Category Archives: Excerpt

Giveaway – Kiss Of Darkness by Taylor Aston White @Tayastonwhite @XpressoTours

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Kiss of Darkness
Taylor Aston White
(Curse of the Guardians, #1)
Publication date: May 5th 2022
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

He despises her… almost as much as his beast craves her.

Kyra’s seen and survived the worst things imaginable, all because of the magic she was born with. Trapped by her secret, she has no choice but to serve Councilman Gallagher or risk everything she has tried so hard to build. Because despite black magic being banned, her very survival depends on it.

When she’s commanded to summon a Daemon, a Breed notorious for their corruption and brutality, she’s torn between keeping her secret and doing the right thing.

Xander’s hate for black witches was notorious, but nothing frustrated him more than the one witch that brings trouble with a capital T. With dark amber eyes, and a controlled strength that fascinated his beast – the monster he’s cursed to share a soul – Xander will do anything to push her away.

So when he’s forced into protecting her, he must put aside his prejudice and ignore his growing desire that’s an insult to his past.

Because he’s had an entire childhood to remember why you can’t trust black witches.

And he definitely can’t trust Kyra Farzan.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

“Little girls shouldn’t be here.” A hand struck out, carefully circling her wrist with enough pressure to stop her, but not enough to hurt.

Kyra paused, the coin at the edge of the slot. She looked up, and Xander removed his sunglasses.

“That’s a rude comment,” she said, trying to tug from his grasp.

His mouth twisted, pale eyes narrowed as he released her wrist, only to grip her jaw. He angled her face against the light, her lip stinging when she frowned.

“What are you doing here, Kyra?” His white silver hair, just long enough to cover his unusually dark brows moved across his forehead, partially concealing his expression.

“Minding my own business!” she snapped, but the steel behind her reply lessened when she met his eyes, and flinched. “Don’t touch me.” The words came out quiet, desperate. His eyes had been blue, she was sure of it, yet she could see her own reflection in his irises made from a liquid silver.

His fingers opened, and she stumbled back, breathing heavily. She needed to get out of there before she suffered a full panic attack. Xander was just too much, his gaze too direct as she tried to look anywhere but him.

“Black witch,” he grunted, as if she were tainted.

Which she wasn’t, but she couldn’t explain why he was wrong. He wouldn’t care either way, his opinion on her already set in stone, and had been since they first met. Black witches were seen as evil because of their ability to gain power from death, and while many embraced that sordid side of magic it didn’t mean they were all evil. It did, however, make them illegal.

Ignoring him, or at least trying to as he seemed to press himself closer, always pushing her boundaries, she inserted the Ravyn into the slot, the portal opening with a flash of light. He said nothing as she stepped through, the package hugged tight to her chest, and as soon as the portal closed behind her she released a sigh of relief.

Author Bio:

Taylor Aston White loves to explore mythology and European faerie tales to create her own, modern magic world. She collects crystals, house plants and dark lipstick, and has two young children who like to ‘help’ with her writing by slamming their hands across the keyboard.

After working several uncreative jobs and one super creative one, she decided to become a full-time author and now spends the majority of her time between her children and writing the weird and wonderful stories that pop into her head.

Website / Goodreads / Twitter / Instagram / Bookbub


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Giveaway – The Omen Of Crows Nest by Cathrina Constantine @cathconstantine @XpressoTours

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The Omen of Crows Nest
Cathrina Constantine
Publication date: May 4th 2022
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult

No blood. No body. No murder.

That’s what the police found after Penelope spun her bizarre tale. In a hysterical state, she said her father was butchered and eaten by a mob of birds ~ in her bedroom.

They claim she’s crazy.
That she suffers from delusions.
Penelope is dead set on proving them wrong.

After being institutionalized for eight months, Penelope is out and more determined than ever to find answers to her so-called hallucinations. With her father’s untimely disappearance, she’s convinced her family is hiding something sinister.

THE OMEN OF CROWS NEST is the latest masterpiece by the award-winning author Cathrina Constantine, and is sure to leave fans of fantasy gasping!

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

The electrodes in my brain were like a loop recorder, continuously dredging up the past. And problematic for the psychiatrist at Green Fields Sanitarium, who was in the process of rewiring me.

Bear with me as I digress: I witnessed the gruesome death of my father by a mob of birds. I know what you’re picturing: A scene from Alfred Hitchcock’s horror movie The Birds. Not exactly like the movie, it happened in my bedroom. An aberration that my brain conjured, so they say.

Gramma had reinforced Dad’s untimely disappearance to the police. After the thunderstorm he’d raced to catch a late flight. An overseas business trip. Lacking evidence of any misdeeds, no mutilations as I’d described, the police had nothing to go on besides a batshit crazy kid. I experienced a daymare, a delusion, and it hadn’t been the first time, so said Gramma.

Afterward, Mom spent a week in bed, purporting she had a bug. She couldn’t keep anything down and stopped eating. I noticed her yellowy sick skin and hair matted as if a brush hadn’t made contact in weeks.

Thirteen days passed at a snail’s pace since that night. I was in the library’s alcove, my daily vigil, half-expecting Dad to come strolling up the cobbled walkway. My fretfulness heightening because I’d spilled my guts to my best friend, Hillary, telling her everything. If she repeated it to anyone, the repercussions would come back to bite me.

Author Bio:

I am blessed with a loving family and forever friends. My world revolves around them.

I grew up in the small village of Lancaster, NY, where I married my sweetheart. I’m devoted to raising 5 cherished children, and now my grandchildren.

I love to immerse myself in great books of every kind of genre, which helps me to write purely for entertainment, and hopefully to inspire readers. When not stationed at my computer you can find me in the woods taking long walks with my dog.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Bookbub


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Giveaway – Chase Her by Kelly Finley @XpressoTours

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Chase Her
Kelly Finley
(Come For Me, #3)
Publication date: April 21st 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Suspense

Famous. Imposing. Mysterious. Daniel Pierce hides so much behind his A-list celebrity fame. Has that secret and that fame cost him the love of his life? The most incredible woman he’d ever met?

A force to be reckoned with, Charlie Ravenel was never supposed to fall in love with him—the one man she shouldn’t. While she followed no man’s rules, he convinced her to follow her heart. And him. Together they found a life of such promise, such passion… but also grave threats.

Did he commit the worst sin? Doubting her strength, her mission and her darkest fear? He loves her so much, he will chase that answer to the very end. Because their love was destined; a fierce desire they couldn’t resist.

And now the consequence, the collision of every force. A perfect storm. Of secrets revealed. Of pasts returned. Of the question everyone dares to ask…

Does love survive… even past our last breath?

CHASE HER, Book Three in the COME FOR ME series is a thrilling, steamy, romantic suspense novel that takes you to the very edge.

