Nightfall on New Babylon by Carmen Dominque Taxer & Richard T Wheeler @RichTWheeler

I have been reading and reviewing some books that authors have requested and they have been a pleasant surprise. Nightfall on New Babylon by Carmen Taxer and Richard Wheeler is one of these books.

Nightfall on New Babylon (Gaslight Vamp #1)

Amazon / Goodreads

MY REVIEW

Nightfall on New Babylon by Carmen Dominque Taxer and Richard T Wheeler is told from multiple character viewpoints. At times I found it confusing trying to remember who was who and what’s happening to them, but I do love my vampire stories, so I read on and I’m glad I did.

Things started falling into place. Characters are being exposed for who they truly are. Horrors arise and they are not only the vampire kind.

The women seem to pay the biggest price. As I learn more about the four main characters, I find their lives tragic and frightening. There is more going on than meets the eye and the ending set me up for wanting to know what comes next.

The setting seems like the time of Jack the Ripper in England, but I could visualize the street and ruins of Italy too.

Cliffhanger ending that hooked me.

I voluntarily reviewed a free copy of Nightfall of New Babylon by Carmen Dominque Taxer and Richard T Wheeler.

Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos
3 Stars

GOODREADS BLURB

Nightfall on New Babylon (Gaslight Vamp #1)

A Gothic Political Thriller Serial in a Victorian Vampire Horror Setting

In a city built on sin, the immortal Lords of Night move all the pieces.

New Babylon is a city of sin, built on lies told over generations. The inhabitants may think they are the masters of their own destinies at the dawn of the Scientific Revolution, but as night falls on New Babylon, the true Lords of Night once again move their pieces across the playing field in a secret war for dominance – Devika Templeton is a girl who has it all, including a nightly visitor; Roald Black has lost it all, but the truth is even more painful than the loss will ever be; Dalla Arnesen must rebuild her scuttled career, a tenuous feat in a city set against her; and Victoria Campbell has a secret that she must share with her rich suitor if she has any hope of escaping the streets.

Binding all four together with strings of obligation and pain is House D’Asur, the disgraced Lords of the Glass Manor – Those who would be Lords of Night again.

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

Carmen Dominique Taxer

Carmen Dominque Taxer: Author, artist, and sometime philosopher, Carmen Dominique Taxer was born in South Africa with familial roots across the globe. She began her career with early scribblings of the dark and twisted, and this love of dark Gothic Horror, and equally dark Romance, has only grown over the years. Her first love was vampires, and to this day she cannot write without the words pouring out in the shape of roses, blood, and thorny kisses.
Carmen uses the presence of vampires in a fictional setting to give voice to the struggles and successes of humanity, painting a portrait of the world that is both dark and beautifully highlighted with love conquering death above all else.

She and her husband and co-author, Richard T. Wheeler, have constructed a universe of these vampires with the affectionate title of Sanguinem Emere. All of these stories take place in the fictional city of New Babylon, a melting pot of cultures, ethnicities, and desires.

Website

Richard T. Wheeler

About Richard T Wheeler: Richard T. Wheeler is the co-author of the Sanguinem Emere Gaslight Vamp novel serial and runs Dauntlesswriting.com, helping writers become authorpreneurs.

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Giveaway, Review, Short Story – Kendra Sparks Series by S Peters Davis @spdavis788 @RoxanneRhoads

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MY REVIEW FOR UNORTHODOX by S Peters-Davis

Kendra is an author of mystery romance novels. A woman after my own heart. She is also a ghost whisperer. She doesn’t leave her comfort zone, whether in fashion or personality. That will all change when Jenna seeks her help

Jenna is her best friend and quickly becomes a ghost. Fantastic personality and I can relate to her. She is afraid for her FBI father and hangs around, refusing to go into the light. She wonders how Jenna could be her best friend and she not realize she was gay. It makes her question herself. Kendra’s mind just never went there.

The plot thickens and bodies fall.

Kendra will be working with Derek Knight, who Jenna was investigating the death of numerous FBI agents with. I feel a romance in the making. The attraction was quick and it developed rapidly, them being pushed together all day, every day.

Of course, I knew she would have to do something stupid, ignoring her intuition. It happens in all romantic suspense novels. It can be frustrating, but builds the suspense, knowing she’s in big trouble with a capital T.

Well, I was right about one thing, but it wasn’t the killer and it didn’t go down the way I thought. I love when an author can surprise me and keep me guessing. And…now I know.

There’s more to come in this series and I want to be there with the gang. I can imagine all the hoots, laughs and danger that will be coming their way.

I voluntarily reviewed a free copy of Unorthodox by S Peters Davis.

Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos
4 Stars

Ghost-Riddance!
A short story by S. Peters-Davis
                                              
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wandered around, waiting for someone to see me?” I studied her misshaped face. Her eyes read, ‘who gives a rip.’ A deep sigh later, I zoomed through the air to catch up with her. “So, what’s your name?” Something about her seemed familiar to me.
“Go find someone else to pester.” Only a short side-glance at me, and she hiked on, trekking through the forest, ever closer to where my bones lay.
“How long have you been able to communicate with the dead?” I would engage her, make her listen to my story, and why would that even matter? All of my family had long passed from this world. “Do you ever take a beat to rest?”
She stopped and glared at me. “If I talk to you for a minute, then will you leave me alone forever?”
“Forever?”
Her eyes misted over. “I’m not feeling friendly. I don’t wish to chat, and certainly not to a stranger. Can’t you see I’m upset?” A tear took a nosedive and slipped off her chin.
“Who’s responsible for your misery? I’ll haunt them ’til the end of time.” I stomped my foot, even though it made no sound and actually slipped below the ground surface for a second.
She laughed. Her voice rose above the birdsong and then ricocheted off the trees eerily like a haunted forest. She fell to the ground with uncontrolled gasps and guffaws of laughter. Her eyes leaked a lot as she rolled half in and half out of the ground, and then suddenly, she stopped with a hiccup. Her brilliant blues swept over me. She sat up with her legs stretched out in front of her.
“I meant what I said, not a joking matter haunting someone ’til the end of time.” I folded myself to the ground beside her, arms crossed over my chest to impress my seriousness on her.
Her full, shapely lips stretched into a smile. “So, why are you stuck in the forest? Who are you anyway?”
“Landus James, at your service.” I reached my hand toward her, and she grabbed it. My eyes went wide as did my mouth that we could actually touch each other.
“Yea, so…what does one ghost say to the other?” She grinned and stood.
I followed suit, rising from the ground as I recognized those lovely blues staring back at me. “Zee?” I held her at arms-length. “How? Why?”
“You’re not the only one wandering through this forest in search of your significant other.” She studied me, scanning. “What happened to you? Half of your face is gone.”
“It is?” I touched my cheeks, feeling raw tissue and bone on the right side of my face. Something I’d never been able to do before now. What a nightmare I must look like after being mauled by a grizzly. “I had no idea my spirit-self would be portrayed as I must have appeared in death.” I studied her face, parts swollen, discolored, and gory. “What happened to you?”
“Someone attacked me from behind. I don’t know who as I lost consciousness with the first blow to the back of my head. I had gone looking for you the next morning. You had taken the gun long before nightfall, looking for supper while I set up our camp.” She looked around me, her focus on the ground underneath the branches of a big oak tree, where my bones rested. “All this time I’ve been looking for you, and there you are.” Her attention drifted back to me. “Let’s go bless your bones, then I’ll show you where mine lay to rest.”
We ambled over to the tree. Zee spoke the words, “Blessed are those who live in love.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the south. “Let me take you to where I lay so you may speak a blessing for me.”
We moved with the wind as it hurled us between the trees and shrubbery. My heart lifted to heights it hadn’t visited for many centuries. Our fingers entwined a little tighter as we passed through miles of wooded terrain. Then suddenly, Zee drew my body closer, we slowed and settled beneath a huge walnut tree.
“Here I am,” she said, looking toward the ground.
Her remains resonated within my spirit, and I knew exactly where she lay. “You lay here.” I bent to touch the earth, and my hand vanished below the surface. “Blessed are those who live in love.”
As soon as the last word left my lips, everything went dark, and I wondered if I’d gone to hell…
* * *
My body shook incessantly to the words, “Wake up. Wake up right now! Landus, please wake up.”
I opened my eyes to Zee. Her lovely unmarred face hovered above mine, the sun creating a halo around her beautiful blonde hair. “Where are we?” I asked, raising to my elbows and looking around. The forest appeared the same.
She pinched me.
“Ouch. Why’d you do that?” I stared at her, noticing how beautiful she looked. How fresh and alive her cheeks blushed.
She started laughing like before.
The brambles, sticks, and dirt poked into my forearms, and I sat to brush it off, realizing I could actually feel the outside world.
My breath sucked in, my lungs filled, I breathed.
“We get a second chance, darling.” Zee settled on my lap, her lips gently finding mine.
I responded, fervent for more but not fully understanding how we could be together after being apart for so long.
She pressed her body against mine. Her heart thrummed against my chest.
We were alive.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she drew back, licking my lips as we parted. “I want you right now, right here.”
I sucked in another breath, fully aroused and on fire for her. “Blessed are those who live in love.”
“Ghost riddance,” she muttered against my lips and then proceeded to rip my shirt from my body.




Unorthodox
A Kendra Spark Novel
Book One       
S. Peters-Davis           

Genre: Paranormal Suspense-Thriller Romance
with a good dollop of Supernatural

Publisher: Books We Love Publishing

Date of Publication: September 15, 2017

ASIN: B073MZZPVM
ISBN 978-1-77362-303-0

Number of pages: 153 pages
Word Count: 63,000

Cover Artist: CoverUp.Net

Book Tagline:  Kendra’s ability of communicating with the dead is requested by her FBI criminal analyst friend to stop a killer from murdering agents.

Series Tagline: Kendra sees ghosts, and then her BFF, Jenna, becomes one. The two friends and FBI agent Derek Knight fight for justice to the victims of heinous crimes.

Book Description:

Kendra Spark, suspense-mystery romance author and communicator with the dead, is requested to hop on the first flight to D.C.

Jenna Powers, FBI criminal analyst and estranged best friend of Kendra, gets ghosticized in a fatal accident before relaying all the details of the FBI killer case.

Derek Knight, a dedicated FBI Special Task Force agent, takes lead on the case.

The investigation into the FBI agent killings continues as Kendra, Jenna – yes, even after death – and Derek work together on the case before Director of the Special Task Force Jackson Powers’ number is up. He’s Jenna’s father and the end-game of the killer’s target list.

Somehow the elusive killer remains undetected, until Kendra’s unique ability produces results and a final possibility at stopping his killing spree before it’s too late.

Amazon     BN      Smashwords      Kobo



Malevolent
A Kendra Spark Novel
Book Two
S. Peters-Davis

Genre: Supernatural, Suspense-thriller, Romance

Publisher: BWL Publisher

Date of Publication: August 10, 2018

ASIN: B07G36D3JC
EPUB 978-0-2286-0419-8
Kindle 978-0-2286-0420-4
WEB 978-0-2286-0421-1

Amazon Print 978-0-2286-0422-8
BWL Print 978-0-2286-0423-5

Number of pages: E-book length: 150 
Number of pages: Print length: 195
Word Count: 57,500

Cover Artist:  Michelle Lee

Tagline: Trafficked girls marked to lose their souls by a malevolent supernatural entity require someone with explicit abilities for their rescue. Will Kendra be able to save them?

Book Description:

Kendra Spark, suspense-mystery writer and communicator with the dead, signs on to the next FBI Special Task Force case, trafficked girls that are marked to lose their souls.

Jenna Powers, ghostified criminal analyst, sticks close to the case as she and Kendra are also marked by the same malevolent supernatural force.

Derek Knight, lead FBI Agent on this case, learns of the malevolent entity and the deeper paranormal realm of danger.

Kendra’s unfiltered feelings for Derek struggle to take a backseat, and as the menacing threat grows more intense, so does her passion for Derek.

Derek faces uncertainties he’s never dealt with in his past, like malicious entities and the loss of his heart to love. How can he protect Kendra against forces he can’t see?   

As boundless supernatural danger intertwines with the future reality of the trafficked teens, Kendra and Jenna realize only they can shoulder the rescue by calling in a voodoo priestess…

Amazon      BN      Kobo      Smashwords

Scribed      Indigo      Books2Read


Albatross A Kendra Spark Novel
Kendra Spark Series 
Book Three
S. Peters-Davis

Genre: Supernatural, Paranormal, Suspense-Romance

Publisher: BWL Publishing, Inc.

Date of Publication: June 1, 2019

ISBN-10: 0228608910
ISBN-13: 978-0228608912
ASIN: B07S29TF9V

Number of pages: 210
Word Count: 60,200

Cover Artist: Michelle Lee

Tagline: A cold-case investigation ends in facing the ultimate psychopaths, a highly-accredited police director gone crime lord and a beautiful malevolent “albatross of a spirit.”

Book Description:

Kendra Spark, Derek Knight, and “ghosty” Jenna Powers, members of an FBI special task force, investigate a cold-case and end up facing the ultimate psychopaths, a highly-accredited police director gone crime lord and a beautiful malevolent “albatross of a spirit.” Both want Kendra for her unique abilities but might settle for Jenna instead.

