Wednesday, November 27, 2013

A Walk in the Black Forest by K.A. M'Lady



Interview

1) First, tell us about yourself – where  you live, your family, and those sorts of details.

I live about an hour or so in various directions of Chicago, Madison and Milwaukee; close to cornfields but far enough from any big city to be far from the chaos.  I’ve been with my wonderfully indulgent husband – who still accepts my nerdiness and book worm habits – for twenty-three years.  I work, I write and I hang out with my family.  It’s all rather boring actually.  Saturday night usually consists of dinner, a couple hours of writing or reading and, as it’s officially been dubbed ‘Stupid Movie Night,’ where I choose yet another stupid movie to torture my husband into watching with me.

2) How long have you been writing?

I’ve been writing since I was a kid, really.  Poems, mostly.  There was, of course the odd song or two when I thought I should be a rock star.  Since I couldn’t sing my way out of a box that was a pretty futile idea.  The stories eventually came.

3) Do you have a favorite place to write?

I have this great office all set up.  The shelves lined with books for research on magic, weaponry, mysticism, gods and the occult.  I have about seven different types of dictionaries and a couple different sized thesauruses.  I usually end up on the couch with my laptop.  I can block out pretty much anything around me if I find my zone.

4) Why did you decide to write A Walk in the Black Forest?

I think initially I started to write A Walk in the Black Forest just to see if I could.  I’ve always loved to write.  Getting it published was a step in taking a chance on myself.  Sometimes you just have to take that leap of faith.

5)      Who is your favorite character in your book and why?

In A Walk in the Black Forest, I’d probably choose Rosalynn.  She’s loosely based on a friend of mine that I adore.  She’s caring, giving, snarky and whimsical with an edge of craftiness.  Some might call it witch craft, but others consider it a gift.  Her bold, stalwart heart is what makes her a strong figure in the life of the young warrior that rears.

6)      How about your least favorite character?  What makes them less appealing to you?

I don’t think there is a least favorite.  Every character serves their purpose in a story.  Even the most repugnant.  Like all things, the dark and difficult has its purpose; to try us, to tempt us, to make us stronger.  To teach us things about ourselves we may not have known.  Without the bad, good cannot prevail.

7)      Do you proofread/edit your own books or do you get someone to do that for you?

Good grief, no.  I’m probably the worst speller in the universe.  Just because I know the word I want to use and what it means, doesn’t mean I know how to spell it.  Reference the seven dictionaries mentioned above.  And don’t even get me started with commas, semi-colons and the like.

8)      What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

I hang out with my husband and kids.  And I’m a new grandma so that’s pretty exciting.  I read or watch movies.  I go shopping with girlfriends.  It’s all rather mundane actually.  Such is the glamorous life of an author.

9)      Do you read much and if so who are your favorite authors?

If I’m not writing then I’m usually reading.  I don’t generally watch TV so you can usually find me with my face in a book.  I have tons of favorites depending on genre.  Ann Rice, Laura K. Hamilton, Mary Janice Davidson, Christina Dodd, Patrick Rothfus, Joe Abercrombe, Poe, Bukowski, Billy Collins, Mary Oliver, John Amen, Kris T. Kahn, Donna Grant, Laurann Dohner, Marissa Chennery, Moira Rogers, RG Alexander – the list is truly endless.  Large Press, Small press and Indie authors.  There are so many choices – it’s a wonderful time to be a reader.

10)   What question do you wish that someone would ask about your book, but nobody has? Write it out here, then answer it.

Wow, that’s a tough one.  Perhaps, ‘Is it necessary for a bad guy or guys to die at the end?’

I think once you get through the plot twists and turns and the story takes you to a place where the bad guy or guys are finally being revealed that it’s a necessary component for evil to be punished.  What that punishment entails is ultimately up to the bad guy.  How they are confronted with their villainy and their response to it in the eyes of the hero, well, that too is up to them.  I don’t think that meekly being hauled away in chains is in the make-up of a bad guy.  It’s like a code.  Good conquers evil.  Light over-powers darkness and all heroes win in the end.  Where would Happily Ever After be if someone changed the ending?  Perhaps that’s a question for another story.  One only the right character can tell.


A Walk in the Black Forest
K.A M’Lady

Genre:  Historical/Time-Travel Erotic Romance
Publisher:   Mojocastle Press
Date of Publication:  August 25, 2013
ISBN:  9781601801876
Number of pages:   312
Word Count:  81,874
Cover Artist:  Patricia Dittman

 
Book Description:

A Knight bred in the blood of battle…

Damon DeGracey is the Dragon of Blackmoor. Darkly mysterious, a cunning tactician of war, and William the Conqueror’s fiercest knight, he is a warrior any King would gladly claim as his champion. In a land awash in bloodshed and treachery, the Dragon must hunt and slay those responsible for the murder of his family while trying to keep the rebels from overthrowing the newly crowned King’s throne.

A sword forged in mystery…

Its ancient etchings and flame red stone draw Anthropologist, Gabriella DeVoux like a moth to a dragon’s fierce blaze. Its secrets she must know…its master’s hand she unwittingly craves. Will history yield to her its secrets or will the Dragon elude her in time’s lost pages?

A love that time cannot destroy...

Now that he’s found her, he will stop at nothing to have her – to keep her. And she will do anything to keep him safe. In these dark times an even darker treachery abounds. Will their love survive the hands of fate?

Excerpt:

She stood before him. Uncertainty filled her, as her breathing became rapid. He pulled her softly to him, slowly so not to startle her or cause any pain to her still healing wound.

Her sleek form fit like a glove against his large muscular frame, fitting his arms perfectly, her head just below his chin. With an intensity that arose from days of repressed need, he brought his lips down upon the soft fullness of hers.

She sighed into his embrace, lost the minute he pulled her against him. She had wanted him to kiss her, like this, for what seemed an eternity. She had dreamt about it in her sleep.

His tongue parted her lips and traced around its edges, sipping gently before delving deeply to taste her. Ecstasy coursed through her as he held her firmly against him, his hand tangling in her hair, his tongue dueling with hers. She was certain that at any moment she would melt in a pool at his feet.

What are you doing, Gabriella, she asked herself. This is insane…but God, he feels so good! No man had ever stirred her to this madness. No man had driven her with such need to match the loneliness that had once consumed her. That loneliness was melting from her heart as he backed her up against the door and kissed her more deeply, more passionately—if that was possible—than before.

This woman is a temptress, Damon thought. He had never in his life tasted a woman so wonderful, so pliant in his hands. She felt perfect against his body. Something in her called to the nether reaches of his soul. She tasted like heaven, smelled like the innocence of springtime. Felt like a goddess beneath the folds of satin.

As he clung to her lips, he knew he was doomed and didn’t care about the consequences. Knew that he had to have her, possess every bit of her and claim her as his own.

He pulled her tightly against him and pressed the latch of her door, easing her into the room. She was lost in his kiss, not noticing that he backed her towards the bed. The room was in utter darkness but for the small blaze the servants had set for the night’s fire. The subtle flame danced with her desire, darkened her deep green eyes as he eased back from the kiss.

Gabriella knew that madness had overtaken her. Was overtaking them. She knew that she should stop things before they got completely out of hand. But her own needs coursed through her, spoke to her heart as they never had before.

Even though she barely knew this man, her heart told her she knew all that she needed to. Life was too uncertain, the future too full of possibilities. Just once, she wanted to know. Know what it was to be desired with such fierceness. She needed to surrender to the passion that she had witnessed so often between her parents.

“I should go,” he whispered, his voice a gentle caress to her heightened awareness. His heart thundered in his chest as need washed through him. “Tell me to go, Gabriella, and I shall,” he whispered against the nape of her neck.

Her dragon was filled with hunger; desire filled his words as they gruffly, yet softly swirled around her in the darkness of her room. She knew she should tell him to go, but somehow, she could not. “Stay,” she whispered. Her entreaty filled the entranced silence of the room and sealed their fates.


About the Author:

Author K.A. M’Lady lives a few stone throws from corn fields, chaos and congestion; all lying on the outskirts of the many burbs of Chicago. KA M'lady spends her days calculating life expectancies, mortality and the certainty of death and taxes while in her free time the dead wander freely, buy shoes, homes, the occasional odd business or two and, if you even think of charging them too much in taxes…well, let’s just say the tax man may never come back. 