*This book is not for the fainthearted. This deep romance explores the dark theme of stalking.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

He scooped her into his embrace on the gym floor. “I’d ask you what’s wrong”—he wrapped his hand over her sweaty belly—“but I know.”

With every week of her possessed workouts, the swell had disappeared to her strong abs showing back through. But Daniel knew—this wasn’t about weight or vanity. Not his wife. She had none.

This was about the shooter.

For two months, Daniel had watched her. How, if she wasn’t smiling at the twins, she was lost in thought. What was she plotting? It concerned him.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’ll be okay.”

He didn’t believe her. “I know what’s driving you, but you’ve got to pace yourself. If you don’t, you’ll tear something, and then we’re fucked. The last place we want to be now is in hospital, not with this virus out there.”

The baby monitor he set on the bench cried out. He glanced at it. Caroline stirred. Of course she was awake again.

“I’ll get her.” She pecked his cheek. “You get your workout in.” She stood up from his arms.

“Fran’s got them.” He grabbed her hand gently. “Stay with me, just for a minute.”

He stood up, watching the monitor while he nestled her against his chest. Fran appeared on the screen in front of the cot, softly shushing Caroline back to sleep.

Thank God for that sweet woman. Fran gave them the breaks they needed. Charlie had protested at hiring a nanny, but he searched anyway and she was glad he did.

He called Fran for a phone interview from the hospital. She was perfect, from London, ending a job in Nashville with celebrity musicians whose teens no longer needed her. She had the experience and fifty-two years of wisdom.

Once Daniel explained to Fran the situation, fully disclosing the risk, she didn’t hesitate. She met them at the dock in Bluffton for the trip out to Daufuskie Island and hadn’t left since.

“See.” He nodded toward the monitor. “She’s got them.”

Charlie’s body relaxed against his, and a need, a tension started stirring within.

She had welcomed his hugs, his kisses, but that was all. He tried a few times after the six weeks they were told to wait. Fuck, he was desperate for her. But each time, Charlie gently removed his hand from between her thighs. Now, he didn’t even try, digging deep for patience instead. It was hard.

His cock didn’t receive the patient message, tenting his thin black gym shorts with a stiffy.

“I feel you, Sex God,” she murmured against his chest.

His hand pressed down to the small of her bare back. “I feel you too, Sex Goddess.” Her workout clothes always turned him on. Hell, she could wear a Hessian sack and make him horny as hell.

“I’m not ready yet.”

“Your patient husband knows that, but his lonely cock doesn’t.”

“Should I leave you here for a workout and to rub one off?”

“Only if you watch me… and you do the same.”

“You little shit.” She pulled back with a sly smile. “You tryin’ to tempt me?”

“I’ve got to. I know you’re not ready, babe, but I’m going to break my dick off wanking without you.” He meant it. It had been months, a lonely hell.

She sighed, eyes half-rolling. “I’m not trying to starve you. I know we can now, but I don’t feel like myself.” Pulling her body away. “I don’t know how ‘mom’, ‘wife’ and ‘Charlie’ come together now. It’s fucking weird. It’s like I’m out of my body and need to get back in it, but I don’t recognize it. And now… I’ve got this.”

Her gesture took his gaze, only turning him on more. Staring down at the pussy he missed, knowing its hidden beauty, he didn’t give a damn about a Cesarean scar, even though he hadn’t seen it yet.

“Good God, babe, you’re even more beautiful to me now.” His hand smoothed over her hourglass waist. “All I do is admire you and want you but you’ve been hiding from me for months.”

His finger lifted her chin, asking her eyes to meet his. “Let me at least hold you, in the shower, in our bed, with nothing on.” He kissed her lips, aware how his new beard tickled them, dusting over their sexy slope, confessing, “I miss us.”

They needed this. It was their connection, their love. The instant they met, the urge for the other was so powerful it overwhelmed their senses. The greatest desire thrilled his flesh from the moment he touched Charlie.

And he’d almost lost her.

He needed to cherish every inch of her, lavishing her with tender touches, fucking her so hard. He had no choice; he had to show her how much he loved her and would until his dying day.

“Even if we tried that, just being naked,” she said. “I won’t be able to relax. I don’t think I’ll have an orgasm again in this house, not with the twins and Fran down the hall.”

“Fran’s not uptight. Have you heard her talk? She’s an old-school feminist. I assure you when her wife can travel here from London, we will hear them down the hall.”

“Okay, fine. But what about the twins? Between Caroline, who never sleeps, and Duke, who demands my attention when he’s awake, I don’t get a second to relax unless I’m in the gym.” Her hand caressed his hard bicep. “It’s not fair between men and women. Your cock is a hot light switch, but my vag is a cold oven, it’s gotta warm up, and it can’t with all this baby stuff going on.”

That amused him. And challenged him. “Give me a chance, babe.” His lips climbed up her neck while he murmured, “You always switch my cock on, and you know I can melt you into the wettest heat you’ve ever dripped.”

He took gentle bites before she snapped her neck closed. “Fuck, your beard tickles.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Nuzzling into her, he made her squeal, squirming from his snatching embrace—a futile effort. He wouldn’t let her go.

“Quit it.” Her eyes twinkled. “Or I’ll tie you down and shave that thing off.”

He ceased the tickle, but not his smile. Fuck’s sake, he loved her like this. Laughing. Playful. Warming up to him, he could tell, her nipples pebbled under her sports bra.

His dirty mind devised a plan; his hard cock signed off on it. “I’m getting us an afternoon, alone, in the house for a few hours. We’ll just shower and cuddle, I promise.”

“How do you propose to do that?”

“Those two cherubs have grandparents on this island ten minutes away. Pop and Evelyn would jump at the chance to have them for a few hours. And Fran could visit with them or take the time to herself.”

“I feel like shitty parents sending our babies away for an afternoon so we can fuck.”

“Yes! Are we finally going to fuck?” That was all he heard. Not the “shitty parent” part, because that, he didn’t buy.

“I’m serious, Daniel. How does that look? We send our kids away so we can have an afternoon of sex?”

“Since when does my fit wife give two shits for what people think?” He gripped her hand. “I’m serious, Charlie. We’ve been through enough. If we don’t stay connected and strong as a couple, we are no good to them as Mum and Dad.”

“Quit trying to make that stick, Pierce.” She tongued her teeth, smiling. “I’m not gonna be ‘Mum’ and you’re not gonna be ‘Dad.’ More like ‘Mama’ and ‘Daddy’ in these parts.”

“You’re off your trolley. Fran and I will see to it that they have proper English accents.”

He teased her, relishing how it pissed her off, adoring when she fired back…

“Bless your heart, Pierce, and count heads. You’re outnumbered.” She wiggled against his cock. It was begging for her. “I’ve got you beat.”

