Monday, September 26, 2022

J.D. Brown Shares TikToks About Her Characters #UrbanFantasy


Hi everyone, I’m J.D. Brown, the author of Darkness Above. You’ll learn more about me in a bit, but first, I have a question for you.

Do you like Tiktok?

More importantly, do you like Booktok? 

I might be just a *tiny* bit obsessed with the aesthetic videos on Booktok. And I MIGHT have made some of my own that I’m totally going to share with you now. So without further ado, meet three of the main characters from Darkness Above and their aesthetics.

 A modern-day warrior princess, Jordan spent her whole life training for the vampire war that plagues her world. She wants a chance to prove her worth and earn her place. When the chance finally comes, it’s anything but what she expected.

 

Card Finch

@jdbrown.author Link in bio 💜#darknessabove#jdbrownauthor#bookrecommendations#fantasybooktok#fantasybooks#newadultfantasy#vampirebooks#vampirebooktok#vampirebookseries#vampirebookclub#darkfantasy#newadultbooks#booktok♬ Still Don't Know My Name - Labrinth

 

Finch is a good solider. Courageous. Efficient.Dedicated to the cause.But which cause, exactly? Finch is playing a dangerous game walking the line between two worlds while keeping his cards close to his chest.



Torrance Albie

@jdbrown.author Part 3 Would you read this book if...? #darknessabove#jdbrownauthor#bookish#vampirebooks#vampirebookseries#vampirebooktok#vampirebookclub♬ original sound - JD Brown 🦇

 Completing the love triangle between these three characters is Jordan’s bodyguard and ex-girlfriend, Torrance. She’s the strong, silent, “who did this to you?” type. Is it weird to have a crush on a character you created? I really hope not. LOL. 

Follow me on TikTok @jdbrown.author for more bookish fun and get to know more about Jordan, Finch, Torrance, and the entire cast in Darkness Above. 

P.S. Drop a comment with your TikTok handle and I’ll follow you! 



Darkness Above
A Jordan Korento Novel 
Book One 
J.D. Brown

Genre: Urban Fantasy
Date of Publication: September 12, 2022
ISBN: 9798844461750
ASIN: B0B7FS53VQ
Number of pages: 500
Word Count: 115k
Cover Artist: BZN Studios

Tagline: Her parents are legends but they’re losing the war. Now it’s her turn.

Book Description:

Her parents are legends, but they’re losing the war.

Now, it’s her turn.

Jordan Korento spent her life training for the vampire war, but no one will give her a chance to prove she’s more than just a princess.

When Jordan learns of a twin brother who was sent to live in hostile territory, she takes destiny into her own hands, determined to save the sibling she never met and make her family whole.

Joined by her vampire ex-girlfriend who she still has feelings for—and the mysterious Sergeant who steals her breath with a single glance—Jordan embarks on a rescue mission to Bavaria, where nothing is what it seems. Will she find a kindred spirit in her twin or an enemy lying in wait?

Darkness Above (A Jordan Korento Novel 1) is an adrenaline-fueled urban fantasy full of dark magic and deadly creatures that are as sensual as they are bloodthirsty.

Amazon     AmazonUK     AmazonCA     AmazonAU

Kobo     BN     Apple


Excerpt 2- Chapter Three

Torrance strolled toward me. She stretched her arms overhead and pulled on both elbows, causing the hem of her tank top to rise. Her flat pale stomach was visible before she dropped her arms to her sides. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” I lied. My head ached, and I’d give my left pinky toe for a cup of strong coffee.

Torrance focused on something behind me, and her expression darkened. “Guess who’s back.”

“Who?” I turned to find out.

At that moment, Sergeant Card Finch entered the Hall and strolled toward the sparring mats.

My insides melted.

Besides being tall and lean and hot as hell, Card had the uncanny ability to blow into a room and make instant friends. Even now, the other senior cadets gathered around to congratulate him on his latest mission while third and fourth year girls hid behind their hands, whispering and giggling.

The scar on his bottom lip fractured his easy smile as he ran his fingers through a shock of dark hair that was just long enough to tip his lashes. Card took the praise in stride, his brown eyes nearly amber gold under the fluorescent lighting.

The Sergeant had been one of three Drag deserters who showed up at the Sword of Somnus Brotherhood just over two years ago, wanting to join us. Unlike his comrades, who mostly kept to themselves and ended up working in the kitchens, Finch possessed what Head Huntsman Chayton called initiative. After passing a six-month inspection conducted by the Elders, Card quickly rose in rank. The Sergeant spent more time leading missions than anyone I knew, and his team always returned with minimal injuries.

What I liked most about Card Finch, though, was his sleeve of tattoos. Black scales covered every inch of his left side, starting just below his square-cut jawline and continuing down his muscled arm all the way to his fingertips. When he flexed, it was like watching a snake slither.

