Friday, November 9, 2018

Release Day Blitz LOBOS by Victoria Danann and Teresa Gabelman


LOBOS
Big Bend Wolves
Book One
Victoria Danann and Teresa Gabelman

Genre: paranormal romance

Publisher: dba 7th House, Imprint of Andromeda LLC     

Date of Publication: 11/09/18

Number of pages: 218
Word Count: 39k

Cover Artist: Victoria Danann

Tagline: Sometimes running away takes you straight to the thing you’re running from.

Book Description:

The Three Rivers Pack has been deeply embedded in Kerrville commerce and society for generations. They own businesses and hold government offices, including that of sheriff. But the influx of retirees and well-to-do building second homes in the Hill Country has squeezed the shifters for room to run.

The only answer is relocation to a less populated locale and that will require making a deal with the pack that holds that territory. The alliance struck by the two alphas is blood seal, a political mating between the Lobos alpha’s daughter and the Three Rivers alpha’s son. It’s the perfect solution that benefits both tribes. Except nobody asked Fleet Ryder and Dani Alvarez if they’re willing. And they aren’t.

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Excerpt:

The light was on in the kitchen, which meant Marva was up. When he stepped through the kitchen door not wearing a stitch of clothing, she looked him up and down with a half-smirk and the same lusty interest she’d shown as a teenager. John Ryder thought of himself as being a lucky man to have a mate who loved and craved his body like they were newlyweds, after thirty years together. He returned her smirk with a knowing smile, pulled her in close and kissed her long and deep. When he pulled back, she sighed. He loved that sigh.
“I know that look,” she said.
He kept her tight against his naked body, but pulled his head back to make eye contact. “What look is that?”
“The one that says you’ve made up your mind about something important.”
  He broke away and grabbed the clothes he’d left on the bench by the back door. As he began dressing, he said, “Yeah.”
The pensive tone told her everything she needed to know. “And you’re not happy about it.”
She waited patiently while he finished dressing. She’d been with him long enough to know the difference between John, her mate, and John, the alpha.
At the moment he was seeing the world through the filter of pack alpha. He’d speak when he was ready and wouldn’t be rushed.
“Can I have some of that coffee?” he said.
She turned, poured and handed him a mug. “You want breakfast here or are you gonna eat at the café?”
“Café.” He leaned back against the kitchen counter and took a sip before saying, “We have to go.”
“Go?” Marva stopped what she was doing and turned with a question firmly registered in the crease between her brows. “Go where?”
When his pale gray eyes met hers, she recognized the gravity of the moment.
“I mean we have to move,” he said quietly.
Marva sat down heavily at the kitchen table trying to keep her shock from adding to the burden her mate was clearly carrying with stoic pride. “You mean the whole pack.” It wasn’t a question, but a verbal clarification.
Nodding, feeling much older than his years, he simply said, “Yeah.”

It might have come as a surprise to Marva. It would be a surprise to everybody in the pack. And not the good kind. But truthfully, John had been mulling over the problem for years. As alpha, survival of the pack was his responsibility. With an eye on the encroaching population, he knew there was only one way it could end. Move. Or be exposed as shifters with the vast shit chasm that promised.
Since the latter was just not an option, they were going to have to prepare for a whole-pack migration. Several lucrative business enterprises and a lot real estate was about to go up on the market in Kerrville. But first, pack members had to be told. And he wasn’t expecting even the most adventurous of them to be happy about it. The final decision was his and making it meant that he owned the outcome as well.