Derek stops at nothing to keep Kendra and Jenna safe, but what if the worst-case scenario happens, an unstoppable villain and villainess of the dark plane that picks the earth plane as their stomping ground?


Books2Read      Amazon

About the Author:

S. Peters-Davis writes multi-genre stories, but loves penning a good page-turning suspense-thriller, especially when it’s a ghost story and a romance. When she’s not writing, editing, or reading, she’s hiking, RV’ing, fishing, playing with grandchildren, or enjoying time with her favorite muse (her husband) in Southwest Michigan.

As DK Davis, she also writes YA and NA paranormal, supernatural novels that involve diverse and mature subject matter.



BWL Publishing Inc.: http://bookswelove.net/  




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The Ghoul Girl – Flesh by Laura Bickle @Laura_Bickle @RoxanneRhoads



Flesh
Laura Bickle

Genre: YA Horror

Date of Publication: September 19, 2017

ISBN: 9781537857992
ASIN: B074XBJ697

Number of pages: 307
Word Count: 76,573

Cover Artist: Danielle Fine

Book Description:

The dead are easy to talk to. Live people, not so much.

Charlie Sulliven thinks she knows all the secrets of the dead. Raised in a funeral home, she’s the reluctant “Ghoul Girl,” her reputation tied to a disastrous Halloween party. But navigating her life as a high school sophomore is an anxiety-inducing puzzle to her. She haunts the funeral home with her parents, emo older brother, Garth, their pistol-packing Gramma, and the glass-eyeball-devouring dachshund, Lothar.

Chewed human bodies are appearing in her parents’ morgue…and disappearing in the middle of the night. The bodies seem tied to a local legend, Catfish Bob, who has resurfaced in the muddy Milburn river near Charlie’s small town. When one of Charlie’s classmates, Amanda, awakens in the cooler as a flesh-eating ghoul, Charlie must protect her newfound friend and step up to unravel the mystery…and try to avoid becoming lunch meat for the dead.

          Amazon     BN     Kobo     iBooks


Excerpt

“Amanda, I…Oh.”
            I don’t know what else to say. My brain just shuts down.
            She is wearing the sheet, wound around her like a toga. It trails behind her bare feet, sort of like a painting about Greek goddesses I’ve seen in art books. She’s leaning over another body stored in the cooler unit on a cart. Her back is to me, and I can only see her pale skin and her burgundy-black hair shuddering.
            “Amanda.”
            She turns at the sound of my voice, seeming only to hear me for the first time. Her face is covered in dark blood. In her hand, she’s holding a big chunk of purple flesh. Her eyes are half-closed. The autopsy incision on the elderly body below her has been ripped open, and I’m pretty sure that what she’s holding is a lung.
            “So hungry…” she murmurs.
            I retreat until my back presses against the cold door. A whimper escapes my lips, and I drop the laundry basket with a sharp crack of plastic on the tile floor. This has to be a dream. A screwed-up anxiety dream that I’ll wake up from any moment now…
            Amanda’s black eyes snap open. She stares at the chunk of flesh in her hand. “I…Agh…What’s going on?”
            Lothar waddles over to her and begins to beg. Bile rises in my throat. “That’s Mrs. Canner,” I manage to answer. “She’s seventy-two and died of surgery complications for varicose veins. Deep vein thrombosis, I think. I don’t remember.” I’m babbling, trying to keep the bile down.
            Amanda drops the lung with a wet splat. The dog scrambles to it and begins scarfing it down. Her hands are trembling. She presses them to her temples. “I don’t understand. I don’t understand.”
            I nudge the laundry basket closer to her with my foot. “I brought you some clothes. And, um. Food. You should get dressed.”
            I think I should be afraid. I think I really ought to be. But Amanda seems genuinely confused. She reaches for the clothes I’ve brought her. To be polite, I know that I should really look away. But I can’t move. I am not turning my back on her. My heart pounds, and I struggle to take deep, uneven breaths.
            Amanda unwinds the sheet and slips into my clothes. Though I avert my eyes, I see that her shoulder and side are still torn open. But my mother hasn’t begun the autopsy yet, so there is no Y-incision across her chest and abdomen.
            “Do you remember what happened to you?” I manage to ask. I congratulate myself for having a rational thought. Woot.

            Her voice is halting, and her brow wrinkles as she struggles to button my jeans. “I remember…something was chasing me. Jesus, it hurt…” Her hand comes up to her neck, and she seems to remember, fingering the edges of the wound. “Am I in a hospital?” she asks again.
            I suck in a breath. “No. You’re at my house.” It’s not a lie. Not really.
            She scans the room, as if registering the sight of the cadavers. “You’re the girl whose parents run the funeral home. The Ghoul Girl.”
            “It’s gonna be okay,” I tell her.
            “Why am I here?” Her breath makes ghosts in the cold air.
            “The Sheriff found you, alongside the road.” That’s true also, even if not the whole truth. “I think we should get you upstairs, so you can talk to my parents…”
            She shakes her head, and her dark hair slaps across her face. “No. I…Oh my god. I’m here because…somebody thought I was dead?”
            I swallow hard. “Yeah.” 

About the Author:

Laura Bickle grew up in rural Ohio, reading entirely too many comic books out loud to her favorite Wonder Woman doll. After graduating with an MA in Sociology-Criminology from Ohio State University and an MLIS in Library Science from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee, she patrolled the stacks at the public library and worked with data systems in criminal justice. She now dreams up stories about the monsters under the stairs. Her work has been included in the ALA’s Amelia Bloomer Project 2013 reading list and the State Library of Ohio’s Choose to Read Ohio reading list for 2015-2016.

More information about Laura’s work can be found at:



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MY LAURA BICKLE REVIEWS

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A New To Me Zombie – The Earthdead by Mark James Wooding #Mark James Wooding

I saw the cover for The Earthdead and it made me curious. At first glance, it looks like it could be a children’s book, .then, I looked closer at the hand on the tree. That’s not a very nice hand. The title made me more curious, so I had to read it.

The Earthdead

Indigo / Goodreads

MY REVIRE

The Earthdead by Mark James Wooding was a quick and dirty read. LOL

Rebecca woke up with something heavy on her chest and a bad taste in her mouth.

The Community of Men are on the hunt for Rebecca. The town knew the rumors of Earthdead rising from the ground to feast on humans.

The Earthdead is a different take on the Undead and looking at the cover I was fooled. I thought it was a children’s book, I didn’t foresee the gruesomeness, but the deaths are not the ususal bloody or gory for zombies….maybe when she seeks her revenge Rebecca will do worse.

For it’s originality, fun and entertainment value I give it a three.

I voluntarily reviewed a free copy of The Earthdead by Mark James Wooding.

Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos
3 Stars

GOODREADS BLURB

A certain fungus brings corpses back from the dead. After the dead revive, they become stronger, faster, and smarter than they were. They can also travel underground. And there’s only one item on their menu: human flesh.

