Category Archives: Blog Tour

Giveaway – Death Tango by Lachi @GoddessFish @lachimusic

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The cover is very eye catching and I love the concept. It seems all too real to me.

A Quick Fire Interview with Lachi

1. What’s the most adventurous thing you’ve ever done?

I’m blind, so pretty much everything. I’ll narrow it down to skydiving, camel riding and scaling up a New York City apartment building.

2. If you could dine with any literary character, who would it be and why?

Frankenstine’s monster. I think he gets a bad rep.

3. What’s your favorite joke?

Knock Knock

Who’s there?

To

To Who?

It’s To whom

4. Does your day job ever get in the way of your writing?

For my day job I tour and perform globally, so yes! I’ve written on plains, trains, boats and definitely hotels.

5. What’s your favorite Holiday?

Well it’s Halloween today, so let’s go with that!

6. What are your top three favorite genres?

1. Big Umbrella Horror (all but big T Torture)

2. Epic or Odessy Sci-Fi with long series

3. Adult Paranormal Romance

7. Did you have a specific audience in mind when you wrote Death Tango?

Adult Sci Fi readers. Some folks assume because I am a disability advocate that my fiction would be for younger folks. It’s not! This book has gore, violence, sex and language.

8. What was the first book you ever read?

My first horror novel was Cold Fire by Dean Koontz and my first Sci-Fi was Asimov’s Foundation followed by Frank Herbert’s Dune

9. What book do you like most among all the others you have penned down?

Death Tango is my most developed. I’ve also written the Ivory Staff.

10. Now, when you look back at your past, do you feel accomplished?

When I was young I wanted to be a musician and a writer with my own music studio in New York. I’ve managed to accomplish all of this and then some. Traveling the world advocating for identity pride and disability inclusion through music and storytelling has seen me to the White House, UN, BBC, GRAMMYs, a ton of very amazing places. But life is an ever-journey, and we’re just getting started.

11. Have you ever incorporated something that happened to you in real life into your novels?

Yes. I’ve been assaulted and my main character endures an assault.

12. If you had a superpower, what would it be?

To understand and to be understood.


13. What other projects are you working on now?

I’m working on a Non-Fiction, a music album called “Mad Different” that explores the weird, the different and leans in, and am forever touring.

14. Do you have any plans for a sequel?

Maybe. Let’s see where life takes us.

https://amzn.to/3PNfSoD

Death Tango by Lachi

GENRE: Science Fiction/Horror

BLURB

In a Utopian twenty-third-century New York City, where corporations have replaced governments, AI dictates culture, and citizens are free to people-watch any other citizen they choose through an app, this horror-laden Sci-Fi Thriller follows four mis-matched coeds as they attempt to solve the murder of an eccentric parascientist. Only someone or something able to navigate outside the highest levels of croud-sourced surveillance could get away with murder in this town. If the team can’t work quickly to solve the case, New York City will be devoured by a dark plague the eccentric had been working on prior to his death, a plague which, overtime, appears to be developing sentience.

EXCERPT

It is nine years ago. I stand alone on an unstable rock. Beneath that rock are a few precarious slabs of granite. Beneath the granite lies a hundred feet of air, of silence, of potential bone-shattering death. Surrounded by a dusk sky, Mount Venom—the cliff aptly named for the lives it has claimed—stretches endlessly beneath my quivering legs and far beyond my blurring vision.

Through the blaring wind, I hear several SOIs—School of Intelligence kids—hurl down demoralizing insults from the cliff’s edge. “She’ll never make it!” “Fall and die, swine!” Each year the SOIs goad us TFs—Testing Facility subjects—into scaling the cliff. If successful, the TF is accepted as an equal, putting an end to constant ridicule and torment. There is little sympathy for those who accept the challenge and fail. I tell myself to reach for the next stone along the slope, to keep my hands steady, to breathe.

I near the finish line.

Every inch of my body tastes it as much as my mouth tastes it. Get there; say nothing; feel no pride. My face wet with tears and mucus, my fingers slippery with blood, I feel around for my next grip and pull on my burning calves. I have only two heaves left. Two heaves, and no more being treated like trash.

I notice a small gap between two large stones above me. As I place my dampened hands into the hole for leverage, the rubble on which I stand gives out. My legs dangle freely. I have the willpower to lift my body onward, but my concentration is broken by a pair of black-gloved hands that pop out of the fissure above me.

Someone is hiding behind the rocks.

Tech Sports knitted in thin red stitching on each glove slides into view. My body ignores the anxiety presented by this new predicament, and I continue to lift. The gloves grab both my forearms and yank. I am now dangling by the grip of those hands; I am now at their complete mercy.

“Friend or foe?” I manage to growl between pained gasps, the wind forcing hair into my mouth.

“You’re so close,” replies a male voice I can hardly distinguish.

“I know! I know! Help me up!” I yell. My legs work uselessly to find hold. Receiving no verbal or physical response, I wriggle my shoulders. “Hey! Help me up!”

“Beg me!” the voice demands, barely audible over the blood rushing in my ears. I fend off a rapidly growing well of despair. Despair is a choice, a manifestation of surrender.

“Please!” I bark, the word taking with it all of my remaining willpower. I look up wide-eyed at the gloved hands, ignoring the falling stones as I await my fate.

“This is for putting in the application!” he yells, and with a quick jolt he lets go of my arms.

I fall.

I keep my eyes open, desperately hoping for something to grab, but all I see are a mix of gray sky, red rock face and my flailing arms. I hear my bones smash against the jagged teeth of Mount Venom and scream one long uninterrupted exhale, silenced only by the jarring collision of the back of my skull against the cold, hard pavement.

I don’t feel the fracture. I only hear it between my ears. Pop.

I lie at the foot of Mount Venom, looking up at dark clouds, a metallic taste oozing over my tongue, a harsh pain working its way down my neck. A thick puddle coalesces under my head as onlookers gather.

My vision snaps away instantly with a blink. Surrounding echoes fade slowly as the internal sound of my curtailed heartbeats takes over. Suddenly I feel cold and heavy. I am motionless, no longer taking in oxygen.

After an onslaught of euphoria, I feel my brain flatten. I hear its slight gummy movements of deflation against my last few heartbeats. And somewhere between no longer feeling the ground beneath me and no longer feeling the air around me, I realize I am dead.

I perceive only a black vastness about me. Like an autumn leaf I float in the Cartesian circle that is the keen awareness of my nonexistence. A mix of bliss and terror. I try to hold on to something physical, something I can understand. “You are safe. You are safe,” I repeat, exercising the remnants of my inner monologue.

Then I begin to see things.

A single bright blue diamond, about the size of a fist, appears five feet before me. It is soon joined by two more on either side, followed by two more still, until a string of blue diamonds surrounds me. I realize I can see my entire periphery, no longer limited by physical eyes. A light source switches on behind me, revealing that I am floating at the center of a rotating diamond-rimmed disco ball.

