Monday, October 16, 2017

The Night of Elisa by Isis Sousa





The Night of Elisa
Illustrated Gothic Novel
Book One
Isis Sousa

Genre: Gothic, Paranormal, Horror

Publisher: Tragic Books

Date of Publication: February 2016

ISBN: 9781519169945
ISBN: 9781367510418
ASIN: B00LMM3CMI

Number of pages: 220
Word Count: 60k words + illustrations

Cover Artist: Isis Sousa

~ The Corpse Bride meets Penny Dreadful ~

Book Description:

"Sometimes, life and love can follow the most obscure paths, just as they did for Elisa."

Her life becomes a dark, cold, lonely cage the day the devil takes her as his wife. He robs her of almost everything she holds dear: her health, her wealth and what is left of her family.

Trapped between the nuances of life and beyond-life, Elisa finds herself struggling for a better tomorrow. With her health deteriorating, how will she summon the courage and strength to stand her ground? And how far will she go in the pursuit of a dream?

Embark with Elisa on this puzzling Gothic adventure set in the late Victorian era, between the world of the Living and the picturesque, melancholic Duskland.

~~~~~

The Night of Elisa is first and furthermost Victorian Gothic, but can also fit within other genres such as Dark Fantasy, Paranormal, Mystery and Occult.

Parental guidance: for 16+ Contains blood, nudity and dark themes.


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Excerpt from Chapter 1

‘Elisa’ woke up slowly on the crimson pillows of the adorned wooden couch. Her vision was blurry and her head was spinning. How is this possible? Her heavy eyes resisted her will to see the world, yet little by little the figure of a gentleman formed, sitting on a chair by her side. He was a tall, slender, slightly athletic type of man, well-dressed and, she could tell, of noble manners. He had pale skin, a sculpted nose and a wide forehead embraced by fiery curls.
“W... where am I? What happened?”
“You are safe in my house.” His voice was calm, poised and sounded somehow familiar. There was a long pause. “I don’t know what happened to you, but hopefully we are going to find out...”
He looked at her intently. She was weak, slightly frightened and her countenance was as delicate as a white rose. Her hair had a mahogany nuance and was curled and tied back. She was dressed in a fine, dark violet dress and boots. Her grey eyes, as beautiful as the sea on a stormy day, were wide open and her voice was pleasant to the ear, like a mermaid’s song.
“I found you hurt in the woods last evening and brought you here. You’ve been mostly asleep since then. I’m glad you woke up.” A slight smile formed on his face as he devoured her neck with his eyes.
‘Elisa’ was reading the large room, looking at the faded colors of the wooden ceiling and walls. The fancy furniture, ornaments and expensive portraits were all covered with a thin layer of dust, but were otherwise in perfect order. The house was as old as everything inside. It had the smell of the past.
In a long moment of complete silence they could hear each other’s breath. Slowly and carefully she sat up in the middle of the couch, without deviating from the stranger’s grim, blue eyes. She looked up at the second floor and spotted a taller figure standing in the darkness. She thought he looked as obscure as a ghost. Who is that strange man watching us? She looked back at Leonhard, who was also staring at the figure.
“What is your name, sir?”
“I’m Leonhard, madame. What is your name?” He turned his gaze back to the fragile and confused lady. When his eyes met hers he almost stopped breathing, as if he had seen the eyes of an angel.
“I can’t remember... I can’t remember anything!” ‘Elisa’ rubbed her eyes, frustrated. “Who is that man upstairs?”
The figure drew closer to the polished handrail. He was a thin man in his mid-fifties, with bits of grey hair and a pale countenance, dressed in a suit jacket. He looked down at her for a second, examining her, and then he walked away hurriedly like the devil escaping from the cross.
“That is Dr. Charles,” Leonhard said, interrupting the moment of silence. “He medicated you when I brought you home. He is... not much used to foreigners. We share this house since neither of us has a family. He will get used to you, I hope.”
‘Elisa’ gave Leonhard a weak smile. She was obviously uncomfortable and becoming more and more impatient. Where am I? What happened to me? Who are these people? I need to find a way to get out of here! She crossed her arms, twisted her lips and looked around the finely arranged living room, thinking a thousand things at once.
Leonhard could hear, feel that her heartbeat was accelerating. He was growing impatient, wondering what sorts of things were passing through her head. Many questions appeared in the corners of his mind too.
