The Mage Tales Prequel by Ilana Waters – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Ilana Waters will be awarding a $75 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour. The author has set up a special giveaway for the first book in the series, BLOOD AND MAGIC. Click here to find out if you are a winner.

From USA Today bestselling author Ilana Waters:

Vampire. Witch. Hero. Monster.

Titus Aurelius is all of these things. Ever since he rose from the ashes of ancient Pompeii, this former Roman general has fought for survival.

A few millennia later, bloodseeker Titus isn’t looking for trouble—just a quick meal. But when his path crosses the witch Abigail’s, that plan gets shot to Hades. They find out the Paranormal Investigation Agency (PIA) is plotting something monstrous—something that involves exploding gas mains, lethal bird-shifters, and sadistic vampire minions.

Will they uncover the PIA’s murderous secret before every supernatural in its path is destroyed?

And what is Titus and Abigail’s connection to the mage who, almost twenty years later, is exiled to a paranormal boarding school? Can this mage solve a mystery concerning a stolen potion and ghostly figure before students—including him—wind up dead?

Together for the first time, the Mage Tales Prequels: Books 0-II are action-packed, edge-of-your-seat suspense stories shot through with a megadose of snark. If you love authors like Kevin Hearne, Lev Grossman, and Ilona Andrews, give these a try! This box set contains one novella and two full-length novels:

When Darkness Falls
Blood and Magic
Mage Lessons

Enjoy an Excerpt

From When Darkness Falls

I am dying, I thought, in wonder. After all these years . . . this is what it feels like. Pompeii is dying, and she is bringing me with her.

It took all the strength I had just to keep breathing, to draw myself up to the podium, clawing at its sides. Even then, I was too weak to stand. I didn’t know if my feeble grip would hold the chalice. Still, I reached for it with outstretched fingers. One of them hit the cup, and the chalice shook violently. My eyes bulged.

No!

I saw the chalice go over the other side of the podium. I squeezed my eyes shut, and with the last burst of magic I could muster, pulled it back within my grasp. I barely managed to wrap my fingers around the stem. I didn’t so much lift the chalice to my lips as I let the liquid spill over them. I fell backward and onto the floor, the now-empty chalice clattering next to me.

I remember thinking it would taste like wine.

I’m sure you all know how vampirism works by now. A vampire drains your blood and replaces it with their own. Then, you’re essentially immortal—ageless, and frozen in time. Of course, it would have been helpful to have this information before I drank from the chalice.

About the Author:

Hi! I’m Ilana Waters, USA Today bestselling author of the Mage Tales.

I write urban fantasy for those who like it fast, funny, and fierce. If you’re into cross-blended creatures (think witch-vampire hybrids and half-breed mages) and supernatural ass-kicking, I’m all over that. Ditto if your book turn-ons are equal parts creepy and action-packed (think ancient cities and crypts combined with beheadings and bombs).

Sign up for my newsletter here, and I’ll give you a free book.

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King of the Blind by Caiseal Mor – Spotlight and Giveaway


This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Caiseal Mor will be awarding a $15 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

In 1688 a plague of smallpox swept through Ireland. Like many others, eighteen year old Turlough O’Carolan was struck down. He was one of the lucky ones to survive. However, the sickness cost him his eyesight. Within two years of being blinded he’d learned to play the harp and taken to the road as a travelling musician. In time he’d be considered the greatest of all the Irish harpers. His music is still played all around the world today.

To the end of his days he always maintained that Otherworldly beings, known in Ireland as the Shee, had granted him the gift of music and were responsible for at least some of his compositions. This is a story from a time when the veil between the worlds was thinner and belief in the mystical “Good People”, was still strong.

Enjoy an Except

‘And you think you can win back her affection by becoming a great harper yourself, do you?’

‘At least she might look at me if I was a musician and dressed in a fine coat and hat.’

‘What would you give for the chance to win her back?’

Turlough didn’t have to think about the answer. ‘I’d give anything, anything at all, to be a great musician and to have Bridget Cruise look on me as she looked on David Murphy this evening.’

‘A harper’s life is hard,’ Crilly warned. ‘I know, for I myself took to the road with harp and horse in days gone by. You might leave your home and not return for years at a time. You might walk the length and breadth of Ireland in twelve months and barely scratch a living in that whole time.’

‘I would suffer any discomfort to learn the craft of music. I don’t care if I never see the McDermott lands or their fat cows and spindly goats again as long as I live.’

Crilly raised his eyebrows and put a hand on the young lad’s shoulder. ‘You don’t know what you’re saying,’ he replied sternly. ‘It’s the excitement of youth that’s guiding your tongue. So, I’ll try to imagine those words never passed your lips.’