But if he does he might just shamble a bit. An All Romance eBooks bestselling author, K.A. M'lady's work has been described as scary, descriptive, beautiful, dark, frightening, addictive, sexy and believable. She loves to read paranormal romances, watching horror movies, westerns on Sundays with her husband, playing fetch with her pocket beagle, Chevy and buying weird shoes. Her friends call her eccentric, her family refuses to comment. 

She’s been lost in the world of fiction since she was a small child, and frankly, never wants to be found—at least not any time soon. “Myth and magic builds dreams and inspirations – and in an insane world, it is our dreams that spark the revolution of change. No matter which world is being conquered. Within our dreams – all things are possible.”








The Curse Giver by Dora Machado with Interview



Interview

1)      First, tell us about yourself – where you live, your family, and those sorts of details.

Well, let's see. My name is Dora Machado and I'm one of the few Latinas writing epic romance fantasy and dark fantasy these days. I was born in Michigan but I grew up in the Dominican Republic, an island that has a special place in my heart. I live in Florida with my wonderful husband and three very opinionated cats, one of which spends most of the writing day (and night) with me. I have two incredible kids who are out braving and exploring the world. I'm the author of the award-winning Stonewiser series and my newest release, The Curse Giver, my first standalone novel.

2)      How long have you been writing?

In my mind, I've been writing all my life, but I really didn't settle down to write in the full sense of the word until about seven years ago, when, for the first time, I had the time and opportunity to sit down and write my stories.

3)      Do you have a favorite place to write?

I do. I write in a small studio that opens up to my house's terrace on a spring-fed river. It's a small space but I'm all set up for comfort, surrounded by my favorite books and pictures and mementos from the people I love and the places I've visited.

4)      Why did you decide to write The Curse Giver?

I was doing research for a different book one night when I came across a picture of these ancient tablets that belonged to the same collection that gave us the famous Gilgamesh epic.  "May all these [gods] curse him with a curse that cannot be relieved, terrible and merciless, as long as he lives," the tablets said. "May they let his name, his seed, be carried off from the land.”
I was intrigued. I immediately thought of the man who had been thus cursed, of the pain and hardship such curse would bring upon him and his people, of the character that eventually became Bren, Lord of Laonia in The Curse Giver.
Who would cast these curses and why? What kind of creature could be capable of such powers? What would motivate a person to curse another one? As I explored these questions, a new character began to emerge in my mind, the curse giver herself, someone whose understanding of good and evil was very different from my own.
But once cursed, how could a person defend himself? A third character emerged from this question, Lusielle, a common remedy mixer, a healer of bodies and souls, someone who didn't realize the scope of her own power until it began to transform her life.
With Bren, Lusielle and the curse giver thus crystalized, the story was pretty much ready to go. I set out to write this fast, plot-twisting fantasy romance about an innocent woman condemned to die for a crime she didn't commit, who must ally with the cursed lord pledged to kill her in order to defeat the curse giver who has already conjured their ends. The Curse Giver is an epic fantasy story with brawn, brains, and lots of heart, something that I think your fantasy romance readers might enjoy.

5)      Who is your favorite character in your book and why?

Hmm. I think it's a tossup between the main characters, Bren and Lusielle. I've always been a sucker for the underdog, the reluctant hero and the tortured soul. Bren Lord of Laonia is all of those. He's got the makings of a hero, but his circumstances make him an outcast and a villain in his own mind. He is weary, bitter and troubled, but he's also dutiful and determined, and he will not betray his people. As the story begins, he rescues Lusielle from the pyre, but only because he's hunting a birthmark she bears. To defeat the curse that has obliterated his family and is killing him, he has to murder the woman who bears the birthmark in the foulest possible way. But as he escapes with his prey in tow, she is not what he expected. He faces yet another dismal choice: Can he murder the only woman capable of healing more than his body, his soul?
Lusielle is also one of my favorite characters, but for a totally different reason. When the story begins, she's been betrayed by her greedy husband and condemned to die for a crime she didn't commit. After years of abuse and slavery, the false accusations destroy her bleak but orderly world. As she flees with the bitter lord who has rescued her, she finds herself in an impossible situation: If she's going to survive, she must help the mysterious lord who is determined to kill her. What I like most about Lusielle is that she has to change; she has to muster the courage to free herself from her tragic past and find the strength within to thrive in a world she doesn't understand.

6)      How about your least favorite character?  What makes them less appealing to you?

You know, I don't think I have a least favorite character in this story. The curse giver should be the one, given that she's so evil, and yet I can't say that she's less appealing to me. In fact, I think she's a pretty likable character in a very unlikable way. She's evil, no questions about that, and she thrives on causing suffering. But there's consistency and logic to her evilness, a reversal of values that is based on her beliefs and somehow lends her credibility and integrity. Don't get me wrong, she's still a hateful creature and a formidable opponent, and yet, for many reasons, I can't really dislike her.

7)      Do you proofread/edit your own books or do you get someone to do that for you?

I edit my books very carefully before I send them out to be proofed and edited all over again! When I submit a manuscript, I want it to be as close to perfect as it can get, even though I know perfection is unattainable and editors, like readers, have diverse tastes and expectations.

8)      What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

I love to travel and I do so whenever I can. I also love walking and hiking. I'm slow on the uphill, but I enjoy it. I like stories and therefore I love movies, books and any other medium that tells stories. I really like theater and in particular, I love Broadway productions. The more lyrical and epic, the better.

9)      Do you read much, and if so, who are your favorite authors?

I love to read and I wish I had time to read even more. As a young woman growing up in the Dominican Republic, I was exposed to many different influences.  Books such as A Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Aunt Julia and the Scriptwriter by Mario Vargas Llosas, and the House of the Spirits by Isabel Allende left lasting impressions. In fantasy, I'm always dazzled by J.R.R. Tolkien, Stephen Donaldson, Frank Herbert, Robert Jordan, and George R.R. Martin. I also like Diana Gabaldon, Colleen McCullough, Bernard Cornwell and Anne Rice.

10)   What question do you wish that someone would ask about your book, but nobody has? Write it out here, then answer it.

To be honest, I've been doing so many interviews for the release of The Curse Giver, that I think all relevant questions have been asked. My husband, on the other hand, would love for you to ask who inspires all of my stories' heroes. He would like for me to answer that he is my inspiration, but I think that it might best if we keep him guessing. Don't you?


The Curse Giver
Dora Machado

Genre: Fantasy, Epic Fantasy, Romantic Fantasy, Fantasy Romance, Dark Fantasy
Publisher: Twilight Times Books
ISBN: 978-1-60619-289-4
ASIN: B00DSUQL4I
Number of pages: 510
Word Count: 165,000 aprox.
Cover Artist: Brad Fraunfelter


Description:

Lusielle's bleak but orderly life as a remedy mixer is shattered when her husband betrays her and she is sentenced to die for a crime she didn't commit. She's on the pyre, about to be burned, when a stranger breaks through the crowd and rescues her from the flames.

Brennus, Lord of Laonia is the last of his line. He is caught in the grip of a mysterious curse that has murdered his kin, doomed his people and embittered his life. To defeat the curse, he must hunt a birthmark and kill the woman who bears it in the foulest of ways. Lusielle bears such a mark.

Stalked by intrigue and confounded by the forbidden passion flaring between them, predator and prey must come together to defeat not only the vile curse, but also the curse giver who has already conjured their ends.


The Curse Giver Chapter One

    Dread stared at Lusielle from the depths of the rowdy crowd. Concealed under a heavy hood, only the stranger’s black eyes dared to meet her gaze among the growing throng. The man’s eyes refused to flinch or shift from her face. His stare was free of the hatred she had gotten from the others, but also devoid of mercy. He held on to her gaze like an anchor to her soul, testing her fortitude, knowing full well her fears’ vast range.

She had always been meant for the fire. Even as she had escaped the blaze that killed her parents and burned the inn to the ground, Lusielle had known that the flame’s greedy god would return to claim her life. But she hadn’t expected it to hap¬pen after days of torture, surrounded by the raging mob, found guilty of a crime she didn’t commit, betrayed and condemned.

