Thursday, June 30, 2022

Character Confessions with Leoquin from Surrogate for a Vampire by Nina R Schluntz #Erotic #ParanormalRomance #PNR

Hi, I’m Leoquin. Thanks for the opportunity today to be here. Uh, who am I? I’m the love interest from the second story in the book. There was originally talk that I’d get my own story, but after a massive rewrite I was added to this one. I was disappointed at first, but then I found out my role carried into all three books. I actually think I have a bigger role than my brother Quentin. 

Yes, Quentin is the vampire who find Jack and gets him to become a vampire ally, but I was the one who helped him vanish the main protagonist at the end of the novel. I’m like the side kick to the hero. I’ve also fought in several of the vampire wars, so I’m war veteran hero too.

What was that? Uh, yes, its true my wife is also one of the main characters we are all fighting against in the story. She leads a rebellion against the vampires, but those are very common so if she hadn’t done it someone else would have. She was misunderstood, can we get off this topic please? I didn’t come here to discuss that. 

A happy ending? Yes, I would say we all get our happy ending in the story, but some of pay a high cost for it. This isn’t a horror story, but we certainly aren’t all sparkling. Yes, that was a joke, you can laugh. 

Can we go out in the sun? Born vampires can, yes. A human who was turned into a vampire can’t. We don’t burn up like in the movies. Its uncomfortable and makes us tired. We all prefer to sleep in the day. Just like you’d prefer to sleep at night.

Surrogate for a Vampire
Nina R Schluntz

Genre: Erotic Paranormal Romance 
Date of Publication: 5/10/2022
ISBN: 9798814059086
Number of pages:543
Word Count: 140,000

Book Description:

Every vampire has one goal- to find a surrogate human strong enough to birth their heir.

Surrogate for a Vampire spans three vampire love stories entangled around the fate of one man, who refuses to be a human, a traditional surrogate, or a vampire. 



Jack and Quentin

This crazy fuck wasn’t getting the hint. Jack could barely see him since he’d leaped off the deck with that lighter-than-air shit that the vampires did. And now he was standing off in the shadows. And who was he trying to impress with that smooth jazz voice? Go join a damn poetry reading club and go away.

“If you even think of coming up here, I’ll punch you right in the jaw, and you’ll be drinking blood out of a sippy cup for the next month.” While speaking, Jack gently rapped his knuckle on the door, a sign to Teddy inside the trailer to get the gun and aim it squarely at the door. This wasn’t the first overeager dumb fuck vampire who had to be shot a few times with rock salt before they got the hint and left. Maddock had told him that as long as he didn’t kill anyone, they were welcome to do as they needed, including calling for the female vamp guards. But Jack hadn’t needed to do that yet and didn’t plan to.

Then, the guy was in front of him. Jack had blinked his eyes, and bam, there he was, standing less than a foot away and leering at Jack with those predatory blood-red eyes of a vampire. He hadn’t been able to get a good look at him before, but now he was in the porch light, and Jack’s stomach did a little fluttery kick.

Because this guy was actually hot.

His skin was buttery smooth like someone had spent hours sanding it to a perfect polish. And his black hair was in tiny little spikes, which made Jack wonder how much hair gel the guy had to use to get it to stay perfectly in place like it was. His pointy nose had a perfect edge, and Jack had to remind himself to breathe.

This was the kind of vampire that probably had humans throwing themselves at him and begging him to drink their blood. Jack had never seen one that looked as alluring as this one. Maddock was, of course, gross to anyone. Most men vampires were unappealing creatures who either did nothing to try to improve their looks or were just born ugly to the point of no hope of repair. It was like they’d crossbred with bats at some point in their lineage, and they were deformed fuckers thanks to their bestiality practicing grandpops. Now, the women vampires were a completely different matter. Most of those were turned vampires because the vampire men, being the assholes they were, only turned the hottest women they could find. But the women vampires weren’t interested in Jack. They were completely immune to his mojo. But the men, gah, he’d spent every night of his life beating the fuckers away since he’d hit puberty.

“Did you change your mind?” the vamp asked, his lip twisting in a slight smile. “I thought there was an impending danger if I came up here?”

He knew. He knew he was fucking hot, and that pissed Jack off.

“Right, yeah, I did. Sorry about that.” Jack took a step back, and the floorboard squeaked, giving

Teddy the sign that he was clear. The vampire turned his head to look at the door as if at the last second he’d heard something inside and knew he was fucked. The door exploded, and a mix of shrapnel from the door and rock salt from the 12 gauge shotgun slammed into the vampire’s chest. He was tossed off the deck and landed on the ground, on his back, right about where he had originally stood.

“Did I get ‘em?” Teddy asked. He pushed what remained of the door open. “Maddock’s gonna be pissed we need a new door.”

“What the hell?” Jeff shouted from inside. He shoved Teddy out of the way, wearing only his boxers. “What is going on?” He kicked some of the door bits aside and surveyed the situation.

“It’s another vampire,” Jack said. He ambled past them and grabbed a three-foot metal pipe from where it leaned against the steps as he descended. The pipe was coated in silver, a substance that burned vampire flesh.