Trying to locate the light source, I push my perception upward, downward, left, right, only to find that I, myself, am the source of that light. The speed with which the disco ball spins steadily increases, faster and faster, until all is a blur of spinning frenzy. Suddenly thousands of quick snapshots of familiar faces speed toward me: my friends, my bullies, the dark skin of my estranged father, the Spanglish ravings of my drunken mother, their parents, their parents’ parents. Images of a cottage in France, a village in Africa, past wars, ancient discoveries, tree scavenging, gasping air, breathing ocean, swimming in gas, feelings of remorse, loss, shame, excitement, immense love, bitter anguish, and a desperate need for acceptance. Every imaginable emotion ravages me whole.

I experience my consummate past. A massive rewind that stops at a sweeping explosion. A sphere of white fire so bright, it could hardly be described as fire. I am an endless wave of raw emotion drowning in the unyielding flames. And in that eternal instant I understand everything.

Again, all fades to black, the warmth, the understanding. And though the blackness around me is infinite, I sense a presence. I am not alone.

“Look around you,” the presence communicates to me, not through sound, sight or touch, but through direct understanding. I am certain it is—at least in part—a being other than myself. I hold fast to my mantra. “Do not fear,” the presence continues. I allow the mantra to fade. “Do you see how far the blackness reaches, stretching beyond infinite horizons? That is how much you do not know, how much you’ve yet to learn.” A brief silence. “Fear is the great enemy of knowledge, and you, Rosa, are the switch between them.”

“Me?” I manage to convey through the slivers of my consciousness.

“Us.”

“Us? How? Why? What do you mean?” My figurative words come childlike and excited.

“You already know how,” the presence responds as it fades. “You already know why.” I feel a growing bitter loneliness as the presence drifts away.

“Wait!” I yell. The blackness around me congeals to a bumpy dark brown. “Come back!” The glistening euphoria gradually declines as my flattened brain begins to restructure. A physical atmosphere swiftly surrounds me, and a palpitating sensation starts beneath me, causing me to rise and fall. The pulsing sensation reveals itself to be my heart grappling for a pulse.

A crashing ocean of white noise fills my head. I feel that I have a head. A body. Arms. A face. My face.

I open my eyes as the rush of noise fades to the sound of an open room. I am lying on a bed in the infirmary, surrounded by the school nurse and Dr. Ferguson himself, their blurry faces examining my head wound.

Dr. Ferguson bends forward. “You had a very nasty fall, Ms. Lejeune. Do you remember that?” He watches a nurse as she dabs a cloth at my face. “You’re lucky to be alive.”

AUTHOR Bio and Links

Lachi is an internationally-touring creative artist, writer and award-winning cultural activist living in New York City. A legally blind daughter of African immigrants, Lachi uses her platform to amplify narratives on identity pride and Disability Culture. In her public life, Lachi has helped increase accessibility to the GRAMMY Awards ceremonies as well as create numerous opportunities for music professionals with disabilities, through her organization RAMPD. Lachi also creates high-quality content amplifying disability. She has hosted a PBS American Masters segment highlighting disabled rebels and releases songs such as “Lift Me Up” and “Black Girl Cornrows” that elevate disability and difference to the pop culture market. Named a “new champion in advocacy” by Billboard, she’s held talks with the White House, the UN, Fortune 100 firms, and has been featured in Forbes, Hollywood Reporter, Good Morning America, and the New York Times for her unapologetic celebration of intersectionality through her music, storytelling and fashion.

In her free-time Lachi writes sci-fi and fantasy novels with diverse, headstrong characters, focusing heavily on atonal world-building, quip-ridden character development, likable villains and psycho-spiritual discourse.

  • Website:www.lachimusic.com
  • Twitter: twitter.com/lachimusic
  • Facebook: facebook.com/lachimusic
  • Instagram: instagram.com/lachimusic
  • Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Death-Tango-M-Lachi-ebook/dp/B0BLGYMCQ7/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0
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Giveaway – Vampire Witch by Eileen Shehan @RoxanneRhoads

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Ghost Dream by Eileen Sheehan

I first saw a photograph of the abandoned house on Twelve Maple Lane about a decade ago. My immediate impression was what a wonderful inn it would make for those who appreciated the days gone by.  So, without so much as a walk through, I bought it.

It was nightfall when I approached the old house that had been wholly unoccupied for years with reverence and a touch of trepidation. Its residents had long left it to the mercy of rodents, dust, and cobwebs. I felt as if I was invading the privacy of the ghosts who were left behind. Ghosts of occupants over the centuries since the building was little more than an idea in the mind of the builder.

Holding my flashlight firmly in one hand, I turned the porcelain doorknob that would allow me entry. It, like the door, was cracked with age. My mind pondered over how many hands had turned that knob and pushed their way into this dwelling in its glory days. Days when vibrantly colorful rooms glowed with the softness of gas and candle light and radiated laughter and happiness. My ponderings quickly left me when, for the first time in my life, my level head -that had always ignored and given no credence to superstition- experienced an overwhelming dread as an invisible cobweb clung to my face. I shuddered. It was only a cobweb, but it felt as if I’d walked through someone. Or, better yet, someone had walked through me.

Like a frightened child, I rushed to the one room that I had made certain was prepared for my occupancy by the workmen who were hired for the house’s resurrection. As I locked the door, a sense of security swept over me. I had not only locked out the moldy darkness, but the eerie feeling of unseen eyes was no longer hovering about. Someone had been thoughtful enough to make sure that there was a cheery fire burning in the oversized fireplace. Its flickering flames did wonders to give a sense of warmth and safety to the room. I sat down before it with a comforting sense of relief. The electricity was turned off, requiring the soft flickering lights of candles to illuminate my surroundings. Seeing the antique furnishings in such ambiance brought up visions of days gone by.

From the color and print of the faded wallpaper, and the delicacy of the bed and dressing table, I deduced that the room had once belonged to the gentler sex. I closed my eyes as I allowed my imagination to summon visions of faces out of the mists of the past. Faces that were long forgotten and voices that long ago grew silent for all time.

As a storm brewed outside of the thick leaded window panes, my reverie shifted to sadness. The singing of the voices from the past was replaced by the shrieking of the winds outside. The laughter in the ears of my mind shifted to a softened wail. The incessant beating of the rain against the panes stripped the room of all tranquility. The eeriness that I’d left beyond the closed door slowly crept through the cracks beneath it.

A nervousness overtook me as the fire burned low. An overwhelming sense of loneliness consumed me. Eager to shake it, I arose and changed into my night clothes. I moved about the room, stealthily preparing for slumber as if I was amongst others whose dreams would be lethal to interrupt. Diving onto the mattress, I slithered beneath the covers. With my head barely exposed, I lay listening to the rain and wind and the faint creaking of distant shutters until a blissful, deep sleep overtook me.

The acute stillness of the home when I awoke filled me with a shuddering expectancy. All, but the beating of my heart, was silent as I lay in the pre-dawn light while I debated what to do. The workmen would not arrive for several hours. My stomach was announcing the need for the breaking of my fast, but my cowardly nerves refused to budge. So, I lay in the warmth and false security of my bed until an unseen force took matters into hand.

