Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Guest Post: Karen-Anne Stewart Author of Saving Rain

Title: Saving Rain
Author: Karen-Anne Stewart
Release date: January 31st, 2013
Genre:  Romantic Suspense
Tour: Irresistible Reads Book Tours


Book Description:
Raina has tried to forget her past, forget the pain, but when she finds herself staring straight into the fury blazing in her ex-boyfriend's eyes, her dark past comes rushing back. Furious with herself for actually having chosen someone like her father, she uses that anger to her advantage and fights for her life...and for her future that she prays will involve the man she can't seem to get out of her head. Kas is a natural leader, a fierce fighter, the type of man you send in when you need to get the job done. He is a courageous hero who is used to risking his own life to save others, but can he save the one who has captured his heart from her horrific past and the men who are hell-bent on destroying her? As Kas and Raina try to navigate through the twists and turns of a deviously intelligent human trafficking group, they find solace in each other's arms. Can they infiltrate the trafficker's tight ring, saving the innocent lives from imminent danger before it's too late?

Saving Rain is intended for readers 18 and older.


Guest Post - Human Trafficking:  It’s in Your Backyard

   This topic is not easy for me, in fact, it invokes a myriad of emotions that leaves me beyond furious and drained.  When I first began writing Saving Rain, I was horrified with the staggering information that I found researching sex slavery.  Human Trafficking is not limited to this form of slavery, but it is a large part of the depraving crime that is growing at an alarming rate. 
  I wanted to write a love story, a sweet romance where the man sweeps the woman off her feet, and they live happily ever after.  I mean, come on, isn’t that what everyone really wants…a love that transcends time?  But, the more I saw and read about trafficking and the handlers who commit the monstrosities, I just couldn’t turn my back on the subject, so the idea for Saving Rain: The First Novel in The Rain Trilogy was born. 
   Instead of the traditional love story, I delved into the darkness to write the beginning of this poignant story of domestic abuse,  human trafficking, and a beautiful, redeeming love.  It was equally important for me to show hope along with the dark issues, to show real fears, but also to show real strength and courage.  I was reduced to tears on numerous occasions throughout writing The Rain Trilogy, but, through my tears, I hope I helped to shed some light. 
   I highly recommend you do your own research on this subject, but be forewarned, it will change you.  The fact that people, actual living, breathing human beings made of the same flesh, blood, and tissue as you and I, are making a lucrative income from renting out and/or selling other human beings sickens and saddens me.  If you think that this happens in places that will never touch you, you are wrong; it is quite literally in many people’s backyards, right here in the United States. 
   The FBI governmental statistics shows that human sex trafficking is the most rapidly advancing business for organized crime.  This practice is not limited to adults; children are also beaten, starved, and forced into unimaginable atrocities.  I fully realize that this is not something you want to be reading about right now, trust me, it’s not something I want to be writing about right now, either.  In fact, I have probably already lost some readers by this point.  It’s easier for us to turn our heads, or turn the channel, when this subject is breached, and that’s understandable, it’s part of our self-preservation.  We don’t want to wrap our delicate psyches around something as ugly as this.  I know I certainly don’t, but that doesn’t change the fact that ugly exists, that it’s reach is way too close to my world, my neighborhood, my family!
   According to the SCTNow and research from the U.S. Department of Justice and the U.S. State Department, the tender age of 12 is the average age for a child to be entered into sex slavery.  Nearly 80% of the victims involved in human trafficking are female, and almost 50% of them are children.  In the United States, 300,000 minors are in danger of being subjected to this modern day sex slavery for monetary gain.
    The Rain Trilogy is my way of bringing such a sensitive subject to the hearts and awareness of as many readers as possible.  With that said, I did make the trilogy about hope, love, and thriving survival as well.  Raina has suffered a terrible childhood.  Kas finds the abducted and fights against the ever growing traffickers.  Together, they form a bond, create a healing love, and join forces to track the largest human trafficking ring in modern history.
   Although I tried to be very sensitive with the subject, not including any explicit rape scenes, I would not recommend this novel for anyone under the age of 18. There are scenes of violence and dark issues that are not suitable for children.  It sounds like I’m trying to talk you out of reading my book, doesn’t it?  On the contrary, I hope you read it, not only for awareness, but for the sweet love that develops between Kas and Raina.  I hope you read it, and the rest of The Rain Trilogy due to be released soon, to see the light that can come from the darkness.  
   I am happy to announce that the Human Trafficking Hotline will be in the back of the second and third novels of The Rain Trilogy.  My website,, has a link to the Polaris Project, which provides education and resources dealing with human trafficking.  I encourage you to check it out.  Together we can help stop human trafficking. 
   Speaking of my website, you can also read the first chapter of Saving Rain. Thank you.


Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Blog Tour for "The Path of the Fallen": Excerpt and Giveaway

Welcome to the third day of The Path of the Fallen blog tour. It will run until July 8th and will feature excerpts, new author interviews each day, character interviews, and a casting call by the author. But first, here is the obligatory blurb about the novel to settle you into this sprawling fantasy world:

Set against the backdrop of the tundra and a world desperate for hope, the journey of a young man, E'Malkai, will come to define a realm that has been broken by an evil that does not sleep. A bitter betrayal, and the inception of a war that will consume the world, forces E'Malkai to confront the past and undertake a pilgrimage that is his birthright. Follow him on his journey and be transformed. 

A few questions for the author:

What is the most demeaning thing said about you as a writer? 

Probably a whole variety of things that would make me cry myself to sleep, but none that I would share. People are going to love you and hate you for what you do. Best prepare yourself for it now.

How do you react to a bad review of one of your books? 

Read it, see if there is anything useful, and then flush it from memory. It is easier now than when I was first starting out. 

When are you going to write your autobiography? 

It has been in the works for a while, though it might turn into one of those 80% autobiography, 20% bullshit books.

Here be an excerpt for your enjoyment:


Fe’rein was an abysmal sight. Crimson and shadow energy cascaded around him as he descended from the skies of Culouth, death and blood materialized. He lowered himself through the atmosphere feet first, as if gravity really held some control over him. His dark black boots emerged as he set foot on the platform outside the Commerce Deliberation Hall. The powerful energy trail diminished like ash and fog; his features returned. His white suit was unfettered, as if he had done no more than take a leisurely walk down the street. 

The great balcony was a sight to behold. Golden railings ran the length of the three exterior sides. The interior wall was a tapestry of stained glass, ornate shapes and colors dancing across the crystalline surface. His feet clicked on the marble tiles. Strict arms were at his sides, as if restrained by some force. Hateful eyes directed forward, though a cruel smile crept onto his lips. As he approached the wall of tempered glass, a grand sound resonated in the open air. If Fe’rein had heard or cared at all, he chose not to show it outwardly so. 

“Fe’rein, you have returned unscathed,” called the voice.

Fe’rein regarded him with a critical eye. He did not bother to turn as he passed by the diminutive orderly whose name he had chosen not to remember. The orderly opened his mouth to say more, but Fe’rein had already continued on. The mion moved through the wall next to the metallic port. He remerged within the confines of the inner chambers of the highest echelons of the Deliberations, into the personal chambers of High Marshal Kyien.

The room was dark. An artificial tint made the room darker than it would have been otherwise. Despite the impressive floor space there was only one real piece of furniture: a steel desk at the far corner of the room. The base possessed no legs that were apparent from the front. Deep indentations were carved into it; each was accompanied by another and another, until they appeared as erratic scratches on the surface. 

“There is no need to degrade Jilen. He was merely greeting you as I had instructed.” The voice held power and influence––a tone of supreme confidence that was not readily found in such abundance, even in the overzealous confines of Culouth.

The walls were darkened as well. Fe’rein could make out the outlines of the Umordoc guards set shoulder to shoulder the length of the entire room, more than twenty-five in all. None of them were as intelligent as Elcites, nor were any of them so affectionately named. 

They were designated by letters and numbers randomly assigned within their divisions. Each carried the metallic pikes that the lower beings told stories of them possessing. Their eyes had a haunting amber color to them, as wolves did when they hunted in the night. 

Fe’rein stopped as he approached the table, behind which sat the High Marshal. The man’s face was a sneer no matter what angle it was perceived from. His stature was not as his voice suggested. He was almost a head shorter than Fe’rein, a fact that was amplified by their current positions. 

“You were successful.”

Fe’rein cocked his head and bowed slightly. 

“Though sloppy. The entire collective already knows of your exploits as if it had been broadcast all over the frequencies.” The High Marshal rose from his chair, his hands gripped one another behind his back. His gray suit flared out in the arms and legs as Fe’rein’s did. “You were instructed to kill those aboard, not to obliterate the entire installation.”

The man’s face flushed. His cheek muscles flexed as if to personify his anger, while Fe’rein remained as he was, uncaring. His face was impassive as he watched the smaller man. 

“Have you nothing to say?” challenged Kyien.

“They decided what was necessary, not you.” 

“They?” queried Kyien, the arch of his eyebrow rising.

“The word of the tribunal supersedes your own. I did as instructed. No more, no less.”

Kyien turned, resuming his seat behind the desk. He folded his hands and propped his face atop his arms, watching Fe’rein with a scornful snarl. “They speak to you directly now?”

Fe’rein merely looked at the man. 

“Then you believe that you can perceive their will?” His words were feverish. But he kept his voice low, restrained. The High Marshal knew what would happen if the wrath of the mion were incited. 

“They would have wished any indication…” 

He was cut off as Kyien leapt up from his seat once more and approached Fe’rein with an unbridled speed. The smaller man raised his hand as if to strike. Words rolled from his lips before he had thought them through completely. “You are a fool of a human,” he roared. 

Fe’rein caught his arm. His hand glowed as he did so, the energy seeping out like bloodied smoke and wrapping around the High Marshal’s arm. He lifted the squat Kyien into the air. The grimace on the High Marshal’s face grew exponentially as Fe’rein’s grip began to burn through the suit. A stomach-turning smell of boiling flesh flooded over the room. 