He walked up to the vampire and stood over him, a leg on either side of the vampire’s hips. The bastard was dressed in black—a fitted shirt and slacks—and even had one of those capes on, not a long one, it was only halfway down his back. He saw a lot of vampires wear them, some stupid style thing. Even Maddock wore it.

“You should stay down,” Jack said. “Otherwise, I’ll use this pipe to knock some of those fangs out, and it will really be a shame if I have to mess up that pretty face.”

The vampire gave a few coughs and clutched at his shirt, which now had little holes in it. He didn’t see any blood, though, but the impact should have hurt and knocked the wind out of him, hopefully, the fight too.

“Jack, maybe you shouldn’t get so close,” Teddy warned. Teddy was three times Jack’s age and knew more about vampires than any other human Jack knew. The waver in his voice as he spoke the words made Jack wonder why he was suddenly being cautious.

“I’ll just give him one smack for good measure,” Jack said. He lifted the pipe over his shoulder, and his world was suddenly turned upside down as the vampire grabbed his calf and yanked him off his feet.

He heard Jeff shout his name right as his head impacted the ground with a smack. He landed on his back but managed to keep his grip on the pipe. He saw a flash of black cloth and felt two hot pricks on his neck.


The fucker was biting him!

Soddenfeld and Leoquin

“I believe I owe you an apology,” Lord Leoquin said. His finger trailed across Soddenfeld’s forehead. He jerked awake, realizing he was lying on one of the cots inside the medical tent. An IV ran in his arm, likely giving him nothing more than fluids. He knew their supplies of nearly everything medicine-wise was low.

“Ah, it’s fine. It was my mistake.” He tried to sit up, but his head throbbed a bit.

“You’ve been asleep for two nights,” the vampire corrected. “I believe that is my fault.”

“I was the one who tried to treat you when I knew the rules said not to, and then we missed the call to retreat and—” The vampire put his fingers across Soddenfeld’s lips to silence him.

“I drank from you without consent. For that, I apologize and wish to compensate you. Name your price.” He removed his finger, but Soddenfeld wished he hadn’t.

“It’s war. Things happen. It's fine. Really.”

“A debt must be repaid, Dr. Soddenfeld. If you refuse to tell me what you desire, then I shall deposit funds into your—”

“No, I don’t want your money.” He did manage to sit up this time and almost regretted it as he saw a glimmer of angst on the vampire’s face. This vampire was in a class above him, and he’d just interrupted him, and he was refusing his payment. Rude on top of rude, good job, Soddenfeld.

“I nearly killed you.” The vampire leered closer, putting his face dangerously close to his. “The other facts involved are trivial.”

“Sex.” He spoke the word and couldn’t believe he had. The vampire’s silence indicated he was as surprised by the confession as he was. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate. I’ve been told by nearly every person I’ve tried to date that I’m a sex addict masquerading as…I don’t know. I have excuses, but I shouldn’t have said that. I—”

The vampire put his fingers to his lips again. “Never be ashamed of what you are. Come to my tent when you are feeling better, and I shall endeavor to repay you to your satisfaction.”

The man pulled his hand back and stepped away from Soddenfeld’s cot. “You’re serious? You’ll have sex with me?”

“Am I the first vampire to accept your proposal?” He continued to back away as Soddenfeld nodded. “Intriguing.”

He left the tent, and Soddenfeld still couldn’t believe what he’d asked, nor the response he’d gotten.

Tessa and D’eclat

Tessa walked up the staircase, grateful that today was Klara’s turn to be with Azul. Someone brushed her shoulder as they passed, and she stumbled. The same person who had bumped her grabbed her shoulder to steady her.

“We seem to have this problem,” D’eclat said. “At least you were not carrying anything this time.”

“My apologizes.” She took a step away from the vampire as he dropped his hand. “I shall try to be more aware of my surroundings.”

“No need. We are leaving today. We’ll not cross paths again until Lady Azul comes to the castle for the wedding.” His tone didn’t sound thrilled by any of the news he announced.

“I thought you were staying for a week.”

“I found there to be no point.”

“What of Yuentin? He was looking forward to your mentoring.”

“I cannot stay.”

“Why?” It wasn’t until he gave her a stern look that she realized she’d pried more than her status allowed.

“I am a king. I am accustomed to taking what I want. However, there are things within these walls that do not belong to me. I fear if I stay here for any significant amount of time, my ability to restrain myself will falter, and I will take that which is not mine. I do not wish to be the kind of king who steals from other lords.”

“I am certain that whatever resides here, that you want, Lord Jaspar would give you. He wants nothing more than to please you.”

“It is not Lord Jaspar that I want to please.”

“Then Lady Azul—”

He turned from her, uttering an animalistic grunt of disgust. “Goodbye, Miss Tessa.”

She watched his folded wings twitch in agitation as he went, and she knew Jaspar would have all their heads if he saw the Vampire Potentate leave like this.

“Wait, please, if someone has offended you.” She rushed to catch up with him, not expecting him to stop. She collided with his wings, which were warmer than she expected. He grabbed her wrist to stop her fall.