The pack was gathered in the barn on the Ryder property. Everybody had brought pot luck. They’d tried to enjoy the food and the company, but there was an undercurrent of anxiety because every adult pack member could read the mood of the alpha well enough to know something was up.
When the alpha finally stood and announced his intention to move them, the responding silence was suffocating. No one wanted to argue, but no one wanted to agree either.
At length, one of the elders cleared his throat and said, “Where are we going, John?”
“I can’t say for certain yet, Emmett. But I’ve been considering options for a long time. The biggest issue is that there’s no such thing as a desirable place that isn’t already occupied by a pack.” There were murmurs as people whispered to each other their fears about what that might mean. John held up his hand. “I know. We’ve had a good stay here. Most of us are connected to families who’ve been here since before Texas was a Republic. Most of us have never lived any place else.
“So I’m not saying it’s going to be easy.” It hadn’t escaped the pack’s notice that he hadn’t answered the question. “But I’m thinking Big Bend. Out around Alpine.”
The emotional current that ran through the pack was mixed. Some were fearful about the prospect of packing up and leaving everything for parts unknown. But mixed with that was an undercurrent of excitement. 
When things settled down, John went on. “Alpine is a small town, I grant you, but there are opportunities there just like there are opportunities everywhere. We’ll make it work just like we always have.” With a small smile he shook his head just a little. “It’s wild out there. You’ll be free in ways you’ve never been free here.”
“Doesn’t that territory belong to the Lobos Pack?” Beverly Mossgreen spoke up.
John’s head swiveled toward her and he stared for a couple of seconds. It wasn’t an official correction, but it was enough unwanted attention from the alpha to make her uncomfortable.
“Yes. Lobos. But I have a plan.” John noticed that both his betas, who happened to be cousins of his, stood opposite each other, off to the sides, leaning against the walls with muscled arms crossed in front of chests. The pose looked casual, leisurely, but would be read by the pack as absolute support for whatever the alpha had to say. “A peaceful transition.”
“What is it?” A female elder sounded anxious and he couldn’t blame her.
A move like the one he was proposing would be hard on any of them, but especially so on those who were older. His face softened for a second as he regarded her. “Don’t worry, Evelyn. Everything will turn out fine.”
He looked over the pack. “In the old days, we would have had to kill the alpha and any loyalists who resisted a takeover. But that was the old days. We’ve made a lot of changes. James owns the auto parts store. Raleigh is a real estate broker. My own mate bakes fucking cookies!”
“I do not bake fucking cookies!” Marva spoke up. “I run a bakery.”
The laughter that rippled through the room helped to ease some of the tension.
“Right.” John smiled her way. “Right,” he repeated. “I bet people in Alpine like cookies just as much as people in Kerrville.”
“I don’t just bake cookies,” she grumbled.
He gave her a look that said, ‘First, I’m teasing you. Second, right now I’m speaking as the alpha. Not as your mate. Take it up with me later. In bed.’
She got the message and ducked her chin slightly in deference. He continued.
“Point is I think it’s time for the old ways to move aside for better ideas. We’re going to try for a bloodless coup.” He glanced at his betas. “Rake, James, and I are going to head on out there and have a talk with the Lobos alpha and his top people. We’ll offer a ‘buy in’ for a piece of their territory around Alpine. I don’t know much about their finances, but I’m guessing that these days it’s hard for even shifters to turn down cash.
“That’s the first part of our offer. Folding money appeals to the two-legged half of our nature. The second part is a little trickier because cash is useless in wolf form. That’s why we need a deal sealed with blood.” He cleared his throat. “The Lobos alpha has a daughter. Mating age. We’re going to arrange an alliance.”
The alpha paused and looked over the gathering, faces almost as familiar as his own in the mirror. He spotted his son in his usual spot, in a far back corner with his friends. The gathering followed John’s line of sight and turned to look at Fleet at the back of the room.
Fleet had been softly chuckling at a joke, only half listening to his dad, when he realized that everyone in the pack had turned to look at him. His world turned serious in a heartbeat and he stood taller, pale gray eyes identical to his father’s, going straight to lock the alpha’s gaze. 
“Our son, Fleet.” John nodded toward Marva even though everyone there knew full well that she was Fleet’s mother. “And Lobos’ daughter.”
A range of emotion flashed across Fleet’s features. Confusion. Shock. Anger. And again, confusion, finally resolving in disbelief. He couldn’t possibly have heard right. Could he?
If he was human, he’d tell his father to fuck off. But Fleet Ryder wasn’t human. He was a wolf shifter with two choices; obey the alpha or leave the pack. Since the latter wasn’t really a choice, that left once course of action. He couldn’t disobey. He couldn’t challenge openly. He couldn’t object in any overt way.
So he did the next best thing. He threw his father a hateful look, turned and left. Four young shifter males filed out behind him, partly because they were compelled on a subliminal level. Fleet was oozing alpha traits and the next generation were already paying homage to that.



About the Authors:

Victoria Danann and Teresa Gabelman are both award winning New York Times, USA Today, and Amazon #1 bestselling authors.


