Tuesday, December 12, 2023

Author Interview - Dreamscape by J.N. Sheats


- What is your “day” job if you are not a full-time author?

I am a bank teller, excuse me. A universal banker (per my boss).

- If you wrote a book about your life what would the title be?

The Chaos Core

- What is the hardest thing about being an author?

Getting started, starting is the hardest part next to editing.

- What is the best thing about being an author?

Being able to create worlds from the ground up. Building something from nothing is very rewarding.

- Have you ever been star-struck by meeting one of your favorite authors? If so who was it?  

Sadly, no.

- What book changed your life?

Ivanhoe by Sir Walter Scott

- What were some of your favorite books growing up?

Picture books, I wasn't much of a reader growing up. I discovered my love for reading later in life.

- What books are currently in your to-be-read pile?

I have a stack of about ten Lori Foster books waiting to be read.

- Which do you prefer ebooks, print, or audiobooks?

I really like print books because I like being able to hold something, and see my progress as I read. I simply feel more accomplished after finishing a print book.

- If you could live inside the world of a book or series which world would it be and why?

Cassandra Lawson's Spells that Bind series. I love the world she created in the books. Everything from the demon realm to the witch and vampire neighborhoods is wonderful.


Dreamscape
JJ Morris Series 
Book 2
J.N. Sheats

Genre: Mystery/Horror/Paranormal Romance
Publisher: J.N. Sheats
Date of Publication: 12/05/2023
ASIN: B0CKB8Q4HZ 
Cover Artist: J Edward Neill 

Tagline: Supernatural meets Witches of East End in a twisted dream.

Book Description:

Now a college student, Joey is finding college life comfortable. But studies prove to be more difficult than facing down a horde of black dogs. Struggling with her average life now that the supernatural world has been opened before her, Joey is constantly distracted. Pulled between wanting the standard life of a college student, and the allure of the paranormal. Unfortunately, Portstown has been quiet since the “Great Hunt” of last year, that is until a random fire on campus occurs, and people start going missing.

Disregarded as a student prank, Joey brushes the incident off until she catches Gwen looking into it. Why would one of the guardians from the mysterious Warner family be looking into a silly student prank?

More questions arise when fires start popping up all over campus, and Joey’s dreams turn violent under the control of the Dream Conductor with their twisted intentions. Gathering the group back together Joey must figure out what is happening to the missing people, who is starting the mysterious fires on campus, and what does the Dream Conductor want all while conquering finals. Will Joey pass this semester or will she fall into her deepest fantasies?



Excerpt:

In the history of insane ideas, this was high on the list as I stood at the edge of the cemetery looking out over a sea of headstones. This was the last thing I wanted to face down, but I had to know if I was right about the fire. If I was then someone was in trouble. I heard it in the dream, someone calling out for help. Then again I heard a lot of people calling for help the other night in my dreams, still I had an anxious feeling about this fire.

I tried calling the police and the firehouse, but I couldn’t get a word out. I didn’t want to send them to the chapel if there was no fire. What if the fire wasn’t going to be for awhile? Like the other night. It took hours for the fire to happen after I woke from my nightmare. The time before that it was within moments. Which was it going to be this time? They could come, find nothing and leave. Then the fire starts and they respond too late. Too late for what, Joey?

It was a building, an old building. So what if it burned down, there would be no harm done and there were no houses in danger around it. Who cared if the crappy little chapel disappeared, but that cry for help nagged at me.

The idea of calling Gwen crossed my mind, I even stood there with my finger hovering over her number, but what was I going to say? “There is going to be fire because I said so”? I couldn’t explain how I knew where the fire was going to happen, I simply knew. Deep in my subconscious somewhere I knew without a doubt the chapel was going to burn, and the longer I waited the stronger the feeling grew. Instead of making the call I settled on checking out the chapel for myself first. If I found nothing then fine, I would go back home and call it a bad dream. If I did find something, well I had my phone with me. I could call Gwen right there. I simply had to make it through the graveyard. At night.

Daring a step forward I took a deep breath and shored up what courage I had. Inside I prayed I didn’t run into any black dogs, or fire demons, if those were a thing. Taking another step I let out the breath and ventured another step. One right after another I made my way across the graveyard toward the chapel half a mile away. I could have avoided the graveyard and walked up to the sidewalk parallel to the cemetery, but this was the fastest way to the chapel. In the back of my mind it felt like time was running out, so through the graveyard it was.