“I am beginning to believe this is intentional,” he said, pushing her to the wall so if she fell, she would have it to grab. “I must leave.” His voice wavered as he said it, and his red eyes looked at her with something akin to hunger. He turned, and she did not follow this time. She remained on the steps until she heard the slam of the house’s main door and Jaspar’s angry shout. She walked into the foyer mid-rant.

“—didn’t even get her to see him. What do I say? Who insulted him? Why?” Jaspar slammed his foot to the ground, his chest heaving. He looked around at those who were gathered. “He said something happened in the kingdom that required his attention, but I don’t believe it. If I find out which of you spurred him to leave.” His eyes fell upon Azul. “I know I promised to take care of you like you’re my sister because we share the same mother.” He shook his head. “Seriously, you couldn’t do this one thing?”

About the Author: 

Nina Schluntz is a native to rural Nebraska. In her youth, she often wrote short stories to entertain her friends. Those ideas evolved into the novels she creates today.

Her husband continues to ensure her stories maintain a touch of realism as she delves into the science fiction and fantasy realm. Their three cats are always willing to stay up late to provide inspiration, whether it is a howl from the stray born in the backyard or an encouraging bite from the so called “calming kitten.”

You can find Nina at:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Tuesday, June 28, 2022

Murder in the Neighborhood—the story of the first mass shooting in the US by Ellen J. Green #TrueCrime

Murder in the Neighborhood—the story of the first mass shooting in the US
Ellen J. Green

Genre: True Crime
Publisher: Thread Books, Hachette UK
Date of Publication: 4/28/2022
ISBN13: 9781909770706
Number of pages: 324
Word Count: 85k
Cover Artist: Thread books

Book Description: 

On 6 September 1949, twenty-eight-year-old Howard Barton Unruh shot thirteen people in less than twelve minutes on his block in East Camden, New Jersey. The shocking true story of the first recorded mass shooting in America has never been told, until now.

The sky was cloudless that morning when twelve-year-old Raymond Havens left his home on River Road. His grandmother had sent him to get a haircut at the barbershop across the street—where he was about to witness his neighbor and friend Howard open fire on the customers inside.

Told through the eyes of young Raymond, who had visited Howard regularly to listen to his war stories, and the mother trying to piece together the disturbing inner workings of her son’s mind, Murder in the Neighborhood uncovers the chilling true story of Howard Unruh, the quiet loner who meticulously plotted his revenge on the neighbors who shunned him and became one of America’s first mass killers.

Amazon     Audible     AppleBooks


That September morning started much like any other. Camden, New Jersey, the sparkling little sister of Philadelphia, connected by the high arches of the Delaware River Bridge, was waking up to heat nearing the mid-seventies—by nine o’clock the humidity was sitting high above the city, waiting to descend.

Cramer Hill, a small section of Camden, bound by the Delaware River to the west, the Pavonia Train Yard to the east, State Street to the south and 36th Street to the north—a grid of streets twenty-four blocks long, and about five or six blocks wide contained within—was about to draw the focus of the world but nobody knew it, not that morning at nine o’clock.

River Road cut a swath through Cramer Hill where open-bay trucks rumbled through all day long, overloaded with tomatoes headed for the Campbell’s soup factory a few miles away. The clearly visible cargo was only held in place by wire mesh caging along the sides. The loud engine sounds called to children to get out of the street, to stand and watch, waiting for a tomato to break loose and fall into their small hands. They were often rewarded when a bump in the road threw a few of the greenish-red fruits into the street.

The smells of the river wafting in, the sounds of the boats, the hint of tomatoes cooking at Campbell’s, the smoke from the stacks of Eavenson and Sons soap factory a mile away—it was all there. But mostly it was the shoemaker’s pungent aroma of tannery oils, the lingering, savory fragrance from Latela’s Italian luncheonette on the corner, the endless din of Engel’s bar across the street, and the music that poured out of its doors after the sun went down that filled every home.

Five businesses shared one side of the small block—a cacophonic mix of a pharmacy, a barbershop, a cobbler, a tailor and a cafĂ©. The other side only had two: a grocery and a bar. Most of the owners lived there, nestled in their small apartments above their establishments. They all knew each other well enough on that small stretch of River Road. Enough to pull a chair out onto the sidewalk on summer nights for a chat. Enough to get a drink at Engel’s now and again. Enough to keep an eye on things and on each other. But not one of them saw it coming. Not the Pilarchiks, the Hoovers, the Hamiltons, the Zegrinos or the Cohens. They’d safely shared that space together for years, but not one of them was spared.

About the Author:

Ellen J. Green is the Amazon Charts bestselling author of the Ava Saunders novels (Absolution and Twist of Faith) and The Book of James. She attended Temple University in Philadelphia, where she earned her degrees in psychology, and has worked in the psychiatric ward of a maximum-security correctional facility for fifteen years. She also holds an MFA degree in creative writing from Fairleigh Dickinson University. Born and raised in Upstate New York, Ms. Green now lives in southern New Jersey with her two children.



Amazon Page

Newsletter Sign Up  

Ifeoluwa Babatunde's Top Ten Psychological Thriller and Horror Movies #PsychologicalThriller

Top Ten Psychological Thriller and Horror Movies

1. Triangle: This movie bends your mind in so many ways! Once you realize what is going on, you will spend time after the movie trying to figure out how all of the scenes fit together and what the future holds for the main character. 