Two local lodges, the Community of Men and the Community of Women, must once again step up to defend the county against an evil that most people don’t even believe exists.

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Beneath London’s Fog by Iona Caldwell @IonaCaldwell7 @SydeFyre

Hey guys. Are you ready for a trip to London…but it won’t be the trip you imagine.

Beneath London's Fog

Amazon / Goodreads

MY REVIEW

The eerie cover of Beneath London’s Fog by Ilona Caldwell makes me think of Jack the Ripper and ghosts. Are you creeped out yet?

Jonathon has made himself a prisoner in Raven Hollow Manor, along with his daughter, Holly. He lost his love, Anna, but her ghostly presence lingers.

His past is coming back to haunt him when a serial killer goes wild in the foggy nights of London.

He is able to transform himself and I loved it. He becomes a cat, a Great Dane, or a mist in the night. Being immortal allows him to see without being seen. He is very protective of Holly and struggles to allow her some freedom. He is easily able to ‘spy’ on her, assuring her safety. After all, he knows first hand the monsters that lurk in the shadows. His oasis is by Anna’s gravesite. He reads Poe and Robert Frost to her.

Holly knows that he is an immortal. Authors have the freedom to create the immortal they want to portray, and I love Ilona Caldwell’s version.

I begin to wish for his happiness, for him to move on and create a new life, without Anna.

Enter…Walter Deverough, a detective on the hunt. I wonder….I feel we’ll be seeing a lot more of him.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned and SHE will scorch the earth with her need for revenge.

We, also, have Leland…a hero to the end.

Fast paced. Suspenseful. A vampire of a different color. Great world building as I pictured him walking the streets of London, damp and weary. Ilona Caldwell draws pictures with her words.

I voluntarily reviewed and ARC of Beneath London’s Fog by Ilona Caldwell.

Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos
4 Stars

GOODREADS BLURB

Jonathan is the immortal master of Raven Hollow Manor – a decrepit mansion riddled with superstition, murder and restless ghosts. Beneath it lies a restless malice.

Its previous owner driven mad, violently kills his guests with a rusted ax, creating the perfect venue for Jonathan to seclude himself in a prison of his own device.

When the streets of London begin to run red with blood; the bodies exhibiting disturbing signs and baffling wounds, the identity of the killer remains elusive to police.

The bodies are just the beginning of Jonathan’s troubles. A mysterious letter accusing Jonathan of committing the murders appear, raising suspicion in the police. Hidden beneath the mangled bodies, Jonathan soon realizes he is being forced to face demons he thought died in a forlorn past he attempted to escape. 

One thing Jonathan knows for certain: He must deal with the demons of his past if he is to survive his future. Not only him but those he has come to love as well

ABOUT ILONA CALDWELL

Iona Caldwell

My name is Iona Caldwell. I’m the author of the British Occult Fiction, Beneath London’s Fog set to be published by FyreSyde Publishing October 2019. When I’m not busy weaving worlds of the arcane and dark, I’m spending time out in nature. I love books. My biggest inspirations are H.P Lovecraft, Stephen King, Neil Gaiman and Edgar Allen Poe. I blog about many things but mostly everything bookish.

​All of my novels are stand-alone novellas, each with a cast of people I hope my readers will come to love as much as I have.

​I do accept reviews but they’re very selective and I urge you to check my review policy first. ​

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Cover Reveal & Giveaway – Unearthed by CecyRobson @cecyrobson @CaffeinatedPR