Shadows danced off of the gravestones as I walked, making me flinch from time to time. Once or twice I let out a little yelp as the breeze picked up and shifted the long grass that needed to be mowed. It didn’t help that it felt like someone was watching me. The little hairs on the back of my neck were standing up, and the smolder of eyes on me chilled my blood. Coming to a stop short of the chapel I stood near one of the mausoleums and looked at the chapel more carefully. I mean, running in when it could burst into flames at any moment wasn’t the best idea. So I took time to study the outside.

The windows were dark, no light came from within. Outside it was quiet, dead quiet aside from the winter wind blowing. Dry and arctic, but refreshing against my heated skin. I stood there studying the lines of the old chapel and the curling paint chips that were flapping against the wind. Everything looked normal and fine, quiet and still.

“Meow!” Jinx yelled next to my ear on the mausoleum. 

“What the hell, in heaven.” I gasped, jumping away and feeling my heart in my throat.

About the Author:

J.N. Sheats is an artist turned author. Living in Maryland with six wild cats, and her husband, J.N. spends her days designing book covers and teasers for other authors. At night she is at the mercy of her demanding characters, and their wild fantasies.
  
Dark Paranormal Fantasy is her preferred genre of writing, but anything is game. Maybe even a lovely romance novel or two in the near future.

When not writing, designing, or drawing, J.N. spends her time doing a host of other activities. Including: gardening, jewelry making, cooking, and watching far too much television.








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Spooky Writer’s Planner by Loren Rhoads and Emerian Rich - Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza



10 Tricks for Writing During the Holidays
by Loren Rhoads

Sometimes, especially around the holidays, it’s hard to find time to do the creative work you want to do. I’ve used a bunch of tricks to carve out time to write. I hope these will inspire you.

1. Make a list. Whether it’s topics you want to explore or scenes that need to be written, it’s easier to begin writing when you have a prompt.

2. Set an alarm. Promise yourself that you will settle down to write as soon as the alarm goes off. Giving yourself the anticipation of writing time can be inspirational.

3. Set a timer. Anyone can write for 15 minutes. There’s something about the tiniest amount of time pressure that tricks your brain into thinking it’s on a deadline. Start a timer on your computer, phone, or in the kitchen. You might find yourself pounding out the words to beat the bell. If the words are really flowing, you can always add a second 15-minute sprint.

4. Make a date with a friend. Whether you sit down together in a cafe or meet online for a video chat, it really helps to know that someone else is working alongside you. The key is to find someone who will write, rather than chat.

5. Put your headphones on. Many writers make a playlist that they listen to only when they work on a particular project. Listening to the same music every time you write can train your brain to provide inspiration on command.

6. Write somewhere else. If you normally write at a desk, try moving to the sofa or the kitchen table or sitting in bed. The simple act of shifting to new surroundings can shake loose the words.

7. Try a different writing tool. Do you usually write on a laptop? Try writing by hand in a notebook or attach a keyboard to your phone. Some writers swear by word processing keyboards like AlphaSmart or FreeWrite, which only allow you to see a small amount of the text you’re working on. That way you're forced to move forward, rather than editing what you've already done.

8. Write first thing in the morning. It’s tempting to start the day by checking email or scrolling social media, but what might you come up with if you listened to your own thoughts first thing in the morning?

9. Write last thing at night. Take a notebook to bed and draft one more scene before you turn out the light. Do the words feel different as you’re settling in for the night?  Maybe your subconscious can solve a writing problem for you in your dreams.

10. Chart your progress. Whether you put a check on the calendar, color in a box on a habit-tracking chart, or note your word count in your planner, record the days you write. It’s addictive to see your progress.

What other tricks have you found for getting the work done? Make your own list, so you'll have some tools to use next time you feel at a loss for words.

Spooky Writer’s Planner
Loren Rhoads and Emerian Rich

Genre:  nonfiction planner
Publisher: HorrorAddicts.net
Date of Publication:  November 2020
ISBN: 9798560168698
Number of pages:  361
Cover Artist: Emerian Rich

Tagline:    Get organized this year!