2. Searching: The viewer will be on the same journey as the father trying to find his daughter. What I love about this movie is that it is filmed through only shared screens (computer screen, phone screen) as opposed to your traditional video camera.

3. The Belko Experiment: This is a movie that makes you question your morality in regard to who deserves to live and who deserves to die. You see characters develop drastically within the movie alone and the person left will leave you shocked.

4. The Call (2021): Knowing that a change in the past can influence the future the way it does in the movie keeps the viewer on their toes. 

5. Pet Sematary: I am not entirely sure why I like this one. I was simply intrigued with the concept.

6. US: The movie continually builds upon its excellent plot of doubles and the plot twist makes watching it to the end more than worth it. 

7. Predestination: This mind-boggling movie makes you piece together a complicated – yet somehow simple – timeline. I was captivated the whole time. 

8. Circle: Similar to the Belko Experiment, viewers are kept at a distance while the characters decide who deserves to live and who deserves to die. 

9. You’re Next: I always loved the concept of slowly being picked off one by one, and the twist at the end is worth watching. 

10. Mine Games: The factor of causality makes the viewer think and attempt to piece the story together in chronological order. 

Catch Me If You Can
Ifeoluwa Babatunde

Genre: Psychological Thriller
Date of Publication: April 26, 2022
ISBN: 9798819411285
Number of pages: 253
Word Count: 40,000

Book Description: 

Catch Me If You Can is a unique and thrilling suspense novella that tackles themes of mental illness and murder. When the shy and quiet Nigerian American student Victoria stumbles into Eli at school, a friendship begins to blossom that pierces her loneliness and quiets the mental illness that lurks just beneath her awareness. But when she uncovers a shocking secret about Eli, it forces her into an impossible choice that will change her life forever.

Roped into a morbid pact to unleash their destructive urges and bring death to innocent victims, Victoria spirals into a twisted cycle of murder and mayhem. With Eli by her side, the pair feel unstoppable. But their actions can’t go unnoticed for long, and as the Law begins to close in on their trail, Victoria grows increasingly unstable. Her mental state teeters on the brink – and it will only take one small push to tip her over the edge. 

Perfect for anybody who loves thought-provoking suspense novellas that are filled with twists and turns, Catch Me If You Can is an imaginative read that will satisfy morbid curiosities and leave you with something to ponder.


There is a vivid boundary that distinguishes the normal from abnormal, and the typical from atypical. If the setup is altered and the circumstances become unusual; often then, the behaviors cease to belong to the category of normal. Fascinatingly, the world of abnormal is less exposed, but once it lays bare in front of the human brain, there is no possible escape to the normal world.

It is mostly believed, that things that are avoided for a longer time soon suffer the fate of becoming rotten and useless. Similarly, the human brain is that vital organ of the body that stays in the normal world only if it is given constant social interaction. It gets upset if not given the optimum condition to thrive in. Once it is obstructed in creating such connections, it goes into a deep recess. Then, after searching to interact with the normal world for a long time, a moment comes when the brain accepts the defeat and then starts cooking up strategies to wrestle with the world that shirked it. The human brain, after a long time’s effort, learns to live on its own and, then, even if the normal world wants to embrace it again, it resists the urge. Rather, it starts living in a different dimension; a dimension that is a miraculous creation of one’s brain; a dimension that cannot be viewed by a normal eye. A dimension that takes refuge in alternatives.

Nevertheless, a human brain is naturally hardwired to interact and develop connections and links with the world in which it lives; these connections are vital for the brain and the heart to develop and maintain feelings for other human beings. To understand such atypical working of the brain, it is imperative to develop a sight that can discover and unveil the unusual. It is because the brain is practically implemented by the eyes. The congruency of the brain and the eyes is key to normal human functioning; the eyes see what the brain wants to see. Likewise, it is very much possible that what the brain instructs the eyes to see is not what a normal brain would normally instruct. Therefore, the perception of the world depends upon the way the brain perceives things.

With the change in perception, the world becomes a different place to live in. Widely, the perception cuts into two halves; the one being the normal perception and the other - the abnormal perception. The owners of each can only see the world that comes along with their insight; understanding the other world is merely a task impossible for each of the clashing views.

A very obvious human psychological notion believes that if a person is impeded on his path to the destination, he resolves to find an alternative path; a path that can make a person feel like he is smoothly going down his way to that destination. Likewise, the human brain, when unable to grow in normal conditions, starts looking for alternate ways and those alternate ways often lead to a different world.

The curtains were drawn tight and not a single ray of light was able to fight its way inside the room. The room was encompassed by darkness with a small fluorescent tube as the only source of light that diffused throughout the whole room. Yet, the sharp light flowing out of the tube was falling directly into the baby’s eyes, making her weep in annoyance. Her small, dark hands and feet were flailing frantically, and her face had gone pulpy red, crying. Some painful minutes slipped past when a lady clad in an all-white suit and black ribbons appeared at the door, looking horrified as ever.

The wailing was now a harsh echo, and the baby was about to lose her breath. Hurrying along into the room, she gently stroked her small curls and inserted a nipple in her mouth. Seeing her flooding eyes, the maid quickly turned off the switch

It was her fourth birthday and her parents had bought her a piano; she was not happy to see it.

