Grave Humor R.J. Blain (A Magical Romantic Comedy) Publication date: May 12th 2020 Genres: Adult, Comedy, Paranormal, Romance
Most days, Anwen regrets working at a funeral home despite the good pay. With the residents no longer inclined to stay in their coffins where they belong, she’s got her hands full making sure everyone follows the rules:
In the funeral home, there is no screaming, no murdering, no mutilation, no possessions, no kidnappings, no resurrections, and no cursing of any type. Be quiet and stay polite.
The day Old Man McGregor decides to take a walk and disturbs her peace, Anwen learns there’s a lot more to the basement in the funeral home than a vampire and a handsome gentleman on ice.
If she’s not careful, she’ll learn first-hand why ‘eternally yours’ is the most potent of threats.
Warning: this novel contains romance, humor, bodies, shenanigans, and mythological puppies. Proceed with caution.
Had I been
smarter or wiser, I never would’ve accepted the job offer at the funeral home.
With my prospects few and far between, I hadn’t had a choice, not really. Who
else would hire an eighteen-year-old high school drop out?
I could type.
Dead bodies
didn’t bother me.
When the dead
started chatting up a storm, I ignored them until the priest arrived. I almost
liked the days when the corpses got talkative. The boss paid me triple the
normal hourly rate per incident, and if nobody screamed, a gift card would
magically appear on my desk the following morning. Without fail, the gift card
would be for the grocery store, and it would offer me the rare opportunity to
enjoy a luxury.
Luxuries came
few and far between.
Tomorrow, I
would take my gift card, fondle some honey rocks until I found the perfect pair
to take home with me, and I’d crack them open and go to town on their sweet,
sweet insides. I sighed happily at the thought of two perfect melons all for
me.
It really was
the little things in life.
“It’s no fun
if you don’t scream, Anwen m’dear,” Old Man McGregor groused. “Must you suck
all the joy from my funeral?”
“Your funeral
is at noon tomorrow,” I reminded him. That was the problem with the newly dead.
They got lost on the way, refusing to leave their bodies until someone came to
lay them to their final rest. Old Man McGregor could make my life a living hell
if I wasn’t careful.
In life, he’d
enjoyed yanking on chains for the fun of it.
In death, all
he had to do was sit up to yank on the entire town’s chain.
Author Bio:
RJ Blain suffers from a Moleskine journal obsession, a pen fixation, and a terrible tendency to pun without warning.
In her spare time, she daydreams about being a spy. Her contingency plan involves tying her best of enemies to spinning wheels and quoting James Bond villains until satisfied.
Coven: As I enter the supernatural world of Rebecca Main, I do so anticipating an adventure and I got one. Zoelle doesn’t know about the supernatural world, and that she is a witch, but when she ‘runs’ into Xander, her eyes are opened. I loved watching her grow and develop into a force to be reckoned with. Xander has definitely met his match
3 Stars
Midnight Soundrel: Quinn Montgomery leads a dangerous life, but she too does not know about the supernatural world. She fights her attraction to Ryatt, but I think we all know she will not be able to resist and will join the Adolphus Pack. She is human, but that doesn’t stop her from making her own mark and facing down her fears.
3 Stars
Wardens of Starlight: Calliope Sawyer has a secret that could cost her her life. I love this character and her willingness to put her life on the line for her friends. I could so easily relate to her, and she has become my favorite character. She’s tough, unstoppable when she sets her sights on what she firmly believes is the right thing. Rebecca Main makes Calliope shine. She wants to be a Starlight warrior and the supernaturals are her enemies. This will all change, when she meets Keenan O’Neal, a werewolf.
4 Stars
I didn’t take any notes while reading, because I was traveling and knew this would be a short review. I grabbed the three book set of A Soulmark Series by Rebecca Main for free from Amazon, and I believe it is still free. I got lost in this supernatural world, with characters that make me want to know more and I read one right after the other. Each book tells a couple’s story, but the overall storyline continues. Because the novels are familiar and easy to know where the author is taking me, no book surprises, I have rated the set as a 3, but each book got me more involved and when I met Calliope my feelings amped up and I raced through the pages. I was so disappointed when I reached the end. When I grabbed the book set, I thought it would be the complete series, but I believe there are 5 total. Will I finish the series? Hard to say, but I surely want to know how the characters can end with a happy ever after.
3 Stars
GOODREADS BLURB
Destiny marks their skin…
The Adolphus Pack broke tradition. No more would they tolerate
the chokehold of the old ways. But the paranormal world doesn’t make
concessions in tradition or in love. Now, three pack mates find
themselves bound to strangers by an ancient magic, the soulmark.
Some love is forbidden…
Three strong-willed women will test the men of the pack.
The witch will threaten war. The thief will steal more than a heart. And the warrior will test their strength.
Enemies both old and new amass at their border…
Threatening more than just their hearts. As these
diverse couples struggle to navigate a world of scintillating passion
and supernatural danger, each must choose a side–enemies or lovers. For
the Adolphus Pack, these outsiders could bring them strength or be their
downfall.
Get the explosive beginning to the highly acclaimed ‘A
Soulmark Series’, from breakout author, Rebecca Main to experience tales
of love, lust, magic, and murder!
This Box Set includes the first three installments in ‘A Soulmark Series’
ABOUT REBECCA MAIN
Rebecca Main published her first romance novel—Coven (A Soulmark Series Book 1)—in June 2017, and hasn’t put down her keyboard since! Quitting their respective jobs in May 2017, Rebecca and her husband now travel the world. Their calico cat, Dorcas, waits patiently for their return to become a “city” cat once more. Rebecca is an avid reader, travel-hacker enthusiast, and karaoke queen (after a shot or two). Her current writing passion is romance with a hearty dash of supernatural and paranormal thrown in for good measure.