Slowly. Very slowly, the bedclothes slid toward the foot of the bed. It was as if someone was pulling them from me. Instead of being too nervous to move, I was now scared stiff. Not only couldn’t I move a muscle, but I could make no sound. I finally regained control of my body enough to allow me to grab the edge of the blankets and pull them back over my breast until they reached my chin. It took an even greater effort to pull them over my head. Beads of nervous sweat formed upon my forehead as a result.

I lay in frozen silence while I waited for what might happen next.

After a brief interval, that steady pull on the coverings returned. I roused my energies, snatched the covers with a vice grip, and pulled them over my head again. Suddenly the sound of heavy footsteps permeated my room. I felt a sense of relief that they sounded like they were moving away from me instead of toward me. When the footsteps reached the bedroom door, I waited for the creaking sound of it opening and closing, but it didn’t come. The footsteps, however, continued to exit the room and fade as they walked further into the empty house.

I lay trembling while contemplating what just happened until I had myself convinced that it was a dream. My nerves were further soothed when I crawled out of bed and found that the bedroom door was still bolted on the inside.

The day passed as normal. I exerted a good deal of emotional energy overseeing the workmen in my effort to keep the integrity of the old house in place. Once nightfall arrived and the men retired, I eagerly took my exhausted self to my bedroom once again.

I had just blown out the candle and snuggled beneath the bedclothes when I heard a grating noise overhead. It sounded like a heavy box was being dragged across the floor. When the dragging sound ended, a loud thud occurred. It was so loud that the windows shook.

Beyond my locked bedroom door, I could hear the muffled sound of doors slamming throughout the house.

A part of me wanted to get up and search for intruders, while the other part of me said to stay put and wait to see what would happen. I regretted not taking the precaution against intruders by having a bat or some other type of self-defense weapon in my room as I listened to the sound of stealthy footsteps creeping about the corridors, as well as up and down the stairs.

Sometimes these noises stopped outside of my bedroom door, hesitated, and went away again. I heard muffled sentences and occasional half-uttered screams that were faint, but discernable. Then, a light breeze passed by me as the swish of invisible garments reached my ears.

The eerie feeling that I’d felt the night before returned with a forcefulness unmatched. I sat up in bed and held my hand to my heart while I did my best to slow the beating that threatened to get out of control. Unlike the night before when the fireplace was ablaze with illuminating light, I had lit only a small fire that rapidly turned to embers. With the candles snuffed out, I was forced to rely on the glow of the embers and the filtered rays of the full moon through the window to see my surroundings. The shadows bounced about, but I was still able to make out a cloaked figure hovering in the corner of the room.

“Who are you and what do you want?” I nervously asked. The figure remained silent as it slowly moved toward me.

“This is my home,” I said with a boldness that I didn’t feel.  “You are not welcome.”

“Why do you wish to have this home?” the figure asked in a deep voice that had a hint of echo to it.

Surprised by the question, I was even more surprised by the way I calmly replied with, “I wish to bring it back to its glory days and to share it with others.”

“Glory days?” the figure mockingly said. “Those were times long gone. The house belongs to me now.”

“I purchased this house,” I insisted. “I have the deed to it.”

“You may have the deed, but I have lived in it,” the figure argued. “It belongs to me. You will leave.”

Fear was replaced by indignation over the shadowy figure’s demand that I leave a home that I’d put so much of my heart and soul into and would require even more before its beauty could shine through once more.

“If you care so much for this home,” I challenged, “Why have you let it go into such disrepair?”

“It is as I desire it to be,” the figure firmly announced.

“It is not as I desire it,” said a female’s voice from seemingly nowhere.

“Josephine!” the figure bellowed. “Why have you come?”

“I never left,” the voice replied. “I simply saw no reason to negate your occupancy until now.”

“Why now?” the figure asked.

“Finally, there is someone who is willing to return the life and love to the walls of my home,” Josephine said. “I have cried decades of tears for want of such a thing to occur. Now that it has, I will not allow you to prevent it. You must go.”

“I have occupied this place too long for you to be able to push me out,” the figure bitterly announced.

“Perhaps, if it were just myself doing the pushing,” Josephine said with conviction.

Too stunned and amazed by what was occurring before my very eyes, I stayed motionless while I listened to what I discovered to be two discarnate beings verbally debating over who should take control of the house that I now owned. I was tempted to ask them both to leave, since the house now belonged to me, but, since I was only now being exposed to the reality of a world beyond the here and now, I was uncertain what the protocol for such a request would be. So, instead, I remained stoic and silent while I waited to see what the outcome of this verbal debate might be.

To my surprise and dismay, the arguing grew quite potent. So potent, in fact, that the stillness of the air left the room. It was replaced by what I could only describe as a violent wind. The bedroom door rattled, along with the windows. A fleeting fear that the glass might shatter flashed through my head before my attention was turned to the fact that the room seemed to expand in the darkness as the figure of a woman in a Victorian gown appeared before me.

Although I had already become aware of the presence of the cloaked figure, he was merely a shadow. This woman, on the other hand, was as opaque as myself.

She was neatly put together with not one hair out of place. Her dress was of vibrant colors that glowed in the moonlight. As I stared in startled wonderment, several equally opaque spirits, both male and female, in Victorian attire joined her. Soon, the room was filled with what I inherently knew were former occupants of the grand house.

The shadowy figure stood his ground, alone against a roomful of spirits wanting him out. At first, as the energy he projected blew like a hurricane through the room to the extent that I clung fast to the bedpost, I thought for sure that he would win. It took a moment for them to gather together with hands firmly clasped, but when they did, the wind changed direction and forced the shadow into oblivion.

I sat in silence on the edge of the bed while I debated what to do next. The spirits faded away, one by one, until only Josephine remained.

“You need not fear us,” Josephine said. “We are pleased that you bring to this home the life and love that it deserves. It has been our desire for decades. We will protect you and it from this moment on.”

With that, she also faded away.

Feeling safe and satisfied, I silently smiled and retreated to the security of my bedcovers. Within moments, I fell into a deep, exhausted slumber.

I awoke the following morning to the sounds of workmen bustling about the house. Surprised that I’d slept for so long, I raced to join them. As the day progressed, my thoughts, and memories of the battle between spirits the night before faded. By the time nightfall returned, I considered it nothing more than a vivid dream.

The restoration of the house continued until it was restored to its original glory with no more incidents from the unseen world. Since there were no more bumps in the night, bedclothes mysteriously sliding off me on their own, or spirits appearing before me, I eventually completely dismissed the dream as a reaction to the unsavory ambiance of a neglected home.

Today, I operate an historic inn that offers tours that are accompanied by the history of the house and its occupants that I acquired from the local library and town records. On rare occasions, I will receive a report from one of my overnight guests reporting vivid dreams of a woman in Victorian dress smiling as she stands at the foot of their bed.