Today I am excited to join Cecy Robson in unveiling the cover for Unearthed, the first book in her Death Seeker urban fantasy series.  To celebrate Cecy is sharing chapter one with you and offering five winners an eBook copy of Sealed with a Curse. Enjoy!
Now Feast your eyes on …. 
Unearthed (Death Seeker #1) *cover designed by Rebecca Weeks @ Dark Wish Designs
September 24, 2019
Add to Goodreads
Pre-order your Copy: Amazon | B&N | iTunes | Kobo 
Fae was once a flourishing paradise. Until Death turned greedy and destroyed it, targeting the creatures who inhabited it. Those who survived escaped to Earth’s realm, but Death wasn’t far behind . . . Olivia Finn is just another pixie trying to blend in among humans and hide from the death hounds who devoured her family. Clinging to the talisman that keeps her veiled from those who hunt her, she believes she is safe. . .. Until Death finds her and discovers she’s immune to its grip. Now that Olivia’s power is unearthed, she is sought by Fae who see her as their savior and stalked by dark entities compelled to destroy her. Can she trust the King of the Dead who has sworn to train and protect her? Or should she obey her instincts that warn he desires more? Olivia can no longer hide from Death. To survive, she must seek it.
Chapter One
Ryker Scott, MacGregor and Santonelli’s newest associate, prowls past my cubicle wearing a tailored black suit that hugs his broad shoulders. I swear he’s not human. In the year he’s worked here, he’s represented a talk show host charged with having sex with multiple minors, a senator’s son accused of sexually assaulting a young boy, and a Wall Street executive snagged in a cocaine smuggling ring. All were acquitted under his watch, despite the odds and endless charges. His latest victory was mere days ago when his client, a Broadway star one blow shy of beating his wife to death, was found not guilty. Ryker’s military haircut fits his serious persona. The guy doesn’t smile, ever. I suppose when you represent walking pieces of filth, it’s hard to pretend you’d skip through a field of daisies. I’d ask him how he sleeps at night, saving all those horrible people and releasing them back into society, but I don’t know him, and I don’t care to. Ryker’s ice blue eyes dart in my direction when I glare. He knows I hate every inch of his hulking form. If I could flip him off, I would. Instead, I give him my back and return to my work, wishing he’d stay on his side of the office. I sense him stalk around the corner to speak quietly to another paralegal. She’s likely falling all over herself to please him. He has that effect on the staff, unlike my boss, who everyone avoids like shingles. Speaking of the most irate man to ever wear a suit, Marco slams down the receiver to the phone, his booming voice loud enough to rattle the glass of his fishbowl office. “Olivia! Where the hell are my notes?” My fingers fly across my keyboard, finishing the deposition Marco needs before that vein on his forehead finally pops. “In your briefcase, along with copies of the court documents,” I reply. My sensitive hearing picks up the click, click of the briefcase locks snapping open before the mad sound of rustling papers ensues. “I don’t have—” “You have three pens and two highlighters in the small zippered compartment and a new legal pad in the side pocket,” I call out. “My—” “Your cell phone is charging on the table behind you,” I remind him. I hit print and swivel in my high back office chair, working quickly to stack the copies neatly into a folder. After taking one last sip of tea, I lift the folder and an extra-large cup of coffee and hurry into my boss’s office. Marco welcomes me with a scowl, the motion joining his crazy caterpillar eyebrows. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” he asks. “Yup. Happy Monday.” I place the deposition on his desk and hand him the cup of coffee the new administrative assistant dropped off. So far, Marco is the only attorney she hasn’t hit on. “Drink up,” I tell him. “You’re due in court in an hour.” I play with the talisman around my neck, reassuring myself that Death can’t find me while I wear it. I examine my boss and shake my head. Marco is roughly five feet, six inches tall, three hundred pounds and balding, and about as cuddly as a rabid raccoon living in a sewer. And here he sits, partner of the most prestigious law firm in the region and the best defense attorney in Jersey. “What are you looking at?” I motion to his face. “I told you to do something about your eyebrows.” “There’s nothing wrong with my eyebrows.” He tries to smooth them, but the motion only ruffles them further. “Marco, they look ready to sprout teeth and bite.” I push off the desk. “Let me trim them.” Marco is one second away from releasing the brows like Zeus did the Kraken. “Do I strike you as someone who manscapes?” “No. That’s part of the problem.” I sigh when the vein on his forehead pulsates. “You need to take pride in your appearance. If I didn’t have your suits and shirts dry-cleaned, you’d resemble a serial killer walking into court.” My voice trails when I take in the creases lining his gray suit. It’s my turn to scowl. “Isn’t this the suit you wore Friday?” He doesn’t answer. “Marco!” “You’re one to talk. Look at you. Your hair is one pot of gold shy of a leprechaun.” I point a nasty finger at him. “Don’t make fun of the hair.” As a pixie, I look human, the exception being my rainbow-colored locks. That’s right, blond hair intermixed with strands of pink, lavender, and blue. It’s not on purpose. My hair was this color from birth, long before we crossed over from the dying realm of Fae. Many PTA moms scolded my mother for “doing this” to me. Mama tried to change the color, so I’d blend in better among humans, but nothing worked. Hair dyes dried my hair and faded in mere hours, and organic products made my hair shimmer like fairy dust. Between my hair and the Celtic cross tat on the base of my skull, everyone in school assumed I was Goth. Truthfully, I prefer pretty clothes and music I can dance to without risking an elbow to the face. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Marco snaps. “This suit cost two grand.” “It might as well cost two dollars by the way you take care of yourself.” I stomp in my pink kitten heels toward Marco’s closet and whip out a fresh suit, tie, and set of underclothes. After taking a good whiff, I also grab a stick of Right Guard. I set everything neatly in his private bathroom and poke my head out. “You still have time to shower before court. Do you want me to turn on the water—” The scuff of expensive shoes along the marble tile floor alert me we’re no longer alone. Damn it. It’s Ryker. Doesn’t he have puppy kickers to defend? Rock hard muscles bulge against his designer suit. When he’s not freeing predators back into society, he must spend his time in the gym. Ryker squares his jaw hard enough to smooth the dimple on his chin. He’s not pleased to see me or the glare I peg him with. Still, he tilts his head in polite acknowledgment. “Olivia.” I smooth the skirt of my long white sundress and walk toward Marco, ignoring Ryker. “Do you need anything else?” Marco’s features soften as he addresses Ryker. “Sorry you had to wait, son. I was negotiating the Andrews case with opposing counsel when you first stopped in.” That explains Marco’s prior screaming and swearing. Marco is the type who prefers coercion to tact, which makes his interactions with Ryker odd. Marco smiles at him, as in, genuinely smiles. “Congratulations on the acquittal, boy,” Marco says to Ryker. “That was a hell of a job you did. Keep this up, and you’ll make junior partner within a year.” “Thank you, sir. It was a challenging case, and I was grateful for the help.” “You can have all the help you want, anytime you want it.” Marco’s smile fades. “Is something wrong? You seem upset.” “I’m fine, sir,” the leech answers. “You don’t seem fine. Would you like some coffee? Olivia would be happy to bring you a cup.” “No, she wouldn’t,” I mutter, walking toward the door. “You have fifty minutes, Marco. Take a shower.” I shut the door behind me, muffling their conversation. The glass offices may allow a full view in, but they’re soundproof, except to my sensitive ears. Marco and Ryker glance in my direction before resuming their conversation. I was rude in there, and I’m embarrassed about my behavior. There’s just something about Ryker that fires me up and puts me in a hideous mood… I freeze when I glance toward Bill MacGregor’s office. Bill is the other partner and a Fae like me. Right now, he’s in serious trouble. The very slutty and very human admin is slinking closer to him. She leans over his desk, her tiny black skirt rising and exposing her butt cheeks. Bill’s eyes widen, and he tries to scramble away. The admin doesn’t let him. She yanks him to her by his tie and stamps her