I faced Torrance and upped my brow with a cheeky grin. “Looks like he needs a sparring partner.”

Torrance frowned. “Looks to me like he already has several.”

“Maybe,” I said while walking backwards, bringing myself closer to the sparring matts. “But not anyone atmy level.”

Torrance gave me a knowing look.

With a flirtatious saunter, I faced forward and pushed through the Sergeant’s gaggle of fans until I stood directly in front of him. “Hey, Sergeant. Need someone who’s not afraid to kick your ass?”

Finch gave me a once-over and chuckled. “I won’t go easy on you just ’cause you’re a girl.”

“Good, neither will I.” I raised my fists and distributed my weight. Our audience took several steps back.

Finch smirked. “All right, you’re on. Cadet …?”

“It’s senior cadet. And it’s too bad you missed my party last morning.” I gave him a warning jab. He leaned left, easily ducking the punch.

“Is that so?” Finch lifted his fists and widened his stance. His grin revealed a set of perfect white teeth. We circled while studying each other's weaknesses. He was bigger, which meant his punch would hurt, but I had years of practice with Torrance, so I knew how to be quick.

And patient.

I waited for him to make the first move.

His shoulders tensed as he feigned back, but I noticed the subtle footwork. The heel of his boot slid just a little more than it ought. He was going to try a combo kick. I smiled to myself, more than prepared to put him on his ass.

Before Finch could strike, Senior Cadet Cramer came between us and put a hand on the Sergeant’s chest, stopping him. “Sir, you can’t spar with her. That’s Jordan Korento.”

“Who?” Finch stepped around Cramer, keeping his fists high.

I followed suit, shifting left. “Shut up, Cramer,” I warned. “Unless you want your butt whooped too.”

Cramer scowled. “She’s King Jesu’s daughter.”

That did it. Finch lowered his arms and looked me up and down, his brow furrowed in disbelief. “You’re serious?”

“You little weasel.” I swung at Cramer’s stupid frog face, but before my knuckles connected with his cheekbone, an ironclad grip halted the strike. Torrance stood with her hand wrapped around my fist, her gaze narrowed indisapproval. I yanked my hand from hers and huffed.

“Sergeant Finch?” The four of us turned to find a meek third year cadet, her rank marked by the purple patch on her uniform. She stood near the main entrance of the Hall with her hands folded in front of her. “Head Huntsman Chayton wants to see you.”

Finch nodded and followed the cadet outside.

As soon as they were gone, I punched Cramer’s shoulder—much more gently than I wanted. “Ass.”

Cramer frowned and rubbed his arm. “Stay away from Finch.”

I scoffed. “Jealous much?”

He scrunched his nose. The more he frowned, the more he looked like a bullfrog.

We’d known each other since we were kids. He once grabbed my breast on a dare, and I gave him a black eye. Torrance had let me that time. She also defended me when Huntress Nesca sent us to Head Huntsmen Chayton’s office to be disciplined.

“Do you have any idea how important the Sergeant is?” said Cramer. “How many missions he’s carried out? Not all of us can play pretend with Daddy’s money. Some of us are risking our lives for real.”

“Eat a dick, Cramer, you haven’t been in the field either.”

He sneered. “I thought princesses were supposed to be ladies. Guess that trashy mouth is why your old man dumped you here with the rest of us.”

My fists clenched.

Torrance squeezed my shoulder while baring her fangs at the senior cadet. “Walk away now, Cramer, while you still have the chance.”

“I’m not afraid of you, vampire.” Cramer turned away and left the Hall with his jaw set.

“Not me you need to fear,” Torrance muttered.

I shook with fury, watching him leave.



About the Author:

J.D. Brown knows that vampires exist because she dated one, and no he didn't sparkle. A magnet for subcultures and weirdness, J.D. was that socially awkward girl with more fictional friends than real ones. As a child battling a hearing loss and a medical condition called Muckle-Wells Syndrome, J.D. found comfort in books where strong women always saved the day and got the guy. An obsession with Charmed, Sabrina the Teenage Witch, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer lead J.D. to believe that her mutated genes made her something more, not something less. Thus her stubborn flare to persevere was born.
 
A lover of fine cuisine, coffee, and shoes, J.D. never understood why shoe stores don’t serve Starbucks and soufflé. She resides in Illinois where she writes urban fantasy - aka vampires for adults - and has political debates with her dogs. She loves to hear from fans and is active on Facebook.com/AuthorJDBrown











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Tuesday, September 20, 2022

Vicki-Ann Bush Shares Her Spells for Help and Protection



Spells by Vicki-Ann Bush

This is a spell I wrote for when I need guidance from my mom and gram. 