Book Description: 

Are you a horror author who wants to take your career to the next level? Do you write dark fantasy, paranormal romance, spooky poetry, or morbid nonfiction? 

Would you like to advance farther in the direction of your dreams?

The Spooky Writer's Planner includes:
  • 13 months of monthly and weekly calendars
  • Monthly goal and recap sheets
  • Weekly check-ins and note pages
  • Writing challenges, prompts, and brainstorming pages
  • Trackers for submissions, pitches, and contacts 
  • Marketing, newsletter, and blog planners
  • Check-off sheets for website maintenance, social media updates, and expenses

Available in Digital and Print





The quick-download version gives you a digital copy so you can print the pages you need and print multiples of those you'll use the most. Create your own Frankenstein's Monster of a planner! These black & white pages are designed to be printed on 8.5 x 11-inch paper. Put them in a three-ring binder or bind them with disks or a spiral, your choice. Use it year after year after one purchase!  

Available from Etsy

The Spooky Writer's Planner is perfect-bound with a glossy cover, printed on high-quality 8.5 x 11-inch paper. Everything you need is included in one handy book that you can grab and go!

Available from Amazon



About the Author:

Loren Rhoads writes dark fantasy, horror, and science fiction, sometimes all at once. She’s the author or editor of 18 books, including 199 Cemeteries to See Before You Die and Unsafe Words. She serves as a writing mentor for the Horror Writers Association. She has taught workshops on reading your work in public and submitting proposals and pitches to publishers. Find out more about her work at LorenRhoads.com          











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Thursday, December 7, 2023

The Ritual of Remembrance with Laura Engelhardt




The Ritual of Remembrance is not an act you perform for your loved ones. Instead, it is designed to honor strangers. This Ritual is a gift to those who have passed: a promise that they will be remembered and are not alone. While this rite does not need to be performed during any particular season or time of day, it does require multiple visits to a cemetery.

Prepare by walking the graveyard, using your intuition as your guide as you wander until you feel drawn to a particular gravesite. Pause to read the headstone. Think about who this stranger may have been, then continue to walk past. If you still remember the stranger’s name when you return to the cemetery entrance, you have found the right individual for whom to perform this rite. Sometimes it begins with a tingling in the skin or a compulsion to look more closely at a particular headstone. Or maybe you walk past a grave, and feel a curiosity drawing you back. Pay attention to these small signs to identify the right stranger for whom to perform the Ritual of Remembrance. 

Do not begin the Ritual immediately after your initial visit to the graveyard. Instead, return a few days or weeks later. When you walk the graves again, see whether you feel pulled back to the same stranger as before. If so, then you may begin the Ritual of Remembrance. If not, then continue walking the graves, repeating the steps from your preparatory visit.

Once you identify the site resonating with the stranger, stand before their grave and greet them by name. Use their name to formally greet them and introduce yourself. Next, ponder any facts you can glean from their gravesite plaque or headstone — such as age, time of life, family connections, occupation, nationality, etc. Ask them about their life. Feel for the tendrils of answers that come to you. Those may be simply your own imagination, but often they are informed by the stranger. Every person’s story is unique and different. The very act of thinking about someone keeps their memory alive, even if there is little to be discerned from their final markers.

Each time you return to the graveyard, acknowledge and greet the former-stranger by name. Continue to contemplate their place in history and the era of their life. Complete the Ritual of Remembrance by planting rosemary atop their grave, as you inform the deceased that you are doing this act to help you remember them. Rosemary is a perennial herb, often linked to the act of remembering. If you also decide to plant flowers, do not plan annuals; select a suitable perennial.

Unlike Samhain Rites and other rites of reverence toward the dead, the Ritual of Remembrance is focused on acknowledging and greeting strangers. Because you never knew the deceased, focus only on the act of giving. You are not seeking anything in return from the deceased. 

This Ritual is akin to the rituals of the ancient acts of graveyard blessings, where the practitioner seeks to calm restless spirits. Not every spirit is kind. When performing this work, remember you are performing an act of charity. You are not asking the departed to assist you in anything but are simply providing them with an act of good will, and the promise they are not forgotten. 