The town’s cobbler, one of her husband’s best customers, tight¬ened the noose around her neck until it cut off her breath. She had waited on him countless times at the shop, and had always padded his order with a free measure of coriander to help with his wife’s cough.

But none of the town’s inhabitants seemed to remember any of her kindnesses as of late. On the contrary, the crowd was booing and jeering when they weren’t pelting her with rotten fruit. They treated her as if she were a common thief.

The brute who had conducted her torture shoved the cobbler aside, tying her elbows and wrists around the wooden stake. Orell. She remembered his name. His bearded face might have been handsome if not for the permanent leer. Like the magis¬trate, he wore the king’s burgundy colors, but his role had been more vicious. Had he been granted more time, he might have succeeded at extracting the false confession he wanted, but the magistrate was in a hurry, afraid of any possible unrest.

Orell yanked on the ropes, tightening her bonds. The wound on her back broke open all over again. She swallowed a strangled hiss. It was as if the thug wanted her to suffer, as if he had a pri¬vate reason to profit from her pain.

But she had never seen him until three days ago, when he and the magistrate had shown up unannounced, making random accusations.

Lusielle couldn’t understand any of this.

She knew that the king’s justice was notoriously arbitrary. It was one of the main reasons why she loathed living under King Riva’s rule. But she also knew better than to express her opinion. Ruin and tragedy trailed those who dared to criticize the king. That’s why she had never mentioned her misgivings to anyone.

What had she done to deserve this fate? And why did they con¬tinue to be so cruel? After all, she wasn’t fighting them anymore.

True, she had resisted at first. Out of fear and pride, she had tried to defend herself. But in the end, it hadn’t mattered. Her accusers had relied on the testimony of the devious liar who had turned her in—Aponte Rummins—her own husband.

The mock hearing had been too painful to bear, too absurd to believe. Aponte swore before the magistrate that Lusielle was a secret practitioner of the forbidden odd arts. It was ridiculous. How could anyone believe that she, who had always relied on logic, measure and observation to mix her remedies, could possi¬bly serve the Odd God’s dark purposes? And how could anyone believe Aponte’s lies?

But they did, they believed him as he called on his paid wit¬nesses and presented fabricated evidence, swearing that he him¬self had caught her at the shop, worshipping the Odd God. In the end, it had been her husband’s false testimony that provided the ultimate proof of the heinous charge for which Lusielle was about to die.

Burning torch in hand, the magistrate stepped forward. Still in shock, Lusielle swallowed a gulp of bitter horror and steeled for the flames’ excruciating pain. She didn’t want to die like a shrieking coward. But nothing could have prepared her for what happened next.

The magistrate offered the torch to Aponte.

“The king upholds a husband’s authority over his wife in the kingdom,” the magistrate shouted for the crowd to hear. “There can be no protests, no doubt of the wisdom of royal justice if a husband does as he’s entitled to do by his marital rights.”

Aponte could have forgone her execution. Considering the magistrate’s proclamation, he could have chosen a different pun¬ishment for her. Instead, he accepted the torch and, without hesi¬tation, put the flame to the tinder and blew over the kindling to start the fire.

“Go now,” he said, grinning like a hog about to gorge. “Go find your dark lord.”

Lusielle glared at the poor excuse for a man who had ruined her life many times over. She had known from the beginning that he was fatally flawed, just as he had known on the day he claimed her that she couldn’t pledge him any affection.

But Aponte had never wanted her affection. He had wanted her servitude, and in that sense she proved to be the reluctant but dutiful servant he craved.

Over the years he had taught her hatred.

His gratification came from beating and humiliating her. His crass and vulgar tastes turned his bed into a nightmare. She felt so ashamed of the things he made her do. Still, even if she loathed him—and not just him, but the slave she had become under his rule—she had tried to make the best of it.

She had served him diligently, tending to his businesses, reor¬ganizing his stores, rearranging his trading routes and increas¬ing his profits. His table had always been ready. His meals had been hot and flavorsome. His sheets had been crisp and his bed had been coal-warmed every night. Perhaps due to all of this, he had seemed genuinely pleased with their marital arrangement.

Why, then, had he surrendered her so easily to the magistrate’s brute?

Aponte had to have some purpose for this betrayal. He was, above all, a practical man. He would not surrender all the advan¬tages that Lusielle brought to him—money, standing, common sense, business acumen—without the benefit of an even greater windfall.

Lusielle couldn’t understand how, but she was sure that the bastard was going to profit handsomely from her death.

The scent of pine turned acrid and hot. Cones crackled and popped. The fire hissed a sinister murmur, a sure promise of pain. She didn’t watch the little sparks grow into flames at her feet. Instead, her eyes returned to the back of the crowd, seeking the stranger’s stare. She found him even as a puff of white smoke clouded her sight and the fire’s rising heat distorted his scarred face’s fixed expression.

The nearing flames thawed the pervasive cold chilling her bones. Flying sparks pecked at her skin. Her toes curled. Her feet flinched. Pain teased her ankles in alarming, nipping jolts. Dear gods. They were really going to burn her alive!

Lusielle shut her eyes. When she looked again, the stranger was gone from the crowd. She couldn’t blame him. She would have never chosen to watch the flame’s devouring dance.

A commotion ensued somewhere beyond the pyre. People were screaming, but she couldn’t see through the flames and smoke. She flinched when a lick of fire ignited her shift’s hem. A vile stink filled her lungs. Her body shivered in shock. She coughed, then hacked. Fear’s fiery fingers began to torment her legs.

“Come and find me,” she called to the God of fire.
   
      And he did.


For a free excerpt of The Curse Giver, visit  http://twilighttimesbooks.com/TheCurseGiver_ch1.html 


About the Author

Dora Machado is the award winning author of the epic fantasy Stonewiser series and her newest novel, The Curse Giver, available from Twilight Times Books July 2013. She grew up in the Dominican Republic, where she developed a fascination for writing and a taste for Merengue. After a lifetime of straddling such compelling but different worlds, fantasy is a natural fit to her stories. She lives in Florida with her husband and three very opinionated cats.

To learn more about Dora Machado and her novels, visit her website at www.doramachado.com

Subscribe to her blog at http://www.doramachado.com/blog/ , sign up for her newsletter at http://doramachado.com/newsletter.php  and follow her on  Facebook and  Twitter.

For a free excerpt of The Curse Giver, visit  http://twilighttimesbooks.com/TheCurseGiver_ch1.html

About Dora Machado's Novels:

Dora Machado is the award winning author of the Stonewiser trilogy and her newest novel, The Curse Giver. She is one of the few Latinas exploring her heritage and her world through the epic fantasy genre today. Her first novel, Stonewiser: The Heart of the Stone, won the 2009 Benjamin Franklin award for best debut novel. Her second novel, Stonewiser: The Call of the Stone, won the 2010 Independent Publishers Book Award's (IPPY) Gold Medal for Best Science Fiction/Fantasy book of the year. Her third novel, Stonewiser: The Lament of the Stone, won the 2012 Independent Publishers Book Award's (IPPY) Silver Medal for Best Science Fiction/Fantasy book of the year. All three novels were finalists in ForeWord Magazine's Book of the Year Award in the Science Fiction and Fantasy Category. Her latest novel, The Curse Giver from Twilight Times Books is available July 2013.







Silent Oath by Paul Anthony Shortt



Top 10 Songs that would be great soundtrack for Silent Oath

Thanks for having me along!

Music is really important to me. My dad exposed me to everything from Wagner and Holst to Queen, Gary Cooper, and Aerosmith. I actually feel uncomfortable if I’m at home and don’t have music playing in the background.

So, it was kind of a given that music would play a major role in my writing. My best ideas come to me in flashes of inspiration while getting lost in a particular piece of music, and I listen to music while I write to keep myself focused and motivated.