The previous year she was gifted a set of children’s books, and she had clearly told her parents to buy her a bicycle the next year. Riding a bicycle was her favorite sport; at least her brain told her so. However, the parents had decided not to heed her request whatsoever. They always told her that she would get sick if she journeyed outside to ride. She was astonished to see other children playing outside, all immune to sickness.

She had cried a lot that day, but her tears never affected her parents and all she could do was take her piano and go back to her room. Entering, she looked at the closed window. She was in thought for a few minutes, dumping the piano in the box that lay under her bed. The box had many such toys; all of which she hated. It was filled with toys that she never played with.

The sun was beaming beautifully that day. The light, fluffy clouds hung low as if they were about to squeeze through the closed window. She was watching the view with her slender fingers curling around the cold windowsill. It was about mid- noon and the kids were all coming out in groups to play. Every day, she used to see them come out and play for hours upon hours until sweat would melt their sprightly vigor. All the children bore the happiest of smiles and at times, they would look up at her, beckoning her to play with them. All she would do was blink away in utmost surprise and then draw the curtains tight. After going straight to her bed, she would take long breaths as her heart would start somersaulting with a wild desire to go outside and play. Thinking for a minute, she would jump out of the bed to seek permission from her parents. But then something in her heart would stop her from going, and she would come back to her room, crying in little hitched breaths.

She was a young girl now, average as the rest; a broad nose perching on her dark face and eyes that had a river of indifference in them. She would always keep her mouth from smiling; she thought she had no reason to smile. Today, she strolled past the closed window and watched boys and girls laughing as they walked outside. A woman jogging past the busy road watched her smiling, and, as usual, after receiving no smile in response, she moved on. Getting such smiles from the people outside was not anything new to her; at first, she would get apprehensive, but now she felt nothing. She would often give people a heart attack by staring blankly at them. Looking outside the window now failed to bolster any kind of desire to move outside. Probably because she had learned to adjust to her routine.

There was a tall mirror that ran down from the top of the gray wall to the full length. Her mother had bought her this mirror when she turned thirteen. It was her favorite thing in the room. At times, she would stand in front of it and stare for hours, until her sight turned dizzy.

In her home, she had just her mom and dad. Most of the time, Mom would be busy in the kitchen and Dad would always be out for work. This meant there was no one else but her mirror which had promised her utmost companionship. Once, her mirror had suffered from a small crack, and she had cried quite a bit. Her father took it to a shop and fortunately, as the crack was in the golden frame bordering the mirror, it was fixed up. She had never been so happy in her life.

The day her mirror came back to her, she made up her mind to protect it with her life. And she had. She had also taken out the presents she once dumped into the box; there was a piano, a set of books, some flowers, plastic figures, and things like that. Her mind had learned to seek the happiness which she had previously thought could only be achieved by going outside, in the things that were in her room. Now, she did not bother to draw away the curtains and look out the closed window.

About the Author:

Ifeoluwa Babatunde is a passionate author and dedicated wordsmith who loves to craft gripping stories that force readers to think. As a Senior Data Analyst and college professor by day and a writer by night, Ifeoluwa enjoys nothing more than a good thriller or horror novel, and she hopes to capture her readers’ imaginations with exhilarating books that are intertwined with thought-provoking themes. 

A first-generation Nigerian American and current PhD student, she enjoys reading mysteries, psychological thrillers, and all things horror.

Catch Me If You Can is her debut novel. 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Monday, June 27, 2022

Character Backstory- The Magic of the Lamp by Lorelei Johnson #FantasyRomance

Jafar’s Backstory

Jafar’s father had left them before he was old enough to remember the man’s face. His mother used to sit by the window in the setting sun, staring out with an unreadable expression. He knew she was waiting for him. He hated his father for that.

A few years later, his mother became ill. She couldn’t work anymore, so he had to steal to feed them and to pay for her medicine. There was never enough money, and he always pretended to eat more than he did so that she would have the strength to fight her disease.

But it wasn’t enough.

When he was just eight years old, his mother passed away.

Jafar became another street rat, but he was determined to make his way in the world, determined that he would get out of the slums and when he did, he would never go hungry again.

He took any job he could find, granting meagre earnings, but enough to keep him alive. One day, a scribe came to the town. Jafar asked him if he could help carry his things. The scribe showed an interest in the boy. He came to the city many times and he taught Jafar to read and to write. But when it was time to move on, he felt badly for the street urchin, and he asked his friend at the palace to take him on as an apprentice.

The Magic of the Lamp
The Tantalising Tales Collection
Book Eight
Lorelei Johnson

Genre: Fantasy Romance
Date of Publication: June 24, 2022
ISBN: 9798433798182
Number of pages: 201
Word Count: 50,018
Cover Artist: Lorelei Johnson

Tagline: A headstrong princess, an ambitious sorcerer, and a forbidden love that could ruin them both…

Book Description: 

A headstrong princess, an ambitious sorcerer, and a forbidden love that could ruin them both…

When Princess Jasmine returns home after fifteen years, she's determined not to choose any of the suitors her father has lined up for her. 