‘I truly would not be grieved if I never laid eyes on this parish again,’ Turlough repeated. ‘I mean you no offence, squire, but I want to be as far from this estate and Bridget’s father as possible.’

Crilly squeezed the lad’s upper arm hard. ‘Do not say such a thing. Not here. Not on a hill where the Fair Folk might hear you. Not on a moonless night when they like to wander from their homes.’

‘Would you teach me to play?’ Turlough asked.

‘Would you learn?’ the squire replied, loosening his grip.

‘If I had the chance I’d spend every waking moment behind that instrument. I’d devote myself to study and practise until I became a master. I’d earn the title of Chief Musician of Ireland.’

About the Author: Caiseal Mor is an Australian sci-fi and fantasy novelist, artist and musician. Ancient Celtic Folklore has been a major inspiration for his thirteen published Fantasy novels. Mór also composes and records music, having produced seventeen albums since 1995. He is well known for his self-designed book and album covers and his intricate artworks in both traditional and digital mediums. Since 2013 he has been developing a distinctive graphic art style and creating digital sculptures in 3D.

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Buy the book at Amazon.

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Winter Blogfest: NJ Walters

This post is part of Long and Short Reviews’ Winter Blogfest. Leave a comment for a chance to win PDF copy of any one of the author’s books.

Happy Holidays
N.J. Walters

This time of year, we can all start to feel a little crazy and stressed out. In spite of it all, I absolutely love this time of year. I love everything about the holidays—the food, the music, the pretty lights, the decorations that have been in the family for years, and the time spent with family and friends.

So why is it that when the holidays arrive most of us are too tired to enjoy it?

Expectations! We all have such high expectations, encouraged by television advertising and all the glossy magazines we see at the supermarket checkout. We feel that everything has to be perfect or that the holidays are ruined.

Rubbish!

Some of the most memorable holidays I’ve had are the ones when I didn’t have that much. You remember what’s really important at a time like that. It’s your loved ones and friends, having a roof over your head and enough groceries in the cupboard. Not everyone has that.

The holidays are about the people you share it with, not the stuff. This is an economically challenging time for many, so start some new traditions this year to replace the expensive ones that have outlived their usefulness. Go back to basics when it comes to gift giving: a bottle of inexpensive wine (sometimes you can get mini-bottles of wine for under $5), some homemade cookies or cake, a gift certificate for the movies or the local coffee shop. If you’re crafty, you can knit socks or scarves or even a sweater. Lots of time thrift stores have bags of yarn, donated by someone who never finished their particular project. You get the idea.

If even that is financially challenging, maybe you can give someone the gift of time.

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And do something for charity. Pick up something and drop it in the food bank bin at the grocery store, volunteer somewhere, drop your coffee money for the week into the Salvation Army cup. You’ll be glad you did.

The holidays are meant to be a joyous time. Enjoy them!

Happy holidays.

Dying isn’t an option. I’ve survived a kidnapping, and now I’m on the run from the Knights of the Dragon who want my gift. There’s nothing a dragon loves more than treasure. I’m Abigail Owens, and I can sense gemstones. When I find myself drawn to a beautiful stone bracelet at a tiny shop in Moscow, I can’t help but have it — even though I can sense it’s power. But I didn’t realize with this one decision I’ve just put myself in the middle of a war between the Knights and a Drakon.

I guess I’m just lucky like that.

The only person I trust even a little is Vasili Zima, which is weird since I’m not sure if he wants to kill me or protect me. I’m drawn to him in a way I hadn’t thought possible, and he feels the same way, or he wouldn’t be risking his life to help me. He’s wanted by the bad guys just as much as I am, and staying with me, well, there’s a hundred percent chance I’m about to get us both killed. But I will not be going down without a fight.

About the author: N.J. Walters is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to live it.

http://www.njwalters.com
http://www.njwalters.blogspot.com
https://www.facebook.com/N.J.WaltersAuthor
https://twitter.com/njwaltersauthor
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07K6F5WC8/

Vengeance by Gail Z. Martin – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Gail Z. Martin will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

When undertaker brothers Corran and Rigan Valmonde became outlaw monster hunters and fled beyond the walls of Ravenwood, they thought they had defeated the source of the abominations that killed so many of their friends and loved ones. But the more successful they become at destroying the creatures, the more they realize a greater evil is at work – larger and more monstrous than they ever could imagine…

Enjoy an Excerpt:

“DUCK!”