I’d like to share with you some tracks that formed the core soundtrack for Silent Oath, in no particular order:

1. Unbroken, Black Veil Brides
2. Dragonborn, Jeremy Soule
3. All Coming Back To Me Now, Meat Loaf feat. Marion Raven
4. Santa Fe, Jon Bon Jovi
5. If You Were A Woman (And I Was A Man), Bonnie Tyler
6. Locked Within The Crystal Ball, Blackmore’s Night
7. Fleur Du Mal, Sarah Brightman
8. Dyin’ Ain’t Much of a Livin’, Jon Bon Jovi
9. Fight The Good Fight, Triumph
10. Stick To Your Guns, Bon Jovi

Some of these also helped me write Locked Within, the first book in the trilogy, and while I was drafting the third book. You’ll notice that three tracks have a strong western vibe to them. This is because, in this story of reincarnation, some of the most important events to happen to Nathan Shepherd occur in his memories of a life as a wandering monster hunter in the Old West.

I hope you enjoy these songs as much as I do, and that they give you a better idea of what I was feeling while I wrote Silent Oath.


Silent Oath
Locked Within Trilogy
Book Two
Paul Anthony Shortt

Genre: Urban Fantasy
Publisher: WiDo Publishing
Date of Publication: October 8th, 2013
ISBN: 978-1937178369
Number of pages: 300
Word Count: 80,000
Cover Artist: Steven Novak

 
Book Description: 

Hope has returned to New York City. Nathan Shepherd leads a small band of dedicated fighters against the Council of Chains and the city's supernatural masters. But it's not enough. Because from the shadows of Nathan's former lives comes an old enemy, one who knows terrible secrets that Nathan has not yet remembered, secrets that could undo everything he has fought for.

Nathan's only chance to uncover the memories of his previous existence, and to conquer these new forces of evil, lies in Elena DeSantis. A woman he has fought beside in past lifetimes. A woman he has loved.

Together, Nathan and Elena are the only future the city has.

Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE
Nathan Shepherd opened his hooded coat and quietly drew his sword from its sheath. Scanning the doorways and rooftops for movement, he ventured through the alley, dark puddles rippling under his boots. 
Nathan watched the doorways and windows for movement. The creature Nathan was hunting, a vampire named Garth, had been too greedy. The smiling face of a young woman was burned into Nathan’s memory, and the story of how her body was found, what had been done to her, buried in the corner of a newspaper like she didn’t matter. Vampires didn’t have to kill their victims, they just liked to. Garth would pay.
Someone screamed. Nathan followed the sound to a back street and took cover, stealing a quick glance around the corner. He saw two figures running. The lead was a small, rail-thin boy; late teens as far as Nathan could make out. He had a good head start on the pale, bald man hurtling along behind him. Even so far away, Nathan could make out the feral eyes and hear the snarls. That’s him. He lowered his sword and waited.
First the skinny kid ran past. Nathan counted a beat and swung his arm out from around the corner, clotheslining Garth. The vampire hit the ground. The boy he was chasing looked back, then tripped, careening into a trashcan.
“Evening, Garth.” Nathan stepped over him. “Been looking for you.”
The vampire wasted no time on words. He twisted and kicked Nathan’s legs out from under him before leaping to his feet and running toward the boy. Nathan pulled a small throwing knife from a slot in his leather utility harness and flicked it at Garth. The knife lodged in Garth’s back. He turned and snarled. “You’re pissing me off.”
“Good,” Nathan got to his feet. “I was beginning to worry I’d never get good at this.”
Garth sprinted down the alleyway. Nathan swept his sword in a low arc, cutting across Garth’s stomach as he passed. The vampire’s speed threw him off balance, and he let his guard drop. Garth lashed out with black claws across Nathan’s arm. The coat’s armored lining protected him from serious injury, but Garth followed up with two rapid punches to his face.
Tasting blood, Nathan thrust his sword out, running Garth through. He took Garth off his feet with a kick to the knee. Holding Garth down with his foot, Nathan lifted his sword and brought it down on Garth’s neck. It was not a clean cut, but it was enough. 
The body began to dry up and broke apart into dust while Nathan backed away, taking in deep breaths. Sloppy. Too many mistakes. If Nathan didn’t get those under control they’d get him killed eventually. At least his hands didn’t shake afterward anymore.
Nathan turned to the boy that Garth had been chasing, who was still lying on the ground. 
“You . . . ” The boy stood slowly. “You’re him, aren’t you?”
Nathan nodded. “What’s your name?”
“Eric.” The boy clutched a gray courier bag to his chest like his life depended on it. 
“Why was the vampire after you, Eric?”
“He wanted my bag. I’m in the trade.”
The trade. It meant the boy wasn’t just aware of the supernatural; he was an active part of the hidden world. Probably someone’s apprentice.
“Where’s home?” Nathan asked. “Close?”
Eric nodded, “My dad’s store is half a block from here. Baum’s Curiosity Shop.”
“Get going.”
Eric began to go, but stopped and turned. “Thank you, sir.”
Nathan nodded a goodbye and closed his coat again before making his way out of the back streets.
Would my parents be proud of me? It wasn’t the first time Nathan Shepherd had wondered that over the last nine months. His mother, Louise, had taught him to look out for those in need. Strength isn’t in your fists, she used to say, it’s in the way people take care of each other. His father, Mike, was a firefighter. He’d spent his life saving people. While Nathan could recall any moment in his life with perfect accuracy, the image of his dad, tall and broad-shouldered, walking out the door in his uniform, held a special place in his heart. The first hero a little boy ever had. The one person he could always rely on to save the day. After being injured by a vampire named Eli, Mike had chosen to save Nathan instead of getting himself to a hospital. He died while Nathan was fighting a soul eater, a monster that fed on the essence of mortals. 
I never got to say goodbye.
His coat pulled at him in the light spring breeze. It had taken him five nights to track this one down. The Council of Chains had started to get cautious. Although it made his work more difficult, it meant they were starting to be afraid.
I’ve saved lives. That would make his father proud, wouldn’t it?
Nathan picked up some coffee on the way back to his truck, a dark green four-door flatbed pickup. He may have gotten over the shaking hands, but the hollow feeling in his stomach and brief dizzy spells told him his adrenaline was wearing off. He checked the time. Ten fifty-five. The coffee warmed Nathan’s throat as he drained the cup. He scanned the streets before climbing into the truck and starting the engine. No matter which station Nathan turned to, the radio announced increased gang violence. He really needed to get his hands on a police scanner. Mainstream media could only provide so many leads on supernatural attacks. Let the gang members kill each other. The cops could handle that themselves. Nathan had more specialized concerns. 
Live jazz music flowed into the street as Nathan pulled up outside Hook and Ladder. His father, Mike, had dreamed of opening this place. Nathan waved to Sam Kinnon, a tall man with short blonde hair, tidy stubble, and shirtsleeves rolled up over thick-muscled arms. 
Sam’s father had been a friend of Mike’s from his old fire fighter company. After an encounter with a vampire one night when they were closing up, Nathan revealed the truth about the supernatural world, and Sam admitted that he’d dreamed about past lives too. 
“Done?” Sam leaned in to the car window.
“Garth’s dead. I’ll let the family know tomorrow. How’re we doing?”
“Business is good. The more vampires and ghouls you kill, the more folk feel safe here. But the Council sent people out again.”
“Who?”
“Some bruiser named Lucius.”
Lucius was a vampire. Nathan knew him by reputation only, but he had become the head enforcer for New York’s official ruler, Vincent Dorian. 
“They’re sniffing close, boss. We need to be careful.”
Nathan rubbed his eyes. “I just need the support of a few more outside conclaves. Then they won’t be able to touch us.”
“They can kill you for this, can’t they?”
“Violating the treaty? They can do worse than that, if they have proof.” 
The East Coast Treaty forbade reborn from entering the city. Nathan was free to stay because he hadn’t been involved in the war fought against the Council over fifteen years ago, but inviting others to New York was treading dangerous ground. Even employing Sam was technically a violation. 
“You coming in?” Sam shifted uneasily as he changed the subject. “Band is good. You’d like them.”
Nathan shook his head. “Not tonight. I want to get some rest. Big day tomorrow. After the funeral I’ve also got to meet the people from New Orleans.”
“I thought Chicago was tomorrow?”
“No, their guy canceled.”
“Again? That’s the third time this month.”
“Apparently Chicago’s a busy town. Someone named Murphy is meant to fill me in when they get a chance.”
“All right. I’d better get back to work. See you later.” Sam went inside. Seeing the people through the doorway, drinking and dancing together, Nathan realized how long it had been since he’d had a night off. The band was playing an Artie Shaw cover. Sam was right; they were good.
Nathan parked his truck in the small lot tucked behind the bar and took two large sports bags out from under the tarp in the back. 
The second-floor apartment had an external entrance up a winding set of metal stairs that rattled as Nathan climbed them. He’d been meaning to get them looked at for a while. 
Inside the apartment was well kept. The previous tenant had decorated it with light earth tones and left behind several comfortable couches and a bed. Nathan stepped in to a small hallway that led to the stairs on his left and the door into the main room on his right. The main room spread out in a wide open plan with a kitchen area and breakfast bar in the far corner opposite the doors for the bathroom and bedroom. Bookshelves lined the wall, containing collections of novels and arcane texts Nathan had sourced from occult dealers. On one shelf, over a stereo and sitting between Mike’s jazz CDs and Nathan’s collection of classic rock, sat a small frame. Inside the frame rested the medal Mike had been awarded for rescuing half a dozen people from a burning building. Mike had been severely burned in the incident, forcing him into early retirement.
Nathan set his bags down next to the standing maps and charts arranged around his computer desk before hanging his coat on a hook on the wall. 
Nathan left his sword propped against the wall. An ancient weapon he’d wielded in more than one lifetime, the hilt was decorated with the stylized image of a phoenix surrounded by flames. He left his leather utility harness on an armchair and went to the bathroom to check on his arm. 
A gray reflection looked back at him in the mirror. Black marks hung under his dark blue eyes. Sleep hadn’t exactly been a major priority for a while. Just something he did as needed between patrolling the streets and looking for his next target. At least the broken nose he’d suffered fighting that ogre a few months ago had set well. His nose hadn’t lost its smooth line, angled like a hawk. A haircut might have been in order. His russet mop was far too unruly when allowed to grow out. And he needed to shave. 
Nathan rubbed his eyes and took some antiseptic ointment from the medicine cabinet before removing his light long-sleeved t-shirt. The shirt was ripped a little, but he could patch it later. His coat would need some repair work too. It was already starting to look like the skin of Frankenstein’s monster, but the padding in the lining had saved his life several times. Nathan hated seeing the coat get damaged though. It had belonged to his father. Of course, that was before members of the underground-dwelling people known as The Lost had modified it for him, adding secret pockets and armor. 
The cuts on his arm were light and had already stopped bleeding. Still, he wiped them down with some antiseptic, ignoring the sting. With that done, Nathan checked on the thick stripe of reddened, waxy flesh between his neck and right shoulder. The memento of a vampire bite that was treated both to purge the venom and to remove the scent of the vampire that had bitten him. Eli. Every time he looked at the scar he saw Eli’s sneering grin and the knife going into his father’s stomach. Killing him hadn’t made the pain go away. 
Nathan flexed and rotated his arm, testing the skin around the joint. Still a bit stiff. He put on a fresh sweater and went to his map of the city, all stuck with color-coded pins representing recent numbers of attacks by supernatural predators. He kept a stock of blue pins for any time he managed to put one of them down for good. Nathan pressed one of the blue pins into the spot where Garth had died. That made 17 since he’d started his mission. Looking at the sheer volume of other pins, Nathan tried to tell himself that this was not a losing battle.
It was only a matter of time, he kept repeating to himself. Time and determination. Then one day he’d be ready to take on Dorian and topple the power of the Council of Chains for good. One day. 
After booting up his computer and checking the news feeds for more reports of unexplained incidents or mysterious disappearances, Nathan sat back in his chair, feeling himself sink into the leather. He looked up at a collection of sketches pinned to a board on the wall. Faces of men and women dressed in styles from throughout history gazed back at him. Some pretty, some handsome, some homely. Some smiled while others frowned in anger or sadness. All young, between their late teens and early thirties. Nathan had known them all. Although he could recall their faces in perfect detail with a moment’s concentration, he still liked to look at them. Thoughts of killing and death faded away, sore muscles eased and Nathan drifted to sleep.