Tear-inducing accomplishments include hitting #1 on the Amazon Top 100 list in Fantasy Romance and Paranormal Romance for Witches & Wizards, free climbing out of Belize’s Crystal Cave, also known as the Mountain Cow Cave, and starting a publishing house—Via Graphia LLC—with her husband!
Books from the Backlog is a fun way to feature some of those
neglected books sitting on your bookshelf unread. If you are anything
like me, you might be surprised by some of the unread books hiding in
your stacks.
Question: When your mother is a powerful witch and your father is a soul-sucking vampire, what does that make you? Answer: Cursed. With all the beauty and charm of a Siren, but cursed as a blood-sucking succubus, Empusa longs for love and a normal life. Neither of these can ever be hers, because the only thing she brings to anyone she loves is death. Em lingers in the mortal world, hiding from her father and existing in a lonely life. Until she meets Brennan. With golden hair and a radiant smile, he captures her heart and awakens it from slumber. But Brennan is more than he seems. And in a relationship where life itself hangs in the balance, is love ever really enough?
I added Soul Kissed, Moonstone Saga #1 by Courtney Cole to my TBR on 9.26.12. I do love a good paranormal story and we have vampires and witches on the agenda today. Do you have a favorite supernatural creature?
Welcome to my tour stop for Dreams of Mariposa by L T Getty. I hope you enjoy the post and don’t forget to enter the giveaway below.
I am a sucker for a great cover and L T Getty has chosen a good one. I am so happy to share her thoughts with you today. What do you think?
Cover Etiquette
I have a pretty cover.
…oh, you wanted something of substance, did
you?
I don’t have anything good to show you, but
I was known more in High School for being an artist than a writer. Granted, I
didn’t share my writing outside of the designated class, whereas I had conte
and paintings occasionally in the hallways.
Now that I have the space I’m getting back
into oil painting now, and now I’m a giant cover snob. Aren’t we all? My first
reaction to seeing the cove: Well, that’s pretty, and it’ll be an easy sell for
a thumbnail. The red stands out against the blue, so it’s striking.
The general feedback I’ve gotten from
others is that the cover doesn’t scream ‘steampunk horror’ so much as
paranormal romance. I disagree; one of my coworkers reads a ton of paranormal
romance and there’s no rock hard abs to be found.
There’s some subtle details. The Studded
bodice. The soft wrapping. The red lipstick isn’t to showcase Marie’s lovely
lips.
Kinda contrasts to my Pinterest Book Board
and What I suggested:
I could have definitely done worse in the
cover department. It’s subtle, and while I’m the first one to put a plague
doctor mask and disturbing imagery front and center, I’m just going to have to
be really honest with y’all: it’s a steampunk horror novel. I don’t doubt that
there’ll be some interest from readers from paranormal romance, but this is
more about what happens when the heroine loses the love of her life and her
afterlife ebbs ever forward without him, and her refusing to let go, unable to
die because she’s maxed out her vamp stats.
If you are in the mood for a straight up
paranormal romance, my publisher does have several titles. I’ll recommend Celia
Breslin’s Haven.
So if anyone wants me to wax dramatic about the cover, I won’t. There have been many other, big name authors who got the “What were they thinking?!” covers. I can work with this.
Thanks so much for sharing with us today.
Dreams of Mariposa by L.T. Getty
GENRE: Steampunk-Horror
BLURB
Every decade, Marie must
leave her home and everything she loves to start anew. She can’t risk the
locals learning the truth of her immortality, much less her vampiric need of
feeding off fear. Fortunately for Marie, fear comes easily and she spends her
endless days mourning the loss of her beloved.
When she is summoned to the leaders of the
masquerade, she is persuaded to assist them in uncovering a mystery of powers
possibly more ancient then their own order.
As a rare daywalker of exquisite beauty, there is
no society Marie cannot infiltrate. Having spent the last few centuries growing
into her abilities, she expects to learn of the old powers, and return to her
lonely eternity of mourning.
She doesn’t expect to fall in love.
EXCERPT
“Where is this fool taking us?” one of Raoul’s men asked.
I realized then that they hadn’t been paying attention.
“Driver!” He reached his arm outside the open window to rap
and get his attention, but I could smell the hiss of venom and knew it was
intentional.
The horses ran quicker, and I could hear more coming up.
They sought to isolate us and do their deed in the woods. Interesting choice,
as there was no need to restrain ourselves without potential witnesses.
One of Raoul’s guards kicked open the door. He glided out.
His gift included some manipulation of his form, and like a shadow he leapt
onto the path, while his fellow went to climb up on the stagecoach.
Raoul glanced at me. “You’ll be safest in here.”
“Do not leave your men, guardian mine.”
His gaze darted from mine as I recognized the smell of flesh
turning to ash, and light pierced the chest of the fellow on the roof of the
coach. He exploded into dust before he could scream. The stench of sulphur was
undeniable, even without our honed senses. The other fellow met a similar end a
moment later.
Unfazed by the strange tool on a chain, Raoul unsheathed a
rapier from his cane and struck the driver in the leg. The man was young. He
met a knife at the rapier for the second strike, but the riders coming up were
too late. Raoul knocked aside the gun and slashed the driver’s face before he
pierced his heart. I bounced along uncomfortably as the driver was pushed
forward and went under the back left wheel.