Friday, November 2, 2018

Everyday Enchantments by Maria DeBlassie




Everyday Enchantments
Musings on Ordinary Magic and Daily Conjurings
Maria DeBlassie

Publisher: Moon Books

Release Date: October 26, 2018

ISBN-10: 1785359231

ISBN-13: 978-1785359231

Book Description:

Everyday Enchantments is a love letter to the magic of everyday life, the sweet moments and the profound that we often overlook in our hurry to get from one place to the next. What if we had the power to unplug from our daily hustle and bustle and conjure a more profound way of living rooted in natural mysticism?

We do. All it takes is the whispered wish for more everyday enchantment breathed onto a dandelion head. This collection of essays reminds us to escape into the ordinary, find beauty in a simple cup of tea or rereading a beloved novel—and joyfully let our world turn upside down when synchronicity strikes in the form of wrong turns down forgotten lanes and unexpected midnight conversations with the moon.  

This book is a study in what it means to live deliciously, joyfully, and magically. And it’s an invitation to conjure your own bliss—-because let’s face it: we could all use a little more magic in our lives.  


Amazon      Moon Books



Excerpt:

ENCHANTMENT: A spell wrapped in a noun. Three syllables. One state of being.
To live with Enchantment is to see beyond the brick and mortar that make up your home and into the magic infused within its frame. It is made up of stories and dried bay leaves and dreams whispered into the heads of dandelions. Of bare feet on carpeted floors and the smell of burning sage. Crystals—amethyst, citrine, amazonite, smoky quartz—winding in and around your books; all the better to magnify their magic. It is to peel back the layers of your day-to-day and search for that elusive energy that winds its way up your spine and outward into your life. Let the snake at your base wriggle free of its coil to climb up to your shoulder blades and across your open back. There is no room for tightly stacked discs here, just the taste of joy when the sun licks your skin.
You might find it at the bottom of an empty teacup. Your future written in soggy leaves, or in the whisper of trees, their leaves rustling and murmuring secrets only they can understand. Sometimes they are kind enough to translate for you—if you listen long enough. If you shower their roots with distilled love songs and feed them the black earth from your compost. It’s there, too, when you run your tongue along the grooves and ridges of a well-loved sentence. It’s everywhere. Even in the spaces you think have lost hope, like the junk drawer where you keep your faded dreams, stray screws, and half-forgotten heartbreaks along with wine corks and a few rubber bands. They’re not lost, just resting like seeds in the earth before they are ready to break open.
That is the first syllable.
The second is to learn from Enchantment, to listen to Coyote's call when he plays his tricks. Coyote loves his tricks. And you should too. What delicious messages wrapped in matted fur and a lolling tongue! All he wants is for you to take that leap of faith when only you can see the soft earth on the other side of the cliff. Don’t you know that you have wings? They are just rusty from disuse. Just listen to Coyote’s long-winded stories (he does so admire himself) and watch the flick of his tail. All he asks is for you to trust him, even if he can’t be trusted; his les- son is real, hard as onyx in your palm, ephemeral as the desert rain that you feel in your bones when all you see is a cloudless sky. No weatherman can ever map the storms and sunshine work- ing their way across your body.
Coyote has no room for logic, just the reason in his unreason.
Just those perfect coincidences set in motion by the padding of his paws. You are raw power, he says, a spark of the universe set in motion. And you must trust this power that is you, that is the earth, that is the beating of your heart. A rhythmic tattoo forever pounding out your path, however many times you try to stray from it. All Enchantment asks is that you absorb the wisdom of the moon and the stars, and the prophesying of the seeds burrowed deep in the dirt. Coyote is there to make sure you listen, even when the rest of the world prefers your ears stopped with cotton and your heart beating as slow as melting snow in winter.
And the third syllable? To conjure. Here you weave your spell with vowels and consonants and beeswax candles. You seal them with pure starlight and a handful of chamomile. Then you burn away the dry brush and the brittle ideas that don’t hold up against the moonlight. There is no room here for literal…things or the people who think them. Not if you want to create. Not if you want to believe that the most important part of your everyday occurs in the moments others can too easily overlook. (Seldom can you find a person strong enough to brave the stillness or wade into the bottomless waters of imagination.) You make your life here, in the infinite potential of seconds and minutes and hours unfurling into vines and roots. Because when you are looking for everyday enchantment, it finds you. Always. And if you let it, it will settle inside your skin and feed your soul with dreams grown ripe under the sun’s caress. It drops you deep down into the rich earth and forgotten caves buried between heartbeats—places that many are too afraid to venture inside. For how can you absorb the marvelous, if you do not recognize it reflected in yourself, feel it settle in your bones like so much calcium?
That's Enchantment.
A three-syllable spell wrapped in a noun, planted in the earth and nourished with moon- light. Let the roots stretch to the underworld and the leaves unfurl toward the heavens. Walk across the star-kissed bridge made of hollyhock seeds and strong will. There is your passage into the unseen universe.