About the Author: 

A child at heart who turned to writing and roleplaying games when there simply weren't enough action figures to play out the stories he wanted, Paul Anthony Shortt has been writing all his life. Growing up surrounded by music, film and theatre gave him a deep love of all forms of storytelling, each teaching him something new he could use. When not playing with the people in his head, he enjoys cooking and regular meet-ups with his gaming group.

Paul lives in Ireland with his wife Jen and their dogs, Pepper and Jasper. Their first child, Conor William Henry Shortt, was born on July 11th, 2011. He passed away three days later, but brought love and joy into their lives and those of their friends. The following year, Jen gave birth to twins, Amy and Erica.

Paul's first novel, Locked Within, was released on November 6th, 2012, by WiDo Publishing. Silent Oath is the second book in this urban fantasy trilogy.




Twitter: @PAShortt


Savage Love by Raquel Taylor



Writing Paranormal

If asked my favorite creature the answer has been and will always be the Frankenstein Monster. Aside from the sheer brilliance of Mary Shelly’s writing, there is the beauty that is the monster himself. Monsters are like people, otherwise people wouldn’t be able to write them. They are the dark sides of us all and the things we fear the most. The Frankenstein Monster was brilliant. He ran faster. He jumped higher. He learned at an accelerated rate. He was, in most ways, better than the intense man that had created him in dark defiance of death itself.
My love for the monster started so long ago, I can’t really remember its beginning. In films, I always felt sorry for the big cumbersome thing that no one loved. In reading the book, I learned that the films (at least the early ones) had a lot of things wrong, like the look of the monster or the sheer neglect of his brilliance. However, the ‘unloved’ part was always the same—the pitiful rejection and the rage that comes with that kind of rejection intensified a thousand-fold by a creature that was very human on the inside.
My second favorites are Count Dracula (vampires) and the Wolfman (werewolves). Count Dracula had love taken away from him and raged against it to the point of changing himself into something else—something that could deal with that terrible loss. Dracula’s lust for timeless love is so sad, so huge, and so defiantly real, that it has kept us riveted, in one way or another, for decades. The Wolfman had a tendency to surrender to his baser self—which made him an outcast and unloved as well.  While the Larry Talbot character is usually a pretty nice guy, you don’t want to be around him during the full moon. He is what we do when we can’t control ourselves, when our greed and lusts become too large to be contained.
And, finally, there is the zombie—any zombie. Whether created by voodoo ritual or bitten by a raging Infected, the zombie is the most loveless creature of all, and the least human. These walking, shambling corpses cannot even pretend to be anything other than the hungry empty shells that they are. While not the best fodder for a love story themselves, they can easily be the glue that either holds people together to fight them off, or the thing that sets people against one another in absolute inhuman savagery.
There is a beauty in our legendary monsters and their myriad spawn that makes writing paranormal both interesting and fun. Seeking out the humanity in these creatures—even the zombies depending on what you’re reading, watching, or writing—and teasing our own humanity with their darkness…with our darkness. Our greed. Our pain. Our fear.
Frankenstein is that bastard child, the unwanted, and the, oftentimes, abused. What started out as an empty slate learned, through constant rejection, to be the monster.  If the brilliant Dr. Frankenstein had been kinder, what would have become of his monster then? Would his creation have turned on him? Would it have turned on other humans? Was the Frankenstein Monster a monster because of the strange way that he came into the world, or was he a monster because of the way the world viewed and treated him?
Dracula, at least in my opinion, wants a love that lasts forever, which is a very unrealistic, but not odd thing to want. Both he and Victor Frankenstein raged against death. They raged against loss. Dracula turned himself into something cold, something that did not need the love that he had lost—or so he thought. When that love came again, that cold vampire was a man trembling in the arms of that woman. He is merely the fear that something beautiful will be taken away from us too soon, and the frustrated rage that we can’t do anything about it. Most of his spawn (the countless vampire tales after him) talk about it in one way or another—even if it is only the mention that they miss the warmth and beauty of the sun—this is a love lost, and never to be regained,  too.
The Wolfman is a venture into a loss of control so great, so very unmanageable, that it causes you to lose everything. Love. Respect. Humanity. He is the average man’s surrender to the most terrible desires. In a civilized world, the Wolfman just won’t do. He is the murderer that didn’t mean to. He is every excuse used in every court for every crime ever committed. He is: “The devil made me do it,” personified. He is the thing that walks amongst us, pretending. He is reviled and can’t be trusted, if you can spot him in those lovely sheep’s clothing.
The zombie is a basic fear of succumbing to conformity to such a great extent that all of you is lost and there is nothing left but a thing that consumes and consumes and consumes, bringing more into the fold of that conformity. Those few remaining individuals who manage not to be infected struggle to remain themselves. Even if it’s the voodoo zombie, it is still the absolute loss of self that drives the fear of these things, and the struggles of those who are pit against them.
Within all of that, are a billion, trillion stories that can be told about people—about their loves and their lives and their battles when facing these monsters and/or becoming them. Writing paranormal is writing people. It’s writing love, and fear and hope and happiness with a touch of the supernatural amplifying very human things.