It’s helped me connect to them in the past, and has brought good results for clarity.


Life help from Mom and Gram

Time has no end.
Patience has no bend.
Will me your strength.
Listen to my call.
Catch me if I fall.

See the thoughts in my mind.
Help me leave doubt behind.
Will me your strength.
Let my goals come to light.
An influencing call in the early night.

With the power of three, guide me.
With the power of three, bless thee.
With the power of three, hear me.

So mote it be.



And here’s one I’ve used many times for protection. You would focus on someone in your own family or life.


Self -Protection

I call to my mom and grams to aid me in this day to day struggle of good and dark times. 

Give me strength through your will.
Give me protection with your light.
Give me guidance through your hands.
Keep me safe with your presence.

If someone or something should set its eyes on me in a negative way, act as a shield that they cannot penetrate.

Share with me your love.
Share with me your light.
Share with me your force.
Let no one who means harm or ill will enter the barrier we have created.

Blessed be.






Alex McKenna and Death Is Not The Beginning
Alex McKenna Series 
Book Four
Vicki-Ann Bush

Genre: YA Paranormal, LGBTQ
Publisher: The Parliament House
Date of Publication: September 20, 2022
ASIN: B09M53WXWN
Cover Artist: Shayne Leighton

Tagline: Death Doesn’t Mean Forgiveness

Book Description: 

In the fourth and final installment for the series, Alex faces his most difficult case yet—the school bully.

For two years Kyle tried to make Alex’s life even more complicated than it already is. Choosing to single him out for his psychic abilities and other life events, the angry teen took every chance he could to challenge Alex’s well-being.

Despite the constant insults, when the bully is murdered and comes to him for help, Alex sets aside the past to help a soul in need. Searching for the killer, Alex uncovers a truth that answers the question why he was the victim of Kyle negative attention, and the answers that will set them both free.

Excerpt:

Slipping off his jeans and boxer briefs, he unraveled the straps and stepped into the harness, centering it to his body. Then, pulling the front cradle away from his skin, he placed the packer in the sling and positioned it to the left. He had no idea why he did that, but he did. Pulling his boxers back up, he turned sideways to soak in the full view. Swiveling to face forward, he pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it on the toilet lid. Inching closer to his reflection, he examined the scars lining his chest a few inches below his nipples. Tracing the seam with his fingertips, he peered into the mirror. A lot changed over this past year.

Glancing to the side, he cocked his head. Rapid breath competed with the drumming of his pulse pumping through his chest, deafening all other sounds. He turned toward the small window that faced the backyard. He was drawn to it, being pulled as if tethered to a rope wrapped around his waist. Padding towards the glass, he rested his shoulder on the frame and peered out. Abruptly he pulled back…what the hell was Kyle doing in his yard? Quickly, he pulled on his t-shirt and jeans and flung open the door.

“Tesoro, I gotta go downstairs.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Margaret rushed into the hallway.

“Fucking Kyle is in the backyard.”

“What? I’m coming with you.”

The teens swiftly took the stairs focusing on their mission to confront the bully who’d verbally abused Alex for the past three years.

Wilby lay on the throw rug in front of the television when they jumped down to the solid wood floor, skipping the last few steps.

“Hey!”

“Wilby, stay in the house.”

“What? Why?”

“Just listen, okay?”

“No.”

Alex narrowed his eyes, but Wilby followed them anyway. Sliding the glass door open, Alex stepped onto the small porch that crowned the yard. Kyle stood in the center of the property on the pathway that split the yard into two equal sides. Behind him stood an unattached garage. There wasn’t a solid fence, only a row of hedges separating their property from the sidewalk and any unwanted guests, like the guy who stood poised and ready for whatever he was ready for.

“Alex, don’t. He’s not what you think.” A young boy stood at his side.

“Jacob, this isn’t the time for games.” Alex narrowed his eyes.

Margaret tapped his shoulder. “What did he say?”

“Not important.”

“Well, looks like Kyle left in a hurry,” Margaret remarked.

“What? What are you talking—”  Alex glanced down at Jacob. The little boy shook his head up and down. “You’re kidding me?”

“I tried to tell you,” Jacob murmured.

“Alex? You can see me, right?” Kyle asked in a shaky voice.

The boy glared at the intruder. “Kyle’s like me.”

Jacob had died in a car accident with his mother, and somehow, they were separated. Afraid to face the unknown alone, the six-year-old would haunt the halls at his elementary school until the day he followed Wilby home. He’d heard from others in the ghost world that Alex had special gifts and helped the dead. Alex tried several times to convince the little boy he’d be okay to crossover, but fear had rooted deep, and even the coaxing of a living teenager who talks to the dead wasn’t enough for the boy to go. He’d been a permanent resident of 55 Geranium Avenue ever since.