Reviews and Endorsements

An insightful collection of short writings that make you look at the everyday in a whole new light. ~ Erin Elliot, The Sword of Lumina

To build everyday bridges between the magick and the mundane out of the long-sought and hard-won materials of will and wonder is the act of a true Priestess. In this book, DeBlassie offers rich glimpses of daily rituals, miniature spells in their own right that prompt the reader to look for the quiet divinity in their own lives, to see the subtle majesty in their day-to-day routines, and to question their perceived barriers between the modern and the mystical. ~ Danielle Dulsky, author of Woman Most Wild

Maria DeBlassie has crafted magic within the pages of her new book, Everyday Enchantments. Her eloquent words offer the ‘promise of soul replenishment’ as one traverses the journey of her -and their- metaphorical metamorphosis. Page after page, readers will experience the soothing balm of DeBlassie’s words as they encourage one to open her heart, her mind, her ear, her thoughts and her soul to the unique transpersonal book they hold in their hands. Just as DeBlassie mentions early on in Everyday Enchantments when writing of the unexpected delight of discovering a double yolk, her heartfelt writing is like ‘cradling…gold’ in one’s hands. Reading and absorbing the beauty of Maria DeBlassie’s Everyday Enchantments will have readers conjuring their own magical life. Her words will caress their soul and embrace their heart with inspiration and encouragement. Everyday Enchantments blends together poetic consciousness such as from Maya Angelou and Mary Oliver all while weaving in powerful and deep inner wisdom such as from Clarissa Pinkola Estes. Yet, Maria DeBlassie beautifully stands out given the uniqueness of Everyday Enchantments. It’s a must read and a must to be gently and lovingly held in a sacred place of honor in one’s personal library. DeBlassie’s Everyday Enchantments is like a heart song that every woman should feel. ~ Janelle Alex, Ph.D.,The Writer’s Shaman

Reading this enchanted collection is so much more than reading a book…it’s an unearthing of things half-remembered and bringing them into the light. Gorgeous and luminous…thank you, Maria, for unwinding this spell for your readers. ~ Laura Bickle, critically-acclaimed author of Nine of Stars, Bewitching Book Tours

An insightful collection of short writings that make you look at the everyday in a whole new light. Ponder how different life could be if you stop taking everything for granted and find joy in the simplicity of it all~ Erin Elliott, author of The Sword of Lumina series, The Editing Hall


About the Author:

Maria DeBlassie, Ph.D. is a native New Mexican mestiza blogger, writer, and award-winning educator living in the Land of Enchantment. Her blogging life started in 2012 as a year-long journey to write her back into happy, healthy, and whole through daily posts about life’s simple pleasures, everyday magic, and radical self-care. That year-long experiment turned into a lifestyle, a book, and her ongoing blog, Enchantment Learning and Living. She is forever looking for magic in her life and somehow always finding more than she thought was there.

Find out more about Maria and conjuring everyday magic at www.mariadeblassie.com







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Thursday, November 1, 2018

Authors - Plan Your Holiday Promotions Before It Is Too Late


The holidays will be here before you know it.

Plan your holiday book promotions before it is too late.

Bewitching Book Tours is currently booking December tours. 

They fill up fast, so book yours today.

Bewitching Book Tours Holiday Sale

Receive 15% off any December tour package booked by November 9

Use code: HOLIDAY18

This offer cannot be combined with any other discounts, sales or special offers.

Sign up here: http://goo.gl/dNgqXv


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Bewitching Book Tours will be sending out Black Friday and Cyber Monday news blasts to all of their subscribers and posting sales and freebies on all of their social media networks.