Savage Love
Raquel Taylor

Genre: Paranormal Erotica 
Publisher: Rogue Publishing, LLC
Date of Publication: August 16, 2013
ISBN: 9780989392600
Number of pages: 260
Word Count: 78,000+
Cover Artist: Yana Golyshkina

Amazon    B&N

Book Description: 

Welcome to the world of Nyw’Gaia where genetically engineered werewolves and vampires have battled for centuries. They fight to the death. They, most certainly, do not fall in love…

An illegally made vampire in his father’s Nosferatu army, Prince Skyy Hi’daat leaves the city of Nocturne for the lush alien domain beyond.  He finds this world filled with exotic inhabitants who would just as readily kill him as look at him. He is unprepared for the desire he feels in facing the werewolf that is supposed to be his natural enemy. Ravished and then rescued, his vengeance knows no bounds for the creature that dared put his filthy paws upon him.

Cathedron is the city of Arachnae’s greatest champion. On a deadly stealth mission to infiltrate Nocturne and discover the source of the infection that is eating the world, he finds he cannot help but hunt Nocturne’s gorgeous dark prince. Skyy’s scent ignites his desires in a way that is strictly criminal. Remembrances of Skyy’s body fires his blood against every law, against his own common sense. The wolf is determined to have the vampire again and make Skyy his forever.

Against the heat of the passion that threatens to consume them both, Nyw’Gaia is dying. An ancient darkness is infecting the denizens of the world and killing everything in its path. Their love is forbidden, but only their love can save Nyw’Gaia now.


Short Excerpt: 

The wolf was covered in the pierced and tattooed designs so prevalent amongst the ruins of the First Colony. The markings denoted a complete surrender to savagery, a negation of even the faintest hint of civilization. Skyy had seen designs like them in the museums and art galleries of Nocturne. They were an intermingling of the human-like designs of the First Colony along with the artwork of the aliens that had populated the planet before the first human settlers had landed hundreds of years before. The werewolf wore inked bands across the hard muscles of his arms that might have favored the Celtic designs brought from Old Earth had they not been populated with ja’anaszi stones—tiny glittering jewels that radiated with the uncanny inner light found at the mined core of Nyw’Gaia. Ja’anaszi stones were illegal in the City of Nocturne, the tiny rocks imbued with a narcotic so strong it had been known to kill on contact. Once placed upon the flesh, the stones bonded with the skin and needed the aid of a skilled surgeon to be removed. Often whole limbs were lost in the procedure. And the werewolf wore enough of them to kill an entire human district. The stones were known to be a glittering white, the light inside them throbbing to the heartbeat of the wearer. The stones the wolf wore were an uncharacteristic blood red.

Raven hair slid in a straight black wave down the creature’s shoulders and inky eyebrows arched over long black lashes. His finely sculpted face, complete with smooth cheeks and high cheekbones, was the home of arched raven eyebrows, which rose to peaks over those incredible eyes. There was something so wild about the look of him that it captivated Skyy.

He could not look away as the wind picked up the long inky cape of the werewolf’s hair and played with it, jangling the multi-colored beads and tangerine feathers that decorated it. The picture was both spellbinding and incredible and the new vampire’s mind took its sweet time processing it all, down to the silver metal and ja’anaszi stone collar that decorated the beast’s throat. Still, not quite used to his new perceptions, Skyy found this creature as fascinating as the Trinity and his body reacted to its presence in much the same manner as he had reacted to the Three Moons. The beast sparkled, the blood red stones embedded in his flesh glittering like sustenance and Skyy was suddenly filled with the dark hunger that denoted what he was, but there was something else to it…a certain and undeniable lust of a completely carnal nature.


About the Author:

Raquel Taylor enjoys writing love stories with an erotic edge. Secretly, and under a crazy pseudonym, she writes multitudes of homoerotic fanfiction based on myriad anime worlds. She does this for the love of the written word. She does this for the love of the carefully crafted worlds and characters that others have created. Most importantly, she does it in order to satisfy a need she sees in the readers of fanfiction.

Outside of this rather clandestine operation, Raquel writes love and erotica in whatever form that pleases her. She truly believes that love conquers all. With pen and keyboard she creates worlds where only love can bring light to the darkness. She creates lovers who need one another and she brings them to readers who want to experience those worlds and those people.

She writes for the love of it, against all odds. And she will never stop creating.

You can visit Raquel’s worlds at: www.theroguepublisher.com


Twitter: @roguepublishing



What Makes a Good M/M Romance
Raquel Taylor

A good M/M romance has the same qualities that made any other romance good. The job of the author is to create characters that readers want to see be together. If the author writes erotica, then the job becomes two-fold because not only do the readers want to see the characters be together but they want to see them touch one another in intimate ways that reach through the realm of the physical and burn hot enough to touch the soul. If a writer can achieve these things, then they have written a good romance and that, ultimately is the goal. 
Personally, I do not see a difference between M/M romance and any other kind. Love is, very simply, love. My goal is to create love between whatever characters I’ve decided to attempt to put together. And truthfully, sometimes they don’t fit. I believe all writers, at some point or another, have met those characters within themselves that they thought would be perfect for one another and the two couldn’t stand one another. Like people, characters have life and, if you are very careful or very lucky or both, they will fall in love within the pages of the tale you are telling. Gender doesn’t really have anything to do with whether two characters fall in love or not. 
I consider myself a romance writer with a distinct lean toward the erotic. The heat level I am trying to achieve in any story that I write is always the same. I want to create people who cannot keep their hands off each other. I want to create people so deeply in love that they cannot live without one another. I need them to need one another—physically, emotionally, and completely. Is that the dream? Even if we have abandoned it, it was there once upon a time for each of us—the need to have someone as close to us as breath, someone we could trust, someone we could love without fear. In creating characters in answer to that need, the gender of the lovers has never been something I’ve been concerned about. I want the love. I want the passion. I want the need that inspires the painful honesty that it takes for someone to admit to someone else: “I love you. I need you.”
Are there differences between boys and girls? Yes, there are. A writer must adjust. It is my humble belief if you make those differences the goal of the story, though, then you are going down the wrong path. While those differences must be recognized, love is the goal. How you achieve that love, how many obstacles you throw in the path of your lovers, and how they conquer those obstacles is up to you.  The obstacles to a M/M relationship may be different than those for a M/F relationship depending on the setting that you choose, but in the end, love is the symphony that you are playing for the audience that chooses to listen. If you remember that, then you cannot fail to bring something beautiful to life. 
I’ve read M/M romances for years. I have a passion for Yaoi/Manwa like you wouldn’t believe, and, in my spare time (of which there has been a lot lately), I write naughty stories for people who appreciate my brand on that genre. I’ve seen flaws (or what I see as flaws anyway) that I’ve wanted to correct. First of all, there is a great tendency for M/M stories to end in tragedy for one of both parties. I do not read romances to cry my eyes out at the end. I do not want to be left asking: “Why couldn’t those two people just be happy, huh?” I know that all stories do not end well. Shakespeare is one of my favorite authors and he had a lock on tragedy. However, the tendency for M/M romances to end in tragedy is extremely high. Two examples that I can give you are: The King and the Clown and Legend of the Blue Wolves. The King and the Clown is a beautiful Asian thing, and Legend of the Blue Wolves is an anime. Both will rip your heart right out of your chest. Still, you will be happy that you saw them. The love is there. It’s undeniable, and while I’d like, very much, to slap the writers for hurting me in that way, I can do nothing but appreciate the beauty of the delivery of these particular stories. 
Secondly, boys are not girls. If you’re going to write M/M, make sure that’s what it is, and not M/Pseudo-female. A boy is a boy even if his hair is long and his eyes are big and he likes to wear dresses part-time. Time and again, I’ve read stories where one of the characters was only missing a pair of breasts to complete him. While I realize that there are some lovely guys out there that truly feel this way, and I would like nothing more than read or write about something like that, it’s not what I mean here. I’ve read several manga where the author stopped in the middle of the story and made a note like: “Wouldn’t it be cute if he was a girl in this particular love scene?” Harsh as it may sound, I’ve put books down for that. 
So, in writing M/M romance, let my boys be boys and let their love be deep, heartfelt, and fervent. It would help if they lived together, to a ripe old age, and died in each other’s arms, but I’m not telling you what to write there, simply what I’d love to read. I focus on the love, grow it in their hearts like flowers, and water those throbbing, crimson heart-flowers with lots of passion because we are people and when we are fortunate enough to find that marvelous other—passion. 
Write people who fall in love…Hard…Tangled like a spider’s web…and make them love it. That’s what makes good romance. 

