill me! I can help you! I can help your hobin, Milord!”
Shawn inched his hand from over his eyes to see the dark shape of Niall sitting astride a boy who managed to flounder, fight, and cower, all at once, while protesting. He climbed irritably to his feet. “You said get down!”
“I meant him.”
“You staged this because your lute-playing sucks!” Shawn threw back into the night. “You needed a distraction.”
“Thank goodness at least you can play a lute, because the way you fight, a mouse would have gotten the better of us!”
The boy looked back and forth between them. He stopped struggling. “Milord?”
Shawn realized both their faces were showing. He recoiled into shadow. Niall climbed to his feet, his knife at the ready. “Get up.”
“He’s just a boy,” Shawn sighed. “Put your knife away.”
“Aren’t we sending boys to war?” Niall asked. “What makes you think a boy can’t kill?”
Shawn had no answer. He could think only of the boys to whom he’d taught trombone, so many years ago in the future—boys in sports jerseys, with trimmed hair, worrying about who to ask to prom. This boy stood before them in tatters. He wrapped his arms around his skinny body. His hair hung past his shoulders. Clarence. His father’s killer, as he’d last seen him, flashed through Shawn’s mind. Yes, boys could kill. He didn’t want to believe this one would. He just didn’t want any more ugliness in his world.
“What’s your name?” Niall demanded.
“I have none,” the boy said.
“No name? How can you have no name?”
The boy shrugged. “My parents died long ago, my mother in childbirth, and my father in battle. A farrier found me and took me in. He didn’t know my name.”
“Surely he called you something?”
“Red.” The boy’s shivering increased.
“Niall,” Shawn said.
Niall pressed the boy, ignoring Shawn. “And why are you not with him now?”
“He was....” Red’s teeth clacked together. He clenched them tight, rubbing his hands up and down his arms, and tried again. “He was killed when the soldiers came through. I ran into the forest and hid. They were afraid to follow me into the ruins.”
“Niall, he’s cold.”
Niall’s knife remained pointed at the boy. “Which soldiers?”
“They were English, Milord. Meaning no offense, Milord.” His teeth clattered again. “If you’re English.”
“Niall!” Shawn stepped forward, his anger growing. “He’s just a kid! He’s about to....”
Before he finished, the boy collapsed. Shawn was under him, catching his sagging body before it hit the ground.

About the Author


Laura Vosika is a writer, poet, and musician. Her time travel series, The Blue Bells Chronicles, set in modern and medieval Scotland, has garnered praise and comparisons to writers as diverse as Diana Gabaldon and Dostoevsky. Her poetry has been published in The Moccasin and The Martin Lake Journal 2017.
She has been featured in newspapers, on radio, and TV, has spoken for regional book events, and hosted the radio program Books and Brews. She currently teaches writing at Minneapolis Community and Technical College.
As a musician, Laura has performed as on trombone, flute, and harp, in orchestras, and big bands. She lives in Brooklyn park with 5 of her 9 children, 3 cats, and an Irish Wolfhound.
Her latest book is the time travel/historical fiction, The Water is Wide.
WEBSITE & SOCIAL LINKS:
WEBSITE | TWITTER | FACEBOOK

Friday, November 9, 2018

Painless blog tour. Plus and excerpt and a giveaway


Painless
Marty Thornley
Publication date: January 12th 2018
Genres: Adult, Horror, Psychological Thriller
The debut psychological-horror novel from author Marty Thornley is a page-turning ride, a front row seat to a clinical trial gone horribly wrong.
For Greg Owens, this was supposed to be a chance to end years of backpain and escape his reliance on pain pills. If it all worked out, he could maybe even get back the life he left behind as the pills took control.
Instead, as the patients are cured of their physical pain, they encounter adifferent sort of pain building inside them – obsessive thoughts, depression, self-destruction. The side-effects grow worse, and the suspense ratchets tighter. The patients want answers and violent revenge, setting them on a collision course with a crazed doctor, determined to protect his life’s obsession.
What readers are saying…
“…most definitely a recommended read, though it’sprobably not the best choice for those with a weak stomach.”
Gruesome and twisted. Awesome!!!”
“OMG this book. Holy heck the gruesome descriptions of blood and gore and guts was SO RAD. I found myself cringing and fidgeting and yes, even feeling a bit nauseous in some spots – but totally in a GOOD WAY! Painless was exactly what I wanted in a super-unique, creepy, shocking horror-thriller.”