Vampire Witch
Vampire Witch Trilogy
Book One
Eileen Sheehan

Genre: Paranormal/thriller/romance
Publisher: Earth Wise Books
Date of Publication: 01/01/2016
ISBN: 978-1726737524
ASIN:  ‎ B0195YJ1Q0
Number of pages: 378
Word Count: 91,903

Tagline: She falls for two handsome vampire brothers. Now, she must choose…. Lovers of VAMPIRE DIARIES or TRUE BLOOD will enjoy this story.

Book Description: 

Discovering the mother that you thought was dead for over a decade is very much alive will shake your world.

And so begins Casey’s dilemma. Add to that her mother has become a mutant vampire and has promised her in marriage to a wicked vampire king in order to unite the two kingdoms. Now, let’s combine that with the fact that the bearer of such news is a hot and sexy guy who turns out to be a vampire and he steals her heart. Then, to top it off she finds that he has an equally hot vampire brother vying for her love and who she just might have feelings for too.

Ready or not, Casey’s life just took a turn for the strange.

Join Casey in this sizzling, action-packed first book of a paranormal romance thriller trilogy.

Book Trailer: https://bit.ly/3PDgAWJ

Amazon      BN     Kobo     Apple     Smashwords



Luthias groaned and raised his hand to his head.  Gwendoline was at his side in a flash.  She lifted him into a position that allowed him to easily drink the liquid she held to his lips and then lowered him back down again.

“This will help him regain a bit of his strength, but he’ll still need blood,” she said. She went to a tall refrigerator in the corner of the room and inspected its contents. “I doubt I have enough to bring him back to normal.”
“How much do you need?” I asked.

“He’s almost bled dry,” she said.  “I have enough to keep him alive, but not much more than that.”

I bit my lower lip while I watched Gwendoline pull every bag of blood she had in her supplies and place them on a tea cart to roll next to the table.  She emptied the first bag into a glass and urged him to drink.  He weakly obliged. By the time she’d fed him the last bag, the hollow around his sunken eyes was beginning to disappear and his wounds were starting to shrink.

I pointed this out to Gwendoline and she smiled faintly.

“If he has more blood will they heal completely?” I asked.

“Within seconds,” she said.

“Where does he usually get his blood?” I asked hesitantly.

“He hunts deer or wolf. Large animals are generally the best,” she replied.

“No humans,” I mused admiringly.

“Verso vampires refrain from drinking human blood whenever possible.  The risk of developing an addiction is too great,” she explained. “We live peacefully amongst ourselves and rarely venture out into the rawness of what’s left of our planet. An addiction to human blood would require they leave Verso.”

“There are some who drink it,” I said.  “A maid told me humans don’t last long in Verso because rogue vampires drink their blood until they’re dead.”

“That’s true,” she said with a nod. “It takes a strong vampire to be able to stop drinking a human’s blood before they drain them dry. In my centuries of life, I’ve known of only a few who could do it.”

“Is it the magic that keeps you alive?” I asked.

“Indeed,” she replied with pride. “As it will ye.”

“I plan on becoming a vampire,” I reminded her.

“Yes, but until ye do, the magic will slow down the aging process,” she explained. “There’s no need to rush things.”

“How old was Geo when he was turned?” I asked while I mindlessly stroked the length Luthias’s arm.

“He was twenty-eight. He had a wife and three children, poor lad,” she said.

 “I never thought about him having a family,” I gasped. “What happened to them?”

“They were killed by the raiding vampires. Geo was saved because of the strong magic in his veins.  Luthias found him and brought him to me to tend to.  He looked much like Luthias does now,” she said.

“When did Luthias turn vampire?” I asked.





About the Author:

Sitting at her antique rolltop desk in her home in upstate New York, Internationally Published and Award Winning author, Eileen Sheehan, writes steamy romance thrillers for the mature adult with a sexy male and strong female. The majority of her novels are paranormal, but some are just plain novels about people in love. As the years progressed, so did her writing style. Although she still includes romance and has a happily ever after ending, her stories tend to have more mystery, thrills, and horror in them.

She makes it a point to write a novel length that will allow the busy readers to be able to sit down in an evening (no more than two) and be taken on a journey that was created by her active imagination without having a week go by before they gets to the end of the story.

An incurable romantic, she has a love affair with at least one of her characters… one book at a time. She hopes the same thing happens to you.

Eileen started out as a freelance writer for periodical magazines and newspapers. From there, she tried her hand at writing screenplays. Her screenplay, “When East Meets West” was a finalist in the 2001 Independent International Film and Video Festival at Madison Square Gardens, NYC. Finally finding her niche, she lets her imagination loose with paranormal romance/thrillers. 

If you want to see more quality writings at a reasonable price, please support her efforts by leaving a review and becoming a follower










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Giveaway – A Nutcracker Nightmare by Christina Romeril @dollycas @RomerilChris

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A Nutcracker Nightmare (A Killer Chocolate Mystery)
by Christina Romeril

About A Nutcracker Nightmare


A Nutcracker Nightmare (A Killer Chocolate Mystery)
Cozy Mystery
2nd in Series
Setting – Montana
Crooked Lane Books (October 17, 2023)
Hardcover ‏ : ‎ 320 pages
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1639104917
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1639104918
Kindle ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0BSKRF471

Perfect for fans of Joanne Fluke and Laura Childs, when twin sisters Hanna and Alex help out at the local high school reunion, volunteering takes a turn when they find a former classmate’s dead body.

Hanna and Alex, owners of the Murder and Mayhem book and chocolate shop, are busy preparing for the Harriston High School’s reunion weekend. Neighbors will connect with old friends and perhaps try to avoid old foes. One person no one can avoid is Kyle, the former star quarterback, who is busy using his entire playbook to try and score with Hanna, even threatening her if she doesn’t play nice. At the reunion, Alex glimpses more drama than nostalgia as insults are flung around like a football at a Friday night game. The party is put on hold when Alex finds the dead body of none other than Kyle himself, bludgeoned to death by a nutcracker that the sisters admired earlier in the night.

Hanna quickly becomes the prime suspect—someone saw her slap Kyle in the face at the reunion dance. She’ll need her sister, their sleuthing canine, Watson, and their old friends and colleagues to help break this case wide open. While looking through old yearbooks and taking a stroll down memory lane, Alex uncovers a few secrets about Kyle, now, it seems like everyone had a motive to kill him.

But when the suspects start becoming the victims, Alex and Hanna know that they can’t melt under the pressure—they must find the killer before they become just another yearbook memory.

About Christina Romeril

Christina Romeril is the author of the Killer Chocolate Mystery series. The series is set in Montana at the foot of the Rocky Mountains, one of her favourite places to visit. She and her husband live a few hours away in a small village in Southern Alberta. When Christina isn’t writing she loves to hike in Waterton Lakes National Park, or just hang out there eating gourmet hot dogs and ice cream. When the former banker isn’t enjoying nature, she loves to create and consume chocolate confections. Not necessarily in that order.

Purchase Links – Amazon – B&N – Kobo – Bookshop.org 

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Giveaway – Cruel and Splendid Mermaids by Julie Catherine @xpressotours

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Cruel and Splendid Mermaids
Julie Catherine
(Broken Mermaids, #1)
Publication date: October 17th 2023
Genres: Adult, Dark Fantasy, Fantasy

For mermaids and humans, the rules are the same: be careful around strangers, be wary of magic and before you dive in, check what’s lurking under the waves.