Desert Enchantments
Arabian Spells 
Fifth Mage War Prequel
Laura Engelhardt

Genre: Fantasy
Publisher: Wandering Wave Press
Date of Publication: November 16, 2023
ISBN: 978-1-957778-06-8
ASIN: B0CM3MMSWK 
Number of pages: 130 pages
Word Count:  32,000 words
Cover Artist: Rena Violet

Tagline: Prophecies, Faeries, Djinni, and Werewolves! A New Fantasy World Awaits…

Book Description:

This exciting prequel is perfect for both new readers and current fans of Engelhardt’s award-winning Fifth Mage War series. At only 130 pages, the book provides an introduction into a magical modern world filled with faeries, prophecies, werewolves and djinni. Desert Enchantment focuses on a new character, and features themes of survivor’s guilt/hope and obsessive love/self-control.

A Class Five mage, Khalid developed the only long-distance magical weapon in existence: the dreaded djinni, who spin across the deserts, destroying everything in their path. Now, he faces the kind of challenge only an Oracle could have predicted.

In Recasting Fate, we join Khalid as he attempts to rout the European invaders from the Sahara Desert. Except a faerie breezes in with an offer he can't refuse.

In Djinn Swarm, Khalid battles for self-control when he discovers that the only thing more powerful than a djinn is love.

These two novelettes are a perfect gateway into the Fifth Mage War series, introducing new characters and new cultures as the world moves inextricably toward a cataclysmic war. 


Excerpt

The first djinn emerged in the night sky: a whirlwind topped with a simulacrum of Khalid himself. Knife-sharp grains of sand spun upward, pulled by the centrifugal force of the air that formed the construct’s lower half. Khalid swallowed down bile as he looked at his creation. The djinn’s outstretched arms were frozen in a gesture of welcome, but its unblinking eyes were indifferent to the suffering it was about to cause.

If only he could create a living construct, he wouldn’t be forced to watch oversized statues of himself wreaking destruction. Before Sabha, he used to revel in the fact that his enemy would know he had been the mage who had killed them. Now, the sight of his giant face in the sky made him sick.

Two more djinni coalesced, dragging roiling storms of colored lightning behind them like fringed capes. Malik shut the spellbook, words of congratulations on his lips. But his face fell, his compliments silenced before they could be uttered. Khalid’s heart rate sped up as he followed his vizier’s gaze.

The three djinni should have been flying north over the dunes to the enemy encampment, spinning tornados of wind and lightning beneath them. Instead, the constructs hung suspended in midair, their lower whirlwinds frozen into a stillness as eerie as their unmoving humanoid tops.

A rush of air rippled Khalid’s headscarf and robe, but the desert was suddenly silent. He could no longer hear the rasp of wind over sand.

Eurus, Khalid realized, his grim fear sinking into actual dread.

The glimmering white-gold outline of a woman’s face emerged in front of the djinni.

Khalid swallowed as she pressed her lips against one statue-like face before dissipating back into air.

Khalid waved Malik back to the assembled guard. “Go,” he said. “Back to camp.”

But Malik pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with him. “No one can contend against the air itself, Amir. It won’t matter if we stay or go.”

That’s an unfortunate truth, Khalid thought. For all they knew, Eurus existed within the very air they drew into their lungs. She was everywhere but only rarely took physical form.

Humans, even other faeries, were typically beneath her notice.

“Your djinni still don’t live.”

The East Wind’s soft voice was impossible to locate, though they all spun around to look for her. Eurus was air, an elemental faerie born billions of years ago when the Earth’s atmosphere formed.

“Why are you here?” Khalid called, his voice overly loud in the stillness.
Eurus, as the East Wind liked to be called, manifested into a shadowed figure floating cross-legged as if atop a flying carpet. But of course, Eurus didn’t need any support to defeat gravity.

Khalid’s face covering blew off, and he caught the red headcloth before responding.

“You told me war didn’t interest you anymore.”

“Your djinni interest me.” The elemental faerie’s voice hovered in the air around him, pressing against him like the atmospheric warning of an approaching sandstorm.

“I’m no via-enchanter to cast spells on living things, Lady Eurus,” Khalid reminded her.

The fae demanded honesty, and he’d told her this many times already. “I don’t know how to make a djinn draw breath.”

“You were working hard to modify your spells,” Eurus said. “At least until your sisters convinced you to claim the Sahara for your al-Saaqib tribe.”