EXCERPT

Streams of smoke and steam rise into the sky from the burnt underside of a car, wrecked and resting on its roof. The heat of the engine and exhaust distorts the air above, and the metal crackles as it cools in the breeze of early morning.

1965 Cadillac Coupe De Ville. Black. It still has that new-car shine. Even with the wreckage of the crash, it is evident the car was cleaned and cared for. The tires, still spinning, slowly come to a stop.

A small hand reaches from the broken back window. A boy drags himself carefully out of the twisted, broken door. Blood drips from his scalp, down his face and onto his suit—disheveled from the crash but cleaned and ironed just a couple of hours ago.

He stands and, though only seven-years-old, stumbles and braces himself against the car like a drunk who just pulled himself out of his own wreck. For a moment he looks out into the distance.

It is quiet here.

The pine trees lining this lonely stretch of road are swayed by an almost silent wind. Behind the seemingly endless forest, snow-capped mountains stand indifferently.

A woman moans in pain.

The boy moves forward, making his way around the back of the car, bracing himself on the tail light, the license plate, the bumper. He rounds the corner to the driver's side. A woman's head and arms hang out of the driver's window. A pool of blood spreads around her.

"Mama?"

She tries to smile. Blood drips from her lips.

"Does it hurt?"

She reaches for the back of her neck. "I can't... get it..." Her fingers grasp a shard of metal that has pierced her spine. "Agh!"

The boy moves aside her hair, exposing an angled fragment of chrome window trim—embedded deep in her neck, its bent and twisted length shooting through a ragged and bleeding gash of skin. As his fingers brush against the shiny protrusion, she closes her eyes and clamps her mouth shut—refusing the pain and stifling a scream.

"I... need... you to... pull it..."

The boy tugs. The metal moves.

"AHHHHHHHH!"

The boy hesitates.

"PULL IT!"

He tugs again. The chrome spike slides out of her neck. Blood splashes off the end and splatters his face.

A serene calm washes over Mama's face.

"Thank you, baby. It doesn't hurt anymore."

"It doesn't?"

Mama smiles. Her hand reaches up, wiping the blood from her son's face with her thumb.

The boy smiles back.

Mama's hand goes limp and drops away. Mama's eyes gloss over.

"Mama?"

Mama is dead.

A drop of crimson pools at the tip of the sharp and twisted chrome, still held tightly in his fingers, finally building the critical mass to drip down into the dirt between his feet.

The boy stares down. Cold and calculating.


Author Bio:
Marty started writing short stories as a teenager, inspired as much by favorite booksand movies as the environment and characters that define the South Shore of Massachusetts. The pull of the movies dragged him first to film school and finally to Los Angeles, where he poked at the outskirts of the industry with screenplays and short films.
As his interest in a film career fizzled, he rebuilt himself bit-by-bit as a programmer. He spent the next decade building websites, finally realizing that something had been lost. His stories were collecting dust in the back of his brain while he sat through conference calls and code reviews.
So he returned to the woods of New England and the calming darkness under the trees. He returned to find the things that crawl in the undergrowth and turn them into words on the page. He dusted off one of his screenplays and turned it into his first novel. In the process, a dormant storyteller was awakened and is now seeking the next blank page to fill.

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Check out Destiny Fulfilled. Plus enter the giveaway

Destiny Fulfilled Laire McKinney Publication date: August 7th 2018 Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Romance Only love can save them… W...