Nineteen-year-old Ellara Merme’s whole life she’s known one purpose: to mate with men, to procreate, and to bear offspring to fight in Neptune’s underwater army. No problem… There’s just one hiccup. Her siren song doesn’t work.

No one can know.

She’s a broken mermaid with a faulty lure and she has only one week left to make the damaged song work. But all that can change with the ocean’s next deadly storm. Dragged from a shipwreck, mythology says a rescued sailor will be so grateful he’ll fall into anyone’s arms. Even a broken mermaid’s. Still, there’s a reason why merfolk and humans don’t get along. And a lot can go wrong when a girl from the ocean washes up on the shore.

Think mating is easy? Think again.

Cruel and Splendid Mermaids is a first-person dark and playful underwater fantasy. Book one in the Broken Mermaids series.

Goodreads / Amazon


EXCERPT

This was the best part of every day. Floating in the surf, watching the earthy pinks, bathing in the heavy, orange glow. The manner in which the morning sunlight hit the beach and the other beautiful things on the shore.

He was early today.

Just a bit.

Always running like clockwork.

His tanned, heaving chest, warm brown and stretched firm over muscles. Blood pumping to his heart and lungs. The way his whole body flexed in his gait. The steady footfalls landing in the sand. Little divots tossed up with each tread. His body moved forward, reconnecting with the earth. Over and over. I couldn’t look away.

I would take any, of course. But this man was my favorite.

So deliberate in his path.

Though human and mermaid timelines didn’t one hundred percent line up, I liked to think we were of similar age. I eyed him up. Close, anyway. The backwards cap over wavy brown curls. Hair that only got curlier as he started to sweat. I liked his gray, cotton running shorts. That bare chest. I loved his strong, limber legs. It would be nice if he could be my first.

Not just nice. A dream.

The only dream of my heart.

I wasn’t picky, I wouldn’t be, I knew that. A man was a man was a man. But there was something about him. Every step that he ran. So damn firm and so upright. I rubbed my belly everyday as he passed.

“Put a baby in me,” I sometimes whispered, although he couldn’t hear me. That was clear, because no coughing fit overtook those simple words. I was out here in the waves and he was up there. Running home. Running for sport. Running somewhere. And anywhere. And everywhere.

I just floated.

Waiting.

Watching every day ’til he passed.

Then, I’d kick up my fin, dive beneath the waves and head for home. Another day in the life of a mermaid. A new beginning. A brand new chance to finally, finally show all of Merme my true worth.

Author Bio:

Julie Catherine is an author, screenwriter and playwright.

Website / Goodreads / Newsletter





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Giveaway – In The Wick Of Time by Valone Jones @dollycas

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In the Wick of Time (Magic Candle Shop Mystery) by Valona Jones

About In The Wick Of Time


In the Wick of Time (Magic Candle Shop Mystery)
Paranormal Cozy Mystery
2nd in Series
Setting – Savannah, Georgia
Crooked Lane Books (October 17, 2023)
Hardcover ‏ : ‎ 288 pages
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1639105077
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1639105076
Digital ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0BSKWTKZN

Tabby Winslow will help her twin sister Sage with anything and everything—and that includes putting out the flames of suspicion when Sage’s boss is found murdered in this magical mystery, perfect for fans of Amanda Flower and Sofie Kelly.

December in Savannah, Georgia, is a sight to behold. With all the festivities—including the traditional riverfront luminary display during the boat parade—twin sisters Tabby and Sage Winslow are busier than ever setting up for the big celebration. But that isn’t the only thing on the sisters’ minds. Both Sage and her fellow employee Mary Nicole are vying for the sought-after assistant manager job at the plant nursery. But when Loren Lee, their boss, is found dead, and Sage becomes the police’s favorite suspect, both Winslow girls know that they’ll need more than a flicker of magic and their sisterhood to solve the murder and clear Sage’s name.

Soon, Tabby realizes that this is just one of the many problems they have. If being a suspect for murder wasn’t enough, there are more magical problems that they have to fix: Sage’s boyfriend is having a paranormal experience of his own he can’t control, there’s an energy vampire searching for his supposedly lost cousin, her cat suddenly dislikes her, and oh—every time Tabby hiccups, she turns completely invisible. The suspect list grows with each day and it seems everyone has a reason or a connection to Loren Lee.

Tabby and Sage are burning the candle at both ends—but will it be enough to keep their friends safe and find this killer? Or will they be burned by their efforts?

About Valona Jones

Valona Jones, also known as Maggie Toussaint, writes paranormal cozy mysteries set in coastal Georgia. A former scientist, she’s drawn to the study of personal energy. She sharpened her people-watching skills as a lifelong introvert and had a bank vault of personal observations when she began to write fiction. Her newest release is In The Wick of Time, book 2 in the A Magic Candle Shop Mystery, preceded by Snuffed Out, which released Jan. 2023. She’s a member of Mystery Writers of America and Sisters in Crime with more than twenty-five published works of fiction. She lives in coastal Georgia, where she’s seen time and tide wait for no one.

Author Links

 Purchase Links – Amazon – B&N – Kobo – BookShop.org

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Giveaway – How It All Began by Fiona West @XpressoTours

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How it All Began
Fiona West
Publication date: October 24th 2023
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Trust is like car keys: easy to lose and hard to get anywhere without it…

Evan only intended to strike up a casual conversation with the stunning blonde with Goldie Hawn looks–now he finds himself trying to cross paths with her on campus every chance he gets. But his water polo teammate appears to have damaged his chances with Farrah before he could even ask her out.

Farrah’s been out with players from the water polo team before–and it’s always ended in tears. The handsome medical student who wants to help her get revenge says he’s not like them…but there’s only one way to know for sure.

Will a trip to his hometown seal the deal or prove this player’s all washed up?

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo

—

EXCERPT:

“Who is that?” Cat asked, peering out the front window as she pinned the foil in Mrs. Bergstein’s hair. “And what do I have to do to get my fingers in that hair?”

“I love his cut,” Daisy said. “Don’t you just love it? I wonder who did it.”

“Forget his cut. Look at his jaw. And those arms. I bet those could keep me warm all night.”

Farrah smiled to herself as she swept her area, but said nothing. He’d put some kind of product in it that was making it look even more tousled than she’d intended, and it was definitely working for him. She’d have to find out what he’d used. Farrah glanced at the clock: it was 3:55. She took off her apron and washed her hands in the sink; they were feeling rough. She really needed to invest in some gloves or something if she was going to be holding hands with this guy more in the near future…and it seemed like a real possibility. More nerves bubbled in her stomach as she checked herself in the mirror, fluffing her hair.

“I’m off. See you all Monday.”

“Wait,” Cat said, “is that…are you…that stud muffin is yours?” she called after her as the door swung shut. “Farrah!”

“Hi,” she greeted Evan shyly, and he grinned.