Yes, she does, Pierce. Grinding on you. That’s your wife.

“So, it’s a plan then, Mrs. Pierce?” He seized her firm bum, pulling her harder against his raging hard-on, wanting to take her now.

“That’s not my name.”

Deploying the grin that inspired millions of thirsty posts, “It is when I’m fucking you,” he knew it wet her pussy too.

That naughty truth flashed across her eyes. The last time they made love, months before, he made her moan that name while rousing her with slow thrusts from behind.

“All right, Mr. Ravenel. Give my body a few more weeks to heal before you come at me with all this hard hotness. Then we’ll see if you get lucky.”

Breaking from his embrace, she delivered a swat to his arse before swishing out of the room. Minutes later, she appeared on the monitor with Duke, kissing his forehead before lying him down to change his nappy.

He watched the spectacle, a smile taking his entire being. Gawd blimey, I love her.


Author Bio:

Kelly Finley is fiction author of contemporary romances featuring bada** women and grown-a** men. She lives in the Carolinas with her husband and family. A rebel with many causes, she fancies black leather, dirty jokes, and smart mouths.

Thrilled by a flipped script and ticked off by women portrayed as weak, she noticed how many steamy, sexy heroines were missing, particularly from suspense and military romance. Her friends shared the frustration and told her to practice what she has taught for twenty years. Her books feature characters we champion and love—ones with shameless heat, brave hearts, and whip-smart minds.

She’s most likely at her keyboard right now, putting the next heroine on the page.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram / Pinterest


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Giveaway – Bad Girls Drink Blood by S L Choi @XpressoTours @sl_choi

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Bad Girls Drink Blood
S.L. Choi
Published by: City Owl Press
Publication date: May 17th 2022
Genres: Adult, Fantasy

Part sun fae, part blood fae, all abomination.

There is only one hybrid fae in existence, and that dishonor goes to Lane Callaghan.

After a life spent dodging slurs, threats, and assassination attempts, Lane gave her past the one finger salute and ditched her former fae home for good. The detective agency she and her sisters run on the edge of Las Vegas continues to limp along, with Lane doing more debt collecting and intimidating than investigating, but anything to pay the bills. Between working for low-lifes to bring down even lower-lifes, eating cheesy poofs by the bucket, and flirting with the criminally attractive bartender where she conducts business, life is good.

That ends when a routine job goes sideways, leaving Lane with a sack full of stolen sun shards—the source of sun fae power. Without the shards, the sun fae face giving up their magic completely, or risk death if they use their power. Considering they would rather see her dead, good riddance, as far as Lane’s concerned—except her father and adopted sister are sun fae. Lane must choose—return home to save the fae bastards that almost killed her, or let them burn.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

—

EXCERPT:

Better luck next time, hybrid.

Fury roared through me. My ears burned and scalp tingled.

“What the hell is that?”

I spun with a snarl. My fangs elongated instantly, painfully.

Teddy’s tall, lean frame bent over my shoulder as he read the napkin. My body thrummed with the surge of unspent adrenaline and possibly the intimate proximity. I flexed my fingers, curled them, flexed again.

“It’s nothing.” I snatched the napkin and jammed it into my jacket pocket. I’d deal with how exactly that woman knew I was a hybrid later. That was a secret for me and my sisters, and I aimed to keep it that way.

There was only one hybrid, and I was the unlucky genetic winner. It wasn’t for lack of fae mixing, that was something they did often and copiously, but offspring were always of one race. It kept their magic powerful, and if fae worshiped anything, it was power. My existence wasn’t an exalted position.

“But—”

“It’s nothing,” I stressed, my gaze steady on his. I meant business.

“Okay, okay.” He tipped his forehead toward my face. “You should holster those things before you hurt someone besides yourself.”

Crap, not again. All at once my lip became a persistent throb, reminding me of the pain from my fangs punching out. I dragged a finger along the edge of my mouth. It came away sticky, warm, and wet. When startled, I had zero control of the things. It was embarrassing.

Teddy tucked a clean napkin into my palm and pulled me close to whisper, “You shouldn’t be wasting blood when you refuse to drink it.”

His hot breath warmed my neck and tickled my ear. The heady mixture of woods, earth, and vanilla—Teddy’s distinct scent—filled my nostrils, made me dizzy. Something melted and puddled in my core. My gaze fastened on the way my dark red hair danced with his bourbon-brown strands. The way they both brushed against the hard line of muscle leading from his neck to his shoulder.

Damn it.

That delicious scent shouldn’t be so strong. My olfactory sense was the same as any other fae, unless I’d smelled their blood. Then again, with the amount of brawls Teddy broke up in this joint, he was bound to have bled at some point.

I stepped away and scowled in a desperate attempt to hide my reaction. “And you should mind your own business.” What was wrong with me lately? I’d known the guy for years, but recently Teddy seemed more flirt than friend. I felt disgustingly girly when he got near.

“Whatever you say, sweet fangs.” He chucked a knuckle under my chin, letting it linger long enough to turn the gesture from playful to intimate.

I rubbed my chin on my shoulder. This was Teddy. He couldn’t possibly be flirting. He’d known me since I roared into Interlands at fifteen with way more balls and bravado than sense. More importantly, I wasn’t his type—empty headed and easy.

He swaggered toward the end of the bar, and some mysterious magnetic force pulled my appreciative gaze to the way he filled out his denim. My view disappeared as he stepped behind the counter. When I looked up, Teddy watched me with a knowing grin. I bared my fangs. He laughed.

I growled under my breath and turned to leave as he circled the bar and headed for the spot across the counter from me.

“Why take these jobs, Lane? They’re bad. You’re so much more than this.”

Teddy’s earnest words stopped me, and I looked back. His bottomless black gaze gripped mine.

My chest tightened. Teddy didn’t know how misplaced his faith in me was. I grabbed a freshly filled tumbler full of amber liquid from the bar.

“Hey!” The owner of the drink turned, opened his mouth to say more, and laid eyes on me. I raised my brows in a dare. The guy wisely spun to face the bar and tapped the counter, ordering a new drink for himself.

“Because I’m really, really good at it. Besides, haven’t you heard?” I slammed my confiscated drink. The taste of gasoline chasing cinnamon scorched a path down my throat. My nostrils burned and eyes watered. I shoved down the sensation and flashed a smile filled with a whole lot of fang. “I’m a bad girl.”

Author Bio:

S.L. Choi is an urban fantasy author with a deep love for humor, fast-paced action, and hit-you-in-the-heart feels. She grew up imagining goblins living in the rocks outside her bedroom window, while fairies flew through the flowers. Now she puts those stories to paper. When not writing, she is either photographing the beautiful New England area, hiking, gaming with her equally nerdy husband, or attending to the small furry overlords who rule them both.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / TikTok / Bookbub


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Enter here!