In Dreams... The Solitary Road by S.I. Hayes



Interview

1)      First, tell us about yourself – where  you live, your family, and those sorts of details.

Let's see I live in Ansonia, Connecticut. Grew up in Milford Connecticut. I am the baby of the family, but have the Independent streak of a first born. I write tales that I want to read. I write because I am compelled to do so. It is an outlet for the tumultuous and often twisted bits that go on in my head, if I didn't get it out I would probably be far less adjusted than I am. I tend to be a wee bit of a control freak, and often will take over any conversation I am a party to. Some would say this makes me a bitch. Others would teli you it's a part of my charm, or that my being Bi-Polar has much to do with it. I don't really know one way or the other, but frankly I think it takes being a wee bit crazy and unstable to be able to put out the kind of work that makes you think about those around you. Many of the best writers from yesteryear had something going on. Hemingway was a drunk, Poe addicted to one substance or another. Hell even Freud was a coke head for awhile. I think that these facets of the person make for interesting storytellers. In the end all one really needs to know about me is that I am a tellers of tales, and I hope that some will appreciate them.

2)      How long have  you been writing?

For as long as I could spell. Even before that my family would tell you that I have been telling stories. Just off the fly when ever I thought of them. I could never contain the tales within, which is why I started writing.

3)      Do you have a favorite place to write?

I can write anywhere.I am rarely seen without a pen and some paper. In high school I even used napkins from the cafeteria when I had to get an idea down. I'm currently remodeling so that I have a better use of my space for writing interrupted.

4)      Why did you decide to write In Dreams... The Solitary Road?

I wrote In Dreams... The Solitary Road  to serve as a companion novella to my first work In Dreams... The Road Unavoidable, published back in 2012. It was to supposed to be a short story that simply explained Amara Dagon my protagonist's background. A means to show how she came to be as she is in the 1st book. But as I continued to write, it took on its own life, as my work tends to do. This brought me to realize that the first work was simply a wee bit intimidating, finishing out at well over 400 pages... It got me to thinking that I had missed something in ending it as I had, so now I have gone back to the writing board and tweaked the first tale, making it the second in the series. Re-titling it In Dreams... The Unavoidable Road. Both of which are now available on Amazon.com. I am current;y working on the third in the series. To be titled In Dreams... The Savage Road. The actual inspiration for the work? A combination of many different stimuli. From Video games and music to films, friends and Continental Drift Theory. It's my means of writing how I perceive the human condition in all its wants, needs pomps and glories.

5)      Who is your favorite character in your book and why?

 In this installment, I would have to say that all of the Raepuwa were my favorite characters to write. I had to develop a language for them based on signs and body movements for those characters that did not speak with voice. It was fun watching my pets communicate to each other and shaping those actions into an humanoid character.

6)      How about your least favorite character?  What makes them less appealing to you?

 I love all of my characters... Even the villains, when you spend as much time with a character/s as we writers do I don't think there is any way you can not love and hate them all in equal measure. Some days the cooperate, other days they go mute. It's like any other relationship at the end of the day you roll with the punches.

7)      Do you proofread/edit your own books or do you get someone to do that for you?

I have recently worked with BETA readers, that's about as far as I go as to letting anyone else get their hands on my work before it's released. I do my own edits, and am a stickler for the Oxford Comma. I tend to run on an on, but that's my style... Like it or not, I'm not changing what works for me.

8)      What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

Garden, plan more works, draw, read, do book reviews for Indy Authors... See the occasional movie...

9)      Do you read much and if so who are your favorite authors?

I have spent a considerable bit of time reading as of late. I host many authors on The 131 Preview Review, my Review/Interview Blog, of those indy authors, one of my most favorite is Eri Nelson, she has this way of twisting a tale and molding it so that even the flow of her sentences is primal there is an uninhibitedness that reaches out to me and makes me scream to read more.

10)   What question do you wish that someone would ask about your book, but nobody has? Write it out here, then answer it.

I have seen many questions as of late. Many I've answered more than once, and many I myself have asked. But A question I wish people would ask? I don't really know, I suppose I wish that I could spend more time picking the brains of those who have read my work. I think that there are always going to be questions like why did you write this, who was it written for? And such, actually that's one I haven't had..

Who did you write this book for?

The answer, I wrote for Amara Dagon, because she asked me to...


In Dreams... The Solitary Road
S.I.Hayes

Genre: Fantasy
Publisher: S.I.Hayes
Date of Publication: October 1, 2013
ISBN-13: 978-1491092118 
ISBN-10: 1491092114
Number of pages: 206
Word Count: 45k
Cover Artist: S.I.Hayes and Eri Nelson

Book Description: 

Dumped in a treacherous Arctic land, Amara Dagon must master her spell craft if she is to survive a year in exile, but fear, doubt and the loss of her family threatens to take hold. Can Amara gain control of her magic or will she succumb to it leaving her people in the hands of a dangerous tyrant?



Excerpt

She stood with the Queen in her hands, humming as she had been taught by her tutors. The Queen darted from her hands, flitting this way and that, as it did so, the other Hymenopteria began to awaken from their long cold time slumber. The swarm rose, filling the sky. Amara stood frozen, her fear holding her and her voice at the gate of silence. She could not continue the hum or the chat that should have followed. Her fear was too great; the idea that this insect could kill her in moments overwhelmed her. The swarm came in a rush, down upon the masses of people. Pandemonium ensued. They ran. Ran into their homes, headed for the water, others high tailed it to the Inn on the hillside. Rosaline had no choice but to step in, she took Amara’s place in the center of the swarm, wrapping her arms protectively around Amara.
“Jeremiah! Come take her, wrap her in your garb. Keep her from the queen! She will seek her out!” Amara’s mother’s voice was filled with demanding concern. Jeremiah did as he was told, staying low to the ground avoiding the insects’ stings.
Within a few moments, Rosaline had stopped the swarm, her presence seemed to be all that was needed, when it was over and all was calm, three people were dead, including Carrola, Beatrice’s youngest child. 
To make matters worse, because Amara was unable to finish her final initiation, the task of calming them, there was no alternative, their appeasement could only be held firm with smoke and blood.
This was the isle’s way, so said Rosaline, according to her Priestess texts, which were conveniently translated by Beatrice. Stating that if ever the insects failed to calm in the presence of a High Priestess it was because the Divine Goddess wanted a libation. In the past this had been done regularly, to keep the flow of Trialade in check, but the last time was more than sixty years ago.
A choice had to be made, either it was to be the blood of the initiate, or the blood of the father. Since Amara was an only child, and Jeremiah had forfeited his pervious life to become High Priest, he knew it was his duty to keep Amara safe. He would keep his promise to her, in the only way he could. He sacrificed himself, so that she would be spared. He never dreamed that Rosaline’s cruelty could go so far...


