Tuesday, October 31, 2023

Author Advice with Azshure Raine #AuthorAdvice #RebirthBookTour #RomanticFantasy #Romantasy

When I first started out writing I listened to every piece of advice I got. Avoid Cliches, avoid adverbs, don’t use contractions, use contractions, comma splices, the works really. After all this advice I lost my writer voice. 

Years ago I was told I write how I talk, and to me that was a negative. It was never explained to me how or why this was a problem, just that it was. I wasn’t good with commas, and still struggle sometimes. 

My first book suffered greatly because I was worried constantly about comma splices in particular; so I ended up with hundreds of tiny sentences and very few commas. People can’t complain about comma splices if there are no commas. Right? Wrong. It made my writing stiff and emotionless. 

But one thing I have learned is: learn the rules, then learn how to use the rules to your advantage. 

You will not please every reader. It cannot and will not happen. But you can please yourself. 

Zodiac Series
Book One
Azshure Raine

Genre: Romantic Fantasy, Sword and Sorcery, Mythological
Publisher: Shadow Spark Publishing
Date of Publication: 7/25/23
ISBN: 979-8853443730
Number of pages: 389 pages
Word Count: 103k
Cover Artist: Azshure Raine

Tagline: One more, one last time

Book Description: 

Time is something we all have too much of and too little. Our world turns at the mercy of the clock. Gaea is one of those worlds. The world has been reset Twelve times.

ReBirth: Zodiac Book One is a romantic fantasy novel with “Final Fantasy” level storytelling. It tells the tale of the Gaea’s thirteenth cycle through multiple POVs, energetic prose, and deep world-building.

If Titans, Zodiac, Star-Crossed lovers, and villains you love to hate are your thing, then grab an apple, pick up a copy, and may Fate smile upon you.

Threads of gold, ancient and dangerous, pull them together; a bond neither can deny.

Jase Raion receives an unexpected assignment—locate and retrieve a girl he was certain was dead.

Expecting nothing, he goes to Brighton—a port town on the island of Aria—and finds her.

The girl who escaped the fall of Aria.

The girl who bears the symbol of Eternity.

The girl whose blood the Titan of Time thirsts for.

Liya Fairaway, the Princess of Aria, and his target.

The moment he sees her, he knows she is not safe, from the Zodiac meant to protect her, the Titan of Time, nor his father—the King of Chall.


Time gripped the spear’s shaft in her chest until her hand bled. A thousand years of being left pinned to the roots of the Mother Tree by Fate gnawed at her.

Groaning, she threw her head back, her long white hair dingy from the dirt and overgrowth. It stuck to the bark and pulled, causing stinging to roll through her skull.

Her chest heaved in frustration as she let out a primal scream before releasing the blood-red metal of the weapon. The tips pierced between her navel and breasts. She drew up the length of the captured arm with her free hand, tracing the tattoos with her blood. The red contrasted magnificently with the pale blue of her skin.

Throughout the twisted root cave, slivers of her power, thin golden threads, glittered across everything, waiting to catch prey in its nets.

Light at the end of the tunnel flickered, causing Time’s lips to curl into a devilish smile. Come to me. I could use the entertainment.

A rush of wind filled the hollow space, feathers scattering toward her in a kaleidoscope of black and white.

Time chuckled, low and deep. It’s her.

Her ex-lover stepped into the curtained sunlight and took slow, purposeful steps forward. Fate held her head high. Long black and white hair hung over her shoulders; the two colors parted directly down the middle. Time’s lip quivered as Fate ran her hand through her hair. Irresistible as ever. Her still gorgeous wings—one white, one black—spread behind her shoulders. Fate paused in the cavern and dismissed her wings with a flick of her wrist. Feathers rained down, disappearing into dust.

Time moved, her joints popping and her face twisting into a sinister grin. “Fate, my love, you’ve finally come,” she paused as a cloaked man peered into the cave, “to visit.”

So, she brought the rabble. How quaint.

Fate squared her shoulders. “I came to end this.”