The horses squealed and ran faster. Raoul reached for the
reins, but a rider came up from beside the carriage, then put her pistol in
through the open window at me. I grabbed the weapon with such force I nearly
knocked her off her horse and into the carriage’s paneling.
AUTHOR
L.T. Getty is a science fiction and
fantasy writer who hails from the Canadian Prairies. When she’s not writing,
you can likely find her driving an ambulance and dreaming about travel.
Blog: https://ltgetty.wordpress.com/
Follow the tour and comment. The more you comment, the better your chances of winning. Follow the tour HERE.
Every so often, I hop over to NetGalley to see if there is a book there than I must have. When I saw House of Blood and Earth, Crescent City #1, I immediately clicked and was approved for this exclusive extract. I was disappointed, because I clicked so quickly, I didn’t realize it wasn’t for the completed novel. I have my fingers crosses that I’ll get a copy, because the ending was to die for.
It took me a while to get involved, as Sarah J Maas introduced the characters and the world they live in. The more I read, and the more I got to know the characters, the more deeply involved I became…BUT, be careful who you become attached to, because the ending blew me away and took me in a direction I didn’t see coming, which Sarah did in a bloody and twisted way. I applaud her.
I think we have every supernatural entity that you can imagine, and maybe some you can’t, along with humans. They walk side by side…
I flip back and forth between 3 and 4 stars…because of that ending. One way or another, I will get me a copy. I have to know!!!!!!!
4 Stars
GOODREADS BLURB
An EXCLUSIVE EXTRACT from the first novel in the epic series Crescent City: House of Earth and Blood, from the number one New York Times bestselling author Sarah J. Maas. A
blockbuster modern fantasy set in a divided world where one woman must
uncover the truth to seek her revenge. With heart-stopping twists and
searing romance, this is perfect for fans of Jessica Jones and True Blood.
ABOUT SARAH J MAAS
Sarah J. Maas is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Throne of Glass series (Queen of Shadows, Book 4, will be out in September 2015), as well as the A Court of Thorns and Roses series (out 5/5/15).
Sarah lives in Bucks County, PA, and over the years, she has developed an unhealthy appreciation for Disney movies and bad pop music. She adores fairy tales and ballet, drinks too much tea, and watches an ungodly amount of TV. When she’s not busy writing, she can be found exploring the historic and beautiful Pennsylvania countryside with her husband and canine companion.
The Vampire Next Door is my second book by J T Hunter. I love reading true crime. Of course, a lot of time, the fiction I read seems all too real. So come on in and enjoy the tour.
There are two covers for the book, one on Goodreads (above) and one on Amazon (below). Which do you like best?
I love the way The Vampire Next Door by J T Hunter was written. The story flows smoothly, drawing me in to the twisted story of John Crutchley.
Factual accounting, but J T Hunter writes with a flair, bringing to life the depraved and gruesome action John Crutchley, a serial killer,walks on a super dark side, not content with just killiing, but rapes and tortures for fun. It’s so hard to understand how someone can do these terrible thing, but I am fascinated trying to figure out what makes them tick.
One victim survives to give details that may never have been known otherwise.
He had a terrible upbringing, but I make no excuses for him. We all make choices, and he made some depraved ones. He is brilliant, a genius IQ, equivalent to Bill Gates, but socially and romantically inept. Some of the jobs he held are amazing, working for NASA, the pentagon, and other top secret clearance companies.
He is vicious. Delights in seeing terror and suffering in his victims. He was a thief and, even with a top secret clearance, he dealt drugs, because he could. He loved the thrill of getting away with it. Definitely shows his personality.
J T Hunter’s research includes letters written by him, interviews, police reports, etc. He is a Ted Bundy type of serial killer, coming across as the harmless guy net door, with a psychopathic ability to fake caring and able to manipulate others to do his bidding. Watch out when the dark comes to light. No conscience. No qualms about lying to achieve his ends.
Makes me sick, lying and whining, trying to invoke sympathy. Why does a serial killer think he deserves any mercy? It’s novels like this that leave me feeling angry, enraged, disgusted and totally pissed off…not only at the pathetic excuse for a human being, but the justice system and law enforcement.
I take some solace in the advancements that have been made in forensic science and investigation techniques, treating rape as the felonious violent crime it is and the changing of laws, where hopefully the punishment fits the crime.
I voluntarily reviewed a free copy of The Vampire Next Door by J T Hunter.
4 Stars
SYNOPSIS
While he stalked the streets hunting his unsuspecting victims, the residents of a quiet Florida town slept soundly, oblivious to the dark creature in their midst, unaware of the vampire next door.
John Crutchley seemed to be living the American Dream. Good-looking and blessed with a genius level IQ, he had a prestigious, white-collar job at a prominent government defense contractor, where he held top secret security clearance and handled projects for NASA and the Pentagon. To all outward appearances, he was a hard-working, successful family man with a lavish new house, a devoted wife, and a healthy young son.
But he concealed a hidden side of his personality, a dark secret tied to a hunger for blood and the overriding need to kill. As one of the most prolific serial killers in American history, Crutchley committed at least twelve murders, and possibly nearly three dozen. His IQ eclipsed that of Ted Bundy, and his body count may have as well.
Book Details:
Genre: True Crime Published by: RJ Parker Publishing Publication Date: October 11th 2014 Number of Pages: 365 ISBN: 1500909491 (ISBN13: 9781500909499) Purchase Links:Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads
Read an excerpt:
Chapter 2: You were a vampire…
Nineteen-year-old Christina Almah was still a virgin, and a bit naïve when it came to matters of sex, but like most teenaged girls on the verge of womanhood, she enjoyed receiving attention from good-looking, romantically inclined men. Yet, even she was surprised when, after a handsome, slightly older man took an interest in her, she found herself traveling all the way across the country to see him again.