“Damn you, Ryan.”

Fe’rein’s eyes exploded into energy, as did the rest of his body. The Umordoc began to move, a light twitch of their feet. Yet, it was far too slow to catch a Creator, the mion, unprepared. He extended his free arm out behind him, not bothering to look. An undulating pillar of liquid energy burst from his outstretched palm. Taking in three Umordoc with one blast, the energy incinerated them to ash as soon as the beam passed over them. 

“Stop it, Ryan,” struggled Kyien. But as he looked into Fe’rein’s eyes, he saw the anger, the hatred, and realized that he had used his human name. He grimaced then, mostly from the pain, but more so from his stupidity at angering a Creator. “Stop this, Fe’rein.”

The energy receded as quickly as it had come. Fe’rein let Kyien fall back to his feet. Twisting his arm, the bones and metal there clicked against one another. They made a cracking sound with each turn of his wrist. “You forget your place, Kyien. I serve the Intelligence, not you.”

Kyien pressed the burnt flesh that had been underneath the grasp of Fe’rein. Looking ruefully at the mion, he grimaced. “Forgive my impertinence, Fe’rein. I was not myself. I trust then that the Resistance forces in the space station are no more?”

Fe’rein nodded in agreement. 

His unwavering posture was strange after witnessing the power that resided at his fingertips, the awesome energy he commanded with nothing more than a thought. The orderly remained huddled inside the far balcony entrance. His wary eyes watched as the room returned to the more pleasant darkness that had been there before Fe’rein’s outburst. 

“Jilen,” spoke Kyien, regaining his former confidence when addressing the cowering man. He eyed Fe’rein, though the mion did not bother to return the gaze. 

Jilen pushed himself to his feet and approached, shuffling them at first. The stern look from Kyien quickened his step. He moved alongside the desk, bowing and not even looking in the general direction of Fe’rein. 

“Yes, Kyien sien. How may I serve you?”

“Would you please escort the good councilman in, we now require his presence. The mion has arrived.” Jilen bowed and scuttled past Fe’rein. Disappearing past the Umordoc, he moved into the darkness of the council chambers. 

“Why do we require the councilman? His words are useless, and neither truth nor action comes from them,” commented Fe’rein with a frown. 

“Because there is a council. The citizens of Culouth may be sheep, Fe’rein, but they still like to believe they have a say. That belief originates from their spokesman, Augustine.”

Fe’rein blew air through his lips in distaste. Folding his arms across his chest, he moved about the room for the first time without violence. He faded back into the darkness near the balcony entrance.

“I would ask a favor of you. Do not be harsh with the good councilman, he scares rather easily,” commented Kyien as cautiously as he could without sacrificing his pride. 

“So be it,” the mion replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

The opposite doors slid open and Jilen appeared, scuttling across the floor in hurried steps as he had before. This time Augustine remained no more than a few paces at his back, his robes dragging on the floor. His robust face beaded with sweat from the minimal exertion of walking.

Kyien stood, spreading his arms wide. A smile crossed his face as he took in the approaching figure of the councilman, but not before looking across the chambers to the pacing, faint figure of Fe’rein. “My good friend Augustine, how nice of you to join me––us here.”

“Kyien sien, it is good to see you as well,” he replied stiffly, still not yet aware of Fe’rein’s presence. Jilen disappeared and reappeared with a flat-backed chair. The plush cushion at its bottom was a dark purple, the yellow-clawed globes at its feet were engraved with runic symbols of ancient languages. “Will M’iordi sien be joining us as well?”

Janel M’iordi was another member of the council. His position dealt more with the war maneuvers of the Culouth state. He served as Secretary to the Intelligence, a rank set just below High Marshal Kyien. “He will be joining us shortly, but I wished to speak with you about the nephew of the mion, the one called E’Malkai sien.”

“Yes, young E’Malkai sien. He is well, even though the meeting was sullied by that bumbling fool Fredrick. The drunken one who blathers on; he said some things about Fe’rein.”

Fe’rein came out from the shadows in a flash. He was next to Augustine so quickly that the large man leapt from his seat as if a ghost or specter had accosted him. “What did Fredrick say?” rasped Fe’rein with interest. 

His wide eyes subsided. Augustine evened out the twisted ends of his robes, his sweaty hands drying against the fabrics. “Nothing of consequence, my mion.”

“Let me be the judge of that, Augustine,” replied Fe’rein. His tone assured the councilman that he held him in no respect, his title meaning nothing in his eyes. 

“Of course, Fe’rein sien,” stuttered Augustine, casting a worried glance at the calm features of Kyien. The High Marshal allowed himself a smile as he watched another of power quiver beneath the mion. “He said that you were not a hero, not like Seth, I believe is what he said. I do not know of any Culouth warrior by such a name.”

“Nor would you,” snapped Fe’rein, ending the man’s words with a thin hiss. 