            “Now who are you talking to?” Margaret huffed.

“Kyle.”

“Kyle from school? What the heck? He’s not here—uh oh.”

“Yeaaah. Uh oh.”

“Is he, I mean, is he messed up?”

Alex understood why his girlfriend had asked the question. It wasn’t just because she was curious; it was one of the ways she connected with him. She knew some of the gruesome spirits he’d encountered over the years. They’d had several explicit conversations. Margaret was his everything, and that meant shouldering the burden of seeing things that were hard to look at. Even if it was only through his descriptions.

“No. He looks like he always does.” Alex turned back to Wilby. “Bro, get in the house now, or I’m telling Ma, and you know what’ll happen. You won’t be playing any of your games for a really long time.”

“Okay, okay. Jeez. Just because I didn’t get the know doesn’t mean I have to be sent away all the time.”

“Hey. No one said you’re not getting it. Just wait.”

“Whatever. I’ll be in my room.”

Alex’s heart ached for his brother. He’d been waiting since he was about five to get the gift that most of his family from his ma’s side possessed. There was always the possibility that Wilby could be like his dad, but he tried not to think about it. Alex had seen spirits since he was old enough to talk, but it was different for everyone. There was still time. Alex let his gaze travel from Wilby to Kyle, the terror that had been the starring role in most of his nightmares since the ninth grade now had an aura of a mouse more than a lion. Slouching shoulders, gaunt cheeks, and eyes wide with fear consumed any remnants of the hulk he was.

Alex took a cautious step toward the billowing ghost. A new spirit hasn’t mastered the skills of holding onto a solid appearance, and in the beginning, it can look like ripples in a pond.

“Kyle, what happened to you?”

“I…I don’t know. I can’t remember. Why can’t I remember?”

“It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay. It happens sometimes. It’ll come back to you.”

Alex glanced over at Margaret. She was biting her cheek. She knew he was lying. It didn’t always become clear what happened to the person, and those were the spirits that went insane. Not fully comprehending their death, how they got there, where they’re going. They refuse the light and wander endlessly in an abyss of the dead, the living, and the creatures that are damned and sinister. Telling Kyle that now would serve no purpose other than a cheap jab at revenge for all the crap he’d done to him. Alex couldn’t do it.

“Kyle, listen to me. We’ll figure it out, but for now, I want you to follow me to my room. Can you do that?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure you want to do this? The guy’s a beast. A creep.” Margaret huffed.

“I know, but he’s a dead creep, and he needs my help.”


About the Author:

Originally from New York, Vicki-Ann currently reside in Nevada. Writing Young Adult paranormal, she finds inspiration from events that have been in her life for as long as she can remember. Inheriting the sensitivity to the supernatural from her family, they continue to be an endless source of vision.

Released in September 2019 from The Parliament House, Alex McKenna and The Geranium Deaths. The first book in a YA, Paranormal, LGBTQ series, that features a seventeen year old, transgender boy with paranormal abilities.
Book Two, Alex McKenna & The Academy of Souls, debuted October 2020.

Vicki-Ann has several titles that have received Reader's Favorite Five Star seal, as well as the 2017 and 2018 winner of, 50 Great Writers You Should Be Reading. Most recently, Alex McKenna and The Geranium Deaths, received the Gold medal in the Readers Favorite Book Awards for Young Adult, Paranormal.















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Monday, September 19, 2022

Character Confessions- Seekers: The Winds of Change by Troy Knowlton #YAFantasy




A Character Confession, As Told by Tyras 
Main POV of Seekers: The Winds of Change.

Oh gods, where do I begin with this one. For starters, Troy can’t ever keep a solid writing schedule. Do you have any idea how boring it was to be stuck in the same dungeon for nearly a year, and with Mobius there too? I’d rather have been left in the Deep Trench with the Guglanni than with that annoying scribe, but I’m certain Troy was too busy to be bothered with me. It’s not like he was locked down in his home for over a year while I wasted away, right?

  It’s not just his negligence that annoys me, it’s his overzealousness at throwing me into dangerous situations. I don’t like the heat, yet he made me travel through the blasted desert. Showering me with freezing rain in the Writhing Marshes wasn’t an improvement, either. It’s almost as if every time he sits down to write, I’m being stabbed, exploded, punched, kicked, strangled, or knocked on the head. Worst of all, this is just his debut. Dear reader, if you’re reading this, please send help. Find out if domestic abuse applies to works of fiction, because I don’t deserve this torture.