A chair sailed through the air, thrown by unseen hands. Rigan Valmonde shouted the warning to his brother Corran and dropped to the floor seconds before the chair slammed into the wall behind him hard enough to splinter into pieces.

Setting a child’s vengeful ghost to rest hadn’t sounded like a difficult job when Corran and Rigan took on the task from the village elders. The reality turned out to be far different from what they had been led to expect.

“Finish the banishing circle before she kills us!” Corran climbed to his feet after the angry ghost had thrown him across the room. His iron knife might be able to disrupt the ghost if he could see the spirit to know where to strike.

“Great idea——why didn’t I think of that?” Rigan replied, sarcasm thick in his voice. “Trying not to die right now.” He reached toward the container of salt, aconite, and amanita powder to lay down a protective circle for the banishment, but the spirit materialized just long enough to hurl the container to the far side of the small cabin before he could grab it.

“At least we know for sure that she’s got enough strength to be behind the murders.” Corran dove for the salt mixture, only to see it skid along the wall as if the vengeful spirit were baiting him.

“Yeah, but why?” Rigan got to his knees and brushed the splinters out of his dark hair.

About the Author:

Gail Z. Martin writes epic fantasy, urban fantasy and steampunk for Solaris Books, Orbit Books, Falstaff Books, SOL Publishing and Darkwind Press. Vengeance is the second in the new Darkhurst epic fantasy series. Also new is The Dark Road, the second in the Jonmarc Vahanian Adventures series, and Assassin’s Honor (coming, October 2018), the first in the new Assassins of Landria series.

Her Deadly Curiosities urban fantasy series set in Charleston, SC has a new novel, Tangled Web, and two new collections, Trifles & Folly, and Trifles & Folly 2.

Other work includes the Chronicles Of The Necromancer series, the Fallen Kings Cycle, the Ascendant Kingdoms series, and the alternate history novel Iron & Blood and the Storm & Fury collection (co-authored with Larry N. Martin) She is also the co-author (with Larry) of the Mark Wojcik monster hunter series (Spells, Salt and Steel) and the upcoming Wasteland Marshals series and the Cauldron/Secret Council series from Falstaff Books.

As Morgan Brice, she writes urban fantasy MM paranormal romance. New and upcoming books include Witchbane, Burn, Dark Rivers, Badlands, and Lucky Town.

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Blog | Goodreads

She is also the organizer of the #HoldOnToTheLight campaign. Join her email update and never miss a new release—plus get great free stories just for signing up! signing up!

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Oasis by Bharat Krishnan – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Bharat Krishnan will be awarding a $15 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Once, there was a truce. Desperaux controlled the west with magic, and Desire claimed the east with steel and science.

But now magic has disappeared, and the world has changed.

The kingdom of Desire will stop at nothing to maintain the new world order. On Juno’s wedding day, their Mengery soldiers came marching through the Nine desert to rip his world apart. Now he journeys east with his adopted brother, Trey, in search of revenge after the murder of his family. Along the way, the two face bandits and the magical creatures of the Nine. When they finally reach Desire, Juno and Trey will face something even deadlier – their own fears and ambitions.

This is a tale of brotherhood, a revenge story that will remind you that everything has a cost – a cost that will be paid to Desire and to the inner demons that govern us all.

Enjoy an Excerpt:

Trey and Juno had found a shack to rest for a few hours, but when they woke Juno realized what a grave mistake they’d made. The shack was a cursed place, he said. Trey scoffed, but Juno had been learning from a monk in Nox and said he could smell it in the air – like sour milk. Fear gripped his shoulders, turning him into a statue. Unable to act. Paralyzed. Like he had been on his wedding day, Trey thought. Perhaps Drea would still be alive if he had done something. The frustration drew bile in Trey’s throat.

Though Trey didn’t believe in curses, he knew something was off about the town. Desperate for sleep, he hadn’t noticed it when he snuck into the shack. Now, though, he saw the abandoned saloon with its worm-eaten wood. They were all alone. Stepping outside the shack, the two watched as the sun rose and drew close to them. Dzoavits stood several yards from the door of the shack. The demon’s muscular body reflected sunlight, and when he brought his hands above his head, his triceps bulged to the size of watermelons. When the sun drew close enough to Dzoavits’s hands that he could seize it, the demon swallowed it whole. With that, the Nine was plunged into darkness and a chill running through Juno’s back compelled him to retreat to the shack and abandon Trey. From the uncovered roof of the shack, Juno watched Rangda approach Trey and extend a tongue that was over a foot long. Trey tried drawing his laser pistol out to shoot it off, but Andhaka jumped down from the shack and grabbed him, holding him still.