Just as he was about to speak, the young lady extended her silky hand to him. She was hesitant but gathered enough courage to look deep into his eyes. 
“Can you take me somewhere open... sir? I just need... some fresh air.”
Leonhard was hesitant. He was sure she needed more rest; after all she had been through since he found her it was hard to believe she felt well now. Dr. Charles, you are amazing! What kind of miraculous drug did you give to her? Leonhard wanted to protect and take care of her, hold her... He felt the urge to reach for her neck. Old habits die hard! Hold yourself, Leonhard! Concerned as he was, he thought some fresh air would indeed do her good, and it was better for him to go and watch out for her.
“Do you want something to eat first?”
“No! Sorry, sir! I have no appetite. Please...” There was a note of desperation in her voice.
“You need to drink some water. It’s important for your health. I will bring a glass for you and then I can show you my garden.”
“Thank you so much for your kindness!” Why do I have the impression that deep inside every kind man there is a fearsome demon? I need to keep calm or I will ruin everything.
Leonhard sensed she was afraid. Perhaps she might run, escape. But escape from what? Does she see me as a threat? He came back from the kitchen with a glass of fresh water.
Once she had finished drinking he put the glass on a nearby sideboard. He took her delicate hand gently under his left arm and they walked slowly, through the main doorway and out into the well-maintained garden. ‘Elisa’ was secretly grateful that the gentleman was helping her walk so she wouldn’t crumble.

The plants had been grown in geometric patterns. The bigger bushes were rounded and the smaller ones were cut flat on the top and sides, forming natural fences alongside the pathways. There were many different flowers, but all were shades of purple, white and crimson. A big fountain stood in the center of the garden and a couple of smaller ones aligned with it towards the garden’s edges. Each of the fountains was topped with a sculpture of a nude dancing angel. There was the smell of grass, flowers and afternoon, and the sunset was glooming on the horizon, as it mostly does in Duskland.




About the Author:

I am an artist, illustrator and graphic designer who writes on my free time. But with all the imagination I have running lose, there came some stories… And there came some books!

I am born and grown up in Brazil, however I live in Mid-Norway with my beloved husband, in a tiny valley surrounded by mountains and with very few neighbours.

When I’m not doing artwork and illustration for clients, I’m doing woodcarving, painting ornaments, painting artworks for myself, and so on. Love Arts, History, Heavy Metal and Dark things.








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Thursday, October 12, 2017

Witch’s Eternal by Bri Clark - Haunted Halloween Spooktacular






Witch’s Eternal
Bri Clark

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Publisher: Belle Consulting

Date of Publication: October 31,2017

ASIN: B075751BW5

Word Count:  61,000 words

Cover Artist: Cindy Clark

Tagline: She’s the one being to heal his heart, fulfill the prophesy and save us all. But will she.

Book Description:

Aisleen is the last of a rare race of witches. Her essence hangs in the balance as the magical and temporal poisoning of the Blue Death ravages her body.

Lucien Lemoine, the feared and revered leader of the eternals, searches for a cure. Something primal and instinctive drives him to save the little witch even when his people’s future hangs is threatened. 

But when the Goddess finally breaks her decades long silence Lucien learns Aisleen is more than the one who will fulfill the prophesy of his fate and heal his heart. She can save them all.

But after his tragic betrayal, will she?

Ghosts, Portals and Antidepressants: The Time I Didn’t Sleep for 30 Days.

Have you ever done or said something that you knew you would regret? Yeah we all have. But I did it on a level of stupidity that garners national level gold member status.

There is a lesson I have put together personally, antidepressants suppress my abilities as a medium. They may do the same for you or your intuitive abilities. It’s not surprising is it. It’s our brains, right? And at one point those little pills saved my sanity.

When I moved back to Tennessee in 2015 I suffered a major crisis of identity. I left a religion I’d been a part of for almost fifteen years. I left a town that was so big I could network with likeminded entrepreneurs for 20-40 hours a week if I wanted all within a couple miles of my house. My oldest children moved out. And I started having dangerous health problems.