I suppose it’s not all bad, though. Troy did give me some amazing friends to cherish along the way. Still, Troy should count himself lucky that I didn’t go down the route of “Blade Runner” and kill my maker after meeting him. Troy, if you’re reading this, and I pray to the gods that you aren’t, I hope you grant me more wine and rest in any subsequent stories that involve me. I’ve earned that much, haven’t I? Please grant me this, Troy. If you don’t, I’ll articulate it to in terms you can understand: movie references. To quote Arnold Schwarzenager from one of your favorite movies, Conan The Barbarian, “If you do not listen, then to hell with you!”


Seekers: The Winds of Change
Seekers Saga 
Book One
Troy Knowlton

Genre: YA Fantasy
Date of Publication: July 12th, 2022
ISBN: 979-8840330708 
ASIN: B09VDBYBK7
Number of pages: 356
Word Count: 86000
Cover Artist: Lara Lampert, 99designs

Book Description: 

After an assassination attempt that could lead to an all-out war, Tyras and Oren, two young Seekers of the Argan Empire, are each given secret missions in an attempt to thwart the coming chaos. Both tasks require the Seekers to venture through the war-torn continent of Tiarna where the young men face mortal danger, horrible monsters, and hostile groups – all challenges Seekers are trained to combat. 

Luckily, the two Seekers also find guidance, friendship, and romance along the way. However, powerful and mysterious forces are conspiring behind the scenes and both Tyras and Oren will have to overcome a host of obstacles, including their own inner demons, in order to maintain a glimmer of hope for success. 

With war imminent and the unknown ahead, will the Seekers triumph, or will they be swallowed by the turbulent, relentless Winds of Change?

Set in a new, masterfully created high fantasy world, Seekers: The Winds of Change is perfect for fans of An Ember in the Ashes by Sabaa Tahir and We Free the Stars by Hafsah Faisal.



Excerpt CHAPTER 1- THE PHANTOM IN BLUE

The night sky was like A dark and shifting ocean, pitch-black and ominous. Strong winds kicked up swaths of desert sand into the horizon. The waves of brown earth raged across the heavens with a low roar. The rough weather spewed thousands of coarse, rocky grains that tore into anything standing in their path. It made the inhabitants of the Koterran mining camp miserable. The small encampment sat at the edge of a large rift in the sands, where precious iron and sandstone had already been torn from the earth. Webs of scaffolding hugged the edge of the chasm and stretched deep into the hole below. The tents of the camp were arranged in two circles. A dozen or so constituted the outer circle, and five made up the inner circle, the largest of which housed the spoils of the dig. A robust campfire sat in the center, which shone defiantly against the darkness of the wild night.

Serana sat on a rock at the edge of the campfire’s light and peered off into the distance. She wondered why her father made the decision to send her to this bizarre corner of the kingdom to guard this tiny, insignificant camp. A whole party of knights accompanied her, which seemed unnecessary. There’d been reports of bandits attacking caravans in the area, causing the High Commander to take action. He’d entrusted his daughter with organizing the camp’s protection. On the surface it made sense, but this was a job for regional guards, not Serana and thirty royal knights. Perhaps there’s some other reason, besides bandits. What if there’s a threat too dangerous to reveal, one he wanted to keep secret? The idea both terrified and excited her.

A powerful gust of wind smashed through the circling encampment like an ocean tide crashing against rocky shores. It ripped through the tents and carried enough force to extinguish the fire, shrouding the camp in near-total darkness. Bedlam ensued as miners and knights ran around in that darkness, fumbling like blind infants, trying to find where they had left their torches.

Serana didn’t join in the hysteria. She listened through the commotion, blocking her ears from the miners’ squabbling and sensing outward. She could feel a presence approaching the camp’s edge. She squinted at the outer circle of tents and saw the shape of a figure moving across them, like a predator circling its prey. Her hand reached for the sword at her hip, but she stopped short.

She realized there was a danger in having her weapon drawn, with so many people running around in the dark. In her moment of hesitation, she lost sight of the figure. She shouted a command to her knights: “Gather your bearings and spread out. We aren’t alone!”

Most of the soldiers had already lit their torches and were quick to follow their leader’s command. They began fanning out toward the camp’s edge, swords in hand. Serana scanned back and forth, observing their progress, watching and waiting for one of them to spot the unknown assailant.

A sharp noise cracked through the air, like a tree branch snapping under heavy duress. Serana looked in the direction of the sound and noticed that one of the torches had gone out. She called out to the knight holding it. No response. She ran toward the shadowed area, hand on her sword hilt. She made it halfway to the perimeter when she noticed movement on the roof to her right. Serana instinctively drew her blade and slashed upward as a figure leapt from atop the tent, vaulting over her. Her weapon missed its mark, only managing to cut a small amount of fabric off the edge of the intruder’s cloak. A dark blue scrap of cloth blew off into the wind. That cloth and its color were enough for Serana to understand what kind of enemy she faced. The blue of the material, coupled with the acrobatics, identified the invader as a Seeker of the Argan Empire.
Serana turned around and bolted back toward the campfire, shouting as she ran, “Knights, hurry back to the center of camp; the trespasser is going to the supply tent!” Her soldiers had the tent encircled mere moments after the order had left her mouth. She knew that she had the Seeker cornered. She paused at the tent’s entrance, signaling for two of her most trusted knights to follow behind her. They shuffled to her side, and the three of them entered the tent, swords drawn and ready.