Add your details to the social media and newsletter blasts for $15 for one blast (Friday or Monday) or do both Friday and Monday for $25.

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Release Day Blitz Holly’s Hurricane by Marie Carter





Holly’s Hurricane
Marie Carter

Genre: Literary Fiction

Publisher: Grace Goodrich Press



Date of Publication: November 1, 2018

ISBN: 978-1721563531

Number of pages: 192

Cover Artist: Marie Carter

Tagline: …a fantastical ode to New York City’s glorious and horrifying past, as well as a warning to us all for its future.


Book Description:

In the year 2040, Hurricane Diana descends on New York City. Holly Williams, an architect and immigrant from England flees to her home country, staying with her ailing stepdad in Boston, England. Her mother, who has Alzheimer’s, is living in a nursing home nearby.

Holly's purpose in life, it seems, has been to design factories and offices for robotics companies while overseeing the demolition of historic New York buildings. 

While seeking refuge from the hurricane that has destroyed New York City to the point that is barely recognizable, Holly begins to have strange hallucinations in which a mysterious stranger guides her through some of the city’s forgotten and dramatic past.


What others are saying about Holly’s Hurricane

"Holly’s Hurricane, smartly set in the near future after a category 4 hurricane hits New York, will appeal to futurists and history buffs. An absorbing romantic novel that will make you think in new ways about the past, present and future of our most vulnerable cities as humankind battles climate change."—Laurie Gwen Shapiro, author of The Stowaway

"Here is New York City as we have never seen it, devastated by Hurricane Diana in 2040. Here too is our long overdue romantic heroine, Holly Williams, a sixty-year-old architect and immigrant struggling with ailing parents, unruly robotic aides, and an unexpected love interest twelve years her junior. Guided by a Virgil-like figure, Holly begins to realize at last her professional and personal potential as she embarks on a mission to preserve what's left of her adopted city. Prepare to be swept away by the sheer force of Holly's Hurricane—a fantastical ode to New York City's glorious and horrifying past, as well as a warning to us all for its future."—Molly Gaudry, author of We Take Me Apart

"Be prepared to travel through dimensions in time and space in Holly’s Hurricane. This is the kind of novel that haunts you, and you’ll find yourself thinking about it for days to come. You’ll become Holly, a brilliant architect, walking through the ruins of New York City in 2040 after a hurricane has devastated the city.  Gorgeously written and incredibly wise, it’s a page-turner that will leave you on the edge of your seat, wondering if you’ve just looked through the window of our very vulnerable future. But as Marie Carter asks, 'How could something so pretty and intricate emerge from some devastation?' Carter shows us that all is not lost, as she carves the beauty out of the destruction."—Liz Scheid, author of The Shape of Blue