At that time I did a lot of soul searching and personal reflection. What I found was I had a lot of gifts that I’d used all through my life. They just had different titles as my religion and growth changed. But at the end of the day the truth for me was a I was a medium, a psychic medium. I gave people advice and received ideas and little promptings that went beyond what would be conceived “normal.”

After coming to this place of understanding I sat on my porch off a little highway in rural Tennessee so empowered by my revelation and so starved for identity I told the universe to essentially,

 “Bring it on! I Could take it!”

Almost immediately a sense of dread and oh shit hit me like a ton of bricks. Well at least I knew my alarm system was in well order.

That was the first night over 30 days I didn’t sleep for more than 2 hours a night.  Every day and all night I kept hearing spirits. In my head, I’d hear their voices. In sleep I’d relive their deaths. In the day I felt constantly surrounded. Over time what started out as 1-5 spirits quickly became 50-100. I was so overwhelmed it was all I could do to function and run my family and my business.
If you can’t already tell I think I’m a badass. And when you act like that it’s hard to ask for help.

I smudged. I salted. I blessed. I did everything you can imagine to take my space back. And it would work, for a while. The problem was I hadn’t figured out the source of the water faucet of activity I had turned on.

I slept in the living room with the TV on. I could not sleep in my bedroom. At one point I got on medication. They prescribed me Zoloft and Ambien and Trazadone to sleep. Even with this combination of drugs I was only getting 1-2 hours rest a night. One time in a desperate bid for sleep I did a couple shots of Vodka with Ambien. I slept 2 hours exactly. I do not suggest doing that.

Over time the Zoloft kicked in and my level of anxiety diminished. It was like with sleep came clarity. One day I sat down surrounded by burning sage and white candles and I walked my entire house in my mind. What I learned was I had a big ass portal in my master closet.

So no matter how many times I smudged, blessed or salted if I didn’t close that door way they would continue to come through. Just a big ole afterlife networking event at Bri’s house. While I do love to host a part this was bullshit.

With the help of my friend, a Kinetic Witch named Linna, I was able to close the portal. You need ceremony to close portals. Since I was without any ideas I defaulted to her. It worked. But I stayed on the meds.

Now 2 years later, off the meds, I find myself in a 116 year old farmhouse with a portal in my hallway, 2 daughters with their own gifts, and a ghost named Thomas who says I need to do a better job of cleaning house.

And guess what, I sleep at night.

What’s the difference? I accepted my gifts first of all. Then I went out and got a coach. This woman changed my life and showed me how to manage all my talents and utilize them for good. Which also enabled me to help my daughters as well.

The adage is true. If you ever want to develop, maintain, or control a skill hire a coach.


Disclaimer: This is not a dig at people with mental illness. This is not a post to use to diagnose yourself or anyone else in anyway. This was just my own story in an attempt to be of service. And what perfect time of year than Halloween to offer a little service concerning the dead.

About the Author:

Bri Clark is a real example of redemption and renewal. Growing penniless in the South, Bri learned street smarts while caring for her brother in a broken home. She watched her mother work several jobs to care for their small family. Once her brother could fend for himself, Bri moved on to a series of bad choices including leaving school and living on her own.

Rebelliousness was a strong understatement to describe those formative years. As a teenager, her wakeup call came from a fight with brass knuckles and a judge that gave her a choice of shaping up or spending time in jail. She took that opportunity and found a way to moved up from the streets. She ended up co-owning an extremely successful construction business. She lived the high life until the real estate crash when she lost everything.

She moved west and found herself living with her husband and 4 kids in a 900 square foot apartment. For 10 years she filled her time, writing, blogging, advocating and mentoring women in business, and running a successful marketing company while sharing her southern culture. Her unique background gives her writing a raw sensibility. She understands what it takes to overcome life's obstacles.

Then in 2015 she came home to her beloved TN. While there she picked back up her spiritual gifts of an intuitive psychic medium. With the help of her guides it's her greatest goal to be a vessel for good and to serve those that need help either through her writings or her books.