Upon passing the threshold, she saw the Seeker sitting on a pile of sandstone, holding the artifact in his gloved hand. The emerald orb, roughly the size of an apple, glittered in the faint torchlight. It had a perfect round shape and gave off a pulsing green luminescence.

The Seeker ignored Serana, staring at the artifact with curious eyes. He spoke to the Koterrans in a tired and dismissive tone. “Well, I have what I’ve come here for. Let me leave in peace, and there won’t be any trouble. I’ve no quarrel with any of you.”

Serana’s fury boiled out of her. “You’re in no position to be making orders, Seeker! How dare you invade our camp in the middle of the night, like some blue phantom coming to haunt us. That artifact belongs to the Kingdom of Koterra, and I’m not letting you steal it from us. If you want this to end peacefully, you’ll hand it over right now!”

The Seeker turned and looked at the Koterran, his blue eyes perfectly visible even in the night’s darkness. He looks young for a Seeker, she thought. He couldn’t have been much older than her, and she was a couple years shy of her second decade. His pale skin reflected the orange tint of the torch fire, and his messy brown hair poked out from under the blue hood of his cloak. His deep blue eyes shimmered in the flickering firelight, giving off a slight luminescence of their own. The Argan foreigner had a calculated look on his face, as if his mind focused on something far, far away.

A few tense moments passed wherein both parties seemed
to be sizing each other up. The Seeker’s voice broke the silence.

“You know as well as I do that I can’t do that. Under imperial law, all artifacts of the Lost Kingdom must be impounded and sent to the Archive at Arga for safekeeping. I’m doing you a favor, really. Get out of my way and let me do my job!”

“Watch your tone, Argan! You’re far away from your empire, and there are plenty of dungeons in Koterra that I’d be happy to toss you in.” Serana clenched her teeth together, adrenaline mixing with her rage as she squeezed the hilt of her blade.

The Seeker lowered his gaze and shook his head. “Well, I can’t say that I didn’t give you a choice. I would suggest that you duck and cover.”

Serana only had a few seconds to ponder his cryptic words before the explosion knocked everyone off their feet. Debilitating ringing echoed through her ears. It was the last thing she heard before going unconscious. The blast disoriented everyone except the Seeker, who had braced himself for it, knowing that it would arrive at the perfect time. A flurry of sand, broken tents, and rubble showered the poor Koterrans, subduing them. The Seeker found it easy to escape in the chaos, and he made his way through the camp with little resistance. He’d almost reached its edge when the second explosion went off. He hadn’t counted on this, and the surprise rattled him, sending him flying into the dark envelope of the tumultuous night.


About the Author:

Troy Knowlton has always had a burning desire to tell stories. He started at a young age by drawing maps of made-up continents and fantasy kingdoms. The empty kingdoms beckoned to be given life, and his work eventually blossomed, leading him to create full narratives and characters for his worlds. He currently lives in California where he works as an X-Ray technologist and teacher when he isn't writing. He's also a great lover of history, currently working to earn his bachelor's degree in History and Political Science.








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Guest Blog by Arch Author Michael N. Riley


When I wrote my first book, I had two women read it.  First was a very good high school English teacher, she was also my cousin.  I printed out and submitted my manuscript.  When I got it back it was graded like a homework assignment.  For me it killed the voice of the story.  I wrote it as if a reporter or director from the future had a microphone and was recording what they saw.  

The second person that read my story was a sex therapist.  She really enjoyed the story and said I don’t know how to use a comma and there wasn’t enough sex in it for her.  She sent me one of her stories and it was about a space alien with an extraordinary man part.  For me it was a script for a porno movie.

I sat on my first book for a while. There was a guy at work that wrote books on the side and he said he was self-published.  He wrote science fiction and after reading one of his stories I felt like he should have gotten together with the sex therapist and collaborated on a story together.  He was pretty far out there too.  However, I did go online and I think I filled out a questionnaire and submitted it and I left it at that.

One day I got a call from a man that published books and wanted to know what my story was about.  I told him the jest of the story and that I was writing a Trilogy much like the “Girl With The Dragon Tattoo” series.  He asked how many books I’ve written and I told him the first one is done and working on the second one.

A year goes by my phone rings it’s the same guy from a year ago.  “How are the books coming along?”