“Your nephew has accepted the trials. He seemed dispirited by the human’s words,” added Augustine, his fat face frowning in contemplation. 

“Fredrick’s words,” mused Fe’rein, eyeing the reluctant councilman.

“A ward of a mion has not been chosen for a thousand years, perhaps a thousand’s thousand. Nor has there been a Creator for near as long,” spoke Kyien, sensing that Fe’rein’s already dark mood threatened to grow worse after hearing the councilman’s words. 

Jilen approached the table; his hunched shoulders slackened since Fe’rein had returned to the far shadows of the room. “Secretary M’iordi has arrived, my sien. He asks for an audience with you,” spoke Jilen, his head bowed, body lowered to one knee. 

“Show him in, Aide Jilen.”

“As you wish, Kyien sien.” 

Jilen disappeared as quickly as he had come. Silence descended upon the three of them. Fe’rein’s anger manifested as the dark energy billowed off him, lighting the shadow with the blood red of his power. 

“Is it true that the Harbinger has been destroyed?” queried Augustine, trying to break the tense silence that had wound itself around the three men.

Fe’rein did not look up, but instead fader deeper into his thoughts of E’Malkai and Fredrick. His cold eyes permeated the darkness, sending a shiver over the portly councilman as he averted his gaze back to Kyien. 

“It was indeed, though it was necessary in order to seal away any indication of the Resistance,” replied Kyien, choosing his words carefully. He felt the power that he wielded sapped by the mere presence of Fe’rein. He could feel that the mion had his eyes on him at all times, listening, seeking out those who were not worthy. “There is little left of them now. They hide in the streets and here among us, chameleons that they are.”

“They will not for long, High Marshal Kyien.” The voice came from the direction in which Jilen had exited. The shadow broke, and a man strode forth, sauntering. His lank frame was taller than Kyien’s. Although his waistline possessed much less girth than the High Marshal’s, he still had much wider shoulders.

M’iordi had stark white hair, as white as the garb Fe’rein wore. His eyes were blue globes, and his pale skin was freckled. He extended his hand across the desk to Kyien as he came in range, waving away Jilen who had brought a seat for the Secretary. 

“Kyien sien, you look well,” he offered. His accent was lighter than any of the others and then turning to Augustine, he bowed slightly. “Councilman Augustine, you look well-fed.”

They all laughed, even Augustine, though his faded the quickest. He watched the lank Secretary with a distasteful glare. Kyien leaned back into his chair and gestured to the shadow, his fingers twitching under the cold glare of Fe’rein. 

“You, of course, know Fe’rein.”

M’iordi bowed, interrupting Kyien. “My mion.”

“You look well, M’iordi,” returned Fe’rein, stepping out from the shadow. His thoughts lost for the moment. A twinge of a smile crossed his face, the canyon of his scar twisting as he did so. 

“Only through your graces, my mion.” 

M’iordi remained bowed as he spoke. 

Fe’rein stepped forward. He placed a gentle hand on him before he spoke again. “Call me Fe’rein. If the others see fit to do so, then so shall you,” replied Fe’rein as amiably as he could muster. 

“Of course, Fe’rein. There is talk that your victory was complete; that their base is no more and the day of their meddling will soon come to an end. Is this true, my mion?”

“Fe’rein has…” began Kyien. 

The dark demigod silenced him with a wave of his hand. The High Marshal bowed, although his contempt was not lost on the others. “Yes, there were some there, even Marion. I doubt that they were based there. It is my belief that the base was merely a diversion. It matters little, for it was necessary to make an example of their impertinence. The destruction of the space station was an unfortunate side effect––an effect that has seemed to create a rather heightened state of affairs here within the city.” 

Kyien looked on with surprise, Augustine as well. It was well known that Fe’rein rarely spoke at length, and to hear it in person was something of a memorable occasion. Many spoke of the trust between Fe’rein and M’iordi; a bond built on the distrust of the hierarchy of the Culouth Commerce. 

“A decoy in space to draw you away from the city? To what end?” queried M’iordi incredulously. His concern and surprise were not as heartfelt as they seemed, but the others went on whether they noticed or not. 

“There is a belief that they wish to strike Fe’rein’s own blood, to attack a blood relative of a Creator. How foolish. E’Malkai, sien of the House of Di’letirich, has been advised of a possible attack, yet he and Leane ilsen seemed rather unconcerned with it all,” replied Augustine, the jowls of his face swaying as he spoke. 

“Then the rumor that the young sien of the House of Di’letirich is to take on the trials of Tal’marath is true. What do we hope to accomplish from this?” continued M’iordi, pacing behind Fe’rein. 

“A ward of a mion is granted powers, so it is written. To have another powerful force aligned with us will be a great help as the Resistance continues to gather followers to its cause with each passing day,” explained Kyien. He laced his hands together and placed them on his chest, leaning back in his chair. 

“Do you believe this as well, Fe’rein?” queried M’iordi as he turned to the stoic mion. 

“There is certainly a possibility. There are those who doubted I would become what I am, yet here I stand. I believe that what was written possesses the same power now as it did then in the cradle of its birth,” replied Fe’rein, his arms crossed in front of his chest. 