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Wednesday, October 11, 2017

Xandria Drake: Ancient Rising by Laura C. Cantu - Haunted Halloween Spooktacular




Xandria Drake: Ancient Rising
Xandria Drake
Book 1
Laura C. Cantu

Genre: Young Adult, Paranormal Fantasy

Publisher: Serendipity Digital Media KC

Date of Publication: November 13, 2013

ISBN: 978-0988585102
ASIN: B00BMBMF90

Number of pages: 448
Word Count: 131,357

Cover Artist: Laura C. Cantu

Tagline: When you learn your life is a lie, who do you trust?

Book Description:

“When an unusual carnival pulls into town, Xandria Drake has no clue this mystical fairground will thrust her into a thrilling world of mystery, deception, and danger. Her predictable existence will soon be transformed into a turbulent reality where magic reigns, and creatures of fantasy are just as tangible as her ballroom dancing trophies. New revelations will send Xandria on a quest in which she is forced to question everything and everyone, including the man of her dreams, Viktor.

When Viktor confesses his interest in Xandria, she couldn’t be happier. Her joy quickly fades, however, when Viktor reveals he is a vampire. Xandria is soon forced to face shadowy and obscure dangers she never knew existed, and on the coattails of the impending darkness rides Viktor’s greatest rival andXandria’s ultimate temptation, Sebastian Vespera.

Will Xandria’s love for Viktor be enough? Or will Sebastian’s seductions ensnare Xandria in a fierce and powerful romance? How will Xandria cope with the forbidden knowledge she gains? Mysterious, magical, and compelling, Xandria Drake: Ancient Rising is witty when you want it to be and serious when it needs to be. This paranormal fantasy novel will capture you from the beginning and won’t let you go until long after the story is finished.”




Meeting a Monster -A True Story

When I was younger, a group of newly acquired friends and I tried to think of something eerie to do on Halloween night. Little did we know, that we would see something truly terrifying that would change our lives forever.
Like many teenagers, we decided that visiting a cemetery was just about the perfect way to give ourselves a good scare. I had just moved to town, and my new friends insisted that there was a glowing tombstone in an old, run down graveyard off a gravel road about thirty miles outside of town. So, we piled in a small, two-door car and drove, excited about the prospects of having some good ghost stories to tell on the way.
The road we were driving on was a narrow, two-lane service road with lots of potholes, hills, and curves. The locals had spread rumors that “devil-worshipers” often held ceremonies along that road, and one of the girls, who was sitting in the back seat, seemed to be enjoying herself as she recounted the spooky stories. She spoke of how the Satanists skinned animals alive, and how there were strange sightings in the area. Her last story was about the glowing gravestone; she claimed it was cursed.
We drove farther and farther from town, well over thirty miles, and I fidgeted in my seat. I was beginning to have second thoughts about going so far out into the night, especially since I hadn’t let my mother know where I was going. Back then, we didn’t have mobile phones. If something unexpected or dreadful happened, there would’ve been no one around to help, and my mother wouldn’t have even known where to look.
I shook my head, trying to shake off my growing apprehension as silence suddenly fell over the car like a soft, suffocating blanket. I cleared my throat to speak up but thought better of it. I didn’t want to be the one who chickened out and insist on turning back.
The car’s headlights pierced the darkness of the night and bugs thumped into the windshield as we continued to drive along. That’s when it happened.
The car came to a screeching halt.
There, in the middle of the road, sat a coyote. The driver of the car, a sixteen-year-old girl with short curly hair named Angie (her name has been changed to protect her identity), honked at the coyote. To our amazement, it didn’t move. Instead, it lazily looked in our direction as if it had nothing better to do than sit in the middle of the road, blocking our way.
She honked again.
The coyote blinked. The lights of the car reflected on its retina, causing its eyes to glow a dull shade of red.
When it did not budge this time, Angie yelled and honked again, but this time she held her hand down so that the horn blared into the night air.
It was then that the coyote stood on its two hind legs and turned toward us, a tall looming monster with sharp teeth and penetrating eyes.