Christina first met twenty-two-year-old Carl Von Bane several months earlier while he was visiting a friend near her hometown of Westminster, California. She immediately noticed him when he walked into the Drug Emporium where she had been working for the past year as a clerk, and they had quickly hit it off. His rugged, bad-boy looks and confident disposition combined to render her fully smitten. But the budding romance had barely begun before “Von” returned home to Florida. Their brief time together had passed much too quickly for the love-struck Miss Almah.
Since Von’s departure, they had continued their blossoming relationship by telephone racking up steep long distance bills. All the while, Christina had meticulously saved her meager Drug Emporium pay so that she could afford to purchase a plane ticket to visit him. When Von had called her a few weeks ago, Christina hinted at wanting to see him again by casually mentioning that she had some vacation time that needed to be used. When he suggested that she catch a flight to Florida to visit him, she had immediately agreed. After all, this was not some fly by night infatuation. She thought that she might be in love.
Christina had been counting the days until this trip—a weeklong vacation certain to be a memorable one if for no other reason than the fact that it would be the first time she had ever traveled alone. She booked a direct flight on Eastern Airlines from Los Angeles to Orlando International Airport, and Von had picked her up there nearly a week ago. Since then, she had been staying with Von in his mother’s mobile home at Lot 12 of the Enchanted Lakes Mobile Home Park on Malabar Road, near the eastern edge of the City of Palm Bay in southern Brevard County.
Named for the lush palm trees that lined the bay at the mouth of Turkey Creek, the nearly 100-square-mile Palm Bay had experienced a period of rapid growth in recent years fueled by an influx of retirees, northern transplants, and space industry workers. As part of the “Space Coast,” Palm Bay benefited from its proximity to Cape Canaveral, home to the National Aeronautics and Space Administration’s space shuttle program. To the west of Palm Bay, just past Interstate 95, a vast expanse of swamps and marsh grass stretched beyond the horizon, home to an endless assortment of flora and fauna. Under the blinding gaze of the eternal Florida sun, cold-blooded creatures swam silent and unseen as they had for ages past, ancient predators stalking their unsuspecting prey.
Immediately to the east of Palm Bay sits the Town of Malabar, a small, quiet community only thirteen square miles in size. Its eastern edge meets the Intracoastal Waterway in a subtropical paradise of palm trees, sailboats, and spectacular sunsets. The area’s abundant seafood, perennial sunshine, and constant sea breeze reminded Christina of her favorite parts of California. That familiarity was reassuring. It felt comfortable. She felt safe.
A petite girl standing about five feet, four inches tall and weighing a little less than 110 pounds, Christina was not a beauty queen, but she was not unattractive either. Indeed, her green eyes and brown hair combined in an inviting way that most men found sensual and appealing, and she had enjoyed her fair share of suitors. Although she had shared a few intimate moments with boys in high school, she had never found one with whom she felt comfortable enough to sacrifice her virtue. Still sexually inexperienced, she had the classic Libra traits of compassion, innate gentleness, and a genuine caring for others, traits that were sometimes misconstrued by men. Still, it never dawned on her that Von’s testosterone-driven brain would expect something more than a kiss hello, or that he would interpret her willingness to fly across the country to visit him as a green light for sleeping together. Von had tried to take that next step during her first night in Florida, and when she told him that she was not ready, he had reluctantly played the part of the understanding boyfriend, but he could not wholly hide his irritation and mounting frustration.
Von worked at Gator Chrysler in nearby Melbourne, and he had to leave Christina alone for much of the day. That had been the routine for most of the week, and the excitement of staying with someone in another state had long-since faded away. On this particular morning, she passed some time by listening to a worn down cassette tape of Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” album, popping it into the cherry red Sony Walkman that Von had given her. She played several songs, rewound the tape, and played them again, but after a while she tired of listening to the provocative singer purr about being “touched for the very first time.” She tried watching television after that, but quickly lost interest in the mindless game shows and melodramatic soap operas that dominated the channels. Growing bored, she decided to walk to Melbourne a few miles away to visit several friends that she had met through Von. She would be flying back to California the next morning and wanted to say her good-byes and make the most of her final day of vacation. Wearing blue jeans, sandals, and a black t-shirt with a Harley-Davidson insignia splashed across the front, she left the trailer shorty after 1:00 p.m. It was the twenty-first day of November, 1985.
As she walked out of the entrance of the mobile home park, a light rain began to fall. She could see dark clouds gathering in the distance and a westerly wind promised that they would soon be present. Somewhere beyond the visible horizon, thunder rumbled ominous and angry, its source hidden behind an approaching wall of grey and black clouds.
Christina turned left and started walking faster as the rain increased, heading east on Malabar Road toward U.S. 1 and the Intracoastal. She planned to stop at the Jiffy Mart at the corner of Malabar Road and U.S. 1 to buy a pack of cigarettes before walking north into Melbourne. She had not gone far when a small, light-colored car pulled up beside her.
Behind the wheel of the two-door automobile sat a clean-shaven man wearing a stylish, navy-blue sports coat, a black-and-white striped tie, and a nice pair of dress slacks, not the cheap K-Mart kind, but the higher quality cloth and cut of a more fashionable men’s store. The man looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He had loafer style shoes, but he was not wearing them while he drove. Christine thought it slightly odd that the well-dressed man’s bare foot operated the gas and brake pedals, but she gave it no more than a fleeting thought. She had certainly seen much stranger things during her time in Florida. The man’s eyes were concealed behind darkly tinted sunglasses and his face was framed by a mane of medium-length, dirty blonde hair. He had a thin build, and though slightly pale in complexion, his handsome facial features held an undeniable allure. She could not help feeling an attraction to him.