“I think your boss was trying to get your attention…”

Farrah waved a hand. “She’s fine. They’ll just hound me for details on Monday, anyway, and I’ll have more to tell them then.” She leaned forward, hesitated, then gave him a peck on the cheek, if only to stake her claim with the other stylists. Mine. And yes, I gave him a bodacious haircut. His sunglasses reflected her smile back.

“In that case, ready to go? Turns out the shop is just down the street.”

“Sure!” He held out his arm, and she took it gladly as they started off. They walked in pleasant silence for a few minutes until Evan dropped her arm and turned to her.

“Okay, I can’t take it anymore. Was it Hairway to Heaven?”

Farrah blinked. “What?”

“Your name! The better name for the salon! Was it Hairway to Heaven? Or maybe Whole Lotta Styling Going On?”

She snickered. “What? No!”

“The Braidy Bunch?”

Farrah rolled her eyes and resumed walking. “That is the worst pun I’ve ever heard.”

“Oh, I’ve got lots more. Vanity Hair? Blown Away? Ahead of Hair Time?”

“Stop,” Farrah giggled, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him close, matching his long strides. But the man just kept going.

“A Cut Above. Fringe Benefits. Thy Kingdom Comb.”

The giggles were now uncontrollable, and she felt tears of laughter at the corners of her eyes.

“Curl up ‘n Dye! Mane Attraction! A Cut Above!”

“You already did that one,” Farrah wheezed, holding her stomach, barely able to get the words out for laughing so hard.

“Well, I can’t help it! I have to know! Please, please put me out of my misery and—”

“All right, all right,” she said, wiping the tears from her face, aware that her mascara was now running. “My goodness. It’s…” She’d never told anyone her plans for the salon, not even her mom, and she told her pretty much everything. But Evan wasn’t going to judge her, she didn’t think. And hopefully, he’d be kind if he didn’t like it.

“It’s Shear Brilliance,” she said, just as they came to a stop outside a bridal shop.

Evan stared at her for a long moment, blinking slowly, then finally said, “That is genius.”

“You really like it?”

“No, I adore it. It’s perfect. Far better than what I came up with. You’ve got a flair for this, Farrah. And it’s going to look great printed on your business cards when you give Harry a stack for his friends.”

Farrah rolled her eyes as she pulled open the front door. “You never stop, do you?”

Evan grinned. “You should see me in the off-season when I don’t have water polo to tire me out. I’m like a human pinball machine.”

Author Bio:

Fiona West lives in the Pacific Northwest. Writing romance is her favorite thing, followed closely by reading, knitting and drinking tea while looking out the window. When she’s not doing those things, she’s spending time with her husband and two kids. Her debut novel, The Ex-Princess, received a starred review from Publishers Weekly and was named one of their Best Books of 2019. The first book in her contemporary romance series, Could Be Something Good, also received a starred review from Publishers Weekly. Find out more about Fiona at http://www.fionawest.net or sign up for her newsletter at http://www.subscribepage.com/westwind.

Website / Goodreads / Twitter / Newsletter


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Giveaway – If The Sun Spares Us by Brenda Marie Smith @GoddessFish @bsmithnovelist

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What a gorgeous cover for If The Sun Spares Us by Breanda Marie Smith. I have been on an apocalyptic reading kick for a while now, and the Braving The Light Series sounds like a fabulous read and I am happy to share it with you.

https://amzn.to/46ouCRu

IF THE SUN SPARES US by Brenda Marie Smith

GENRE:  Post-apocalyptic thriller

Two years ago, a solar pulse destroyed modern life. Bea Crenshaw organized her starving, suburban neighbors into a farming community. But now Bea’s gone, and her grandchildren must carry her legacy forward.

In the post-apocalyptic pressure cooker of Austin, Texas, 19-year-old Keno and his younger cousins struggle to ensure their community’s survival even as they’re forced to relocate to safer grounds. Northern Lights that don’t belong this far south grow increasingly intense, making Keno fear what harm the sun will cause next.

Even worse, a marauding militia called the Raiders is closing in, led by a deranged woman who preys on teenage boys. Despite Keno’s debilitating flashbacks from a firefight, he and his wife have a new baby to protect. Though Bea is dead, her spirit desperately searches for ways to shield her grandkids. When Raiders target two neighborhood members, the only hope lies in the community’s strength, Keno’s ingenuity, and the family’s fierce love for one another.

EXCERPT

In the next second, thick neon bands of green light shoot into the sky like they’re spewing straight out of the earth at the horizon, the aurora pulsing and soaring hundreds of feet into the air toward the stratosphere. This is nothing like the tame Northern Lights we’ve had off and on over the past year, but crazy-bright and thick and enormous. None of it belongs in Texas. I stare at the lights, getting dizzy from their movement and intensity.

The guys out on the street whistle and shout… I close my eyes to get my bearings.

Residual streaks of light burn my eyeballs and flash across my eyelids, then mutate into the recurring, overly-vivid memories I can’t shake: flaming, screaming boys, falling fiery trees, bursting Molotov cocktails, strafing assault rifles—a hand slaps across my mouth and covers my nose, and Richie’s behind me, yanking me to the ground, hissing, “Shhh! Shhh! Don’t scream.”

“The End of Days is upon us, and we’ve got work to do!” shouts the woman from the street. “Head back north.” The feet start tramping around. “Jonesie, north’s the other way.”

Richie’s pressing so hard on my mouth and nose he’s gonna suffocate me. My tears run over his hand. Flaming bodies still flash before my eyes while green lights burn in the sky overhead…

I grab his hand to yank it off, but he presses harder. I panic. Dude’s gonna kill me.

AUTHOR Bio and Links

2018-10-18_Brenda Marie Smith

BRENDA MARIE SMITH is attracted to stories where everyday characters transcend their limitations to find their inner heroism. She lived off the grid for years in a farming collective where her sons were delivered by midwives. A lifelong community activist, Brenda has managed student co-op housing, produced concerts, and raised a small herd of boys. She and her husband live in Kyle, Texas. They have more grown kids and grandkids than they can count.

SOCIAL MEDIA:

  • Website: https://brendamariesmith.com
  • Blog: https://brendamariesmith.tumblr.com
  • Twitter: @bsmithnovelist
  • YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCJlLSnORIyoaygvZ1j49ZKw

Buy Links for the Braving the Light Series:

  • IF DARKNESS TAKES US (Book One): https://amzn.to/461geyL
  • For IF THE LIGHT ESCAPES (Book Two): https://amzn.to/464zPOD
  • IF THE SUN SPARES US (Book Three): https://amzn.to/3LzIpwA
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Giveaway – A Patch Of Romance by J C Valentine @xpressotours

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A Patch of Romance
J.C. Valentine
(A Coffee Break Mystery, #4)
Publication date: October 25th 2023
Genres: Adult, Mystery, Romance

Callie’s status as a single mom is about to end when she meets up with local dad, Scott Prince, at the pumpkin patch. Love is definitely in the air…or is that just pumpkin spice? Either way, Callie is about to embark on a seriously satisfying journey. That is, until the mystery knocker comes knocking. Is it just a Halloween prank, or is someone trying to send her a message—the deadly kind?