lips to his. Thunder booms, shaking the thirty-story building. Lightning blankets Bill’s office in a painful blare of white light. As the light fades, so does Bill’s glamour, revealing his true form. Glistening mocha-colored skin envelops the boulder-sized muscles of the seven-foot-tall gargoyle. Dagger-length fangs, sleek and deadly, protrude from his terrifying maw as glider-sized wings expand, shadowing the terrified woman in darkness. She screams, loudly, the thick glass mercifully silencing her terror. I leap from my chair when she face-plants on Bill’s mahogany desk and call to the administrative assistant in the cubicle beside mine. “Jane, clean up in aisle five.” Jane and I are both Fae and the only staff with a front and center view of Bill’s office. We don’t get a lot of traffic on this side of the building. Everyone avoids Marco, and no one wants to risk accidentally killing Jane. Humans only see Jane’s chosen glamor, that of a ninety-year-old woman with severe osteoporosis and one awkward step shy of a broken hip. For an eight-hundred-year-old druid priestess, Jane looks damn good. Unfortunately, she is ancient, and her hearing reflects it. “Jane? Jane!” I round back when she doesn’t hear me and shake her shoulder. “Jane!” She stops her two-finger typing and blinks her tiny black eyes at me, speaking in her two-pack-a-day smoker voice. “Whhhat?” “Clean up in aisle five,” I repeat. I bolt to Bill’s office, making quick work of drawing the privacy shades. Bill is freaking out. His mammoth wings snap irritably, and his clawed hands wave in distress. “Why dith thee havvvv to kitth meeth? Goth. Damnth ith!” he hisses through his fangs. “Your glamour form is smoking hot,” I remind him. He scowls, his forked tongue dangling from his mouth. “Did you have to pick that glamour?” I ask. I motion to the picture of him standing with the governor. “You resemble a young Laurence Fishburne with a goatee.” “I lithe Lawrenth Fishburth,” he replies. I pat his arm. “Try to relax and call it back.” I draw the last shade that blocks the view into his office and stick my head out the door to check on Jane. She’s resumed her two-finger typing. On a good day, Jane can type ten words a minute. This doesn’t appear to be a good day. “Jane!” “Whhhat?” she croaks. “You’re needed in Bill’s office!” I holler. “Bring the big guns—the big guns, Jane!” The slutty admin slides off Bill’s desk and falls to the floor with a thump. She groans, her forehead crinkling. “Sheeth wakingth,” Bill says, panicking. There’s no way he can recall his glamour in this state. “Jane, haul ass, sister girl!” Jane glances over her shoulder and adjusts the black veil on her head. With the speed of molasses, she reaches for the candy cane striped wand she keeps in her pencil holder and shuffles toward us. Her black dress, two sizes too big, drags behind her tiny form. The wand looks ridiculous clutched in her spotted hand. It’s not just the red and white stripes, it’s the red plastic heart complete with ribbons decorating the tip. Still, I wouldn’t mess with Jane’s wand. Our last temp tried to take it as a joke. Following a severe case of genital herpes and a beard so thick she looked ready to swing an ax, she was never heard from again. Jane reaches Bill’s office with all the grace and speed of a snail. Unlike Bill, Jane isn’t panicked. She merely passes her wand over the admin, chanting in ancient Irish. I try to make out the spell through her deep mumbles. It rings similar to the one she used to try to restore my magic. Unlike the Fae who occupy this world, I don’t possess magic. My power and wings were ripped from me when my family and I crossed dimensions and into Earth’s realm. Although I was young, I remember the pain. The last time Jane attempted to resurrect my magic, I cried with frustration. Jane wiped my tears, speaking slowly. “You have something, Livvie,” she insisted. She smiled softly and pointed at my heart with her long, crooked finger. “What you seek is in there.” I want to believe her. My family comes from a powerful line of pixies. It’s devastating to not possess even a wisp of their strength. It’s not that I think I need magic to feel more Fae. I just want something—anything—to strike back at those who robbed me of my family. Until then, all I can do is hide beneath the veil and protection of my talisman, just like the rest of my kind. Glitter sprinkles from Jane’s wand as she shakes it over the admin’s face, freezing her in place when she abruptly wakes and tries to scream. I scoot around them and toward the large windows. “Please alter her memory, Jane, and kindly tell her to stop being such a skank— Oh, and if you could, help Bill recall his glamour. He’s having a tough time settling.” My voice trails as I peer through the window. Across the Hudson River, dark clouds crawl along the New York skyline, expanding quickly and morphing day into night. My blood chills to ice, threatening to snap my bones. Death has found us. It’s coming. It’s coming now. But why? The growing cluster of ominous clouds inks the sky. Jane stops her chanting, training her beady eyes toward the ceiling when the lights flicker. “Livvie,” she warns. My fingers find my Celtic sister knot—the talisman that hides me from Death. It’s still there. I look at Jane. Her talisman dangles from her neck. So then… Bill whirls left and right, knocking books from the shelves and sending the paperwork on his desk flying with the bat of his powerful wings. He falls to his knees when something on the floor catches his eye, the tips of his wings leaving deeps scrapes along the walls. Like a frantic cat, he scratches at the floor, trying to retrieve his broken watch. I dive for the watch, Bill’s talisman. The links snapped from his wrist when he resumed his true form, damaging the magical charge that gives the veiling spell its power. In the distance, I hear them, the cavernous roars of the Cù-Sìth death hounds, the form of Death that devoured my family. I drop the watch into his hand and cover it with my palm. It doesn’t work. With each crash of encroaching thunder, the growls intensify. The Cù-Sìth are hungry. They need a soul, and it’s Bill’s they hunt. The fluorescent bulbs explode, encasing the room in darkness. “Livvie…” Jane’s throaty voice carries fear I’ve never seen in her. “Ma-gic” My pixie eyes adjust to the darkness, only to widen when I realize what Jane is asking. She wants me to call my lost mojo. Is she crazy? Now? We’ve spent countless hours trying to summon it only to fail each time. Lightning flashes against the windows, illuminating the room. “Hurry,” Jane urges. The talisman can’t conceal Bill from Death. It knows he’s here. With sweat-soaked hands, I anchor the links around Bill’s giant fingers, searching deep within me and attempting what feels impossible. I scrunch my face, concentrating cocooning us in my aura. Emptiness is all that greets me. I hold my breath, focusing harder. The emptiness grows more pronounced. I open my eyes. Bill shakes his head, his pointy ears drooping as he motions for me to leave. Tears blur my vision. “No, Bill.” Magic or not, I won’t leave him alone to die. Thunder rattles the building, and the chorus of howls reach a mind-numbing crescendo. My eyes scan the office for something I can use to connect the links. I find a discarded roll of tape on the floor and lead Bill to it, both of us crouching low when we reach it. I snap the roll from the dispenser, careful not to lose the end. With more speed than grace, I wind the tape around the watch and secure it to Bill’s wrist. I run out of tape just as the first Cù-Sìth arrives. Tendrils of dark green smoke slink through the window and snake their way around the desk, widening and solidifying into a bear-sized hound with shaggy green fur and glowing red eyes. His long-braided tail snaps like a whip, cracking the tension-filled air while paws as big as my head scrape their long claws against the tile. Jane doesn’t move. I don’t even think she breathes. I can’t stop trembling, pleading for the good in the world to banish the hound from my sight. Like the time I was ten, my pleas go unanswered. The hound shoves his box-shaped head between Bill and me, his nose twitching until he latches onto a scent. A hungry growl vibrates through the hound’s immense chest. Slowly, he turns toward Bill, meeting him square in his eyes. Drool drips from his needle-length fangs, falling against Bill’s shoulder and sizzling like acid. He licks the air near Bill’s throat. My trembles turn into full out convulsions. He sniffs again. He’s almost on top of us. The hound’s gaze cuts to me when a small cry breaks through my quivering lips. He pauses, drawing in a deep breath and trailing his scorching ember eyes down my body. I’m certain he can sense me, until he looks past me toward the metal door where claws scrape again, and again, and again. More death