About the Author:

Bharat Krishnan is a philanthropic consultant in Columbus, Ohio. After ten years in Democratic politics, he wrote a memoir about his life on the road as a political campaign manager and just released a fantasy novel called Oasis. He refers to himself as a professional storyteller and amateur cook.

Amazon Author Page | Twitter |
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15640359.Bharat_Krishnan

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07JFG7BZ5/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i0

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Why I Write About Vampires by Catherine Russell – Guest Blog and Giveaway


This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Why I write about Vampires…The only genre there is (at least in my mind)

Since I was a young girl, I can remember sitting upon my bed, in the darkness of night (when I should’ve been well asleep already) and dreaming of what it would be like to walk through the night with no fears, to see into the abyss of blackness and to embrace all that it would have to offer. The life of a nightwalker…yeah, that’s what I dreamt of as a little girl, not cooking in Easy-Bake ovens, riding horses, or playing house with Ken and Barbie dolls.

My dream world was that of the darkest nocturnal creatures known to man. Hence the obsession was born. One of the earliest vampire movies I can recall watching, completely enthralled was Dracula in 1979, starring Frank Langella.

In the early twentieth century, when moving pictures were still in its infancy, the Nosferatu was the first born of many dark princes of the night. Hundreds, maybe thousands of reincarnations of the creature would be born over the decades, well into the twenty-first century.

From those first black and white stuttering film slides of grotesque creatures with pale, bluish skin, bald head and elongated teeth, dripping with red food coloring, avoiding sun light at all cost to the more recent invention of sparkling day walking vampires of the Pacific Northwest, I’ve devoured all of them. The sci-fi space alien vampires to the African American versions, and let us not forget the Bon Temps of New Orleans vampires of Tru Blood HBO fame, good ol’ Vampire Bill, all these have fed my obsession, my research, my passion in creating my own world of blood thirsty vampires.

Most early movies and even series portrayed my beloved vampires as evil doers, of predators who preyed on the weak, the small, and elderly. The public view was contoured to seeing them as pest, as devils, as the darkest of evil in a human’s soul. However, somehow, I was shielded against such perception, viewing these night creatures as always human, who sometime made bad decisions, wrong choices and even deserved to find and be loved. They tried their best to be who they were in their hearts but who just happened to need one little element to remain alive, their addiction needed feeding, blood. Well, my folks have always found ways to co-exists with their mortal cousins, who have for obvious reason a much shorter life span than their unique relatives. We’re all human, regardless of our life’s length. We all make bad choices. There’s always the preverbal rotten apple in the barrel to make the rest look bad, yet we all want to get along.

In the end…we’re all human at some point in our lives. Some of us just have a really cool mutation, we’re the special ones. And we’re in every aspect of life, living right next door, leading our lives, working our jobs and paying taxes just like Joe Smith across the street.

Yes, this is the world I see, where we all get along, mortal and immortal. This is the world I’ve created from my obsession, my passion, my love of the immortal beings that were first born well over centuries ago.


Megan O’Day seems to be navigating the unpredictable relationship with Geoffrey Drake, her centuries-old vampire guardian angel, rather well. But then his past suddenly rips him from her, forcing her to face the unknown future alone in the gripping sequel to The Stage.

Still bound to Geoffrey through the power of the Link despite his unexplained absence, Megan’s mind is flooded with his haunted memories. While she relives the darkest moments of his previous life, she discovers his attachment to a woman who bears a striking resemblance to her.

As she questions Geoffrey’s love for her, she strikes up a dangerous alliance with Geoffrey’s brother, Alexander, who is also a vampire. She hopes that he will help her find a way to rescue Geoffrey: instead, he seems to be awakening new emotions and desires within her.

As the past and present collide, Megan struggles to fend off Alexander’s dark seduction. Is Geoffrey truly beyond the reach of her love forever? If not, what must be sacrificed to bring them back together again?

Enjoy an Excerpt

An image of Dawn’s mangled, bloody body filled my thoughts, and I stopped sorting through my art supplies. It had happened just before Christmas. There was poor Dawn, distraught over her break-up with Ian, wearing my jack, and waiting in Geoffrey’s car in the alley behind The Stage.

They thought Dawn was me.

They- The Inner Circle, Geoffrey’s first coven-wanted him back.

Marco, his sire, was the head honcho there, and I its prime the coven had been quite large with a very strong presence in the community. As the years passed, it prominence had faded, but Marco still clung to his power. Geoffrey said that the older Marco got the more manipulative, abusive, and obsessive he became. It didn’t make sense. Marco had exiled him, and now he wanted his prized son back, even though Geoffrey’s twin, Alexander, was part of the Inner Circle. To top it off, they wanted me dead. Why? Because I came between Marco and Geoffrey? Was it because of the Link?