“I have a duty to protect the desert’s people. I can’t play with spell designs while we remain under threat,” Khalid said — then cursed himself when he realized he’d given her an opening.

She pounced. “I am more dangerous than five thousand battlemages. Bargain with me. I can steal your enemies’ breath. Blow their ships back from your shores. I can keep your lands safe from the predators while you perfect your djinn spells.”

“I’m no via-enchanter, Lady Eurus,” Khalid repeated. “I spent decades and only managed to integrate biomarkers into the design.”

His gaze flickered up. Six vacant eyes that matched his own stared down at him in impotent stillness. Eurus’s magick held his unreleased djinni captive. He needed her to let them fly. Let Khalid kill his enemy.

“You see how well I can keep you safe,” Eurus said, glancing upward as well. “Even from your own spells.”

Khalid hated how tempting her offer was now. Everyone else had perished at Sabha. It had been a Pyrrhic victory, but a victory nonetheless. If she didn’t release his djinni, this battle would end in an actual defeat.

There was nothing worse than defeat.

“Do not surrender, Al-Amir,” Malik whispered. “With or without the djinni, we will prevail!”

“Surrender? Who said anything about surrender? I’ll be your hired hand, Amir Khalid ibn Hawwa al-Saaqib!” Eurus’s voice hung slyly in the air as she fluttered down into a full bow, her thin frame splayed across the sand before him.

Khalid stared down at the elemental faerie. No sane person made a bargain with a faerie, but then, no sane faerie stalked a human.



About the Author: 

An avid sf/fantasy reader, Laura Engelhardt writes the kind of book she likes to read: fantasy with intricate worlds and complex characters facing moral dilemmas. She started writing plays in college, then moved to Germany, where she continued to write while teaching ESL to executives. After moving back to the U.S., she supported her playwriting by teaching ballroom dance and working retail. Deciding that living in her parents’ attic wasn’t for her, Laura went to law school and then spent the next seventeen years as a lawyer and compliance officer in New York City. In 2017, she quit Wall Street and began helping people resolve disputes as a mediator and arbitrator. She now lives in New Jersey with her family.

 





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Wednesday, December 6, 2023

Supernatural Dating Tips with Alex Thornbury #SupernaturalDatingTips #SupernaturalDating





I don’t have much experience dating ghosts, largely as I see right through them from the start. It’s even worse if you meet one of those hauntingly silent types who just stare and stare. It’s chilling to be honest. But I do have a friend in a long-term relationship with a handsome ghost and she swears they make the best listeners. They are also excellent housemates, as they are very tidy and you never need to worry about sharing the bathroom or running out of hot water, as they never shower. And they don’t smell either. They are also handy for scarring off unwanted visitors and thieves.  

Vampires, however, are a very different matter. My first advice, one I learned rather quickly on my first date with one, is never take a vampire out for steak. Honestly, don’t even mention the word “steak”, unless you’re going to spell it out for them each time you say it. They are very bad humored about that. The best thing about dating a vampire is that they are very charming, suave, and sophisticated. They like it when you dress nicely for them, too. So be sure to wear your best dress. Red and black are their favorite colors. However, a few sway toward gold, too. Now, ahem. About the feeding part. Yes, they like blood. Your blood especially, if you are dating. It’s their way of showing affection in a relationship. A bit like holding hands. And they might get a little carried away if they have not fed in a while. So be sure to have a safe word prearranged with them, so they know when you start to feel faint. 

If you are tempted to date a zombie, don’t do it. Just don’t. But, if you have no sense of smell, and met someone special, and really, really want to go on a date with one, then you will need to carry lots of disinfectant with you and be prepared to clean up pieces of gore and flesh that drops off them now and then. They grunt a lot, too, so you’ll need to be the one to carry the conversation. 

As for werewolves, they are incredibly loyal, and like their bellies scratched, even in their human form, though they will deny it vehemently at first. Just make sure you always check that it’s not full moon when booking a table in a restaurant or planning to visit family with one. Werewolves never check the phase of the moon themselves, you see. They just assume everyone else will know instead and have the good sense to keep away whilst they shift. And if you forget, they are perfectly happy to shift in the middle of the damned dinner with your parents. And there is no use arguing with a werewolf about it either, as they are incredibly stubborn-headed. 