hounds have arrived. The hound between us returns his attention to where Bill kneels, curling the lips of his long snout into a hideous snarl. He senses Bill’s soul and wants it for himself. He sniffs again. He knows Bill is here. Like the strike of a cobra, the hound snaps at the air, puncturing through Bill’s face. The cords of Bill’s neck strain as he struggles to contain his moans. I’m certain Bill is done for. But the magic from his talisman holds strong, veiling Bill’s presence and masking the taste of his blood. Dark blood dribbles from the hound’s fangs, staining his dark green fur. I cup my hand over my mouth as the hound withdraws and I see what remains of my friend’s face. Mangled skin dangles in flaps against Bill’s neck. It’s all I can do to keep from screaming. Talismans muffle sounds, but they have their limits, and nothing on earth will be able to silence the horror shredding my insides if I let loose. Bill’s heavy hand encases my small one. He’s trying to comfort me and encouraging me to be strong. But how can I be strong when Death has arrived to tear him apart? I jump when roars bellow behind the door. The pack of Cù-Sìth lingering outside is growing more insistent. I press my hand tighter against my mouth to stifle my sobs. It’s not right for Bill to die this way. He’s good and kind. It’s not his time. Two more hounds materialize like smoke through the door jamb, silencing my cries. These are swathed in matted white fur. They stalk around the office, growling and frantic to eat. One of them knocks into the green one as if demanding food. The green one barrels her over, perceiving her actions as a challenge. They fight like hungry beasts over a piece of meat, clawing, biting, and snarling. More hounds arrive. They prowl restlessly, sniffing for prey and ignoring the fight. The white hound never stood a chance against the green. He dominates her, driving her into the opposite wall of the large office. In one fierce move, the green hound flips over the female. He pins her to the floor and digs his fangs into her belly, tearing it open like rotting flesh. Souls spill from her gut in waves of translucent images. I recognize the faint forms of dwarves and fairies, their agonized faces pleading with me to help them. Tears spill down my face. I wish I could help. But like the rest of my kind, there’s nothing I can do except hide. The dead try to flee, except the remaining Cù-Sìth are too fast. The pack sweeps through the door like a raging fog of white and green, mauling the already damaged souls. Bill and I wrench our faces away, unable to stand the terror-filled cries and slurping noises of the feasting hounds. I steal a glance as the last of the shrieks die out, hoping they’re done. The hounds remain, raking their claws and scavenging for more. The spirits all are gone… except for one little Fae. A sprite hides trembling in the corner of Bill’s Juris Doctorate diploma. But just as I see her, so do the hounds. The Alpha who bit Bill’s face spots her first. He lunges, trampling over the others who try to intercept him. The little sprite shoots through the window, screaming in pain and fear. In streams of white and dark green smoke, the hounds give chase. I want to race after her and help. But I no longer have wings to fly nor magic to save her. My pathetic attempts to summon my power proved as much. I sniff meekly. The little sprite needs someone stronger than me. I weep in silence for the souls that will never find peace and curse all forms of Death for filling their bellies instead of carrying their charge to eternal rest. Bill and I rise carefully when the roars of the Cù-Sìth grow too faint to hear. He keeps his hand over mine until my trembling subsides and my tears stop falling, speaking kind words while his body mends his ravaged face and Jane’s enchantments repair the damage to the office. With Jane’s help, Bill recalls his glamour. The moment his resemblance of Laurence Fishburne returns, Jane goes to work on repairing his talisman as only an Ancient can. It takes time and an endless well of power to recharge damaged magic. Time Jane wouldn’t have without the makeshift band the tape provided. Forged from rare copper, gold, and silver found only in Fae and triggered by rare gemstones and diamonds from Fae mountains, talismans are a wonder. They serve to hide us and open the portals between our homeland and earth. Yet to open the portal, you must remove your talisman and risk a direct call to Death. My father took that risk, and it cost him his soul. Jane nods to Bill and lifts her wand when she finishes. He walks naked to the opposite wall tugging on links to test her work. It’s only when her magic seems to hold that the tension surrounding him eases. Bill punches a small indiscriminate button hidden in the dark mahogany paneling. Two sets of doors part, unveiling a hidden bar. He pours a large helping of Irish whiskey into a glass and downs it, and another. He then removes a pair of pants and a fresh shirt from his closet. As soon as he dresses, he pours another drink and offers it to me. “No, thank you, Bill.” “Cathasach,” Jane spits through her teeth. Bill nods. “I know.” My gaze dances between them. “What?” “The green Cù-Sìth,” he says. “The Alpha.” Bill tips back the glass, this time only taking a small hesitant sip. His hand is quivering. I didn’t notice it before. I see it now despite the shots of courage he poured down his throat. “Cathasach is the father of all the death hounds and the first to taste Life. It was he who convinced the other forms of Death to feed on the souls of the living.” He knocks back the glass, draining it of its amber fluid. “The Cù-Sìth originally carried the souls of mountain Fae into the Afterlife,” I say, my tears close to the surface. “They were peaceful. I don’t understand how they became what we saw.” Bill’s eyebrows knit tight, his anger momentarily shoving aside his fear. “It doesn’t matter what they were, only what they are, creatures who lack souls of their own with no conscience or respect for the Fae they consume. Did you see their size? They’re enormous from the plethora of spirits trapped within them. There’s no rationale. No pity. No pardon. No loyalty. Like all forms of Death, they’re selfish and their appetites insatiable. Look at how easily they turned on their own.” He pours a fresh shot and brings it to Jane. She takes a few gulps and resumes her wand waving over the admin. “Tell her she’s fired,” Bill says, his deep voice laced with resentment. Jane nods and tosses the rest of the liquor down her throat. I retrieve her glass and return it to the bar. It seems wrong to end our conversation this way, without hope or gentle words to remind us we’re safe. But this sense of safety is a momentary luxury, nothing that’s guaranteed. Even with our talismans, Death is never far away. I try to leave the office and this experience behind. Bill’s deep baritone halts my sluggish steps, keeping me in place. “Olivia, Cathasach knew you were here. The way he took you in, somehow he knew.” My response is almost robotic. “We’ve met before. I just didn’t know his name.” Jane stops chanting. Bill chokes on his next sip of whiskey. He rushes to me and grips my arms. “You met him before today?” I nod, shaking from the force of his trembles. “Twice,” I admit. The color drains from his face. “Listen to me, Olivia. Do not remove your talisman, ever,” he whispers tightly. “If you escape a hound more than once, you become more than prey, you become an obsession. He’ll want you and not stop until he finds you.” This is the last thing I need to hear. I break free and run from the room. In my haste, I slam into Ryker. I bounce off his broad torso and land hard on my ass. Shock parts my lips. Considering I’m the one sprawled on the marble tile, he seems plenty pissed. Perspiration feathers his forehead and his chest rises and falls in furious bursts. He clenches his fists, his blue eyes searing as he looms over me. By the way his imposing form takes me in, I should be terrified. Mostly, I’m baffled by his rage. I try to stand, feeling vulnerable. Before I can make it to my feet, Ryker storms away. ©Unearthed, Death Seeker #1, Cecy Robson, LLC 2019
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About Cecy Robson
Cecy Robson is an author of contemporary and new adult romance, young adult adventure, and award-winning urban fantasy. A double-nominated RITA® Finalist, Winner of the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence, and published author of more than twenty titles, you can typically find Cecy on her laptop or stumbling blindly in search of caffeine.
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Giveaway Five lucky winners will receive an ebook copy of Sealed with A Curse, the first full-length novel in the Weird Girls Urban Fantasy series by Cecy Robson. Open Internationally. Good luck!