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Giveaway – No Matter What Happens by Kelly Collins @XpressoTours @kcollinsauthor

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No Matter What Happens
Kelly Collins
Publication date: May 5th 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Does marrying well mean marrying rich?

As a senator’s daughter, Kennedy Blackwell has everything, or so it seems. But on her wedding day, a shocking secret changes everything, and Kennedy’s fortunes turn on a dime. Instead of offering their unconditional support, her parents turn their backs on her, proving once and for all that her father’s goal of becoming president is more important than his own child. Forced to start over, Kennedy relies on a pact she and five friends made to each other back in junior high. She also enlists the help of the “entertainment” from her bachelorette party, a handsome handyman-by-day, exotic dancer-by-night.

Wade Roberts faces his existence one crisis at a time. Everything bad in his life has directly resulted from a poor decision or the actions of a member of the Blackwell family. So, when the senator’s daughter calls asking for help, he’s torn between assisting her or making her “pay.” Soon tangled up in the Blackwell family drama, he finds himself being framed for an unspeakable crime. Wade must step up and prove his innocence and his love for a woman who deserves more than he can offer.

Can two people who start with nothing end up with everything?

Find out in No Matter What Happens…

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

She blinked and focused on her future husband standing at the end of the aisle. He looked as nervous as she felt. There was even a green hue to his complexion, probably a side effect from his bachelor party. Unlike Emily, he could toss the booze back with little effect, but last night they must have really tied one on.

She made her way toward him with knocking knees and trembling hands.

When the minister asked who gave this woman and her father answered, a ball of emotions welled inside her. Who’d thought those words were a good idea? It was like she was being traded for political favors when the only exchange between father and future son-in-law was the promise of box seats for next year’s games.

She took Logan’s hand in front of the officiant, who talked about the sacred vow of marriage and what love meant. They recited traditional promises to love, honor, and cherish until death do they part, but neither met the other’s eyes. Logan looked past or through her to her bridesmaids. She stared at a piece of lint on his shoulder.

“Does anyone here have a reason to object to this marriage?” The minister’s voice boomed, leaving no doubt everyone heard him.

Kennedy ran through an entire list of reasons to object in her head. She still had time to change her mind, but when she looked at Logan and saw the same fear she felt, a small giggle escaped her mouth. They both had wedding jitters. That was normal.

At that moment, he looked at her the way he had when they first met. Despite the anxiety and feelings of doom, she was the luckiest woman in the world.

The congregation sat silently as the minister waited the obligatory several seconds for anyone to object. He cleared his throat. “I now pronounce you—”

“Wait!” Emily said loudly enough for everyone to hear, though her voice cracked. “I can’t let you marry him.”


Author Bio:

Like FREEBIES? Join the VIP readers at http://bit.ly/KellyCollinsFreeBook for members-only exclusives!

~ Tip: Just hit “FOLLOW” for notifications about deals & new releases! ~

International bestselling author of more than thirty novels, Kelly Collins writes with the intention of keeping love alive. Always a romantic, she blends real-life events with her vivid imagination to create characters and stories that lovers of contemporary romance, new adult, and romantic suspense will return to again and again.

Kelly has sold more than a quarter of a million books worldwide, and in 2021 she was awarded a Readers’ Favorite Award Gold Medal in the Contemporary Romance category for A Tablespoon of Temptation.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Bookbub / Amazon


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Giveaway – Witchslayer’s Scion by L T Getty @GoddessFish

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I love a ‘morally grey protagonist’. I love villains. I think it makes it more interesting…and real. It’s not like we don’t need a little help and redemption at times. Besides, who are we to judge? So, let’s see what L T Getty has to share about her characters.

Morally Grey Protagonists?

               I grew up reading stories about heroes and villains, where things were not clear cut that the hero was perfect but there were definitive light and dark sides. Somewhere along the lines, the stories that claimed that they were for a more adult audience started to blur the lines of hero and villain. I didn’t mind it, because so long as the hero didn’t cross the line and had some redemptive qualities, I could still cheer for them.

               Suddenly reading more ‘mature’ stories meant more nuanced themes and ideas. I didn’t mind unreliable narrators, and even stories where there were no heroes. Perhaps the most honest among these is William Makepeace Thackery’s Vanity Fair. Its subtitle is A Novel without a Hero. It’s satire but not in the way you think.

               But what makes a hero?  I suppose we should define some terms.

               A Hero in the modern sense, is probably a loaded term. For the sake of this article, I will define as someone who at least attempts to do good. We’re not here to talk subversions, so I don’t want to hear about how much Hero A sucks at it. A Villain conversely, is someone who attempts to do bad. There are many, many many subversions of these tropes, and there’s no way I can go over all of them in any brief article. The fact that I had to define these terms speaks volumes, but let’s focus.

               A Protagonist is the center of the story. The antagonist is the person or force that opposes the actions of the protagonist.

               Up until recently, in most stories, we follow a heroic protagonist.  Think of most renditions of Cinderella or The Ugly Duckling. In more modern renditions of stories, we tend to flesh out the characters, or tell the story from a different perspective. My favourite novel, Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis, tells the story from a villain protagonist. Lewis also pinned The Screwtape Letters, which was literally advice from one demon to another, whereas Till We Have Faces paints the character of Orual as incredibly sympathetic, but also completely in the wrong by the end of the tale.

               I’ve done villain protagonists. Dreams of Mariposa, Marie is a villain, and I didn’t want the audience to think she was the victim or somehow loveable, so much as delve into an extremely narcissistic mindset. I’ve written heroic characters; Daphne from The Mermaid and the Unicorns is jealous and stubborn, but she’s also brave and loyal, and grows from her mistakes. I’d say that Marie is a very flawed villain, and Daphne is a flawed heroine.

               What about the morally grey characters?

               When I was doing research for this article, I stumbled across why Heroic Fantasy deviated from Sword and Sorcery. I always assumed that Sword and Sorcery were referring to elements in the story, like sword and sandal (Vaguely historical romanish stories) or Sword and Gun (John Carter Space Opera). Turns out it was to deviate from the legacy of morally compromised protagonists common in sword and sorcery. (Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heroic_fantasy )

               Although comics, movies, and other adaptations didn’t always stay true to the original, I grew up reading Conan the Barbarian shorts, and there’s plenty of stories where Conan gets himself into a situation because he’s blatantly there to steal something or do something that would land him up in the local jail. He takes up with pirates, isn’t shy on killing, and has been attributed to an awful lot of ravishing. He’s still an incredibly iconic hero that has stood the test of time.