The Rogue Mage
The Sundered Web 
Book Two
Alex Thornbury

Genre: Fantasy
Publisher: Shadow Lore Publishing
Date of Publication: 5th December 2023
ISBN: 978-0-6454970-4-5
ASIN: B0BW35KXPZ
Number of pages: 550
Word Count: 190,000
Cover Artist: Alejandro Colucci

Tagline: For humankind, she would be the monsters’ monster. She would be their fear in the night. She would be the terror come for them. 

Book Description: 

Elika crosses the Bridge to Magic to find the world ruled by magic, where nothing is as it seems. Mages run the streets, whilst the tsaren, their masters, war with each other. Though it is men who pay the price with their lives.

Faced with the injustice of the mages and the new world order, Elika discovers her own untapped gifts that may yet shift the balance of power back into the hands of men. But her dabbling in the power she does not understand draws the attention of the dreaded demigod Syn’Moreg.

Elika must now outwit the shadow that hunts her, whilst seeking a way to free mankind from their oppressors. Yet dark grows her heart, and to darkness it reaches for that which the shadow denies.

As whispers of a newly found heir to the Sacred Crowns grow to cries of war, Elika comes to realize that she may not be the savior of mankind after all. Mite has proclaimed himself King Northwind, and marches on Terren to claim what is rightfully his. Elika is certain he will fail, unless she can vanquish the one power standing in his way. But to do that, she must convince the court and the archmage that she is the demigoddess Arala returned.


Excerpt:

Aeon-Greengrass’ house was easy to find, illuminated as it was with moonlight. The chimney was a weave of branches, and grass grew from the walls. She peered down from the edge of the roof to a small balcony, and silently lowered herself onto it. The tree branches stirred under her feet, then stilled. Instead of a window, an airy opening, with black webbing barred her way inside.

‘Open,’ she commanded in a whisper, pushing her will into the surrounding essence, and felt the answering quiver.

The black strands parted, and she strode inside into a darkened lounge. Had she come here to rob, she would have needed ten sacks for all the loot.

Every surface was crowded with silver ornaments in strange shapes and flowing forms that resembled nothing you’d find in nature. She was drawn to a figurine that resembled a twisting, spiralling shape of a man, as if his body was made from water. Another figurine was of a dog, his earthly form also looped and stretched around itself, a grotesque torment of the natural order.

There were trees and flowers and animals, all twisted and bent. Yet there was an odd beauty in the grotesqueness that tugged at her primal heart. Was this how they saw her world? Strange that these ugly beings searched for beauty and crafted it in their own appalling way.
What do you want from our world? she pondered. Surely your own is of much greater splendour, abound as it is with magic and wonder.

Dangerous musings, she thought, and abruptly turned away before her resolve wavered.

Inside the house, there were no doors, only archways in the walls of branches with strange, whimsical fruit sprouting from their tips. No fruit was the same, and when she touched one, it felt hollow and light as if spun from dust and wishes. Under her foot, there was a carpet of grass. In it grew small flowers, akin to those a child might draw with a stick in the mud, both extravagant and clumsy in their form. The petals were of different sizes and irregular in shape.

Everything here gave an impression of simultaneous worship and corruption of nature, as if the Laifae did not understand how it all fitted together.

At the end of the hall, she came to a doorway. A black web barred her way. Beyond it, she felt his essence, the creature who gave this house its form. She focused on that essence, placed the hand on the webbing and whispered, ‘Do not resist me.’

Warm, slick strands trembled under her fingers and parted before her, allowing her entry into the majren’s bedchamber. A light glowed in a lantern beside his bed, illuminating the youthful face of the sleeping mage. He was a youth … no, the body he had stolen belonged to a youth whose limbs still had not developed the bulk of a full-grown man. It was an absurdly wrong body for the man who held such an important position in the archmage’s dominion. Curled on his side, he looked like a child in peaceful slumber.

The child is dead, she reminded herself, willing the anger to grow.

Still, she could not look at him and do what must be done. She sent a black tendril to extinguish the flame in his lantern, and the room was plunged into darkness.

Aeon-Greengrass startled awake and sat up.

‘Who’s there?’ He moved his face searchingly, back and forth, past where she stood.
She froze, realising that he was blind in the dark of night. His ears were sharp, however, and he must have heard her intake of breath, or perhaps the frantic beating of her heart.