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Past Nightmares – Whispers In The Dark by Laurel Hightower #LaurelHightower

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I was approached by Laurel Hightower and given an opportunity to read and review Whispers in the Dark. Looking at the red cover with the girl in flames talked to me and after reading the blurb I couldn’t resist.

Cover Art and Design: Mikio Murakami

Whispers in the Dark

Amazon / Goodreads

MY REVIEW

I am blown away by Laurel Hightower’s first novel, Whispers in the Dark. Very impressive.

The fabulous cover fits the dark story on the pages inside…the doors of hell opening up to her, calling her, the dead demanding her attention. Some warn her, others want…something from her.

Is her son in danger? Her daughter? Her friends and coworkers? All the characters have their part to play and I must say, I wouldn’t mind killing a couple of them myself, in the book of course. lol

Her son, Tommy, is the sweetest, bravest four year old I have come across.

I love Laurel’s description of grandparents…if the children are bad, they had to sit on the couch, watch cartoons and eat chocolate while they thought about what they’d done. LOL

I love stories like Whispers in the Dark, insidious evil lurking…

Her past was filled with terror and torture…visions, ghosts and the whispers, and now I know why. Her job with SWAT had put them to bed, until…Charlie Akers.

Is that a whisper I hear? Is that a shadow in the corner? Are those footsteps climbing the cellar stairs? You know there has to be at least one cellar!

The rich detail of the writing made me almost feel them reaching out for me, seeing their eyes peering at me out of the dark corners.

To get the full effect, I recommend reading the story at night, when you are alone, turning off all the lights and letting your imagination run wild. HA HA HA

I couldn’t put down Whispers in the Dark by Laurel Hightower and it freaked me out. I love sneaky evil oozing its way off the pages, into my mind.

I was very happy with the ending, and I didn’t know what it would be. Laurel Hightower did a fabulous job with her first attempt at writing a novel and I can hardly wait to see where she goes from here. I am very impressed, can find no fault, and give it a giant stamp of approval…and, Laurel, I will be stalking you.

I voluntarily reviewed a free copy of Whispers in the Dark by Laurel Hightower.

Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos
5 Stars

GOODREADS BLURB

Rose McFarland is a trained killer–a Memphis S.W.A.T. sniper with a secret. Her team knows about the burn scars that lurk under her clothes, a legacy of the house fire that killed her father and brother sixteen years before. Her supervisors know that she spent two years in a rehabilitative facility, healing and learning to cope with the emotional trauma of the fire. But no one knows about the visions that drove her there, angry spirits that consumed her childhood, alienated her from her family and made her doubt her own sanity–the Whispers.

When Charlie Akers, a half-brother she never knew, ends up on the wrong side of Rose’s rifle, she unwittingly sets off a chain of events that puts her family in the middle of increasingly dangerous paranormal visitations. Charlie won’t stay dead, and soon ghosts from Rose’s past are creeping back into her life. People she’s killed in the line of duty, family she thought long buried, every one of them under the influence of Rose’s greatest fear, the Whispers themselves.

As the walls between our world and the world of the dead grow thin, Rose will have to face her old nightmares to stop the Whispers from breaking free. If she can’t, it won’t just be Memphis that falls to the dead–there will be no safe place left on earth for the living.

ABOUT LAUREL HIGHTOWER

Laurel Hightower

Laurel Hightower grew up in Kentucky, attending college in California and Tennessee before returning home to horse country, where she lives with her husband, son, and two rescue animals. She works as a paralegal in a mid-sized firm, wrangling litigators by day and writing at night. A bourbon and beer girl, she’s a fan of horror movies and true life ghost stories. Whispers in the Dark is her first novel.

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  • Leave your link in the comments and I will drop by to see what’s shakin’.
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Giveaway – Obedience by Michael Potts #MichaelPotts @SDSXXTours

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Obedience
by Michael Potts
Genre: Horror
It is a lazy summer day in the Appalachian foothills of Tennessee; much like the day before, and the day before that. Everything seems normal – at least on the surface; like an idyllic, pastoral painting; the sky dyed with pastels of blue and white, the ground carpeted with dark green fescue and bluegrass, a clapboard farmhouse resting on top of a hill, sugar maples, oaks and Eastern red cedars providing welcome shade from the heat of a Tennessee summer sun. You can almost see moving images of little children running barefoot through the grass; an era before tweeting and texting and the triumph of technology over all.
Alas, appearances lie.
Behind the clapboard farmhouse sits a red barn, all bright and new looking; fresh enough to lull a casual observer into believing it the benign keeper of hey for cattle and shelter for goats. A closer look reveals the color to be not barn red, but blood red.
Locals tend to close their eyes when passing by that barn. Something is just not right about it. Some say it is unnatural. Some say it’s obscene and evil. But they don’t say such things out loud, for the owner of the barn is Sheldon Sprigg, a well-respected man of the cloth, the preacher at Hare’s Corner Church of God Incarnate. Sheldon is the most upright man in these parts. He keeps the law religiously, and makes sure his wife and teenaged daughter do too. After all, to obey is better than sacrifice.
Still, there’s just something that not right about that barn.
Michael Potts grew up near Smyrna, Tennessee and is currently Professor of Philosophy at Methodist University in Fayetteville, North Carolina. His undergraduate degree (in Biblical languages) is from David Lipscomb University. He also holds the Master of Theology from Harding University Graduate School of Religion, the Master of Arts (in Religion) from Vanderbilt University, and the Ph.D. in philosophy from The University of Georgia. Michael has twenty articles in scholarly journals, nine book chapters, six encyclopedia articles, six book reviews, and he co-edited the book, “Beyond Brain Death: The Case Against Brain Based Criteria for Human Death,” which was published in 2000 by Kluwer Academic Publishers. He also has over fifty scholarly presentations, including one presented at the Pontifical Academy of Sciences at The Vatican in 2005. Michael is a 2007 graduate of The Writers Loft at Middle Tennessee State University and a 2007 graduate of the Odyssey Writing Workshop at St. Anselm College in Manchester, New Hampshire. His poetry has been published in Journal of the American Medical Association, Iodine Poetry Journal, Poems & Plays, and other literary journals. His poetry chapbook, “From Field to Thicket,” won the 2006 Mary Belle Campbell Poetry Book Award of the North Carolina Writers Network. His creative nonfiction essay, “Haunted,” won the Rose Post Creative Nonfiction Award, also sponsored by the North Carolina Writers Network. Besides reading and writing, he enjoys vegetable gardening, canning, and ghost investigations. He and his wife, Karen, live with their three cats, Frodo, Rosie, and Pippin, in Linden, North Carolina.
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