               Why the morally grey heroes in Sword and Sorcery tales? In my opinion, sometimes stories lean better towards characters who might not be on the up and up in their society. There are certain situations that have to get pretty convoluted for a Lawful Good Hero go find himself in.

               I found this with my novel Tower of Obsidian. Kale gets betrayed by his lord’s men and they set out to sea to hide from the wrath of said lord, where they are attacked by drougr and Kale’s captors become captive themselves, and thus the adventure truely kicks off. I’m not calling Kale a morally perfect hero, far from it, but he’s also not the sort of person who’d go sailing off into contested waters. The drougr are looking for warriors and rough men to send to the tower; they don’t typically have access to people like Kale.

               I for one don’t like to think of people as morally complex but inherently flawed – even paragons of virtue probably should have a testing point or a weakness, and it’s ultimately their actions, and not their motives, that make them heroes or villains in the story. As a writer, I eventually have to take a side in a conflict, even if it’s “Hey, you’re all awful”. That doesn’t mean that I have to make the answers easy.

               For instance, in Witchslayer’s Scion, one of the major issues in the growing empire of Tenagee is that these conquered territories aren’t happy being ruled by people who aren’t from their island or culture. Yes, the Imperium is conquering the islands and sometimes they treat the natives pretty terribly. BUT they are also bringing in trade between the communities, and establishing a form of law that protects women and children. YES, the islanders are right to want to control their own futures, BUT the people who tend to rise to power tend to be the sort who use people and will sell their own people out to better their own positions.

               To me, the morally grey area is the situation which a given character is faced with making a decision in which there is no right answer. I love well-written characters who are upstanding moral citizens to which I inspire. The problem is that, when I was a younger writer they were difficult to write well. I think it depends on the audience, but in general most readers want a main character who is relatable, and even if they’re not perfect, understandable, and if they’re a villain, motivations that the reader can understand or even sympathize with.

               In short, I don’t think a character has to be capable of stealing but not of murder to be morally grey. I think the vast majority of characters in fiction need to be realized, and that includes flaws. It’s not such a bad thing as the vast majority of characters in modern fiction overcome their flaws and grow as people. An upright person, with a teeny tiny tint of darkness, could still be considered grey by this standard, but it’s ultimately their actions in spite of of these flaws that differentiate the heroes from the villains.

I loved the article and it only makes me want to check out your characters more. Thanks so much, LT.

Witchslayer’s Scion by L.T. Getty

GENRE:   Sword and Sorcery/Fantasy

BLURB

Koth’s life was decided for him since before he was born, for his ability to heal wounds by touch is rare even among his people. When an attempted kidnapping turns to sacrificial murder, he embraces vengeance and the sword. As he journeys far from his small isolated village in the north, he learns the truth as to why his bloodline is targeted by strange magic, in a world still rebuilding from a time when dark sorcerers didn’t bother with secrecy.

Koth thinks his quest is straightforward enough–find the men responsible, and kill them–and any who aid them. He will soon learn that those who have both privilege and power, there are few things they lack–and in the pursuit of godhood, their allies can prove even more sinister as mere mortals seek to advent empires and dynasties.

EXCERPT

“Something’s wrong,” Una said. “Koth, wait here.”

“Why?” If there was a problem, she should be waiting outside for him.

He sensed inside, his aunt’s thoughts remained hidden from him. Una shouted, and he ran inside the building. He thought there were lights on inside, but he saw no candles.

The tea house was very dark, and he felt a sudden dread—he wanted to leave. Baro barked from the outside. ~Una!~  he thought, before something hit his neck.

He knew at once it was a poison dart, and ripping it out he tried to smell what it was. Seeing metal reflect moonlight and he moved his hand, his skin cut. Moving instinctively out of the way, his next reaction was to purge the toxin that coursed through his body and tried to understand the wound. It was mostly his forearm, deep but he could still use it, the bone unaffected. He’d do a better healing later. He focused on something not unlike a burn before going for the knife at his hip. Striking 85 in the next liquid motion, Koth realized he was attacking his aunt.

She grabbed onto his injured flesh and seared it, destroying, weakening the sinew and the cartilage and causing it to age and die, following up the bloodstream, to find the heart and kill. Koth tried to brace; he couldn’t heal and keep her at bay. He was physically stronger and much heavier, but she was weakening his muscles. He tried to wrench the knife from her.

He knocked the blade to the ground then tried to lock minds with her to find nothing short of blinding pain take him over, wrestling him to the ground and making him drop his knife. She took the dagger and when he tried to force himself up, a familiar sense washed over him. Magic, but not coming from Una.

“Do not kill him yet,” Yeshbel said, “we will bleed him first.”

AUTHOR Bio and Links

L.T. Getty is a rural paramedic from Manitoba. She enjoys writing science fiction and fantasy and generally being creative.

Author Links: My Blog: https://ltgetty.ca/

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Giveaway – Descent Into Darkness by Zanne Raby @GoddessFish

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Seeing I am such a cover hound, I thought it would be interesting to get Zanne Raby’s take on the cover for Descent Into Darkness. It sure is colorful and intriguing, making me want to know what is happening. Welcome Zanne.

Subject: Discuss your cover 

Hello All! I’m really excited at being featured as a guest author on the Fundinmental blog and I’d like to thank Cheryl for inviting me to write about the cover of my latest novel, Descent into Darkness, the second book in the sci-fi/ space opera series, “The Chronicles of Deneb”. Since I’m working on a series I’d like to begin with a little background to set the scene.

Let’s jump forward to the year 2080 CE. In the sixty years separating us from the characters in my series, humanity has just about ignored every little bit of science related to our climate catastrophe and allowed our beautiful planet to plunge into decay. Politicians and big multinational companies wore blinders over the decades that resulted in droughts, famine, and mass migration. But rather than own the problem, the developed world manned the guns and doubled down on isolationism. That’s not all folks, because NASA, the European Space Agency and ROSCOSMOS banded together and created the Space Ark Project – three massive shuttles that were built to be the saviors of the human species. Except in 2080, that’s not what’s really going on. When Dr. Daniel Radu, the project manager of the United States of North American’s Space Ark Project, overhears the truth he decides that he’s not going to take it lying down. He didn’t get to be one of the best astronomical engineers on Earth by twiddling his thumbs after all. Daniel arranges for his team to take control of the Space Ark Mayflower and off they go, leaving the rotting planet and the even rottener politicians behind while they rocket through space and on to their destination: Deneb7. Now fast forward three years to 2083 CE and let’s catch up with the crew in the second novel of the series, Descent into Darkness, where they try to integrate into Denebian society. Little did the intrepid space travellers realize that the desert planet was populated until their arrival and by then, it was too late. The war-like denizens of Deneb sent out a greeting party and you can just imagine that things didn’t go so well for the crew. The refugees try their best to integrate with their new neighbours. But what do you know, the humans bring along some unintended guests in the form of a deadly disease that begins to blaze through the local population. With Denebians dying like flies, a lack of communication and a series of misunderstandings spark off a deadly planet-wide conflict. The cover of Descent into Darkness is a reflection of this. The fires of war blaze in the background while one of the powerful warbirds descends through the roiling clouds of smoke to bring battle to the enemy. The entire planet is ablaze and I tried to capture that on the cover bThanky portraying mushrooming clouds of greasy orange smoke billowing up from the ashes of destruction. Above it all, isolated from the carnage, is one of the weapons of annihilation. There, high above the wreckage and safe in their warbird, a pilot is about to make their descent. High above the planet’s ravaged surface they soar, unseeing of the destruction they unleashed on the city below, unaware of the carnage they wrought that extinguished thousands of lives. The title of the novel, “Descent into Darkness”, alludes not only to the actual massacre of the population and destruction of the planet exacted by the war on Deneb, but also of the moral abyss into which the characters find themselves falling. In the novel’s cover, I’ve tried to distill some of the more important elements of the plot to incorporate them into the cover. If you want to dive into the depths of Deneb, why not to pick up a copy of Descent in