‘Guards! Guards!’ He shouted from inside the dead man’s chest, a sound akin to a strangled roar.

Without further thought, she grasped the threads of his essence and pulled.

‘No! Spare me. I have gold and riches.’

‘Riches you earned by selling the lives of men.’

‘Who are you, mistress?’ he gasped.

In reply, she pulled harder upon the threads. He groaned and writhed and finally fell lifeless back onto his bed.

‘A life for a life.’ She uttered the mantra from long ago, which they had lived by on the streets.

And something inside her grew cold and dark.

A crack under her feet … she plunged through the floor and hit the lower level with a rough thud.

She groaned, rolled, noting that nothing was broken, and looked up. But of course, she thought, with the Laifae gone, so was his magic. The grass floor morphed to rotting wood, decayed and barely holding the house together. The walls of the house were wilting and vanishing, and the stones which had been held firm by black webbing began to crumble and crash around her.
Elika scrambled to her feet, raced to the window and jumped out. Behind her, the house fell to rubble and dust chased her down the street. Shouts and calls came from the folk as they emerged to gape at the rubble she had left behind. When she was out of their sight, she slowed to a walk.

A wind brushed her hood.

She stopped, and her heart raced with recognition and fear.

The wind blew again, stronger this time.

She knew that wind. Knew it as well as her own breath. She had lived beside the dark chasm most of her life, had listened to the shrill screams upon it. But she was far from the chasm, and the wind of the Abyss did not travel far past it. Yet here it was, filled with biting rage, swirling around her. And on it, she felt a dark presence. Something followed her that was not a man.

She spun around and probed the deep, lurking shadows of the night, straining her ears to listen to the silence hidden by the wailing wind. A terrible power drew near. She felt its approach in the depths of her bones. The very essence of the world bent and trembled beneath it. It charged the air with its rage. A pulse of that rage went past, and a tremor shook the ground beneath her feet. She staggered but managed not to fall, turned again, trying to see where the nearing storm was coming from.

It stilled, as if also listening. Then, as if it caught her scent, the terror charged towards her.

She darted for the closest rainwater pipe and, in an instant, scrambled up it to the roof, lay flat on her stomach and peered over the edge. No one was there. No sound, no movement in the faintly lit street. Still, the sense of danger prickling her skin was a physical sensation she could not ignore. Something was there, seeking her, scanning the roofs where she had climbed. Aye, there were eyes searching for her, brushing past her.

Darkness moved, and she saw it, a shadow darker than the night untouched by moonlight. It moved and vanished. And the winds of the Abyss grew still.

She rolled away from the edge and stared up at the moon, waiting until she was certain the shadow had left. Then she rose and ran home.


About the Author: 

Alex Thornbury is an award-winning author. She grew up in Cheshire UK, and developed deep love of history and fantasy thanks to the many castles she visited as a child. Though she grew up to be an Alchemist by trade, she never stopped fantasising about other worlds, dragons and epic battles.










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Tuesday, December 5, 2023

Release Day Blitz The Rogue Mage by Alex Thornbury



The Rogue Mage
The Sundered Web 
Book Two
Alex Thornbury

Genre: Fantasy
Publisher: Shadow Lore Publishing
Date of Publication: 5th December 2023
ISBN: 978-0-6454970-4-5
ASIN: B0BW35KXPZ
Number of pages: 550
Word Count: 190,000
Cover Artist: Alejandro Colucci

Tagline: For humankind, she would be the monsters’ monster. She would be their fear in the night. She would be the terror come for them. 

Book Description: 

Elika crosses the Bridge to Magic to find the world ruled by magic, where nothing is as it seems. Mages run the streets, whilst the tsaren, their masters, war with each other. Though it is men who pay the price with their lives.

Faced with the injustice of the mages and the new world order, Elika discovers her own untapped gifts that may yet shift the balance of power back into the hands of men. But her dabbling in the power she does not understand draws the attention of the dreaded demigod Syn’Moreg.

Elika must now outwit the shadow that hunts her, whilst seeking a way to free mankind from their oppressors. Yet dark grows her heart, and to darkness it reaches for that which the shadow denies.