I said the second one is done and working on the third book.  Life happens and several things started to come to play.  First, my wife retired, second, I retired and we decided to move from New Mexico to North East Ohio.  Then a lady by the name of Ruth started calling me from Writers Republic.  I think that’s the company that guy who called me before was from.  So I listen to her and I tell her I’m still writing the third book but we have moved and blah, blah, blah...

She calls again and again and again and finally after about three years I asked “How much does it cost?”  Ruth emailed me all the information pertaining to getting a book published.  So, I signed the contract and set up my payment plan.  Wasn’t much time after that I get a call from marketing.  The man on the other end was excited about the book and felt like it might have a shot at making it.  What set him apart was he had read the story and we talked about it.  I have received many calls after my book was published from other marketers and they did not read my story.  Writers Republic impressed me.  How can you publish and sell a book that you’ve never read?

Arch

Michael N. Riley

Genre: Historical Fiction
Publisher: Writers Republic
Date of Publication:  June 24, 2022
ISBN: 9798885364409
Number of pages:  190

Tagline: Some men are just to mean to die!

Book Description: 
 
The book is set around 1900, when New Mexico was still a territory. 

Doc Strafford has bought a small mercantile in Portales, New Mexico Territory, to start a new life. Over the years, Doc has become more involved in the growth of Portales. He eventually sells his interest in a saloon to two seedy characters, Jewels Davis and his albino son, Jefferson. 

When Doc invites his old friend from the Civil War to visit Portales and the surrounding territory, it draws suspicions from the Davises to the point that they torture Doc's hired hand, Gustavo, just to find out what Doc is up to.

Amazon     BN     Writer’s Republic


About the Author:

Michael N. Riley was born in Grants, New Mexico, in 1960, the second generation born in New Mexico from either of his parents’ families. Like most, they homesteaded from other states. His father’s side was from Texas and his mother’s family was from Alabama. When he was three, they moved from Grants to Clovis, New Mexico. He went to school and graduated high school and eventually moved to Portales, New Mexico, to attend Eastern New Mexico University. He ended up getting married and working for an electric cooperative reading electric meters. During that time, he had several old timers tell him stories about coming to New Mexico when it was a territory. Most of them were old ranch hands and farmers. Their eyes would light up when they told stories about the real Wild West and some of the shenanigans they would get into. This is how he came up with this story. 




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Thursday, September 8, 2022

Character Confession from Sleep Not My Wanton by Gary Bills #GothicFantasy

LORINA SKENE: from Sleep not my Wanton, by Gary Bills. 

“Megan was fortunate indeed to be my lady’s maid. It was more than she was fitted out for, considering her base origins in life. Was it merely Sapphic attraction that drew me to her at first, or did I see qualities in her beyond the appeal of carnal experimentation? Whatever, - whatever, I came to love her. I will not be challenged on this matter, not even by the odious Mr Bills, who claims to possess insights into my very soul.

“I ask you, what can any man know of those lamp-lit hours, where confidences were whispered and I came to truly, truly cherish my love? 

“Those who say I killed her lie! They lie! 

“But I could not save her from the darkness, although I must concede, I invited the darkness in. Alas, the darkness spotted Megan, and the hungry shadows are never to be denied, are they?”


Sleep Not My Wanton
Gary Bills

Genre: Period Gothic Fantasy
Publisher: The Little French
Date of Publication: January 31, 2022
ISBN: 9781034931478
ASIN: ‎ B09RP7BXY2 US/ ‎ B09QP2354B UK
Number of pages: 194 US/ 174 UK
Word Count: 53,052

Book Description: 

Lorina Skene moves between two worlds, the everyday and the supernatural, and in both she is a killer, at large and beyond suspicion in Victorian London. 

She is protected by her privilege and her power. But who, or what, is pulling the strings? 

This is a Gothic nightmare, and a tale of controlling, obsessive love, with plenty of twists, turns and weird happenings along the bumpy ride through fog and gaslight. 

Expect to be disturbed and expect a broken heart when silence falls and realisation dawns.

Excerpt

Madam Cowleigh was a medium. She was famous, of course, for conversing with
spirits, but the spirits had to listen with inordinate care. Her speech was a flurry of half-swallowed frustrations, for she did not articulate her words at all clearly – she spat them out, expecting straining ears to catch at least the gist of her sentences. Madam Cowleigh would frown deeply if, at any time, she was not adequately understood.

As a consequence, her brow was lined and furrowed; but her affliction was not
her fault, for illness had played a vicious trick upon her. As a child, or so it was reported by the vulgar press, she had developed a swollen tongue - a monstrous tongue. Forever afterwards it remained far too large for her mouth. The words she tried to express could never be rolled out entirely, for her teeth and gums got in the way. Of course, she slurred at times, and she drooled; but that was not the worst of it. The initial swelling had ulcerated her freakish organ of articulation, and although she soon healed, rough scars were left behind. Madame Cowleigh, in short, had a tongue of sandpaper and thistles; but only later would I learn this to my cost.