As Callie and Scott traverse the dating life with one another and ring in the holidays with the hope of uniting them all as one big, patchwork family, the lingering question of who keeps knocking and what they want looms in the shadows, waiting to be answered. Will Callie and Scott reveal the truth behind the eerie knocking before something it’s too late? And will they ever get their happily ever after?

Follow Callie and Scott’s journey from wary strangers to soulmates in this feel-good holiday romance. With a friends-to-lovers romance, family bonding moments, cozy Christmas traditions, and a found family trope, this wholesome love story will get you in the holiday spirit. Curl up with a mug of hot cocoa and let the magic of the season bring this unlikely pair together one knock at a time.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

“Okay, you wild banshees, costumes are ready to go!” I called up the stairs. Instantly, I heard the pounding of little feet as Lily and Ethan raced down the stairs, with Lily predictably in the lead, eager to transform into their Halloween alter-egos.

“Beware the Headless Horseman!” Lily cried, tossing her hooded cape dramatically over her grinning face. Next to her, Ethan was assembling his white boxy Minecraft costume, complete with pixelated foam sword.

I knelt down and made the final adjustments, securing Ethan’s headpiece and Lily’s belt, then ushered them toward the door. “Let’s hit those sidewalks before all the good candy is gone!” I declared.

It was still light outside when we stepped out onto the porch. Ghosts, superheroes, princesses, and witches were already parading up and down the street as families got the trick-or-treating underway. The crisp air twinkled with magic and excitement as neighbors called out compliments on costumes, and I inhaled the heavenly, smoky scent of burning wood that several people were using to keep warm as they passed out candy.

We weren’t far into our route when I heard rapid footsteps approaching. Lily and Ethan’s faces lit up as Scott and his son came into view dressed in matching blow-up dinosaur costumes. I couldn’t help laughing as I watched their giant dino heads bobble to and fro as they swished toward us.

“Hey, guys!” Scott greeted, slightly out of breath. Since our pumpkin carving hangout, we’d been planning for the kids to do Halloween night trick-or-treating together too. I was relieved he was making it easy for me to take this second opportunity with no strings attached.

“Dad, can we go show Ms. Molly our costumes?” Lily asked eagerly.

I nodded indulgently, enjoying seeing my kids having a good time. After waiting a few moments for Lily, Ethan, and Stanley to run up the walkway to show off their costumes to their principal, we began a slow, easy walk from house to house, stealing pieces of candy here and there, as the kids ran back and forth down driveways and bonded with each other more.

Author Bio:

J.C. Valentine is the USA Today and International bestselling author of the Night Calls and Wayward Fighters Series and the Forbidden Trilogy. Her vivid imagination and love of words and romance had her penning her own romance stories from an early age, which, despite being poorly edited and written longhand, she forced friends and family members to read. No, she isn’t sorry.

Living in the Northwest, she has three amazing children and far too many pets. Among the many hats she wears, J.C. is an entrepreneur. Having graduated with honors, she holds a Bachelor’s in English and when she isn’t writing, you can find her editing for fellow authors.

Sign up for J.C.’s newsletter and never miss a thing! http://bit.ly/1KxXWWB

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram / Newsletter


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Giveaway – Vampire Iniquity by Eileen Sheehan @RoxanneRhoads

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The Werewolf Lure by Eileen Sheehan

In the night when the moon is full, I listen to the howling of the beasts

They speak to each other with a sound all their own as they call to gather for the feast

Both man and beast they are combined from a curse made long ago

They walk as man both day and night until the full moon the beast does show

A strange thing happens deep within when I hear the cursed call in the wild

I let blood and body obey the lure to become the moon’s beast child.


Vampire Iniquity 
Tugurlan Chronicles
Book One
Eileen Sheehan

Genre: Paranormal-thriller-romance
Publisher: Earth Wise Books
Date of Publication: 01/11/2016
ISBN: 978-1726747400
ASIN:  ‎ B01AIJ7NWK
Number of pages:546
Word Count: 90,471

Cover Artist: Eileen Sheehan

Tagline: Join Dan on his journey of discovery as he not only learns that vampires exist, but that he has inherited the gift of being a slayer.

Book Description: 

Enter a dark and dangerous world that is filled with vampires, cannibalism, and human trafficking in the award winning novel, “Vampire Iniquity”, Book One of the “Tugurlan Chronicles”. 

When Dan gets tangled up in a rescue mission to save his friend’s fiancé, he is taken on a journey of self-discovery and family secrets. Battling against egotistical Dracula descendants, he soon learns of his family’s legacy as vampire slayers. 

With the help of his cousin, they must enter the den of iniquity once again to rid the wolf of these evil beings. But, will they be successful? And, at what cost? Find yourself on the edge of your seat in this thrilling and captivating read.

Vampire Iniquity Audio Sample https://bit.ly/3sDwmaR


Amazon      BN     Apple     Kobo     Audible     Smashwords

I lay sleeping in the fetal position on the damp earthen floor of my cell as a hazy light filtered through the small windows. The clanking of heavy metal as a pair of large hairy hands unlocked the cage door brought me quickly to the alert.

My eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness and I was able to see a fair bit of my surroundings. I rose up slowly, staring in disbelief as an enormous man-wolf-like creature reached down and put both of his hairy hands under my arms. He picked me up off my feet as if I was nothing more than a rag doll and held me dangling in the air. Without warning, the creature slammed me down so hard I was sure my feet were going to be repositioned above my head. I was given only a brief moment of reprieve to catch my balance before I was pushed out of the cage.

Puffs of dank dust swirled around my head as I stumbled and landed on the dungeon floor. I was grateful for my martial arts training and my understanding of going with the motion instead of fighting it. Shifting my body, I spun back into a crouched balance. I had no idea what this creature planned on doing with me but I was determined to go down fighting. I wouldn’t make it easy for the ugly beast, you could bet money on that.

“I bet you are wondering how a damp, dusty basement of this nature can exist in the desert,” came a voice through the darkness. “You would be surprised what exists beyond your realms of reality.”

I spun toward the voice as Dumitru’s tall, well-built figure stepped out from the depths of the shadows. The favorite son of Wadim and his first wife -an Italian Countess who Wadim captured and turned vampire centuries ago- there was no guessing at his ancestry. His sharp, vampire features were accentuated by rich, thick, glistening black hair that was tied snuggly at the base of his neck. Taught muscles bulged beneath the flowing material of his linen shirt. The ruffles at the neck and cuffs seemed out of place on his lean, muscular body.

Although at first glance he looked Caucasian, as I looked more closely I could see his Asian ancestry; especially in his eyes.

“My father has many talents,” the newcomer said. A chuckle, that almost resembled a growl, oozed from his evil sneer. “Stand up!”

I rose slowly, rubbing my sore muscles absent mindedly as I did. Purple welts were beginning to form on my forearms from my encounter with the wolf-man.