She doesn't need a man to rule her kingdom.

Jafar has fought tooth and nail for everything he has and he never sets his sights on something he can't have.

Until her.

But the princess must marry a prince.

When the mysterious Prince Ali enters the palace stirring a curiosity in the princess, Jafar's jealousy in uncontainable. But when the choice before him is love or power, will he fight for the woman he loves or cling to the power he so desperately craves?

 The Magic of the Lamp is the enticing eighth book in the Tantalising Tales Collection. If you like forbidden romance, sizzling tension and happily ever afters, then you’ll love Lorelei Johnson’s seductive twist on this fairy tale.

Each book can be read as a standalone


‘And here I thought you’d arranged all this for me,’ she said, pouting gently.

‘Shame on you, Baba, using this as an opportunity for political manoeuvring.’

The sultan laughed heartily. ‘Do you see how clever she is, Jafar? I dare say she would make any man a formidable wife.’

‘Indeed, your majesty,’ Jafar said. She suspected that was his usual response when he wished not to comment on a subject.

‘This is a party, and you are young. You should be dancing!’ the sultan exclaimed.

As if they’d been waiting for the sultan to make such an announcement, she saw men fidgeting in their seats, eagerly watching, waiting to pounce on her, to claim her first dance and perhaps her heart, though she knew they cared not for love, merely the throne and the power of the sultan. She was a bonus, like a brilliant golden bracelet to hang on their arm, ornamental and only for their own personal enjoyment.

‘If you wish to see me dance, Baba, then I shall,’ Jasmine announced, smiling warmly at her father even as she was cringing inside. But she need not play their little game, she would much rather play her own.

She rose from her seat and walked around her father’s chair, stopping in front of Jafar. He looked up at her with suspicion, not exactly the reaction she’d expected but it would suffice. ‘Will you not dance with me, Jafar?’

Jafar seemed lost, it was the first time she’d even seen him unsure of himself and she found it amusing, though she kept her amusement to herself as best she could. Jafar looked over at the sultan who waved him away happily, already starting on his next piece of lamb. She knew he wouldn’t dare refuse her, as it would be a great insult to the sultan if he did.

With barely concealed irritation, Jafar stood and took Jasmine’s hand, leading her to the dance floor as the whispers of those attending swirled around them. ‘Are you looking to start a scandal, Princess?’ he asked when they were out of earshot.

‘A scandal? Why, I’m merely dancing with an old friend,’ she said innocently.

He raised his eyebrow at her. ‘You didn’t take to the matrons’ teachings, then,’ he said, a statement, rather than a question as they traded positions on the floor, turning around each other but always remaining at a distance. This was Jasmine’s favourite dance, though she’d never told anyone.

‘How do you know what they taught me?’ she asked challenging him. The music moved her body, and her hips rolled tantalisingly as she slowly closed the distance between them.

‘You know your father did not intend for you to dance with me. There are many men here tonight he wants you to acquaint yourself with,’ Jafar said, changing the subject.

‘You haven’t changed at all, still as stiff as ever,’ she said, turning her back to him, rocking her hips as his hand slid around her waist, the heat of his touch slipping through the sheer fabric there, sending a thrill through her body.

‘And you as untameable as ever,’ he answered, his voice neutral. Nothing seemed to faze him. She found herself wanting to ruffle that perfectly still surface of his, elicit some reaction from him, some genuine emotion. ‘Why did you choose to dance with me?’

She spun around in his arms and he dipped her before spinning her and pulling her close again. He was merely following the steps of the dance, playing the role required of him. Something about that left a bitter taste in her mouth. ‘Because you’re the only man here who doesn’t want anything from me,’ she answered honestly.

‘Ah, so you wish to correct that, do you? You want all the men in the room to be in love with you?’ he asked darkly.

She glared up at him, then spun away. Rolling her hips sensually to the music, she held one arm out, curling her finger at him, a look of sheer confidence on her face. When he was once again close enough to speak to, she said, ‘You’re still an arse, I see.’

His eyes widened in surprise, not enough to notice unless you were looking for it.

‘I’m surprised that a princess would use such language,’ he said, tsking at her behaviour.

‘Are you? I thought you said I was untameable,’ she countered. He spun her a final time, pulling her against him as the music came to an end.

About the Author:

Lorelei Johnson is an Australian romance author, primarily writing Paranormal Romance and Fantasy Romance. She graduated from Flinders University, where she studied English Literature and Creative Writing before she discovered her degree was useless and she hated studying in an institution. She went into administrative work where she learnt just enough business sense to start publishing her own books.

Lorelei is fuelled by caffeine and sarcasm, priding herself as a true 90's kid. She labels her self-publishing as an antiestablishment, but really she's just a chicken who decided to avoid the gatekeepers altogether and enjoy the freedom to write whatever the heck she likes. Through her writing, she likes to explore the many facets of love and revel in a little magic and a little smut, of course.








a Rafflecopter giveaway

Wednesday, June 22, 2022

Character Confessions with Samuel Reynaldi from Forbidden Rendezvous with the Devil by Isra Sravenheart #PNR

She makes my life hard. I am constantly thrown into this battle whereby I am the bad guy and I might be but it's my job to stop the witches from getting over to the dark side or at least to prevent that and when they do I am also responsible for stopping them. I'm not an ass. It's my role as the light-bringer to do this. I am deemed to bring light to the situation by uncovering all of their dark deceptions. It's not a fun job. 