“Is that so?” Time went slack; resting her free hand on the shaft of the Spear of Souls, tracing the metal with her gaze, she recalled the betrayal. How Fate and the Keepers cornered her, impaled her to the Mother Tree, and how the look of fear in the Keeper of Stars’ eyes when she sought her revenge before succumbing to the weapon and shattering him into twelve still gave her satisfaction. Like Mother Urth and Father Sky, he would never walk Gaea again. Time’s neck cracked as she focused on the man huddled at the entrance. The threads stretching through the darkness shifted as he entered. Time’s lips parted as she slid her tongue behind her teeth. “Then why did you bring him?”

The Prophet.

He was the key to her chains, as foretold by the Eternal Clock. The Prophet flinched at her low chuckle.

“Stay back,” Fate snapped before he could push past. “Whatever you do, don’t touch her.”

“Oh, please?” Time moaned, running her hand over her throat. “It has been so long.”

“Silence.” Fate placed her hand on the spear’s shaft, remaining out of Time’s reach. Thin wisps of charcoal smoke rolled over Fate’s shoulder, cascading down to the weapon, the ends darkening as death’s power inched toward Time. Resting her head on the bark, Time stared at the stray white hairs caressing her breasts. Slow, agonizing death was in her future.

The flash of blues and reds of the Prophet’s cloak caught her gaze as he paced uneasily behind Fate, his hand worrying at his chin.

Letting her head roll to the side, Time said, “I felt it, you know. When your daughter was born.”

About the Author:

Azshure Raine is a mostly stay-at-home mom of 3. She and her husband, Ryan, have been happily married for 13+ years and originally met in a MMO.

Her day job is sticking things to newborns, and by sticking things to newborns, she means hearing screens.

In her free time, she hangs out with her black cat, Luna, and keeps three small humans from killing each other. To maintain her sanity, she now writes. And she may or may not have a thing for apples.

Monday, October 30, 2023

Character Confessions- The Chimera Project by A.P. Taber #YASciFi #SpaceOpera

It’s not common for a character to “vent” about their creator, but today, the stars are aligned just right and we have Neo spilling the tea on the mysterious A.P. Taber, and some insider secrets that you will not find in “The Chimera Project.”

Neo: “All right, where do I even start? A.P., if you are reading this, know that it’s all in good fun…mostly. First, that time you left me stranded on that creepy asteroid with a malfunctioning jetpack? Not cool. I get you were going for character development, but did it have to be so terrifying?”

“But let’s rewind a tad. Readers, did A.P. ever tell you about my early days, before Ryser Academy? I grew up on Mars, sure, but there’s a chunk of my life that didn’t make it to “The Chimera Project.” Mars wasn’t just red deserts and space domes.”

“When I was younger, before the events leading up to “The Chimera Project” I used to spend my days in the Green Zone of Mars—a botanical wonderland. My mom, Mariyah, would take me there. I used to stroll through the fields of Martian Bluebells, a flower as blue as Earth’s sky. It’s where I developed my love for flowers and plants. It was my sanctuary, my escape. It was during one of these trips that I first discovered my empathic abilities. I felt the energy of every plant around me, a pulsating rhythm of existence.”

“Now why did A.P. decide to leave this out? Only she knows. Maybe to focus on the bigger picture, and the amazing space adventures.”

“As for my relationship with A.P.? Well, it’s complicated. We’ve had our share of disagreements. I’ve questioned every twist and turn, but in the end, I think it was for the better. It has made me who I am. Stronger and wiser.”

So there you have it, folks! A huge thanks to author A.P. Taber for letting Neo take center stage today.

The Chimera Project
Ryser Academy Series 
Book One
A.P. Taber

Genre: YA/Sci-fi- adventure, space opera, alien encounter
Publisher: InkBound Press
Date of Publication:  08/23/2023
ISBN: 979-8-218-25732-3
Number of pages: 280
Word Count: 66k
Cover Artist: izii_designer

Tagline: In a Universe of Secrets. One Girl's Destiny Unfolds

Book Description: 

A celestial mystery. A destiny waiting to be embraced.

Neo's life at Ryser Academy was supposed to be straightforward, but enigmatic dreams and hidden family secrets have turned it into anything but ordinary. As she digs deeper, she uncovers truths about her lineage and the untapped powers within her, thrusting her onto a perilous path of adventure and self-discovery. Neo must summon the courage to face her destiny with the universe's fate hanging in the balance. Alongside her loyal friends, she embarks on an epic quest filled with interstellar intrigue, battling to protect not only her life and that of her friends but the fabric of the universe itself.