Shh, my love, said Geoffrey’s sweet, cool voice though the Link.

But I couldn’t keep my thoughts from whirling. Nerdy Chase Montgomery, my neighbor, was Geoffrey’s Guardian- a scholar of immortals, more or less. He was assigned to watch over Geoffrey, but he had trouble staying close to him. So he had followed me instead, filling my apartment with micro-cameras and audio pickups. When Geoffrey finally confronted Chase, I got a look inside his apartment-and at his computer screens. Nearly every inch of my apartment was under surveillance.

How fast everything had happened! Only four months ago, I started working at Ashleigh’s bar, The Stage, which was now the hottest club in Seattle. Geoffrey and his family which made up his band, The Darkness, were the house band there, and he and his family lived what they jokingly called an “alternative lifestyle”- even for vampires. Believing our human lives were too short as it is, they found other sources for their drug of choice, blood.

By the way, did I say reality bites? Yeah it does. I guess that comes with the territory when the one you love is a vampire.

About the Author: Catherine Russell was born in Tacoma, Washington and raised in a small town just south, South Hill, Puyallup. At the time South Hill was a heavily wooded area and far off the beaten path. Growing up she had the forests as her fantasy world along with the wild animals. She lived with her parents and an older sister. There are a few similarities from her own childhood that have carried over in to her first novel, “The Stage”. As a child, she did have a small dog named Toto, whom she would quite frequently roam the woods with. Her childhood home still stands, and is still nestled in the woods even though South Hill has undergone an extreme makeover since she lived there. She enjoyed hours of day dreaming and playing in the woods, which in turn fed her fantasy world of make believe.

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Buy the book at Barking Grain Press.

Buy The Stage Chronicles Book 1 The Stage and The Stage Chronicles Book 2 Exit Stage Left at Amazon.

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The Dark Road by Gail Z. Martin – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Gail Z. Martin will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Jonmarc Vahanian fled from the raiders and monsters that killed his family, but when danger dogs his steps once again, he leaves the traveling caravan that gave him shelter to become a mercenary in nearby Principality. His fighting skills help him rise through the ranks, and draw the attention of a Nargi general—and the general’s undead mage. An old, unsettled score turns deadly, trapping Jonmarc in dangerous intrigue. He can save himself—and betray everything he holds dear—or die a hero as the raider’s curse holds true.

This collection is the second set of short stories and novellas that reveal another phase of Jonmarc’s growth from a blacksmith’s son to becoming one of the greatest warriors in the history of the Winter Kingdoms.

Soldier. Fight slave. Smuggler. Warrior. Brigand Lord. You may have encountered Jonmarc Vahanian in the Chronicles of the Necromancer but you don’t really know him until you walk in his footsteps.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Bad Blood

Sure enough, Peters insisted that the small caravan camp for the night on a field just inside the border of Lord Nemic’s lands.

“It’s still early,” Harrtuck argued. “We could travel another hour, be that much closer to the manor, and arrive before noon.”

“It will do no good for us to arrive exhausted,” Peters sniffed. “We are performers. We must be sufficiently rested. Lord Eston’s orders were clear. We are to provide an excellent performance for Lord Nemic, as befits a gift of this magnitude. We will not drag in like peddlers, half-asleep and unable to give our best showing.”

“We were hired to defend you,” Harrtuck snapped. “And as your guards, I need to warn you that this position is once again too close to the trees and difficult to defend.”

“Deal with it,” Peters replied, eyes narrowing. “We are camping here.”

This time, Harrtuck did not attempt to hide his muttered curses as he stalked away. “Either that man is incredibly stupid, or he wants to be attacked,” he mumbled to Jonmarc when he had returned to where the rest of the War Dogs waited with their horses.

Jonmarc raised an eyebrow. “I’m not questioning his stupidity, but maybe he does want to be attacked—there’s something about this whole thing we don’t know, a piece we’re missing.”

Harrtuck nodded. “Aye. But I can’t figure out what it is.”

About the Author:

Her Deadly Curiosities urban fantasy series set in Charleston, SC has a new novel, Tangled Web, and two new collections, Trifles & Folly, and Trifles & Folly 2.

Other work includes the Chronicles Of The Necromancer series, the Fallen Kings Cycle, the Ascendant Kingdoms series, and the alternate history novel Iron & Blood and the Storm & Fury collection (co-authored with Larry N. Martin) She is also the co-author (with Larry) of the Mark Wojcik monster hunter series (Spells, Salt and Steel) and the upcoming Wasteland Marshals series and the Cauldron/Secret Council series from Falstaff Books.