Flashing a broad, inviting smile, he leaned over, rolled down the passenger door window, and greeted her in a friendly, reassuring voice.
“It’s a bit wet today for a walk, isn’t it?” he asked with a wry, disarming smile. “Can I give you a lift?”
Although Christina was initially wary of his invitation, he looked harmless enough and it was the middle of the day in broad daylight in a public place, so she did not wait long before responding.
“Well,” she said, deliberately drawing out her reply as she decided how much to trust the seemingly friendly stranger. “I’m on my way to Melbourne to meet some friends. Are you going anywhere near there?”
“Sure, I have to go that way to get to my office. I just need to stop by my house real quick to pick up a notebook for work, but it’ll only take a minute or two. Go ahead and hop in.”
She hesitated for just a moment, studied her Good Samaritan one last time, and then grabbed the passenger side door handle of the car. As she opened the door, she heard Sting’s new song, “Russians,” playing on the car’s radio.
The country had long since fallen into the depths of the Cold War, and the perpetual threat of nuclear holocaust loomed in the back of most people’s minds like some amorphous boogieman lurking in the shadows. As Christine pulled the door closed, Sting’s voice flowed out of the car’s speakers, echoing what seemed to be the universal mood in America and Western Europe, the growing fear of a nuclear attack by the Russian-controlled Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. The song sought to appeal to the good in what President Reagan dubbed the “Evil Empire,” expressing a desperate hope that the Russian leaders loved their children enough to avoid the horror of a nuclear holocaust.
Suffering from the same state of uneasiness expressed in the song, Christina found herself captivated by the sense of calm that seemed to radiate from the man behind the wheel. They drove for a little while making small talk. While they chatted, she caught a glimpse of the man’s eyes behind his sunglasses. Their azure shade of blue added to the aura of assuredness he projected, and it seemed to Christina that the man’s eyes had the power to peer into her very soul, not in any unsettling way, but in an understanding, comforting manner that disarmed her naturally cautious disposition. He seemed genuinely interested in learning about her, and she was impressed with how articulately he expressed himself. He was charming, witty, and exuded self-confidence, and Christine felt relieved that he seemed to be normal. Some of Von’s friends that she had met were more than a little on the odd side.
After about five minutes, the man turned his car onto a bumpy, dirt road, and then continued on for a few minutes more before exiting onto a gravel driveway obscured by a tall row of hedges. Planted across the inner edge of the yard, the hedges had grown high enough to block a clear view of whatever was behind them. As the car continued down the driveway, a well-kept lawn, dotted sporadically with pine and oak trees, came into view. At the far end of the lawn stood a redbrick, Colonial style house with four white columns framing a large front door painted the same shade of white as the columns. The gravel driveway ended at a double-length carport on the left side of the house. The man pulled into the carport and parked. Two motorcycles stood at the opposite end of the parking area.
“I’ll be right back,” the man told her as he took the key out of the ignition and slipped on his shoes.
He stepped out of the car and walked to the side door of the house, where he paused and glanced back at her.
“Hey, you want to come inside for a drink?”
She smiled politely.
“Oh, no thanks, my friends are expecting me and I don’t want them to worry.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, before unlocking the door and disappearing into the building.
After a few minutes, the man emerged and announced with an embarrassed laugh that the notebook was not in the house after all.
“It must be in the back of the car,” he said, an amused smile spreading across his face as if he had just remembered an irresistibly funny joke.
He walked to the passenger side of the car and opened the door, flashing her the same smug alligator smile. He crawled into the back seat and began looking around, grinning all the while.
Suddenly, the back of Christina’s seat shot forward, slamming her violently against the dashboard. Stunned by the force of the impact and shocked by the unexpected attack, she was barely able to register the sound of something rustling behind her.
Then something brushed against her forehead. Before she could react, her neck jerked back painfully, and she began to choke. Frantically, she reached for her purse, attempting to grab something – anything – to try to defend herself. Her fingers brushed against the top of a can of OFF insect repellant. Desperate, she thought that if she could spray her attacker in his eyes, she might be able to blind him long enough to get away.
But as her fingers closed around the spray can, the man’s voice, angry and powerful, startled her into submission.
Stop it or I’ll kill you!”
As her initial impulse of self-defense gave way to a paralyzing feeling of despair, her hand retreated out of her purse and her arm fell numbly to her side.
Then the rope tightened and everything went black.
***
Excerpt from The Vampire Next Door: The True Story of the Vampire Rapist by JT Hunter. Copyright 2014 by JT Hunter. Reproduced with permission from JT Hunter. All rights reserved.
Author Bio:
J.T. Hunter is an attorney with over fourteen years of experience practicing law, including criminal law and appeals, and he has significant training in criminal investigation techniques. He is also a college professor in Florida where his teaching interests focus on the intersection of criminal psychology, law, and literature.
This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for JT Hunter. There will be 2 winners of one (1) Amazon.com Gift Card each. The giveaway begins on February 1, 2020 and runs through March 2, 2020. Void where prohibited.
Blood Bound: A Lowrance Vampires Novel R.J. Blain Publication date: January 28th 2020 Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance
After waking in a shallow grave and clawing her way to freedom, Penelope Francis hunts for the rogue who stole her life and transformed her into a vampire. Despite being corrupted into a feared preternatural, she clings to her humanity and refuses to prey on innocents, instead slaking her thirst on other miscreant vampires.