Will Neo rise to the challenge and unravel the mysteries that define her true identity? 

Discover the truth in The Chimera Project.

The secrets await. The adventure begins. The universe calls—are you ready to answer?

Amazon     Books2Read      Kobo

Google      Apple      BN 

Book Trailer: 


Book Intro:



Embark on an adventure filled with celestial mysteries, hidden family secrets, and untapped powers as Neo, a determined young woman from Mars, navigates her way through the prestigious Ryser Academy. Plagued by vivid and enigmatic dreams, Neo's thirst for truth is ignited when she stumbles upon a discovery that sends shockwaves through her very soul.

In "Ryser Academy Book 1: The Chimera Project," Neo's journey of self-discovery takes her to the edge of the known universe and beyond. With each heart-pounding revelation, the layers of her lineage are peeled back, unveiling a tapestry of cosmic intrigue and hidden potential that threatens to consume her.

But Neo is not alone. Surrounded by loyal friends and driven by an unwavering sense of purpose, she finds herself thrust into the heart of an intergalactic conflict that is far greater than herself. At stake is not only her destiny but the very fabric of existence.

This pulse-pounding space opera weaves together elements of mystery, action, and personal growth as Neo must summon the strength within her to face her destiny head-on. Will she rise to the challenge and uncover the secrets that are key to her true identity? Or will the shadows of the past prove too overwhelming for her to overcome?

Join Neo on an epic quest filled with thrilling twists, unforgettable characters, and a story that will leave you breathlessly awaiting the next installment.

About the Author:

Meet A.P. Taber, the ever-busy soul balancing life as a teacher, nurse, mother, and artist. When she’s not saving lives or shaping young adults’ minds, she’s venturing into other realms through her writing. She’s busier than a Trekker at a Star Trek convention! Her first novel was penned at age 10, and she’s been hooked on books ever since. (No intervention needed, she promises!)

A.P. lives in Nevada with her family. She’s known to cast spells with her words, summon creatures with her art, and maybe—win a game of Magic: The Gathering now and then.

When she’s not teaching, healing the sick, or dreaming up other realms, you can find her traveling to exotic lands or locked in an intense game of D&D, MTG, or any other board game that requires a strategy guide thicker than a triple-decker sandwich. And if she’s not there? Check the couch, where she’s likely petting her adorable cats.

A.P. writes with a focus on exploring the psychological and sociopolitical aspects of futuristic settings and the intersection of future tech, sociopolitics, and complex inter-species relationships. Her work delves into the intricacies of human (and non-human) relationships in a universe where the stakes are as high as they are diverse.

Thursday, October 26, 2023

Vampire Witch by Eileen Sheehan #HauntedHalloweenSpooktacular

Ghost Dream by Eileen Sheehan

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why now?” the figure asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With that, she also faded away.

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

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

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

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

Vampire Witch
Vampire Witch Trilogy
Book One
Eileen Sheehan

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

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

Book Description: 

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

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

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

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

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

Amazon      BN     Kobo     Apple     Smashwords

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

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

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

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

I pointed this out to Gwendoline and she smiled faintly.

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

“Within seconds,” she said.

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

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

“No humans,” I mused admiringly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When did Luthias turn vampire?” I asked.

About the Author:

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

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

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

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

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

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Tuesday, October 24, 2023

Honey Drop Tome 1 Volume 2 by Alicia R. Norman and Krishtina Mayers #HauntedHalloweenSpooktacular

The Ghost Of You - By Alicia R. Norman

The ghost of you still lingers
in the corners of my mind
leaving drops of memory
and sinful thought behind

the moonlit path of darkened rose
a patch of warm sunshine
the ghost of you, it often haunts  
and blackness of my mind

A warm embrace
a sinful touch
a blood drop here
just oh so much

Tickled sweet
a candy lick
The smell of which
I shan't forget

make no mistake
leave not behind
a million ghosts
without confine



Honey Drop
Tome 1 Volume 2 
Alicia R. Norman and Krishtina Mayers

Genre:  dark fantasy romance drama, 
             paranormal romance, fantasy romance
Publisher: Luv Multimedia
Date of Publication:  September 3, 2023
Number of pages: 274 pages
Word Count:  57, 527
Cover Artist: Alicia Norman
Tagline: When Love and Death Embrace
Book Description:  

With Abigail bitterly angry and their friendship in jeopardy, Prina finds herself drawn even more to Thayn and his mystical dark world. As she grows closer to him, the woman realizes his dark secrets involve a cosmic, political enterprise that may pull her and everyone she loves into the undertow. 