As Morgan Brice, she writes urban fantasy MM paranormal romance. New and upcoming books include Witchbane, Burn, Dark Rivers, Badlands, and Lucky Town.

She is also the organizer of the #HoldOnToTheLight campaign.
Join her email update and never miss a new release—plus get great free stories just for signing up!

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Blog | Goodreads.
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Future Comes From Behind by STK Chan – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. STK Chan will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Fighting what we’ve become.
An ancient dimension of dark echoes from the past.

Lisa and her family barely manage to escape an invasion from the Rebel army in their home of Malta. Shortly after this episode, she discovers Exo, the ancient dimension she cannot understand until her late 20s. Exo is made of memories of the past; it brings forth all the strong echoes we leave behind. Lisa desperately wants to resolve the conflicts of this inner world peacefully, but quickly learns she must fight the shadows in people’s hearts, materialized through battle re-enactments, warfare and emotional turmoil.

Enjoy an Excerpt:

“Are we in danger? I heard Daddy talking to Uncle Bernie about some bad people coming to our island. There’s only water protecting us from them, see?”

“Ah, their long debates over the phone… It’s just chatting; just people talking. No worries here, my dear.”

Her mother paused and reflected on whether to be more honest with her child, as some school advisors were recommending, or whether to continue shielding her from the world’s problems.

“I don’t want them to come to my school. My friends might stay at home because they’re scared.”

“They won’t,” the mother replied with another smile as she caressed the little girl’s brown hair. “They won’t. Let’s get inside, sweetheart; it’s getting chilly.”

They resided in a fortunately situated neighborhood. Though just two miles from the shore, it was elevated enough to have an unobstructed sea view over the gentle slope of their rocky hill. Before entering the house, Lisa spotted some movement above her head.

“Hey, it’s Reblas!” She waved at their neighbor, who was tranquilly gazing through his telescope, poking out of his dark attic window. “Any shooting princesses today?”

“Why don’t you come over and take a look? It’s a cheesy moon out tonight,” beamed the man. He was recently retired and enjoyed the simple pleasures of life on the island.

“It’s late. Maybe tomorrow,” Lisa’s mother called back.

“’Night, Reblas.”

“Sure thing, Strawberry. It’ll be there tomorrow as well—always waiting for us to look up and admire it!”

The electric shutter on the back door slowly closed after they had passed through. Reblas adjusted his telescope’s lens and angle, observing the horizon, while in the background, concerned voices on the radio discussed the recent riots in Europe and the increasing numbers of boats crossing the Mediterranean Sea from both continents.

About the Author:

A fan of nourishing SF&F fiction. Seeker of essential truths in historical non-fiction. Exploring life for almost half a century. Delivering action and matters of the inner self. “Chan has license to be more philosophical and issue-oriented, and on the whole he blends together different genres well.” (John Staughton, SPR)

Website | Goodreads


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Stick It Out: Advice for New Writers by Taylor Hohulin – Guest Blog and Giveaway


This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Taylor Hohulin will be awarding a $20 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Stick It Out: Advice for New Writers

After five years of self-publishing, I have five novels, two short stories, a nonfiction, and a whole stack of blogs to my name. I don’t necessarily consider myself an expert on the topic, but I think I’m past that “new writer” phase, too.

Any time someone asks me the best advice I’d give to new writers, the thing I keep coming back to is this three-word phrase: Stick it out. Writing is a long game, and it’ll feel disproportionate at times. After all, I can read a really good paperback in a couple weeks, but to write one? Give me at least a year. And chances are, if I want it to be even more readable, even more un-put-down-able, I need to spend even longer.

So I’ll say it again: Stick it out.

When every word you write feels forced, every scene contrived, and every character flat, stick it out. Your job is not to have a perfect piece of fiction ready for the presses after day one. Your job is to bring that little project another step closer to completion. You will likely sit down at your computer hundreds of times over the course of writing a book, but only once will you get up from a truly completed manuscript. Every other time, you’ll walk away from something incomplete and broken. But don’t let that discourage you. Stick it out.

When it seems like you’ve been writing the same story forever and you still have so far to go, when you just want to be done with it already and have a nice paperback trophy for your bookshelf, stick it out. Remember what I said about the long game? You’ll spend a lot longer hammering away at the keyboard, dreaming up settings and characters and plot twists than you will holding that finished paperback. At least, I hope you will. And that’s good, right? You started writing because you liked to write. Don’t let the excitement of a completed project distract you from the pure joy of telling a story. Don’t rush to finish a project just for the sake of having a finished project. Stick it out.