“There are also those who say you do not deserve the gift that you have received,” spoke Augustine. His eyes glazed and he stared forward, his lips moving mechanically. 

Fe’rein was beside him with such deftness that neither M’iordi nor Kyien had the skill to follow. “What did you say, Augustine?” queried Fe’rein with a deepening scowl. 

“You do not deserve the power that you took,” echoed another’s voice through Augustine. The robust man was no longer himself. “Seth Armen, son of Evan, was to inherit the mantle of the Believer, not Ryan, son of Evan, desecrator of the power.”

M’iordi took a step back, gasping. He held his hand over his mouth in horror. Kyien rose from his seat, drawing a weapon from underneath his desk. The sidearm was twice as large as the High Marshal’s hand. He held it unsteadily as Augustine stood from his chair, throwing it aside and pointing a putrid finger at Fe’rein. 

“This is not over, another will see you fall.” Those were the last words as a blue light fell over Augustine. It consumed him, bathing him in unnatural energy and then dissipated in a flash of light. The heavy councilman dropped to the ground with a colossal thud, sprawling him out on his stomach. 

Fe’rein remained were he stood; his face showing as much surprise as he would allow himself. M’iordi and Kyien ran past him to the side of the fallen councilman, jostling him. He opened his eyelids and looked at them with a hazy, glassy stare. 

“What happened?” he asked as he wobbled, trying to get to his feet. He fell back to a sitting position with an uncomfortable groan. 

“Shaman,” whispered Fe’rein.

“Fe’rein, what was that?” spoke Kyien. 

“What is it that you remember, Augustine?” responded Fe’rein, not bothering to turn or answer the High Marshal’s question. 

Kyien’s eyes were aflame again, his passions getting the better part of him as he stormed toward Fe’rein. He paused, his shoulders shrugging as Fe’rein turned to face him. His cold stare reduced him to a child once more. 

“Answer my question, Augustine. Do not think, just speak what you remember. The words that still linger,” continued Fe’rein, standing over Kyien. His eyes swirled with liquid shadow and flame. 

Augustine shook his head. His hands trembled. “I––ah…”

“Speak, do not think,” commanded Fe’rein with considerable force behind his words. 

“Seth Armen of the Fallen. The true herald of the Believer,” replied Augustine with shame. He lowered his eyes away from Fe’rein, a whimper escaping his lips. 

“Fear not Augustine, I do not blame you. This was not your doing,” spoke Fe’rein with a sigh, as though a fantastic weight had been placed on him. “There is another at work here.”

“Are we in danger?” asked Kyien, placing his hands on his desk for support as he rounded it. “Will this voice come again?”

“I doubt that he would risk it again, but he came for me. He wished to speak to me and did so through Augustine,” returned Fe’rein with disgust plastered across his features.

He turned now, fading into the darkness, leaving the others to care for Augustine. His voice floated back over the shadow and his words froze their hearts. “If this being returns, it will be the end of Culouth and all those who serve the Intelligence.”

Bio: A psychologist, author, editor, philosopher, martial artist, and skeptic, he has published several novels and currently has many in print, including: The End of the World Playlist, Bitten, The Journey, The Ocean and the Hourglass, The Path of the Fallen, The Portent, and Cerulean Dreams. Follow him on Twitter (@AuthorDanOBrien) or visit his blog He recently started a consultation business. You can find more information about it here:

Would you like to win a copy of The Path of the Fallen?

All you have to do is comment on a post during the tour. Two randomly drawn commenters will be awarded either a physical or digital copy of The Path of the Fallen.

Visit and follow the blog for a chance to win a Kindle Fire!

Cover Reveal: Nomad by J.L. Bryan

NOMAD a BRAND NEW release 
J.L. Bryan, author of Jenny Pox (The Paranormals) series & The Songs of Magic series

Book Details:

NOMAD by JL Bryan
Expected publication: July 26th 2013

They took everything: her family, her home, her childhood.

By the age of nineteen, Raven has spent most of her life in the sprawling slums of America, fighting as a rebel against the dictatorship. When the rebellion steals an experimental time-travel device, she travels back five decades to the year 2013. Her plan: assassinate the future dictator when he is still young and vulnerable, long before he comes to power. She must move fast to reshape history, because agents from her own time are on her trail, ready to execute her on sight.

Author Bio:

J.L. Bryan studied English literature at the University of Georgia and at Oxford, with a focus on English Renaissance and Romantic literature. He also studied screenwriting at UCLA. He lives in Atlanta with his wife Christina, dogs Violet and Tiger Lily, and cats Shadow and Sue. 