Far from it.... I have to get down to it, in all weathers. Sleep is non-existent and I thrive entirely on coffee and Irish whiskey. Stress is a strong factor in this job. I am often responsible for my own actions as well as the actions of these witches and warlocks who turn the tide and go dark. Sure, they might have their reasons of why they deem themselves privy to be that way but I'm not allowed to focus on the whys, wherefores. I have to focus on getting them back down to earth and quite literally in some circumstances since some of them flock to demonic dimensions where I the light-bringer cannot tread and so my job is hard. I get no thanks for it. No well done Samuel old boy you've done it again. Often I get a lot of snarky comebacks from the witches who literally don't want to be dragged back down to the light and they'll rebel something terrible when it comes down to it, but I will still do all within my power to stop them. 

This author pisses me off because I never get a vacation. Never get a day off work. Not once in two hundred years have I been able to take a break from witches, warlocks, angels, and demons. And don't get started on how lazy-minded the angelics are. Half of the time I am doing their job for them. Eurgh. But somehow I prevail. It might be nice if the author allowed me to have a little fun, even just a bit of chicanery for once. Lol.

Forbidden Rendezvous with the Devil
Dark Lore Vampire Conspiracies 
Book One
Isra Sravenheart 

Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Isra Sravenheart
Date of Publication:  11/5/2022
ISBN: 979-8410497251 
Number of pages: 217
Word Count: 64.940
Cover Artist: RJ creatives 

Tagline: Trust me. Actually don't. This forbidden rendezvous could cost Sabine her life.

Book Description: 

Sabine Nevemone has just moved to the small quaint town of Gloomvale to start a new life after being dumped by narcissistic boyfriend Oliver Rein.

Sabine has landed herself a job at Bad Brews coffee house, where she is working for the handsome rogue Tristan Roseblood. A mysterious handsome devilish vampire who always gets what he desires.

At first, Sabine could not believe her luck that she’s gotten a job so fast but things in Gloomvale aren't all they seem. Tristan is a powerful man and he knows it.

Sabine is reluctant to comply when Tristan forces her to come on an errand with him, which almost results in both her and Tristan getting killed because an old enemy catches up with Tristan. Tristan patches Sabine up telling her she’s in a very dangerous world and it would be best if she got out of town for her own sake. Sabine refuses to leave. This proves to be a fatal mistake on her part.

“You can’t get close to me. Get out while you can. I’m not a good match for a sweet thing like you. Trust me. Actually, don’t.” He warns her.

The only trouble is now Sabine is in too deep. She’s falling for him. Hard. But when Tristan rebuffs Sabine and she falls straight into his mysterious brother Laurence’s arms, it can only spell disaster for all concerned. Sabine then gets herself in real trouble when she's bitten on her way home. Will Tristan find her in time or will she die alone?

USA Today Best-Selling Author Isra Sravenheart brings us into the intense world of Tristan Roseblood. A vampire with a dark past only trouble is when Sabine stumbles into it, she too becomes entwined in his chaos. A paranormal romance jam-packed with suspense and intrigue and two charming vampires to boot.


A new day. A new dawn. I'm Sabine, and I'm all alone here in this secluded wilderness. Gloomvale. A quaint little town that I've just moved to because, quite honestly, I had no other choice. My delightful ex-boyfriend Oliver took great pleasure in humiliating me, and let's face it, he reveled in it. It was absolutely enthralling to him. All because he'd discovered I am a witch. But here's the clincher. I'm not even that good at it. I barely know even the most basic spells. I'm terrible at making potions. I truly suck at mixing up herbs to create tinctures, and as for my despicable failure at casting love spells… let's not even go there, okay?

I’ve done this more than once. I’d never attempt it again. It was so stupid because I didn’t know what I was messing with. You know how you get that one big crush on someone who you know for a fact will virtually never date you? Yeah, well, that was the case with me and Oliver until I started weaving magic into the equation. And I get it right? Bad move. Yup, especially when he becomes a mega control freak who can’t handle things unless he’s in the know every three seconds.

I’m descended from a long line of witches and I should know better. But I'm a sucker for attention.. Heck, I fucked up. This wasn’t just the result of one spell. It was lots of little spells and while I admit I should have just allowed nature to take its course; I was really into Oliver and it sucked because he wasn’t really that invested in me. I was that dumb, naive, insecure girl that thought. He’ll play it cool. It won’t take much for him to come running over when I start throwing the right spell into the mix. Erm that was one of the craziest things a girl could ever say about a man. If he wants you then he’ll chase you until it kills him not to have you. I wish I’d taken the hint with Oliver, though, because I was determined to pursue him no matter what the cost. Which was only my self esteem and confidence being filtered out of me. But I guess what’s past is past right? After that, well, I left the magic stuff alone as I’d done enough damage.