As part of the ritual to appease the Divine, Jeremiah was beaten, first publically lashed by Rosaline and Beatrice, while Amara was forced to watch. When this was done, he was taken away by guards who all but crippled him. Once the pyre had been created, he was dragged to its base, lugged up the steps, and tied by guards, a few of whom were visibly in tears.
In the time of Nathan, and Jeremiah, the treatment of men, was a far fairer time. Before them, stories were told of atrocities as the one now witnessed happening on a far larger and more frequent scale. The entirety of the Isles people were gathered as the ritual played out. Amara was held tightly by Amaranth, and handed a torch, she was to be the one to light the fire. Adorned in white robes she was pushed forward, the torch in her hand, as Rosaline chanted. The words escaped Amara as she looked into her fathers bloodied face. She couldn’t do it, even as the man nodded, giving her permission. Amara collapsed, hoping that this would end it, but she was dragged away screaming for her father, as Rosaline, glared at her, then took up the torch, and finished it. The kindness of Amara’s world ended in that instant.


About the Author: 

I am the Co-Author to Awakenings: The Wrath Saga, a paranormal drama likened to Big Brother meets The Real World, of the Preternatural.

I'm currently working on the sequels to In Dreams... Due for release in 2014.
I have a mind that is easily distracted and prone to wandering. Tangents are my forte, and if you think my characters are going to fit a cookie cutter shape of any kind, think again. They live, they love, they eat, sleep and fuck. I believe that people are inherently sexual creatures and my characters be they human or something all together else are no exception.
 
I don't adhere to a single genera, I toe the line on several and wouldn't presume to be a master of any. So I suppose you could call me jack-of-all-trade-paperbacks.
I am a truth seeker, in my life, in my work. I’d apologize for it, but I kinda can't help m’self. It's my best and worse personality trait, well mostly, being Bi-Polar I guess you could say that is the worse. But I believe that the disorder has made me, well... Me. 

I have taken this life and twisted, carved, shaped and molded it in to the worlds of my characters. Albeit with a chainsaw, and it has made all the difference





Into The Fire by Jodi McIsaac




Book Two of the Thin Veil Series
Pub Date: November 12th 2013
Blurb:
Cedar McLeod would like nothing more than to return to Tír na nÓg, help rebuild the mythical kingdom, and start a new life for herself and her daughter, Eden. But peace is isn’t what Cedar finds after being reunited with her little girl.

Nuala—who kidnapped and terrorized Eden in her previous bid for power—has returned and is making a persuasive claim for the vacant throne. The devastation such a ruler would bring upon both the kingdom and the human world is unthinkable. With no one else to stake a convincing counter-claim, Cedar steps forward . . . but first she must prove her worth beyond a doubt.

Her opportunity comes when she is charged with finding an ancient treasure, the Stone of Destiny, and returning it to its rightful home. It is a quest that will lead her to question her beliefs, and push her loyalties to their limits. If she succeeds, Cedar could grant her new world and her new family a chance to flourish again. If not . . . destruction may be the only path ahead.

Into the Fire, the second book in the Thin Veil series, is a captivating blend of Celtic myth, mystery, and adventure that delves deeper into the ancient world first explored in Through the Door.

Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/15852286-into-the-fire?ac=1
Amazon Link: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00C1IPQTY?ie=UTF8&tag=httpwwwgoodco-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00C1IPQTY&SubscriptionId=1MGPYB6YW3HWK55XCGG2



Book 1: Through the Door
Published: April 23rd 2013 by 47North 
It’s been seven years since the love of Cedar McLeod’s life left with no forwarding address. All she has left of him are heart-wrenching memories of happier times and a beautiful six-year-old daughter, Eden. Then, one day, Eden opens her bedroom door and unwittingly creates a portal that leads to anywhere she imagines.

But they’re not the only ones who know of Eden’s gift, and soon the child mysteriously vanishes.

Desperate for answers, Cedar digs into the past and finds herself thrust into a magical world of Celtic myths, fantastical creatures, and bloody rivalries. Teaming up with the unlikeliest of allies, Cedar must bridge the gap between two worlds and hold tight to the love in her heart…or lose everything to an ancient evil.

The first in the Thin Veil series, Through the Door is a pulse-pounding adventure that takes readers across the globe and deep into the hidden realms of Celtic lore.
Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17171950-through-the-door
Amazon Link: http://www.amazon.com/Through-Door-Thin-Veil-ebook/dp/B00AJXXA4G/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=&qid


About the Author: 
Hello! I'm the author of THROUGH THE DOOR, the first book in the Celtic urban fantasy series The Thin Veil. Book #2, INTO THE FIRE, is being released November 12, 2013.

I grew up in New Brunswick, Canada. After stints as a short-track speed skater, a speechwriter, and fundraising and marketing executive in the nonprofit sector, I started a boutique copywriting agency and began writing novels in the wee hours of the morning. I currently live with my husband and two feisty daughters in Calgary, Alberta.
Links:
Website: http://www.jodimcisaac.com/
Twitter: @jodimcisaac
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5826477.Jodi_McIsaac 
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jodimcisaac

Books Aren't Just For Reading by Laina Turner





The Presley Thurman Mysteries
by Laina Turner

About The Author:



Who am I? It kind of depends on the day. I am a human compendium of unrelated things. I used to think I was just weird, had shiny ball syndrome and couldn’t focus, scattered, you name it. Then I decided it was OK to be all over the place as long as each avenue I wanted to explore had meaning and purpose or was fun. So I embrace the fact I am a college professor, a writer of fiction and non-fiction, promoter of other authors, human resource professional, business consultant, mom, and all around interesting person (according to my closest friends).


When I’m not working toward my goals I like, ok fine, LOVE wine, coffee, shopping, and books. I enjoy my kids, they are awesome. I hate the cold but yet live in the mid-west. Vegas is one of my favorite spots as I love to people watch and if I ever get married again it will definitely be in a drive through chapel by a fake Elvis.











Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Murderous Matrimony by Joyce and Jim Lavene



Interview

1) First, tell us about yourself – where  you live, your family, and those sorts of details.

My husband, Jim and I write together. We were married 40 years in April 2013. We live in North Carolina, right outside Charlotte. We have three children, all grown, and five grandchildren. We also have two kitties, Quincy and Stan, and our rescue dog, Rudi.

2) How long have  you been writing?

Together, since the early 1990s. Joyce has been writing since she came out of the womb. Jim is a late bloomer.

3) Do you have a favorite place to write?

We have a very nice office with a lovely view of the woods.

4) Why did you decide to write Murderous Matrimony?

Murderous Matrimony is the 6th book in the Renaissance Faire Mysteries. This may be our favorite book in the series because Jessie and Chase (our protagonists) are getting married.

5) Who is your favorite character in your book and why?

Tough call. We love the walking tree they call the Green Man. But we also love Robin Hood and the pirates. Jessie is great because she is a normal person in the midst of craziness. And Chase – well – he’s gorgeous and hunky.

6) How about your least favorite character?  What makes them less appealing to you?

Least favorite would probably be the king, King Harold. Or Queen Olivia. They have some redeeming values, but mostly they are all about the show.

7) Do you proofread/edit your own books or do you get someone to do that for you?

We edit and hire someone to do it as well. We also have a nice group of readers who help our pre-publication.

8) What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

Drive around in the car and take photos of cool stuff.

9) Do you read much and if so who are your favorite authors?

We read a lot, when not writing. Jim is reading Ender Game right now. Joyce just finished the first Dresden Files book.

10) What question do you wish that someone would ask about your book, but nobody has? Write it out here, then answer it.

Will Jessie and Chase have a child who grows up at the Renaissance Faire?

Maybe. It’s too early to say, but many children do live at the Faire with their parents. Huzzah!



Novel length supernatural mystery at about 55,000 words. 
In less than two short weeks, Jessie Morton will marry Chase Manhattan at the Renaissance Faire Village and Marketplace. But so much can go wrong in that short time. A man is murdered in Jessie's new Arts and Crafts Museum and her assistant is being scrutinized for the deed. Chase's brother and parents have arrived and are still against their marriage. Wanda's ghost is busy making Jessie's life miserable. The Ren Faire wedding of her dreams may never take place. Can she talk Chase into eloping before it's too late?





Bio:

Joyce and Jim Lavene write award-winning, best-selling mystery fiction as themselves, J.J. Cook and Ellie Grant. They have written and published more than 60 novels for Harlequin, Berkley, Amazon and Gallery Books along with hundreds of non-fiction articles for national and regional publications. They live in rural North Carolina with their family. Visit them at www.joyceandjimlavene.com.