Monday, June 24, 2013

Cover Reveal: Wicked Hunger by DelSheree Gladden

Book Title: Wicked Hunger
Series: SomeOne Wicked This Way Comes
Author: DelSheree Gladden
Release Date: July 9th
Genre: YA Urban Fantasy
Length: 95,000 words/240 pages
Publisher: GMTA Publishing LLC
Presented by: As You Wish Tours


Vanessa and Zander Roth are good at lying. They have to be when they are hiding a deadly secret. Day after day, they struggle to rein in their uncontrollable hunger for pain and suffering in order to live normal lives. Things only get worse when Ivy Guerra appears with her pink-striped hair and secrets. The vicious hunger Ivy inspires is frightening, not to mention suspicious.

Vanessa’s instincts are rarely wrong, so when they tell her that Ivy’s appearance is a sign of bad things to come, she listens. She becomes determined to expose Ivy’s secrets. Vanessa tries to warn her brother, but Zander is too enamored with Ivy to pay attention to her conspiracy theories.

One of them is right about Ivy … but if they lose control of their hunger, it won’t matter who is right and who is wrong. One little slip, and they’ll all be dead.


Vanessa and Zander Roth have spent their lives battling an uncontrollable hunger for pain and suffering that will either gain them limitless power or lead them to their deaths.

DelSheree Gladden lives in New Mexico with her husband and two children. The Southwest is a big influence in her writing because of its culture, beauty, and mythology. Local folk lore is strongly rooted in her writing, particularly ideas of prophecy, destiny, and talents born from natural abilities. When she is not writing, DelSheree is usually teaching yoga, coaching gymnastics, reading, painting, sewing, or working as a Dental Hygienist. Her works include Escaping Fate, Twin Souls Saga, and The Destroyer Trilogy. DelSheree's newest series, The SomeOne Wicked This Way Come series, follows Vanessa and Zander Roth, siblings with an uncontrollable hunger for pain and suffering that will either gain them limitless power or lead them to their deaths.


Friday, June 21, 2013

Cover Reveal: Perfecting Patience by Tabatha Vargo

Title: Perfecting Patience
Author: Tabatha Vargo
Release Date: July 22, 2013
Genre: New Adult / Contemporary Romance
Presented by: As You Wish Tours


Sometimes happy endings are just the beginning of an even harder road.

Although her aunt and sister believe she should get help to deal with her past demons, Patience believes the only thing she needs is Zeke. When he comes back into her world, her life couldn’t be more perfect. Except old demons pick the worst time to surface, and once again their happiness is threatened. Help was never a necessity, but Patience finds out that love isn’t always all you need.

Zeke’s dealt with a lot in his life, but nothing could prepare him for watching the person he loves fall apart. Patience is different, she’s not the girl he came to love. He's willing to do whatever it takes to get her back, but a budding music career and his own demons seem to keep getting in the way. How can you help someone else when you can barely help yourself? Once again Zeke is faced with deciding between his future and the future of Patience.


Turning in his arms to face him, I took in his softly sleeping face. His mouth was slightly open and his long dark lashes relaxed against his high cheekbones. Running a finger down the side of his face earned me a deep husky moan. It was the sexiest thing I’d ever heard. His facial hair felt like warm velvet against my cheek as I leaned in and pressed a tiny kiss on the corner of his mouth.

I backed away, expecting to continue to watch him sleep, but he followed me up with his eyes still closed and started to kiss me. Again he moaned when I allowed him access and he slipped his tongue into my mouth. Flipping me onto my back, his naked body covered mine. The white sheet tangled around our bodies as he pressed himself to mine.

His hand worked its way up my side brushing against my breast and I released a tiny sound into his mouth. His hand continued its journey until he rested it against the side of my neck. Tattooed fingers dug into the hairs on the back of my neck as he invaded my mouth with Zeke sweetness.

Pulling away, he gazed down at me with sleepy eyes and a lazy grin.

“You woke us up.” His voice was rough with sleep.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, “Us?”

Looking down between our bodies, he looked back up at me with a smile as he pressed his hips into mine. Hard heat that pushed into my thigh and I lifted my hips for more. He smiled down at me and shifted the hair out of his eyes.

“Yes… us. I’m okay in the morning, but the prick downstairs will take a jab at you if you wake him up.

Tabatha's been writing since she could pick up a pencil. Her first publication was a little poem in her elementary school paper, from that point on she was hooked. When she was a teenager, she traded in her girly magazines for personalized writing notebooks.

At nineteen, she met her own personal prince charming and writing took a back burner for a while. She's now married to that prince and the mother of a beautiful seven-year-old princess/rock star. Once her daughter was born, writing came back into her life, and she finished her very first novel, Wicked Fate, in May of 2009.

She's now pursuing her English degree and she hopes to one day teach while continuing to write.


Thursday, June 20, 2013

Feature Follow # 7

                           Alison Can Read Feature & Follow

Feature Follow is a weekly blog hop. For more information and to join go to Parajunkee'sblog or Alison Can Read's Blog This weekly feature is all about meeting new bloggers and making new friends. Post a comment on this post saying that you're a follower and I will follow back.

Q: Activity: Favorite Literary Quote

None that I could think of at the moment but I do remember some good ones from "Runes" and "Holding on and Letting Go" but I don't know the exact quotes.