How I wish the spectre had left me alone! I would not have required  Cowleigh’s peculiar talents and nothing would have brought me to her door.

 If only I had possessed the courage to tell myself that any ghost is merely rushing air and
attitude... a tatter, perhaps, of a long-expired personality; then I might have endured without assistance. However, I was terrified by the unwelcome visitations, and three complacent mediums, all charlatans as it transpired, had failed to relieve my terror. The spirit still haunted my home as before, and Cowleigh had become my ultimate hope. Her reputation preceded her. London papers had printed rapturous accounts of her séances and stage shows. The
majority of mediums were frauds, it was so; but Cowleigh was the genuine article.
For the sake of veracity, I must confess that I still believe in her powers. I believe
absolutely. How could it be otherwise?

Cowleigh lived in a half-respectable locale, in Hampstead. It was a street of lace curtains and green-painted doors. Half of the modest house was rented by other tenants and the other half by the medium. She lived alone except for a fat companion, an African woman called Winnie, who was also a medium. In fact, they performed together on the professional stage. It was whispered that the two women shared a bed, and they performed together there with just as much gusto! But I thought this most improbable, for Cowleigh was as rotund as her friend, and double beds are only so wide. Passions, especially outsized passions, may move the earth upon its axis, it is true; but sleep alone can make the world stop dead. As I have discovered, sleep is more essential than love. Either way, Cowleigh’s personal tastes did not concern me. I did not wish to learn whether or not she ever lay down with Wheezing Winnie, as the press had named her; the question was, could Cowleigh lay my evil ghost?

It was Winne who answered the door. She filled up most of the frame and this dominating impression was only matched by her imperious chestnut eyes. She looked me up and down, and she even allowed herself the ghost of a smile.

Repressing nerves and a spark of irritation, because of her impudence, I gave my married name rather sharply.

Winnie nodded. It was odd to speak a name I barely recognised myself. I scarcely
owned it, for the memory of my wedding day was still fresh in my mind and it was not a pleasant reverie, for I was never in love with my husband.

I followed the ballooning Winnie down a short, narrow corridor where the Turkey carpets on the floor had seen better days, and where the pot-plants, although displayed with apparent pride on a series of little ebony tables, one after the other, clearly needed water. Their fronds were dry and withered, like my soul.

Winnie ushered me into a drawing room, one with very little furniture. Out of breath and sweating head to toe, Winnie urged me to sit in a far corner, on a green-buttoned chair. It was one of only three seats in the room. The other two chairs faced off against each other, over a small round table - a table which was covered with a drape of scarlet chenille. That table was where the magic might occur, or where the chicanery might transpire. At that moment, I did not know quite what to expect. I had been disappointed before, and I began to despair of all
mediums.

I waited and I waited, alone; but at least this gave me the opportunity to study the curious pictures on the wall. They hung in a higgledy-piggledy fashion, with no hint of elegant spacing; and yet each picture had an expensive frame of mahogany, although none was an oil painting. Evidently, Cowleigh and Winnie had a taste for ancient wood-block illustrations, such as one might see in medieval or Renaissance folios. This was not so remarkable in itself, perhaps, but
the subject matter of those images did grip my attention, for there were devils and imps and witches, and scenes of dire punishment, all delineated neatly in ink on yellowing parchment. Here, a bound woman was burning at the stake, close to a smug-faced bishop who was warming his hands; and there were six peasants all hanging in a row, like seasoning hams in a country pantry.



About the Author:

Gary Bills was born at Wordsley, near Stourbridge, in the UK. He took his first degree at Durham University, where he studied English Language and Medieval Literature, and he has subsequently worked as a journalist. He is currently the fiction editor for Poetry on the Lake, and he is enjoying studying for his MA, at BCU. His poetry has appeared in numerous publications, including The Guardian, Magma, HQ and Acumen, and he has had three full collections published, – “The Echo and the Breath” (Peterloo Poets, 2001); “The Ridiculous Nests of the Heart” (bluechrome, 2003); and “Laws for Honey” (erbacce 2020). In 2005, he edited “The Review of Contemporary Poetry” for bluechrome.

 Gary has given professional readings at the Ledbury Poetry Festival, Poetry on the Lake in Italy, and at the Poetry Trend Munich Festival in 2010. His work has been translated in to German, Romanian and Italian. A US-based indie publisher, The Little French, published his first novel, “A Letter for Alice” in 2019, and a collection of stories, “Bizarre Fables”, in 2021. These were illustrated by his wife, Heather E. Geddes.

In 2022, The Little French published his second novel, “Sleep not my Wanton.”