Angie’s hand slid from the steering wheel as we all sat in amazement at this towering beast. It seemed to be looking us over, mulling over what it would do next.  Was he contemplating eating us?
I couldn’t find my voice. All I could do was sit there, slack-jawed and bewildered.
Just when I thought we were going to have to flee for our lives, the creature turned and ran away, its movements akin to that of a running human.
Everyone in the car finally found their voices to scream! Angie whipped a U-turn, and we hightailed it back to town.


Even today, over twenty years later, the vision of that creature is still clearly etched upon my memory. That was the day that I began questioning how magical and mysterious our world truly is.  -Laura C. Cantu
About the Author:

Laura C. Cantu is a multitalented artist, visionary, and humanitarian. Throughout her life, she has felt an overwhelming desire explore the mysteries of the unknown and to expand her awareness and experiences. By allowing her perspective to shift and change, Laura has learned to unleash her imagination and use it to guide her through creative processes. She passionately follows her dreams and has achieved high levels of success in her various careers. As a professional dancer, Laura won six national titles and placed fourth in the Professional Argentine Tango World Championships. She also stretched her creative muscles as a visual artist with drawings that toured across the globe. Adding to her diverse accomplishments, Laura earned her master’s degree in Oriental Medicine in 2012, which has afforded her opportunities to assist many along their journeys to realizing wellness.

Despite her already jeweled career, there is another passion Laura delights in—the art of storytelling. Her first young adult fantasy novel, Xandria Drake: Ancient Rising, earned rave reviews and a Goodreads' book of the month award. Currently working on The Vathylite Realms, Laura is harnessing and focusing her energies to craft engaging stories that are meant to bring joy, inspiration, and awareness to all who read them.

Laura is on a mission to live a life of inspiration, truth, and empowerment. With future books pending release, she continues to dance as a hobby, study energetics and wellness, and explore her imagination. Laura also enjoys drawing and creating 3D art and animations, hiking, meditation, playing guitar, and spending time with her family, friends, and pets.









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Thursday, October 5, 2017

Cover Reveal Immortal by Kristin Ping



Immortal
The Varcolacs
Book 1
Kristin Ping

Genre: Contemporary Paranormal Fantasy

Publisher: Fire Quill Publishing

Date of Publication: 2018

Number of pages: 300 pages
Word Count: 68 k

Cover Artist: Joemel Requeza from FQ Design

Tagline: She knows no fear, as she is fear.

Book Description:

Natasha’s life begins the night she is turned. With the ability to channel fire, a gift that only belongs to the witches, she becomes a terror— not only to the packs, but all the supernatural breeds. She’s known as Blaze. The deadliest vampire out there.
But Blaze has a secret. She didn’t want to become a vampire, she needed to become a vampire, and her reasoning is lost. It died the night her human life did.
Her conscience activates when two varcolacs visit the covenant, looking for allies for the Great War.

What was it about the Varcolacs that made her grow a conscience? And will she be able to outrun it to keep the title of terror?

About the Author:

Kristin Ping resides in South Africa. She is a fulltime writer and has many pen names.

If she isn’t diving head first into a story, she is spending it with her children and husband and occasionally teaching her two bulldogs not to eat the house.

You can find out more about Kristin Ping on all her social media platforms



Guardian of Monsters Street Team https://www.facebook.com/groups/1173300322813893/   

Kristin Ping Author Page Facebook  https://www.facebook.com/KristingPing/   


Join Kristin’s Newsletter https://goo.gl/Ca4UFi


Tuesday, October 3, 2017

Release Day Blitz Halloween is Murder by Carolyn Arnold




Halloween is Murder
McKinley Mysteries
Book 11
Carolyn Arnold

Published by: Hibbert and Stiles
Publishing Inc.

Genre: Cozy Mystery

Pages: 154
Word Count: 38,534

Release Date: October 3, 2017

Book Description:

Beware of all that goes bump in the night…

Sean and Sara McKinley are excited about the haunted house they’ve set up as a Halloween charity fund-raiser, but things take a ghoulish turn when the reporter covering their story is found dead. With the media keeping mum about how she died, Sara’s curiosity is piqued, and she convinces Sean to take on the investigation through their PI firm.