Excerpt:
One minute I am sitting with my mum in the nursing home in Boston, England.
The next I was transported to the Strid, the stream that lurks about a hundred yards from the nursing home, with all the danger signs. It looks perfectly benign, but because of its deadly combination of fast currents and underwater rocks, anyone who has ever jumped in, or gone swimming in the Strid, has died. They put the first danger signs up about fifty years after the third person had gone missing, but still, about twenty years ago some troublemaker had dipped a toe in and was grabbed by the current as if by a hungry monster, angry with the daredevil for even tempting fate.
I was standing by the Strid when I saw a man who looked faintly familiar, sporting pince-nez glasses, a salt and pepper thick mustache, and wearing a bowler hat. He was stylishly dressed and a little portly—in fact, I would have said he had a similar profession to mine—like an architect, except he seemed to be from another era. He took his hat off as a gesture, and I could see his hair was parted down the middle. He beckoned me to come closer and gestured for me to look into the water. The remarkable thing was, I didn’t feel unsafe. There was something fatherly about the man, something I trusted. As I drew closer and closer, I noticed a kind of whirlpool gaining more and more momentum in the Strid. The noise of the water suddenly became deafening which was a shock to me, as I couldn’t hear it earlier.
The man said very simply, “Hello, Ms. Williams.”
And then, without warning, to my horror, the man pushed me in. I was instantly suctioned into a whirlpool but, to my amazement, I didn’t get wet. And, in spite of my age, I felt no discomfort. In fact, I felt light, and all of my daily aches and pains seemed to evaporate. I found myself in a vacuous tunnel-like interior, and I was falling like Alice down the rabbit hole, but in slow motion, as though I had developed wings. This was a relief. At my age, broken bones are harder to repair.
I landed weightlessly at the bottom of the steps of an imposing building that looked like an ancient Roman temple. I could barely feel my body, and I noticed I appeared to be see-through; my hands were opaque. The Architect was right behind me, looking at me and smiling, very proper and gentlemanly. He began climbing the steps of the building like an animated fairy sprite, turning and beckoning me to follow. But I stood gaping with a goldfish mouth, entranced. The structure was reminiscent of French palaces and Italian basilicas. The gigantic granite and steel façade was supported by Roman columns. The Architect bounced impatiently on the steps calling to me, “Ms. Williams,” and becoming afraid I might lose my guide, I began climbing to the top, punctuating each stair with a heavy footstep. I felt like a Roman goddess. Staring at the grandiose clock above me, I noted it was four in the afternoon.
Entering the gargantuan doors, I could hear crackly announcements being made over a PA system for what seemed to be the names of places and times. Commuters in stylish heels clicked past me.
“May I offer you a tour?” the Architect asked, presenting his elbow, his manners at once charming and archaic. He even wore elbow patches. “No one can see you,” he said, as if reading my mind.
“Are we ghosts?” I asked him, but he scoffed at my remark. Was this it for me? Had I died? “Where are we?” I pressed.
“The past,” he answered.
“What is this place?” It felt at once familiar and foreign.
“Penn Station, New York City, 1920 when it was in its heyday.”
I gasped. I had read about Old Penn Station when I was studying for my Masters at university many years ago. I hadn’t thought about it in such a long time.
We commenced walking at a regal pace. “Penn Station, New York, New York, was born in 1910 and died in 1963,” the man began.
On the interior, we were greeted by Italian-style shopping arcades with drugstores, clothing boutiques, and elegant restaurants, separated by columns of creamy, smooth travertine marble. There were two statues of important-looking men who were dwarfing the travelers; one was carrying blueprints.
“Not a lot of New Yorkers know or remember the original Penn Station,” the Architect said, smiling wistfully. “It was quite glorious, as you can see.” He gestured with his arm for me to drink in the splendor of Penn Station and I did. The walls were 150 feet high, I calculated, as I craned my neck upwards towards its magnificence and abundance of light.
“Let’s look at the waiting rooms,” he said, guiding me away from the stores, where patrons were chattering merrily.
In the waiting room, people were milling around smoking cigars or hugging and kissing, their faces changed from determined desire to softness as though they had finally found what they were seeking. Semi-circular windows bathed travelers in sunbeams. World maps crowded the walls.




About the Author:


MARIE CARTER is a Scottish writer, editor, writing teacher, and tour guide, based in Astoria, NY.

Her first book, The Trapeze Diaries, based on her experiences of learning trapeze, was published by Hanging Loose Press. Her novel Holly's Hurricane will be published in November 2018.

Marie has been a guest on NPR, and has been featured in The New York Times, Queens Gazette, Huffington Post, QNS, and many other media outlets.

Her work has been published in Hanging Loose, The Brooklyn Rail, Spectacle, Turntablebluelight, and Yogacitynyc, among others and in the anthologies The Best Creative Nonfiction (W. W. Norton, 2007) and Voices of Multiple Sclerosis (LaChance, 2009). She has also been awarded and attended a residency at the MacDowell Colony.

Marie currently teaches Memoir and Creative Writing at Gotham Writers' Workshop.

Fascinated by New York City's macabre and little-known histories in her writing and life, she decided to further her interest by becoming a licensed tour guide with Boroughs of the Dead. She created and guides the "Haunting Histories and Legends of Astoria" tour and also leads other tours in Greenwich Village, Lower Manhattan, Brooklyn Heights, and Roosevelt Island. She also lectures on various aspects of New York City's history on a regular basis at Q.E.D. in Astoria, Queens.
Marie has provided editorial and layout and design services to Hanging Loose Press, one of the oldest independent publishers in the United States. She is the editor of Word Jig: New Fiction from Scotland (Hanging Loose, 2003) and co-editor of Voices of the City (Hanging Loose Press, 2004).

Marie graduated from Edinburgh University with an MA in English Literature.





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