Eventually we got to this level of a relationship where things were cool, almost simmering to steamy, with enraging tension that surged out every now and again, but it wasn’t ever romantic. We’d be casual. Dating, just not so much with the actual commitment aspect. Oliver didn’t want people to know about us. There would always be some kind of excuse. Like oh, my mother would frown upon it because of this or that. He’d come up with something to avoid us going public, so we had settled for this mundane life where I’d like to have thought we were happy but really we were skeltering over the edge. I really loved him, though, so I desperately did anything I could to hold onto the hope.

The point is I didn't ask for this, but Oliver made it so that there was no other way. He had shunned me, so the only alternative was for me to skedaddle and fast. Painquel wasn't the greatest village to live in. It had its faults. But the beach was stunning when a full moon rose and night delicately covered the midnight blue skies just enough so those tiny twinkling, silvery-white stars were visible above you. The people? Oh goodness me. Terrible. They just were the most mundane morons you could ever meet. Everyone was so focused on making ends meet and the latest goings-on with the government and this and that. It was just so pitiful, you know? The way humanity desperately clung to these mediocre things that didn't even mean anything was just baffling to me. I never really understood the way they documented their lives up to the last bagel and chai latte to try and prove to the world that they were living something that was worth it.

But I was the optimistic type. The spiritual one. Devoted to all that mindfulness stuff and making a go of it. Trying to be happy. Putting all my energy into making every moment count. Otherwise, what's the point? I'd been hiding my dark secret for years. Ever since I was around twelve years old, I'd known that I was a witch. It shouldn't have been this big dramatic secret, but unfortunately, it was. Give or take around eight generations. But witchcraft was in my family on  my great-grandmother’s side  who I'd never met but I had seen pictures of Geraldine. She lived during the first World War and was formally accused of witchcraft, so when Oliver had dramatically announced my deep secret to all who would listen, needless to say, I was a little freaked out. Thankfully the days of burning witches are long behind us, but here we are.

I was  about to start my first day properly living in Gloomvale. I was lucky. I managed to find an apartment and a job in the same week. You could say that it was miraculous, but stranger things have happened. I was a newbie in a secluded town cut off from the rest of civilization, so I was extremely blessed that Bad Brews Coffee was even hiring. But the boss was in dire need of someone to bake the cakes and pour the drinks as his last barista had vanished without a trace. I haven't met Tristan Roseblood yet, but apparently, he's quite the looker. Dangerously smart too. I envision him looking major dapper in a suit, but again, I only had my imagination to create just what he might be like. I’m rather adept at baking, having had to adjust to my own gluten intolerance. And so, I often conjured up tasty sweet treats designed to bewitch the eyes and tantalize those salivating taste buds. So when I found this quaint coffee house that was strictly gluten-free, I had to chuckle because the chances were one in a million. Seriously, everything is vegan these days. It's like a plague. I know people are health conscious, but damn that's just a little extreme for my tastes.

Ten o'clock in the morning. Friday. I've downed the last of my lukewarm coffee. I've tied my deep red mahogany hair into a tight bun. Hey, it brings out the green in my eyes. I'm getting ready to walk out the door and take the ten-minute stroll to Bad Brews, where I'll finally get to meet Tristan. The walk isn't terribly unpleasant, and the sun is gently shining down, which is ironic for October, but an Indian summer is promising. Finally, I get to the bend just down the road, where the large cherry blossom tree stands just beyond Bad Brews.

I'm about to walk in through that blood-red door. This Tristan guy must have eccentric tastes. As I walk through the red door, I am surrounded by dark violet walls and bright white lights that are almost too much for me to handle.

It's like something out of a hospital room. You'd think with the boldness of the red that he'd have simmered down when it came to the lighting. I was staring over at the jet black and purple tables and chairs when suddenly I spotted him out of the corner of my eye.

He's smirking at me from behind the counter. He really was as devilish as I expected. A sharp black tailored suit jacket and trousers, probably Armani, a white shirt with the collar raised up slightly, and a dark blue tie hanging loose around his neck. His dark brown, almost black, hair is delicately tucked behind his ears as his sideburns distract me while I find my gaze locked into those bewildering dark brown eyes of his. They are like dark chocolate, but inside there's a shade of blackness within them as though he's not quite what he seems. A little bit of a dark side, but what's new? We've all got one of those. I resist the urge to say something as I don't want to speak out of turn. After all, this is my new boss, and I want this day to go off without a hitch. If such a thing is possible.

“Finally. You are here. I was starting to get worried for a moment.” Tristan scowled at me as he stood impatiently waiting for me to take the initiative. “Oh, you're not sure what you're supposed to be doing? Girl. I'll have a coffee. Three sugars. Black as my soul,” he orders as he steps back, waving his hand towards the coffee machine, indicating that I need to go over to it and get going. I reluctantly force a smile, thinking, Oh God, he's arrogant, as I plant myself in front of the machine, grabbing some coffee beans and placing them inside before I switch on that magnificent red button that's beaming at me like a beacon.

About the Author:  

Isra is an eccentric author whose heart resides with the dark fantasy but also the paranormal genres. Cats and coffee are her main interests. She's also a pretty badass witch and often envisions new adventures involving dragons, witches, warlocks and really likes villains.

a Rafflecopter giveaway