Thanks so much for sharing your thoughts. Happy to have you here, Zanne.

Descent Into Darkness by Zanne Raby

GENRE:   Science-Fiction / Space-Opera

BLURB

Descent into Darkness: Mayhem follows the Mayflower in the second book of The Chronicles of Deneb series. Journey along with the crew of the Space Ark Mayflower as they adapt to their new home on the planet Deneb. But along with their struggle to integrate into an alien culture, a new battle sweeps across the planet with the arrival of the human-transmitted Chimera bactovirus, bringing war and fanning the flames of racial intolerance. With a bloody conflict raging across the planet, the crew of the Mayflower is split between the two factions and embroiled in the chaos and destruction. Descend with the crew into darkness, where the only survivors of a global war will be on the right side of the border.

EXCERPT

“Pallav? You alright?” Tara’s voice broke him from his reverie and he pasted on a phony smile.

“Sorry darling, I was a million light years away. I’ll be fine,” he promised. Sweat trickled down his back in the unrelenting heat of the Denebian day, his disruptive pattern shirt already sticking to his body as he shrugged into his rucksack.

“Daddy, I’m gonna miss you.” The chirpy sing-song voice of little Jolanta gave him cause to smile at the child as she held out her arms to him. Swooping her up, Pallav dropped a kiss on the little girl’s rosy brown cheek, her eyes glistening with tears.

“And I’m going to miss you too, little one.” Hugging the orphaned girl to his chest, he burrowed his face into the cloud of dark hair that was as soft as a feather before pinching her cheek and gently setting her down. Guilt pierced his heart at the sad resigned look on the child’s face. Had it not been for him, Jolanta would be snug as a bug with her biological parents and not in lockdown high above the capital city living with a pair of humans.

Poor little thing… she’s known so much loss in her short life, he thought. Surrounded by death as the human Chimera bactovirus raged across Deneb, Jolanta had been cruelly abandoned by her mother after Tara retrieved the fallen child from the cobblestoned marketplace in the centre of the capital city. He could still picture his wife walking through the door with the tiny tot in tow. Shocked, surprised, but then captivated, Pallav let the child into his heart. It wasn’t like his two teenagers wanted him around anymore. No, Luke and Isabella were busy chartering their own course in the Wessel world with Gomalan insisting that they attend the best boarding school in the nation.

Taking advantage of his position, Pallav had initiated a thorough search for Jolanta’s parents only to get confirmation that they were amongst the thousands in Styria who had succumbed to the pandemic. Since her arrival, the young orphan had been his little shadow, never leaving his side, following the big man’s movements with her luminous opalescent eyes. He smiled inwardly at the thought of Jolanta climbing into her little cot and begging her new daddy for a bedtime story. Guilt-ridden he realized that he’d miss her more than his own children who were so immersed in their new lives that even their weekly holotalks were rushed and awkward. Laughing at himself, Pallav knew he was totally under the child’s spell.

“I promise to be back in time for market day, so no tears, okay?” Taking the little urchin’s chin in his hands, Pallav stared into her eyes. “And you have a promise to make to me too young lady, don’t you?” The little brown head nodded up and down, serious eyes acknowledging the responsibility her adopted father had assigned to her.

AUTHOR Bio and Links

Since the days of the Napoleonic War, there has always been a member of Zanne’s family in uniform. Choosing to follow in the footsteps of her ancestors, Zanne joined the Canadian Armed Forces in 1980, and was selected to attend the Royal Military College of Canada – the first year that women were accepted into that prestigious academy of learning. After graduation, she studied to become a Transportation and Movements Officer in the Royal Canadian Air Force.

During a career spanning 38 years, some of the most memorable experiences involved command of 8 Mission Support Squadron as part of Joint Task Force Afghanistan, leading a study on support to the Canadian Arctic involving several trips to Northern Canada, including Canadian Forces Station Alert (the most northern settlement in the world), a three–year tour with NATO at Joint Force Command Brunssum, a deployment as the NATO Liaison Officer to United States Central Command, and finally a nomination as the Deputy Commander for the Canadian Forces Recruiting Group.

After hanging up the uniform and putting away the combat boots, Zanne bought a small acreage in Central Ontario and designed her own house. With an office overlooking the picturesque shores of Georgian Bay, surrounded by maps and images of alien worlds, she is pursuing her life-long ambition to become an author. Enough of the reports and returns that littered her desk over her career, now she could turn her attention to unleashing the creativity that had taken a back seat to the analytical world of logistics. The time had come to shake the dust off and begin a new career. The winds of change had called.

Zanne is currently crafting The Chronicles of Deneb, a sci-fi series that will take the reader from a dystopian earth on a voyage across the galaxy in search of a safe haven. But the planets the team discover provide anything but the sanctuary they sought. In her spare time, Zanne enjoys travel, photography, hiking, and gardening. And always, a good story to pass the time.

Connect with Zanne Raby

Buy Descent Into Darkness                 

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Giveaway – Shadows Of Time by Jackie Meekums Hales @jackieihales @GoddessFish

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I am happy to be hosting Shadows Of Time and having Jackie here to share her thoughts.

Guest post – The World of Shadows of Time – the significance of the settings

I lived in a village in Yorkshire, so it was natural for me to begin my novel there. Most of the farmers have retired and sold land for building, so when June brings Cathy back to the small-holding or Bob goes in search of the house his mother lived in, new housing reflects what was happening around me. It was somewhere people like June were rooted, generations having lived in the same place.