Mo Mo, Hekate, and Tabietha are also well aware of Keres and Moros' dangerous schemes but are also busy trying to cover up their involvement with Thayn's plans for Proserypn--when they do finally give the duo the attention they deserve, they all find it is too late to stop what is coming down the pike.


Prina folded her legs to one side and stared at him. Her skirt had scrunched up to just below her hip.      

She stared...      

Watched as the man steadied himself over a handful of moments.      

Disbelief filled her heart.      

Had she ... had she just ...      

She spouted a rhetorical question.      

"Have I kicked a god?!"      

His face rose–he was grinning.

Little beads of tears were forming in his eyes. Was it really from the pain? Had she kicked him that hard? Well, being strong didn't mean you didn't feel pain she supposed.      

Regardless, the awe in Proserpyn's heart was quickly supplanted by fear and horror. She straightened her legs to kneel, and then she prostrated herself. She blurted out every name she could remember.      

"Polydegmon! Odigos! Hades! Zylanthrakas!"      

She paused to pant into the mattress. Swallowed.      


Her fingers and nails rasped against the sheet.      

"I implore you, Death God! I implore you, Harvester! Have mercy on this weak mortal!"  

Proserpyn continued breathing into the sheet, heat building under her face. She was shaking as if she might fall apart. Although she should’ve smelled the bedsheet, she only smelled him, sweet, spicy, smoky.      

More seconds passed. She could've counted them if she'd thought to do so.      

Thayn laughed.

He actually laughed!!

He sounded ...      

He sounded ...      

Light puffs and gulps of air between each laugh.      

He sounded...?      

Prina's fingers tightly curled.      

"Honey Drop, Dear Honey Drop. Come."      

He sounded relieved!      

Prina froze.      

She felt movement. Thayn was approaching, but she didn't think it mattered if she fled or not. He was a damn god. He could find her anywhere.      

He was beside her. His cool hands went to her waist. Prina's belly shrunk into her back.      

Thayn lifted her up to an upright position and wrapped his arms around her. His nose went to her cheek. His breath tickled her. "Be at ease, please be at ease."

That tickling breath became uneven. He shuddered.

He truly shuddered!      

Yet he grew warmer and warmer.      

Proserpyn looked away and folded her fingers into her cheeks. "I'm dreaming."      

He sniffed. It was loud in her ear; it made her jolt in his embrace. Some of his hair tickled her.    

"What?" he whispered.

"I'm not married, certainly not to any god. All this time, I've been dreaming." She tried to move away, but he did not yield.      

"Don't leave!" Thayn's highly embellished fingers spread out. His painted nails didn't pierce her skin, but they did bite enough to make her whine. "I've pined for so long," he said, "too long, and now you're here. You're here, and I can touch you! I can hold you! Don't leave!"  

More and more hoarse but also wetter, as if his throat was aching and full of moisture.      

One of his hands went to hers as he moved her into position to straddle him. Thayn touched her jaw and turned her face toward his.      

Prina closed her eyes and sighed into the mouth against hers.      

There was a craving in his lips and teeth, sliding and pressing on her, his humming voice trickling down her body.      

A dream.      

Only a dream.    



About the Authors: 

Krishtina Mayers is a romance fiction writer from North Carolina. She prefers blending fantasy, humor, and darkness in almost everything she writes. Her hobbies include playing video games, cooking, and studying history. She likes her romance the same way she likes her chili con carne, spicy with a good amount of sausage and beans ... and maybe wrapped in a soft shell tortilla to make big bites easier to handle.  

By day, Alicia Norman is a copy specialist at a major marketing firm, by night, she is a screenwriter and animator. She lives with her two kids and three cats in the burbs of Dallas, GA, and aspires to share her own brand of historical erotic fiction with BFF and co-writer Krishtina Mayers. 

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