In exchange for a chance at revenge, she joins forces with the charismatic master of the Lowrance brood, a choice that may spell the salvation—or destruction—of humanity as she knows it.
Another night, another vampire, another double-dead end. If I didn’t get lucky soon, I’d run out of miscreants to drain, stake, decapitate, and decorate with holy wafers. In reality, I only needed to stake the toothy bastards, but I figured if I was going to kill every damned unclaimed vampire in New York City, I’d do so with style and get a free meal out of the deal at the same time.
In life, I’d done well for myself; I’d become my father’s perfect daughter, dedicating every waking moment to my budding career as a corporate lawyer on a mission to protect his business interests. In death, or undeath as it was, I’d become a big nothing. I couldn’t even claim I’d become a big fat nothing, as I kept losing weight instead of gaining it, no matter how many of my kind I tagged, bagged, drained, and tossed out with the trash.
Penelope Francis was dead and gone to everyone who mattered, even me.
My stomach reminded me of my neglect with a displeased gurgle. Grunting my dismay over having completely drained another vampire without slaking my hunger, I checked his pockets for cash and found nothing but lint, not even a wallet, ID, or pocket change.
If he’d had food hidden in his pockets, I might’ve been tempted to try my luck. If I ever ditched the relentless hunger, I’d never take food for granted again. I resented my maker’s decision to abandon me in a shallow grave, forcing me to fend for myself. The bastard could’ve left a damned note with a few clues, especially in the feeding department. A manual about life as a vampire would’ve been appreciated. I still wasn’t sure what I could eat. Shortly after I’d risen, I’d tried a slice of pizza once and only once. It hadn’t ended well. I dodged food, afraid I’d throw it up along with my literal guts.
Just to be sure, I rechecked my victim’s body to confirm his lack of cash, ID, or food.
Nothing. Color me not surprised.
I hated killing those as destitute as I, but I refused to harbor guilt over ridding the world of a vampire who hunted homeless teens struggling to survive New York’s harshest streets. While I hoped the kids would survive, I had my doubts.
Miscreants—unclaimed, rogues, or whatever society called the illegal vampires lurking on the streets—couldn’t afford to let their prey live to tell the tale. When found, humans and preternatural alike hunted us to ensure we never bothered anyone again.
Living on borrowed time sucked, as did homelessness. When I found the vampire who’d turned me, I’d take my time draining him. I’d enjoy every swallow. I’d turn his last moments into a masterpiece of brutality.
All I knew was that my maker had been a man, and he’d left some dark mark on me, something that tainted my soul. I could still feel his corrupting influence deep within, a pressure on my heart.
Until I breathed my last for the second time, I’d spend every night seeking him out so I could end his miserable existence. I still wasn’t sure why I’d been targeted or how I’d survived the transition from human to vampire without help. My desire for revenge confirmed one unassailable truth: I was no better than the filth I hunted.
Author Bio:
RJ Blain suffers from a Moleskine journal obsession, a pen fixation, and a terrible tendency to pun without warning.
In her spare time, she daydreams about being a spy. Her contingency plan involves tying her best of enemies to spinning wheels and quoting James Bond villains until satisfied.
Books from the Backlog is a fun way to feature some of those
neglected books sitting on your bookshelf unread. If you are anything
like me, you might be surprised by some of the unread books hiding in
your stacks.
Emma Hammond is a normal
young woman living in New York City whose life changes forever when one
misstep brings her very close to death. Luckily, Alex Thompson, a
handsome stranger (who also happens to be a vampire), jumps in to save
her, turning Emma into a vampire. She quickly discovers the numerous
advantages (no more allergies, glasses, or acne) and slight drawbacks
(wanting to eat her boyfriend) of joining the ranks of the creatures of
the night. But Emma soon finds out her new undead life isn’t all it’s
cracked up to be when she gets pulled in to an age-old dispute between
two feuding vampire clans.
I picked this up on an Amazon free day on 4.12.13. I am all into vampires, so this one is a no brainer. It’s only 216 pages, so it should be a quick read.
Wicked is his name. He watched her from the dark, barely able to control himself.
Gwen saw him approach from the dark, tall, heavily armed and looking like the warrior he is.
At first I had trouble figuring out who was talking, him or her. It took a moment to catch the shift.
How she becomes a vampire is a bit different and so are these vampires. I am always on the lookout for an author that represents them in a new to me light. They are accepted as part of the human world.
When I heard Gwen say, “Well, hurray for me. Don’t I feel special?”, I knew I was going to love this character. LOL I love her sarcastic wit. She is a Halfling, half vampire and half human.
We have other supernatural characters visiting and, in my book, we can never have too many.
Have you ever felt like…one minute I was attracted to him and wanted him to kiss me and the next I wanted to punch him in the face and watch him bleed.
As Gwen sits at his beside, tears rolling down her face, I came close to crying with her. I love a story that evokes emotions.
He met his match in her, but will she be his mate? In the supernatural world, love and romance is on a different timeline and I love to go with it, letting the author take me where they will.
Kayden…I laughed and worried about him. He is a great warrior, but, deep in his soul, who is he really?
Great and a bit gory fight scenes and sweet lovin’. This is not erotica, but I highly recommend it for adults only. The sex scenes are more sweet and loving than erotic.
As I saw the end coming, I knew what would happen, with 500 pages left, I was racing through the pages as I see the story undold right before my eyes. I worry so much more for Kayden than I do for Gwen and Wicked. After all, they are the stars of the show and can’t be killed off…can they?