Wickham Hall needed some explanation. When I wrote the novel, I was an English writer, writing for an English audience. It hadn’t occurred to me that someone from across the Atlantic would be unfamiliar with the label “Hall”. I had to give it a specific name, so that it was more obvious that it was a mansion. To me, it was very familiar. In the next village was one at the centre of the school I taught in. I borrowed the fountain and rose garden, and stags’ heads eyes following Cathy round the reception area. I borrowed the grand staircase, which I’d walked up and down to lessons. Many such buildings have become hotels in this country, but they only exist because of the social hierarchy of the past. The Hall reflects change over time, but the permanence of memories.

I opened the novel in Scarborough, Yorkshire, a typical English seaside, not known for being always sunny and warm! My husband and I visited on a hot day, and the description of the crowds on the beach formed itself in my head, as we rode the open-topped bus along the sea front and ate fish and chips at our favourite seafood restaurant. The original version of what I saw that day wasn’t part of a novel, but I wove it into the beginning and end, as the story began to form itself in my head. It did need some explanation, when my editor couldn’t quite picture the way the fishing boats and pleasure boats are all in the same harbour, and there were definitely no sail boats out on the North Sea on a typical English day. The boats are just opposite the amusement arcade, right next to the sandy beach, and the funfair is at one end of the south bay. We had a Zoom meeting, and I was able to show a photograph that won’t be in the book, but readers from overseas might need to Google Scarborough! The mock pirate ship really does take people out for a pleasure ride, and the lighthouse really is there. Peasholm Park is a real park, visited many times. I wanted to capture a place where people were enjoying themselves, so that the opening hinted at what was to come and the end brought us back there, on a positive note.

Because I was thinking about the ways in which a mother could experience the loss of a child, I included the fact that Cathy emigrated to Australia. My own daughter emigrated, with her family, so this was a loss I knew. I’d visited Australia twice, so the bits of Perth I describe are what I’d seen for myself, for example the children running in and out of the fountain and the seat at Point Walter, with its profound dedication to the “lost generation”. Cathy is not my daughter, but I could use her as a vehicle for the experience of being a mother of a child who emigrates. I wanted to represent all those mothers who, like me, couldn’t tell the world how it felt.

The other location I used in the novel is Cornwall, in the south-west tip of this island. When I created Maggie’s pilot, I was reminded of my own father’s time in the RAF during the Second World War. I went to Cornwall on holiday, so that I could go and pay tribute to those who served where he did, at a place called St Eval. It was during this trip that I was struck by the timelessness of the rocks off the shore, and this gave rise to the photo on the cover of the book. They’d seen so much, including my father standing where I stood. Echoes of the past were all around me. I gathered together ideas for characters and plot over about two years, the places seeming to acquire a significance of their own, as they embodied both timelessness and time passing.

Thanks for sharing, Jackie. Good luck with the tour.

Shadows of Time by Jackie Meekums-Hales

GENRE: Women’s Fiction

BLURB

Maggie’s daughter, Cathy, is a successful business woman in Australia. After the failure of a relationship and her mother’s death, she returns to England for the funeral, hoping to rekindle her childhood sense of carefree life in the Yorkshire countryside. She is confronted by revelations about Maggie’s tragic past, which has a legacy of loss overshadowing her family’s  present and future. As Cathy and her sister June unravel the truth, her mother’s story unfolds in a flashback to 1945. Life for the young Maggie before they were born reflects the world of mid-century attitudes towards women who dared to have a baby out of wedlock. The illusion of the Maggie her daughters knew is dispelled.

Meanwhile, two young women explore family history, and fate takes a hand. Three families are linked through coincidences and circumstances they did not know they shared. Cathy must decide how far, and for what reasons, she allows herself to live in the shadows of the past.

EXCERPT

The wind was roaring down the side of the house and through the chimney, and the daffodils were bending their heads in submission. It might be nearly spring, but that news did not seem to have reached the village yet. The smell of burning wood always brought back memories of bonfires at the bottom of the garden. Cathy’s thoughts lingered on bonfire nights at the farm next door, when the children had ridden down to the middle field on bales of hay on a trailer pulled by an old tractor. How simple everything seemed then.

Cathy sensed that June’s tense shoulders meant she was steeling herself for something unpleasant. Cathy was busy trying to work out how to ask her what was wrong, when suddenly, staring into the flames, June announced, “We may have to sell the house, you know.”

Cathy heard the words but didn’t believe she had. “What?”

“We may have to sell the house. The solicitor phoned today about the reading of Mum’s will. The house may not be ours, Cathy. We may have to move.”

“WHAT?”

“Stop saying what! It seems that someone has appeared out of nowhere since Mum died. Something about someone else being entitled to something. I don’t know the details. I’ve been dreading telling you, and I didn’t want to say anything in front of the twins.”

“How on earth could that be? I don’t believe it! There can’t be anyone else, can there? There must be a mistake!” She felt the cosy, comfy world she had come back to claim crumbling to ashes and dust.

AUTHOR Bio and Links

Jackie is a member of the Society of Authors, whose debut novel Shadows of Time was the fulfilment of an ambition nurtured during her working life as a teacher, inspired by her research into her own and others’ family histories. She has been writing as a hobby since childhood, contributing to poetry anthologies since her undergraduate days and being a Poetry Guild national semi-finalist in the 1990s. She has also written short stories for friends, family and students. Since retiring, she has contributed to Poetry Archive Now (2020), with 20-20 Vision, uploaded to YouTube, and has had poetry and flash fiction published online by Flash Fiction North. One of her flash fictions is to appear in an anthology, having been selected from entries during the Morecambe Festival  2021. She had a creative memoir, Shelf Life, published by Dear Damsels in 2019, a precursor to collaborating with her sister on a creative non-fiction memoir Remnants of War, published in 2021. She writes a blog about her walks and thoughts in the Yorkshire and Somerset countryside.

  • Twitter https://mobile.twitter.com/jackieihales
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Giveaway – The Next Witness by Kirstyn Petras @GoddessFish

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I want to welcome Kirstyn Petras to fundinmental to share her thoughts about characters. Love ’em or hate ’em, they need to draw us into their lives.

One of the interesting, and slightly tricky things about writing unreliable/disagreeable narrators is finding enough in them to make readers like them enough to care, but also have a healthy distaste for their flaws. Anti-heroes are very fun to write and create, to have a combination of sympathy and odiousness to keep the story interesting. A mentality of “it’s okay if they’re hurt, but maybe don’t?”

            Balancing Melody in The Next Witness is my best example of this. In the writing process, I had conflicting advice from beta readers – some that wanted to enhance her more asshole characteristics, and others that wanted to enhance her good qualities. But, I enjoyed the discussion because it was a reflection of her role within the story as well. Is she weak, vulnerable, and innocent? Or the leader of a movement that allows its members to die without a second thought? Should readers care about her fate? Absolutely. But with the acknowledgment that she is a deeply flawed human, not wholly good or bad, just a product of a very cold, claustrophobic environment.