But this case is not without its challenges. The police are actively investigating it, as well, and it’s not even clear that the woman was murdered. It will take a little cloak-and-dagger, dress-up, and finesse for the McKinley’s to get to the bottom of it, but they aren’t the kind to give up.

As they troll for leads and work through the skeletons in the reporter’s closet, they unearth a few suspects, but they’ll need to carve out the whole truth if they’re going to find her killer. If they do so fast enough, there might even be time for a little trick-or-treating.


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Excerpt from chapter 3 of Halloween is Murder (McKinley Mysteries)

Chapter 3

SHADOWS OF NIGHT

SARA WAS CALLING YOUR SOURCE from her home office one last time. That’s what she told herself anyhow. She’d lost count of how many times she’d called them, but she had always met with a busy signal. And there it was again…
She lowered the receiver to its cradle. One could be certain that the station had plenty of rollover lines, so it had to be other people calling in about Chloe’s death, too. Other crazy people like her wanting answers. At least, she was sure that Sean thought she was crazy, but she had a niggling sensation in her gut that they needed to look into Chloe’s death.
Maybe it was because she and Sean were surrounded by murder wherever they looked and wherever they went. Even when they were supposed to be relaxing on their honeymoon, a case had found them. And the inclination to view any death as suspicious was embedded in her psyche from years working as a homicide detective with the Albany PD. Sure, Chloe could have died from natural causes, an accident, or even suicide, but it was also just as likely that someone had caused her death intentionally. To quiet her mind, Sara had to find out which scenario applied to Chloe. And if her calls weren’t making it through, there was another route she could take.
She flicked on the monitor, pleased that she had the habit of leaving her computer on most of the time. She brought up an Internet search engine and typed in Chloe’s full name and Your Source. This brought up pages of results. The first entry was a post from the television station entitled, DEATH OF LOCAL REPORTER CASTS DARK CLOUD OVER ALBANY. Sara clicked to open the link.
Scanning down the page, she found she was no closer to knowing what had happened to Chloe. There was no cause of death listed, but rather, the piece read like an obituary with a recap of Chloe’s career accomplishments and brief mentions of her personal life—she had a sister and had died single. That was it. Somehow it seemed like a sad summation of a twenty-five-year-old woman’s life that had been cut so short. There was so much that Chloe had yet to experience, and Sara hoped that Chloe had at least known romantic love at some point in her life.

Sara returned to her search results and clicked on many of the other links, but they were more or less copycats of the statement Your Source had published.



What to Expect from the McKinley Mysteries

Romance. Humor. Murder. Are you looking for a murder mystery without all the graphic violence and foul language? Something that you can enjoy in an afternoon and walk away feeling good about afterward? How about a dash of humor and romance? If so, meet former detectives Sean and Sara McKinley. When a billionaire leaves them all his money, they no longer have to work, but they find themselves sticking to what they’re good at—solving murders. Undercover, off the books, and around the world, they’ll get to the bottom of things…and romance it up along the way.

About the Author:

CAROLYN ARNOLD is an international bestselling and award-winning author, as well as a speaker, teacher, and inspirational mentor. She has four continuing fiction series—Detective Madison Knight, Brandon Fisher FBI, McKinley Mysteries, and Matthew Connor Adventures—and has written nearly thirty books. Her genre diversity offers her readers everything from cozy to hard-boiled mysteries, and thrillers to action adventures.

Both her female detective and FBI profiler series have been praised by those in law enforcement as being accurate and entertaining, leading her to adopt the trademark: POLICE PROCEDURALS RESPECTED BY LAW ENFORCEMENT™.

Carolyn was born in a small town and enjoys spending time outdoors, but she also loves the lights of a big city. Grounded by her roots and lifted by her dreams, her overactive imagination insists that she tell her stories. Her intention is to touch the hearts of millions with her books, to entertain, inspire, and empower.

She currently lives just west of Toronto with her husband and beagle and is a member of Crime Writers of Canada and Sisters in Crime.

Connect with CAROLYN ARNOLD Online:





And don’t forget to sign up for her newsletter for up-to-date information on release and special offers at http://carolynarnold.net/newsletters .