Whew…no cliffhanger, unless you count the tease, which did its job and hooked me. I have to know more and this is one of those series that I want to read to the very end.
I am hooked on the characters, the vampire warriors, and Evi’s ability to spin a tale that captured me totally, completely. I was afraid I would have to wait for the next book in the series, but, no worries. It has been written. The only problem I see is there is no Kindle version available. Hey, Evi, help a girl out, please. I have to know more!!!!!!!
I voluntarily reviewed a free copy of Wicked Night by Evi Rhodes.
4 Stars
BLURB
Follow
the journey of a strong, independent, yet caring woman as she navigates the
supernatural world she is thrust into. Gwen steps out of a dysfunctional family
life and into a world filled with danger she never realized lives at every
turn, fiery passion, and a love that is ever binding. How will she handle her
strange new surroundings as well as the man with the intense and overbearing
personality who threatens to destroy the emotional barriers around her heart?
Wicked, the next in
line to become the vampire king, is caught off guard when he grudgingly agrees
to take on a charge, something he never wanted to do. He is unsure how to
handle the fierce and vibrant woman with the unsettling green eyes. It doesn’t
take long for them to clash, but will it end passionately or burn down around
them?
EXCERPT
Wicked stood in the darkness staring at his soon-to-be
charge and felt like a deer in the headlights. He couldn’t take his eyes off of
her and just stared, blinking with wide eyes.
“I didn’t expect you to be so beautiful,” he whispered to
himself. He was late meeting her but he
could not face her yet, not until the blood in his veins cooled and his
breathing returned to normal. The last thing he needed to do was make an ass of
himself by acting like a high-school boy hyped up on hormones. He had never in all his 148 years felt this
kind of draw toward anyone. He had the strongest urge to reach out and touch
her hair, to whisk her off her feet into his arms and kiss her until their lips
hurt and she breathlessly begged him to stop.
His blood felt as if it were boiling in his veins as the image of this
woman in his arms flickered across his mind.
Out of the blue, she laughed aloud, seemingly for no
apparent reason, but it was almost his undoing. It was like she was purring in
his ear; he could feel her breath against his skin as if she were standing
right beside him. He growled under his
breath and then turned around and closed his eyes as he ground his teeth
together in response to his body’s reaction. Good God, he wanted to march
across the short expanse separating them and do something that he would
definitely regret later, like push her up against the wall and take her right there. He could picture ripping open her jacket and
lifting her off the ground . . .
AUTHOR Bio and Links
Evi Rhodes has
always had a passion for writing and likes to spend as much time as possible
hanging out with the array of rescue animals on her farm in Ontario, sipping on
a cup of coffee and typing on her laptop.
In addition to
getting her degree in business as well as competing in her favourite equestrian
sport, dressage, she is an entrepreneur, and has coached many of a riding
enthusiast, but she has always found herself coming back to wanting to write
full-time.
“I just want to
be me and to be authentic. To tell a story that others can immerse themselves
in and enjoy is what I have always wanted.”
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.
4 Stars
Beneath London’s Fog Iona Caldwell Published by: FyreSyde Publishing Publication date: October 30th 2019 Genres: Occult Fiction, Ghost Story, British Literature
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.
For fans of Jim Butcher, Stephen King, Darcy Coates and Nick Cutter.
I want it known before this tale begins – I am not a hero but a villain. I want no sympathy from whomever reads this recalling of my story; no mourning for the tragedy that befell my life. I am not an innocent man but a sinner forced to face the ravaging demons and ghosts of his own creation.
My story began as many do – a lie, a fire and murder. One of my kind murdered the woman I loved in the coldest of blood in one of history’s darkest times at the behest of a possessive noble.
After a run in with him in Nottingham, I soon found myself fleeing for my life from hunters, framed for a murder I had not committed.
Forgive me, I am getting ahead of myself.
Let me begin where this part of my story took place.
A bloody civil war ravaged London followed shortly by the Great Fire in 1666. A glorious time for me and those like me to take advantage of the chaos and remain hidden in the shadows.
I managed to pursue the one responsible for nearly getting me killed two centuries prior to the plague which befell London before the fire.
Within the shadows of the flickering flames of St. Peter’s Cathedral, I struck him down and departed the city, thus avoiding my demise.
I had yet to escape him, however, when his vengeful spirit devoured the souls of the innocent in a mad bloodlust.
Though greatly injured, I managed to drive his spirit to my new home Raven Hollow Manor in London, imprisoning him in stone coffin in the crypt beneath it.
Peace resumed in my life and nobles of all kinds enjoyed lavishly hosted parties within the halls of my estate.
Unfortunately, the short lived splendor at the hands of the hauntings filled the ears of the locals and my beloved home decayed into a tangled web of blood-filled rumors and superstition.
My once glorious halls became infested with dust, its crystal chandeliers covered with cobwebs, their spiders fat on the insects buzzing around the decay and mold-covered wallpaper.
Yet, there I remained as it proved a decent place to not only contain my greatest sin but served also as a castle of solitude.
The tides of time swept by in a cacophony of modernization and the movement from superstition to things only mortal science could explain.
I still needed to venture into the city, not only to feed but also to purchase other items needed for everyday living.
It wasn’t until the winter of 1910 that my silence would be disrupted in the form of a girl named Holly, a young street urchin accused of theft. I took her with me after using a bit of “persuasion” on the local officers to let her go.
They did not need to know where I would take her and she soon grew into a wonderful messenger on my behalf. She became a rather attractive young woman with bouncy blonde curls who kept me company with stories of what went on in the city.