Review and author interview "Holding on and letting go"

My Review for Runes

Also Watch the Runes book trailer


Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Cover Reveal: The Swan Bonnet by Katherine L. Holmes

Book Title: The Swan Bonnet
Author: Katherine L. Holmes
Release Date: July 16, 2013
Genre: YA Historical Fiction
Presented by: As You Wish Tours


Unbeknown to Dawn, her grandfather has shot an old swan out of mercy. In their coastal Alaskan town, her father buys the swan pelt, preventing her Uncle Alex, a fur trader, from selling it for export. Dawn’s father surprises her part-Aleut mother with a hat she helped to make and also with an idea to catch poachers. Shooting swans has become illegal but Alaska is a territory and Prohibition occupies the Sheriff. Dawn and her mother become involved with the suspicious effects of the swan bonnet besides its haunting effect. Because Dawn’s grandparents see the swans first, Dawn agrees to secretly watch the migration with the deputy sheriff’s son. But after she and her mother encounter women from a ship and find out about a hunting party, they ride to the inlet. There are townspeople roving the shore too but who is the vigilante and who is the poacher?

Katherine L. Holmes’ first published book was The House in Windward Leaves, an MG fantasy which became an E-book Finalist in the 2013 New Generation Indie Book Awards and a Juvenile Fiction Finalist in the National Indie Excellence Book Awards. Also, she won Prize Americana for her short story collection, Curiosity Killed the Sphinx and Other Stories, published by Hollywood Books International. In April 2013, The Wide Awake Loons was released by Silver Knight Publishing. The Swan Bonnet, a historical novel, will be published in July, 2013, by GMTA Publishing. Katherine has worked with used and rare books in the last years. She lives in Duluth, Minnesota.


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Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Release Event: The Mirror by Candace Bowser

Book Title:  The Mirror
Author:  Candace L. Bowser
Release Date:  June 18, 2013
Genre:  Paranormal Romance/Horror
Length:  280 Pages
Publisher:  GMTA Publishing LLC
Presented by:  As You Wish Tours


Adrianna Bristol stood before her grandmother's antique mirror and stared at the black velvet cloth covering it. She just couldn't believe her nana was gone. The mirror had hung in that exact same spot for the last twenty years, never once had it been moved from the alcove. Adrianna remembered the stern words of her grandmother when she was a child. Annabel Bristol had told her, "promise me Adrianna that you will never uncover the mirror. No matter what it may whisper to you, you must never remove the cover." Adrianna laid her hand against the cool velvet which covered the glass. As she walked away the mirror whispered to her, "you belong to me now. You belong to me." A four hundred year old curse has  plagued the Bristol family since the 1600's. A curse born out of a love so rich and a betrayal so deep, that time itself has no power to stop it. Only Adrianna has the courage to find the truth behind the curse and set her family free. But will the Mirror release its darkest secrets?


My dreams were of Tuscany. I stood on the balcony of a villa overlooking fields and fields of grapes and olives. Sheep grazed on the lower terraces and the terrain was as green and vibrant as any I had seen. A young girl was playing in the vineyards, running in between the rows. Her dress was long and flowing with an empire waist. She obviously was a child born into wealth by the fine quality of her clothing and could not have been more than five years old. My eyes followed her as she came to the house and went inside. She stopped momentarily in front of the mirror and whispered something but I couldn’t understand her. I watched as she reached to touch the glass.
I awoke abruptly unable to catch my breath and covered in sweat. The mirror the little girl reached to touch was the same mirror hanging downstairs. I grabbed my robe off the end of the bed and ran down the stairs. I stopped in front of the mirror wrapping my around me tightly.
“What do you want from me?” I whispered.
I stared into the mirror for a long time but it said nothing to me. Still no reflection was cast. I was hoping you would show me the little girl. The longer I stood there the more amusing the whole situation became.
            “Not only have I taken to talking to myself, I have started talking to inanimate objects like you. What kind of control do you exact? Is it purely the mystique that surrounds you that makes everyone believe you are cursed?” I spoke loudly in the hopes that if anyone was hiding in the house they would hear me.
Still nothing but silence surrounded me. I turned to go back upstairs and could have sworn an image appeared in the mirror out of the corner of my eye. I swirled back around quickly but nothing was there, just the mirror and nothing more. I decided to retrieve the book from nana’s room, bring it downstairs where the fire could be lit, and where reading in the parlor until morning broke would be more pleasurable.
            I had fallen asleep in my clothes and decided to change. A pair of blue jeans and a white blouse would suffice. I sat down at the dressing table and brushed my hair using one of the combs to pull my hair back from my face. Was my mother’s hair blonde like mine? Did she have green eyes the same as Sam and me? Sighing deeply with the book clutched tightly to my chest, I walked into the hallway and closed the door behind me. The front door burst open suddenly and a giant gust of wind blew into the house. The force of the wind was so great it took every ounce of strength to close it.
            That door was locked when I went to bed. How could the door have unlocked itself? No more chances. This time you get the deadbolt and the chain. I locked the door with the key and checked the knob to make sure it was still locked and it was. How could there not be someone else here with me? A locked door cannot just fly open on its own.
            The house was cold. The embers from last evening’s fire were long gone and building a fire would take too much time. I fumbled to find the matches and light the kerosene lamp with my hands still shaking. It took nearly five minutes to regain the composure needed to strike the match. My hands trembled as though I had no control over them. Nana’s shawl around me would help to ease my distress and allow me to sit down in the chair and resume reading about the woman and her child