            Derek is similar, he is not a genius, he places himself in an environment in which he realizes, too late, he has no control over. Alexander is absolutely responsible for his actions, but he is also attempting to survive and advance in a society that has drilled certain expectations of his behavior into his head.

            It’s so easy to vilify or glorify. Writing this book was a chance to explore the layers in between, and I hope readers feel the same.

Thanks so much for visiting Kirsyan. I love this simple cover. Says so much with so little.

The Next Witness by Kirstyn Petras

GENRE: Thriller

BLURB

Alexander Covington is hunting a traitor: Melody Karsh, a missing girl accused of treason, a Party member who has forsaken her country. But, letters are appearing in mailboxes, being slipped beneath doors, and in the pockets of passersby. “Free Melody” is being spray painted on walls. Her image – cold, shivering, pathetic – has captured the public’s attention and sympathy.

Melody has no idea that her name is being used to start a movement, not until the executions of those demanding her freedom start airing on television.

Derek Lin would feel sympathy, if he didn’t blame Melody for the deaths of those who have disappeared without a trace, caught up in the investigation to find her.

Melody must choose to join the fight or stand aside. Derek will become a leader or break under the pressure. Alexander will decide how many bodies must fall to save his own life.

EXCERPT

“Well, we thank you very much, Detective Covington, for your time and encourage the public to cooperate fully. And now, a word from our sponsors.”

“Clear!” Morgan called, and Covington stood up. He ripped the microphone off his blazer, and, without a word, strode out of the studio. Morgan started screaming the second he was out of earshot.

“Do you want us shut down?! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?!”

“Morgan, what is he going to do?” Denise asked, leaning back. “Look, he didn’t want me to ask a question, and I did anyway. They never actually announce stories like this. I wanted to know why – how far she could have gotten – the fact he didn’t answer doesn’t make that look good, does it?”

Morgan gaped at her, before returning to the mixing booth. Derek followed her and peeked over her shoulder to watch the playback.

There, on the screen, were the pictures of the so-called terrorists. And there was her picture. She’d been at the bar, waiting for Sean, however long ago. He’d seen her picture, the background of Sean’s phone, heard Sean talk about her, mope about her, drink himself stupid over her.

“We have a problem.” He muttered to Morgan.

“What?” Morgan jumped, not having seen him following her. “Why?”

AUTHOR Bio and Links

Kirstyn Petras is a fiction writer and commodities reporter but primarily identifies as caffeine in a human suit held together by hair spray and sheer force of will. She currently resides in Texas, though claims home as a combination of New York and Edinburgh. When not writing, she trains contortion and aerial hoop. She has been published in Punk Noir, and is the co-host of Dark Waters, a literary podcast exploring all that is dark, ready, and wonderfully twisted.

Website / Twitter

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Giveaway – Modern Day Cowboy by Nathaniel Sheft @XpressoTours

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Modern Day Cowboy
Nathaniel Sheft
(The Modern Gunfighter Chronicles, #1)
Publication date: May 8th 2020
Genres: Young Adult

The Organization or O.W.A, ( Organization of Wealthy Advocates) controls everything. Hundreds of millions of dollars are bet daily via the internet on the ultimate form of gambling. Today’s fighter pay will start at $300,000, and all fights are listed as high-noon types. Only .45 caliber old Western handguns are allowed. Each fighter will take their perspective corner and the countdown will begin. The first fight on today’s schedule will be in the woods, somewhere in Minnesota. Two top fighters will be featured: The Housewife, who is in pink hair rollers and wearing a floral bathrobe; against The SoCal Bunny, a former Southern California Playboy bunny. The second fight will come live from Park City, Utah. It will feature local favorite, Reese, the ex-actress whom most know as Sundance.— Against Amy, known as Aim, a former company exec with a long list of kills. The third fight…

Mattie Pilson had just graduated from high school with no direction in her life. She preoccupied her time with baby sitting Maurice, a mentally challenged kid. Then one terrible day it happened, Maurice was gunned down while under her care. Come to find out, it was a declaration of war from some unseen enemy. Someone set up a row of domino’s and then pushed the first one. At first, all she could do was watch; then one day her boss at the gun shop, Rusty, asked an unorthodox question.—Would she like to be trained as a gunfighter?

Seems she had a lifelong enemy before she was even born. Why? Because enemies are often born at the same time as the other part of one’s soul.—A personal taunt by the universe. Her enemy has wealth, nobility, and power; she holds dreams in her hand. Mattie is simplistic, just a nuts and berries type of girl. Despite her enemy having an entire continent at her whim, she desired the one thing Mattie had yet to appreciate, David.—So she went after Mattie’s prize, with a white wedding dress.

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EXCERPT:

She hears her voice talking, “I feel dark, gloomy, like the other creatures of the night are waiting for me to arrive. Think I’m over-dosing on death. My sickle is a .45 caliber metal sheath. One swoosh, and it’s all over. I am dressed in a dark hooded robe, reminiscent of an ancient Celtic priest cultivating a fire. My rod of spinning magic consists of gunpowder to cast small metal spells in the chest of victims. Slow motion sonic waves of jet propulsion that are aerodynamically sound through mathematical equations of why people die upon contact. I squeezed the damn trigger. Click, pow!” Mattie sits right up, eyes wide, was it a dream?

Sweating, panting as she tries to catch her heartbeat, talk it down from its hyper thought patterns. Her eyes are watered, carrying a certain sleep wetness like babies with bad dreams. Now she’s rambling, trying to make sense of this moment.

“I killed a cancer patient, I let Maurice die, and if it were night I would have an afterglow of guilt,” blurts out in panic mode. “Where in the hell am I? How did I get in the woods? And why are there leaves in my hair?” rattles off as she reaches up as if turning on the bedroom light. “Wait… I was in a hotel room last night, what happened?” She looks down, “There’s blood on the leaves… oh shit, there’s blood on my shirt.” Her phone rings almost in sync, she spins alarmed by the sudden sound, searches for the phone.

“What did you do?” David says with a heightened sense of alarm.

“I don’t know,” darts out as she stands while brushing herself off.

Leaves are torn from trees, broken bark is ruthlessly misplaced and painted blood is part of the scenic landscape. Scuffle marks, torched branches, staring woodland creatures. A squirrel is reading from a prayer book as birds sing dirges. A section was cleared violently. In the distance the sound of a motor is running as faint fumes dangle nearby. Delilah is still warm and in her holster. She’s armed, why is she armed? It isn’t her blood as she feels around reluctantly.

“You killed three chicks last night,” said with the intonation of shock and awe.

“What?” to a state panic.


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