“Wu’s star pupil is injured?” He said sarcastically. He reached out and grabbed my arm with such force I was hard pressed to keep my balance. “Well, we cannot have that. I want you in perfect form when we fight.”

I couldn’t hold back the gag reaction my body had from the putrid stench of flesh and blood on Dumitru’s breath ….

About the Author:

Sitting at her antique rolltop desk in her home in upstate New York, Internationally Published and Award Winning author, Eileen Sheehan, writes steamy romance thrillers for the mature adult with a sexy male and strong female. The majority of her novels are paranormal, but some are just plain novels about people in love. As the years progressed, so did her writing style. Although she still includes romance and has a happily ever after ending, her stories tend to have more mystery, thrills, and horror in them.

She makes it a point to write a novel length that will allow the busy readers to be able to sit down in an evening (no more than two) and be taken on a journey that was created by her active imagination without having a week go by before they gets to the end of the story.

An incurable romantic, she has a love affair with at least one of her characters… one book at a time. She hopes the same thing happens to you.

Eileen started out as a freelance writer for periodical magazines and newspapers. From there, she tried her hand at writing screenplays. Her screenplay, “When East Meets West” was a finalist in the 2001 Independent International Film and Video Festival at Madison Square Gardens, NYC. Finally finding her niche, she lets her imagination loose with paranormal romance/thrillers. 

If you want to see more quality writings at a reasonable price, please support her efforts by leaving a review and becoming a follower








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Giveaway – An Angel’s Obsession by Celia Breslin @RoxanneRhoads @CeliaBreslin

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Celia’s Halloween Viewing List 2023

Halloween month is the prrrrfect time to binge-watch paranormal movies and TV shows. Add these to your must-watch (or re-watch) list!

* Chilling Adventures of Sabrina – Good vs. evil, angsty teens, wacky witches.

* iZombie – Dark comedy with zombies quarantined in Seattle. Brain cuisine jokes.

* Legion –  People with powers and power struggles. Surreal, sometimes scary, and totally quirky and compelling.

* Lucifer – Six seasons of paranormal goodness with one sinfully sexy devil and an equally sexy and strong female lead.

* Supernatural – 15 seasons of quality fantasy/horror with heroes Sam and Dean. Enough said! 😉

* Underworld Series: Dark fantasy series with vampires and werewolves. Six movies for your viewing pleasure. Win-win!

* The Cabin In The Woods – If you like humor mixed with scares, definitely give this comedy horror movie a go.  Five college students get waaaay more than they bargained for on their trip to the woods…

* The Shining – Classic horror at its finest. Haunted hotel, cray-cray main character, and ghosts galore. Stephen King rules!

Happy viewing and Happy Halloween!

Xo,
Celia


An Angel’s Obsession
The Cupid Dating Agency
Celia Breslin

Genre: Paranormal romance, fantasy romance, angel romance
Publisher: Celia Breslin
Date of Publication: May 2023
ISBN: 9798223559672
ASIN: B0C6V1R1FW
Number of pages: 120
Word Count: 29K
Cover Artist: Brantwijn Serrah

Tagline: An angel on a mission. A Celtic god seeking forgiveness. A passion that can’t be denied…

Book Description: 

Warrior-class angel and God’s messenger Gabrielle has spent an eternity in service, protecting the innocent in all dimensions. When the cupids and the Big Guy send her team to Cute Town, California, USA to run love-adjacent businesses like her beloved gym, she has no problem settling into the new assignment. Then a blast from her passion-filled but heartbreaking past literally rips holes in the fabric of reality separating Hell and Earth, and it’s up to Elle to locate the troublemaker and make him pay. All while protecting her heart.

Lugh, Celtic god of sun, light, and storms and all-around fun guy, has been nursing his broken heart for ages, and no amount of partying with pals in Hell or in the Sonoma wine country can ease the loss of the angel he let slip through his lightning-infused fingers. Luke would do anything to win back his fierce yet vulnerable Firecracker, so he’s elated when she crashes back into his life with a well-earned smackdown for his accidental role in the chaos messing up her new hometown.

Elle wants nothing to do with Luke, but when God and the cupids pair them up to investigate and resolve the real source of the problem, she has no choice but to comply. And maybe, just maybe, they can find a second chance at a forever love…


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Luke was cannon-balled out of slumber by the sudden presence of one hundred-and-fifty pounds of hound landing on his back.

Facedown atop a supremely soft mattress with his arms stretched wide and his head hanging off the foot of the bed, it took him a second to rally his speech center. “What the actual bloody hell,

Bolt?”

Bolt ignored him, bouncing around Luke’s body, pitching him side to side, up, down, up, down.

“For feck’s sake.” What the double bloody hell was Bolt on about with all the yapping and yipping and bashing of Luke’s kidneys with his big paws?

Luke rolled onto his back. “Enough, Bolt. Sit.”

Eyes closed, he batted a hand at his hound, warding off the canine’s attempts to lick his face. “Go chase a squirrel, will you? Crikey.”

Bolt whined and smacked one large paw down upon Luke’s bare chest. Ouch. “Duuude,” he drawled. “Chill.”

Fingers snapped, silencing his dog lickety-split. Bolt plopped down next to him, tail thwacking against Luke’s leg right where his board shorts ended above the knee.

He elbowed his dog in the side. “Cut it out, cur.” Hold on. Snapping fingers… Who possessed the ability to boss his animal around and convince the stubborn bugger to obey?

Only one person in any dimension wielded this kind of puppy power. But no, it can’t be her. She’d made it clear he remained persona non grata in her life with her recent no-show in the Underworld.

With his heartbeat jackhammering in his chest, he sucked in a deep breath, soaking in the unique floral scent of the woman who broke his rarely used heart, hoping this was no mere post-party hallucination.

“Gabrielle,” he whispered. God’s messenger and elite warrior, the angel he’d admired and cherished. “Elle.” The woman he’d let down, and who ultimately walked away.

A grin spread over his face and happy chills frolicked down his body.

“Angel baby. You’re here.” He cranked open his eyelids to gaze up at her in wonder.

Lightning crackled in the depths of her glittering green eyes as she loomed over him, her unhappy expression promising pain. Yep, his angel was clearly not as thrilled as he was about this unexpected reunion.

Years of yearning crashed to the forefront. He ached to caress her smooth, cloud-pale skin, to bury his fingers in the long fire-red hair she always kept swept up in a high ponytail. Memories surged, of her curves pressed against him while they kissed under the stars in Faerie, of her wicked strong legs wrapped around his torso while they made love against his castle wall, on the spiral staircase, in the sky—

A snarl escaped his angel’s throat, and her arm shot downward, her fingers of steel snagging him by the throat and squeezing his windpipe.

“Luke.” She uttered his name as if it were the vilest curse word in any dimension, then lifted him with little effort and slammed him up against the wall…


About the Author:

Celia lives in California with her family. She writes urban fantasy and paranormal romance, and has a particular fondness for werewolves, vampires, angels, and the Fae. When not writing, you’ll find Celia exercising, reading a good book, hanging with her family, or indulging her addiction to fantasy TV shows and movies.








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