An avid writer, Candace works nearly every day on one of her manuscripts. Though she predominately composes works of horror, she also writes mystery, suspense, and adventure. During the 1990’s she was a featured columnist for PRS in Kansas City. In 2011, Candace was honored by being voted one of the Top 20 Most Prolific Authors by AKG mag.. Her books are an unusual blend of historical places and events, along with fictional and non-fictional characters, which she seamlessly weaves into the story .Originally from south-central Pennsylvania, she currently resides in Kansas City with her husband Todd.




Guest Post by Jessica F.F. Evans Author of Flames

Title: Flames
Author: Jessica F.F. Evans
Release date: May 5th, 2013
Genre:  Romantic Suspense
Tour: Irresistible Reads Book Tours

Book Description: 
Seven years ago Jenna Farley left her hometown of Cedarville, Indiana and vowed never to look back. She created a thriving business and a quiet life on the sunny beaches of Gulf Shores, Alabama. But seven years and hundreds of miles can’t keep the nightmares of her past and visions of a hellish future from plaguing her dreams.

With the fate of her first love resting solely in her hands Jenna must go back to the town she despises and risk everything for a man who is not at all pleased to find her on his doorstep talking about a murderer on the loose and asking him to trust her.

Nathaniel McGregor has put many years and many women between him and the memory of the only woman he ever loved. Now she's back and doing what she does best. Turning his life upside down and warning him of an obsessed pyromaniac hell bent on killing him. Can he trust her? Does he even have a choice? The clock is ticking, both their lives are on the line and they must work together to stop a determined killer or die.


About the Author:
Jessica F.F. Evans lives in a little village in rural Indiana with her husband, daughter and crazy large family. She spends every chance she gets on the Gulf Coast. When not writing romance novels she enjoys woodturning, hiking and passing on her love of reading to her daughter.

Flames is her debut novel. Carry On is coming in September 2013 and is her second romantic suspense novel followed by her suspense novel: Under the Cajun Moon in December 2013 and her Young Adult novel: Lessons Learned by Arnold St. James in June 2014.

Guest Post - Nice Girl, Evil Villain

              Anyone who meets me generally describes me in one of four ways: polite, sweet, happy or very family oriented. So you can imagine that when they find out I write Romantic Suspense novels and read how truly twisted my antagonists are they don’t quite believe “Sweet Little Jessica” could have wrote that book. Well… “Sweet Little Jessica” didn’t write that book, there’s nothing sweet about writing those kind of characters. When I write I have to kind of shut off myself and get into the minds of the characters I’m creating. I have to develop a back story, figure out what motivates them and let them live on paper. I enjoy creating all my characters but my favorite part of writing Romantic Suspense is developing the villain.  As a “good girl” I can honestly say there’s something that is so fun about creating a character that is so bad.
            The antagonist brings a lot to the table when you’re writing Romantic Suspense novels. They usually serve as a catalyst in the main characters’ relationship. They keep your audience at the edge of their seat waiting to see what happens next. And don’t discredit how important it is to have someone your audience can root against especially in this genre. Romantic Suspense could never be Romantic Suspense without a strong, believable antagonist. So if you find yourself venturing into depths of writing in this genre remember that your antagonist had better be very well developed.
            Every author has their own way of developing their characters.  I research. I observe. I chart. Only when I know every random fact, quirk and motivation about the character I’m writing do I allow myself to kind of get into my character’s head. That’s when those characters seem to come alive and the plot of my novels begin to form. My writing style is a bit of a combination between completely mapped out and free-flowing. My characters are very much planned but the story they take me on is all their own and I usually find myself veering off in a totally different direction than I had originally planned.
I really found myself intrigued by my plot in my recent novel: Flames. The antagonist was truly an awful person and I found myself wanting for there to be some kind of justice for the victims. But more than anything I wanted something good to come out of such an awful situation. In real life bad things happen to good people all the time and all too often there is no sense of justice for the victims. The beauty of being a writer is that you can create that justice for your characters.
I guess that’s why I enjoy being a writer so much. I get to create the kind of world on paper that I would have liked to see in reality. The kind of world where good always triumphs. And I guess that’s why this nice girl loves writing such awful villains. Because the more twisted the villain the sweeter it is to watch them fall.

Much Love and Kind Regards,
Jessica F.F. Evans

Thanks Jessica for a great post!

Review: Beasts Of The Frozen Sun by Jill Criswell

Title: Beasts Of The Frozen Sun Author: Jill Criswell Series: Frozen Sun Saga #1 Genre: YA Fantasy Publishing Date: August 6, 2...