And when you find a gaping plot hole, when suddenly it’s the dead center of act two and your story isn’t fresh and fun anymore, when a sparkly new idea rears its gleaming head, stick it out. You won’t always love the book you’re working on, and that’s okay. When you get those shiny new ideas in the middle of a dull and old project, write them down and save them for later. Let them marinate while you’re working on a project that was once a shiny new idea to you. If you keep chasing every exciting new plot idea that pops up, you run the risk of never finishing anything, of never seeing that you can take an idea that’s lost its luster and, in spite of what you think in the moment, turn it into something you’re proud of. Keep coming back. Keep making that project a little more beautiful. Stick it out.

So that’s what I have for you. Maybe not very in-depth, but it’s a mentality that’s helped me. Writing isn’t a sprinting hobby; it’s a marathon. And I guess that’s a good thing. If you love something, wouldn’t you want it to require you to spend lots of time with it?

Brendan Cobb calls it tar, but there might be as many names for it as cities left standing.

To some, it’s known as filth, or blight. Others call it the Black God in reverential whispers. Whatever name it takes, the effects are the same. Cities left in ruins. People turned into monsters. Living infections with no known cure. The best anyone can do is avoid it, but even that gets harder the more it spreads.

Brendan survives this waking nightmare by trading salvage for shelter and for repairs to his cybernetic arm, until a newcomer arrives, convinced Brendan is the key to ridding the world of tar once and for all. Reluctantly, Brendan and his mechanic join the newcomer on a journey across the desolate highways of a ruined world, where he learns the true history of the tar…and of the dark power inside him, which grows stronger every day.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Tiger Stripe barked something harsh and insistent, but Brendan barely heard it. He’d descended into a place ruled by impulse and instinct. Coldness enveloped him as his legs pumped, pulling the tunnel in the debris ever closer.

Tile exploded a few inches from Brendan’s feet, an errant shot from Tiger Stripe’s blaster. He did not fire again—a wise decision, considering Brendan was running toward the only way out. The last thing anyone needed was a collapsed tunnel.

Just as Brendan wondered if he would escape, a sound roared behind him, speeding closer at an alarming rate. Metal joints pistoned over and over, faster than any human could move on his own.

Brendan glanced back. The kid with two mods in place of his legs was sprinting after Brendan. The slender prosthetics looked more like they belonged on an insect than a human. As the thought crossed his mind, a single word cut through the coldness that surrounded him. The salvagers were chanting.

“Grasshopper! GRASS! HA! PER! Grasshopper! GRASS! HA! PER!”

Grasshopper leaned forward as he ran, with an expression equal parts grin and grimace. Brendan didn’t want to fight him here, not with four other salvagers waiting to join. It would be cleaner if he could separate them and take them one by one.

None of these things occurred to Brendan as thoughts. They were instincts, like don’t touch a fire, or don’t breathe underwater. They passed through his mind in an instant, registering deep within his very core.

About the Author: Taylor Hohulin is a radio personality by morning, a science fiction author by afternoon, and asleep by 9:30. He is the author of The Marian Trilogy, Tar, and other genre-blending works. He lives in West Des Moines, Iowa, with his wife, where they are owned by a dog and a cat.

Facebook | Twitter | Website | Amazon Author Page

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My Take On Critique Groups by David Allan Hamilton – Guest Blog and Giveaway


This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

My Take On Critique Groups

So you’ve written a poem or a short story or a chunk of your novel and you’ve heard it’s important to get some feedback from experienced writers to make sure you’re on the right track. You find a meet up group of writers in your neighborhood getting together to critique each others’ work, so you gather your courage and head on down.

When you get there, you find there are twenty people in the room. The organizer says each person who wants to share has no more than 5 minutes, and any and all feedback must be given concisely in order to get everyone through.

When your turn comes, you begin reading your short story—a wonderful science fiction story about a mutant humanoid in a post-apocalyptic world. Within moments, you hear some people talking over there, someone else getting up and leaving to get a soda, someone else anxiously tapping their foot, and before you know it the organizer stops you because you’ve run out of time.

No one has much to say about your story, because they don’t know you, but there’s always that one guy who has advice for everyone, and he’s the one that comes down on you like a load of bricks, suggesting that the world doesn’t need another post-apocalyptic story featuring mutants and whatnot, and that your lead character is flat and your setting is boring.

Has this ever happened to you?

Unfortunately, it can be a common occurrence and the problem is that as writers, we rely on feedback as we go along. We need a group of other writers or readers to let us know whether the story makes sense or not, because we ourselves lose that objective view of things.