I am sure, at one time, she became infatuated with me. It did not surprise me. To mortals, my kind held a certain allure they found difficult to ignore. I ended her infatuation quickly following a stern talking to and dousing with cold water.
One day, while in my labyrinthine garden, Holly came to me in tears.
When the people of London learned where Holly lived, the townsfolk dubbed her a practitioner of black magic.
One day, I found Holly sitting on one of the marble benches in the garden, sobbing. I picked a flower and put it in my daughter’s hair, sitting next to her beneath the statue of a praying angel.
“You need not worry about them, dearest. Mortals are always quick to place labels on what they do not understand.”
Holly sniffled and sobbed, wiping her nose and offering me a smile. “But why do they avoid this place, Jonathan?”
“Mortals fear what they cannot comprehend. Pay them no mind. You are a wonderful young woman,” I purred, brushing a blonde curl from her face.
The words appeared to have placated her as she smiled and joined me in a moonlight stroll through the garden.
***
Around midnight, after dinner with Holly, I dismissed her to bed. Once she departed, I sought out sustenance in the city.
A dense fog rolled in due to the cool winter weather and the recent days of rain.
Combined with the darkness of the streets and alleyways, I managed to meet a young working woman on the corner and wooed her into joining me for a walk to the park. As with other women, I made sure she understood I respected her body with gentle caresses and loving words murmured into her ears.
Once I placed her deep under my spell, I kissed the tender flesh of the woman’s throat and exposed shoulder, thanking her for her gift.
My fangs pierced her flesh, earning a moan of pleasure as her body surrendered its precious life force without any significant damage. Her body pressed against mine, her moans increasing with pleasure at my kiss.
I preferred this method to those of many of my other brethren who tore their victims apart during a feeding, choosing power to subdue instead of sexual allure.
When signs of weakness began manifesting I released my hold, picking her up after licking the small puncture wounds, my saliva healing them, leaving no marks or scars.
To assure she received care, I took her to the nearest hospital and deposited her on the steps without anyone noticing.
As always, I used hypnotic suggestion to erase her memory and leave her with a pleasant dream.
During the wee hours of the morning, I tended to enjoy the calls of the birds and the chirping of the crickets to help relieve the burden on my mind.
Not a soul roamed the streets near the bridge where I liked to sit and write poetry or read a book.
In the midst of the silence, a horrifying shriek caught my attention, almost startling me.
My pupils narrowed to those one might see in a viper or a cat. I let my body dissipate into the form of a black mist, hovering over the city in search of the source of the scream.
I found it in the shape of the body of a mangled man.
The whites of his eyes consumed most of the portion of the glossy orbs in his skull, mouth gaped open mid-scream.
I knelt before him, my own brows furrowed in frustration at the recognition of the familiar puncture wounds on the man’s throat. This cannot be. No other has hunted here in centuries.
The disturbing find made something clear.
Many of my kind preferred not to hunt in one place occupied by another of higher status, or in another’s territory for that matter. We changed due to the growing number of human hunters who would kill any of us they came across.
Despite the city’s size, my reputation often kept others out of my hunting grounds, for which I remained grateful.
This new kill had been malicious.
If I allowed such behavior to continue, it could draw the attention of the hunters or the local police to my home.
Whomever the responsible party, I needed to locate them and have a word with them or kill them if necessary.
My eyes closed, a heavy sigh drawing up from within my lungs. I placed my fingers over the man’s eyes, using a gentle touch to close them. “Forgive whichever of us did this to you. You did not deserve to die in such a horrific manner.”
Searching through the pockets of his trench coat, I located his identification card and vowed to send some money and roses to his family.
Sounds of sirens and the calls of the corner watchmen announced the arrival of the authorities. I left them the man’s wallet so they could inform his family of their loss.
I lurked in the shadows listening to the inspectors scrutinizing the scene.
“Bloody mystery, it is. This is the second mangled body we found this week. One has to wonder if we might be witnessing the birth of another blighter of a serial killer.” One of the inspectors scratched his head beneath the dome shaped hat.
I recognized him as Bertrand Abrams, a well-known officer and one of the only men who aided Holly during her visits to town.
From his looks, one would expect him to hail from Scotland. A bushy mustache and stringy hair with the consistency of sheep’s wool held the color of fire. Dimples set into high cheekbones and a double chin made me smile. A portly belly betrayed his affinity for too many scones and perhaps Scotch.
He had been wrong. This death held no mystery. I merely needed to find the one responsible before it resulted in too much of a personal dilemma.
Following the release of the corpse to the medical examiner, I took the form of black mist and drifted back to Raven Hollow.
The beginnings of my night would be haunted by dreams of a past filled with love, vengeance and pain.
It would be filled with shining auburn locks and eyes the color of the fresh leaves of spring.
Author Bio:
Iona Caldwell is the lover of all things arcane, folklore, nature and magic.
She is the author of the British Occult Fiction, Beneath London’s Fog set to be published by FyreSyde Publishing October 2019. Her second title, Hell’s Warden is forecasted to release in February of 2020. When she’s not busy weaving worlds of the arcane and dark, she’s spending time out in nature. An avid lover of books, Iona claims her biggest inspirations are H.P Lovecraft, Stephen King, Neil Gaiman and Edgar Allen Poe.
She believes storytellers should tell the stories they want to tell. As such, most of her titles are stand-alone novellas she hopes will leave her readers immersed in magical worlds.
She is also an extremely active book blogger who will review primarily horror, suspense, supernatural thriller, mystery, and occult/gothic fiction.