As whispers of a newly found heir to the Sacred Crowns grow to cries of war, Elika comes to realize that she may not be the savior of mankind after all. Mite has proclaimed himself King Northwind, and marches on Terren to claim what is rightfully his. Elika is certain he will fail, unless she can vanquish the one power standing in his way. But to do that, she must convince the court and the archmage that she is the demigoddess Arala returned.



About the Author: 

Alex Thornbury is an award-winning author. She grew up in Cheshire UK, and developed deep love of history and fantasy thanks to the many castles she visited as a child. Though she grew up to be an Alchemist by trade, she never stopped fantasising about other worlds, dragons and epic battles.










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Monday, December 4, 2023

Alex McKenna and the Geranium Deaths by Vicki-Ann Bush #YAParanormal


It took me years to allow myself to be who I truly am and who my mom, grandma, and other women in my family are and were. Rooted in a catholic background and upbringing, I had to overcome the guilt of not believing the same way as my catholic school friends. Thankfully, although practicing Catholics, my family could understand because of their own experiences. There was more to us than we’d let ourselves admit. 

Because of this unity and strength I received from them, it felt natural to me to use our connection even after they had passed on to the next realm. They are my source of all things and my spells center around them. 

Here is a spell I wrote when I was feeling defeated with events around me and needed the light from my source.

Life help from Mom and Gram

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

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

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

So mote it be.



Alex McKenna and the Geranium Deaths
Alex McKenna Series 
Book One
Vicki-Ann Bush

Genre: YA Paranormal
Publisher: Creative James Media
Date of Publication: October 17, 2023
ISBN: 978-1-956183-42-9
Number of pages: 316
Word Count: 87837
Cover Artist: Dark Angel Graphic Design

Tagline: The Dead Need Him

Book Description: 

The dead need him.

Seventeen-year-old Alex McKenna is a transgender boy who comes from a rich history of Strega witches. Possessing the ability to communicate with the dead, he uses his talents and understanding of what it means to be different to bridge the gap between the living and the beyond. With his girlfriend Margaret and his spirited great-grandmother by his side, Alex helps lost souls resolve their earthly connections and move on.

When a series of murders plagues his neighborhood, Alex discovers the gruesome truth behind a sixty-year span of deaths and the sinister being responsible.

Will Alex save the next victim and stop the murderer for good? Or will this be his final case?

Excerpt:

     The shadow slowly turned its attention to Alex. He stood tall, not showing the fear that was ravaging his body.
     “Alex, be careful,” warned his mom.
     “It’s okay.” Alex stood firm.
     The dark figure let out an ear-piercing screech, and Alex buried his head in his jacket. Again, it changed its focus and twisted toward the back seat of the car—Wilby. It held the statue down toward the earth, and the car started to rock back and forth.
     “Wilby!” his mom screamed as she struggled to break free.
     Alex’s heart pounded; the death freeze of the dark spirit was coming, and it was very close.
     “Ma, that thing is summoning the beast!” Alex’s voice dripped with fear.
     “Alex, I don’t know what to do. I can’t move. Is Wilby still sleeping?”
     “Yes.”
     “Good.” She wiped her upper lip with her sleeve. “What if he wakes up?”
     The vibration in his front pocket distracted him. Alex slipped out his phone; his gram’s picture lit up like a beacon.
     “Gram, we’re in trouble,” Alex whispered.
     “I know. Listen carefully, Bonzetta. Tell your mother we are going to use the prayer of light. I will do what I need from here.”
     “What do I do?” Alex’s palms dripped with sweat from anxiety, and he nearly dropped the phone.
     “Just repeat what we say, okay?”
     “Okay.”
     He didn’t want to shout their plan, so he texted it to his mom. “Ma, look at your phone.”
     She slipped it out of her purse and read the message. Then,nodding in agreement, she waited.


About the Author: 

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

When not writing, she enjoys watching movies with her husband, their loveable great Dane, Cuba and their baby girl, Curie, a little Chua Chua/Yorkie mix. Other past time faves include, dinner with family and friends, going out to breakfast, and sipping wine on the patio of a lovely Italian restaurant.

In 2022 Vicki-Ann signed a two book publishing deal with CJM Publishing. Coming in 2024, the YA paranormal romance, The Darkest Light, and a New Adult sci-fi, Liminal Space.







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