The question is: how do you find a group of writers that’s going to be encouraging, open, fair, kind, and helpful?

I have to admit, as an introvert, I’m not big on groups for anything. I prefer individual sports and activities for the most part, and don’t enjoy hanging out with a lot of rowdy extroverts. So perhaps I’m a bit biased when it comes to groups. That said, I also know how important it is to read your work as your writing, to get that instant feedback. I learned that lesson twenty years ago when I wrote my first novel. I had a target of 75,000 words for this novel, and I plotted it out, got myself a regular writing time, and put down 60,000 words or so. Then, I read the story back to myself and I realized my protagonist was a jerk. Oh boy. This would either require a major re-write or a major flush job. I ended up putting it away and it has not seen the light of day since!

That’s the kind of problem you could encounter if you do all your writing in complete isolation.

So, if we agree that our stories will be strengthened through a discussion with a writing group, where can you find one that will actually be helpful?

For starters, stay away from meet up groups. You don’t know these people and they don’t know you, so there’s absolutely no trust involved at all. Another group to stay away from is your friends and family (with some exceptions). They will generally love whatever you write, so you won’t get helpful feedback from that group either. But, you don’t need a lot of other people to get started. In fact, you don’t even need other writers. What you really need are active readers who understand plotting and character development. One or two of your friends or family may fall in to this group. If they do, and you want to share your story with them, be sure to tell them exactly what you’re looking for: what parts of the story work, which ones don’t, and are there any suggestions for making the story more effective?

The other thing I would do is join a writing workshop or course. You’ll often find like-minded writers there, and because you generally meet several times, you’ll come to know the others and figure out which ones you can trust. Approach them and see if they’d like to get together for a discussion of writing. Set the ground rules before hand, and you’ll enjoy a very helpful get together.

America has splintered into various independent republics after a brutal civil war. Against this backdrop, space exploration is on the cusp of new technological breakthroughs. Jim Atteberry, a mid-30s English professor at City College in San Francisco, spends his free time listening for alien signals on the amateur radio astronomy bands. His life as a single parent to his precocious daughter is turned upside-down when he hears an intelligent cry for help from the Ross 128 system and realizes we are not alone. This signal unleashes a chain of events pitting Jim and his brilliant, mysterious colleague Kate against a power-hungry scientist with his own secret agenda. Jim must learn the truth about the signal, the strange disappearance of his wife Janet, and the meaning of true love before it’s too late in this first contact thriller.

Enjoy an Excerpt

“How long does it take a subspace signal to travel from Ross 128 to Earth?” he asked.

The machine responded verbally. “Twenty-two minutes, 13.4 seconds with current subspace technology.”

Atteberry recorded the time on his notepad, then looked at the screen. “Is there any history of alien signals coming from Ross 128?”

“Negative. Although in 2017, unknown signals from that system were received at the University of Puerto Rico at Arecibo. They were later dismissed as Terran satellites.”

Ghost signals. That happened sometimes due to the multitude of satellites orbiting Earth back then, and now around the moon and Mars. Signals would bounce and echo off them all the time, like ripples in a pond bouncing off rocks and plants.

“Speculate as to the origin of this signal if it’s a ghost.”

“Ready.”

“Proceed.”

“If the signal is a ghost, it is most likely an artifact of the Second American Civil War circa 2070. The Northern Democratic States and the Confederate States often used ghost signals as decoys to confuse enemy communications.”

So that’s it, Atteberry thought, he’s been chasing old civil war ghosts. Yet the question of subspace remained, and, as far as he knew, neither side in the civil war used the emerging FTL technology. It wasn’t sufficiently developed until after the new republics separated.

“What is the likelihood that these Ross 128 signals are satellite ghosts?”

“0.02 percent.”

“What’s the probability the true source is the Ross 128 system itself?”

“74.8 percent.”

Atteberry leaned forward on his workbench and realized the results were inconclusive. “What’s the probability that these signals are naturally occurring… a pulsar or a quasar for example?”

“Zero percent. The signals are artificially produced with slight variations in pattern frequency, suggesting unknown transmission methodology.”

“Human?”

“Improbable. There are no known humans in the Ross 128 space.”

Atteberry feared asking the next question; he swallowed hard. “Alien?”

“99.8 percent probable.”

About the Author:David Allan Hamilton is a teacher, writer, and multipotentialite. He is a graduate of Laurentian University (BSc. Applied Physics) and The University of Western Ontario (MSc. Geophysics). He lives in Ottawa where he facilitates writing workshops and teaches. When not writing, David enjoys riding his bike long distances, painting, and knitting.

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