Thursday, September 18, 2014

Author Mimi Sebastian & The Necromancer's Betrayal

Hi all!

Please help me welcome Author Mimi Sebastian to my blog today!



The Necromancer’s Betrayal
The Necromancer Series
Book 2
Mimi Sebastian

Genre: Urban Fantasy/Paranormal Romance

Publisher: ImaJinn/Belle Books

ISBN: 978-1611945119
ASIN:

Number of pages: 226

Cover Artist: Patricia Lazarus

Book Description:

Her powers have been hobbled. Her enemies are growing stronger.

Old loves challenge her. And her worst betrayer may be herself.

Necromancer Ruby Montagne is battling for her life in the realm of demons. Unfairly branded for the death of a fellow necromancer, she’s got to prove her innocence without the full use of her magic. And the real culprit is still on the loose.

While someone is stalking her friends among the witches, Ruby searches for answers inside the dark intrigues of both the demon and necromancer worlds. Ruby must confront this new, sinister threat while reconciling her feelings for her former lover, a demon warrior. Only it’s difficult . . . because a sexy vampire is making it clear that he’d like to be a lot more than just friends.

The competition for Ruby’s trust heats up as the enemy pushes her toward a dark side that could threaten the entire realm. Yet what can Ruby do when she’s not even sure what she is? With the fabric separating the realms at stake, she must decide whom to trust. But will the ultimate betrayal be her own?

Excerpt:


A hand I knew all too well rested on my shoulder. “Come dance with me.”
My first impulse was to huff, having watched him with Portia, but I smoothed my feathers and smothered the small fire that had been smoldering all night. If Ewan wasn’t going to bug me about Lysander, then I wasn’t going to disturb this quiet, soothing, if not a bit dangerous peace. It probably helped that I was just buzzed enough to agree, and maybe that had been his devious plan. I let him lead me to the floor and envelop me in his arms for the slow dance. His hesitation joined mine for a brief moment when our bodies connected, melting every nerve ending.
I can’t do this to myself.
I moved away from him, but, sensing my skittishness, he tightened his grip, pulling me against his chest. My breath caught and my body buzzed with longing and want. We danced for a few moments to let the popping world around us settle. I understood why it was so much easier to attack each other, find an irritation to mine, an axe to throw, because all of that was easier than enduring this crippling longing, feeling this gaping hole carved in my chest.
When my heart finally stopped tripping over itself, I carefully settled my cheek on the soft silk of his shirt. He pressed his lips to my ear, and his breath, tinged with whiskey and his spicy demon scent, overwhelmed me and everything, everyone around us melted in a blur. He pressed his thumb against my side, grazing until he found the round swell of my breast. I felt his smile against my cheek when I suppressed a moan. My rebellious arms somehow found their way around his neck.
“You’re insufferable,” I said.
“Charming.” His breath puffed against my earlobe, causing my nipples to harden.
“Smug.”
“Confident.” He continued to rub and caught my nipple with one devious flick, eliciting a sharp gasp.
“Arrogant.”
“Gracious.”
“Oh, hell.”
“That, too.” He tightened his arms even more. “Do you know how much I want to throw you over my shoulder, take you to my place, and make love to you? I don’t think you’ll ever understand how much I want you.” His words, whispered into my ear, soft and husky, about undid me.
“This conversation is not a good idea.” But my body screamed, throbbed to hear the rest of what he wanted to do.
“Why? Don’t want Lysander to see me kiss you?” He glided his lips across my jawbone, leaving my skin zinging everywhere he touched. “He kissed you.” His words, tinged with a note of regret, sent a violent shiver through me.
“No. Stop. What if Malthus sees?” I pushed away from him. He loosened his embrace, giving me an extra inch of space, without removing his arms from my waist.
“Maybe I don’t give a damn.”
“I had an interesting talk with Portia.” My words had the intended effect, throwing a bucket of freezing cold water over the conversation. I hated to extinguish the passion I so craved, but our talk had veered into the same morass that led to nowhere but despair.
“That was mean,” he said, his eyes clouding with frustration.
“What? Talking with her or bringing it up?”
“What did you talk about?”
I smirked. “Sharing.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Maybe I don’t want to know.”
“Do you trust her?”
“It’s wise not to trust anyone for the time being, but I’d be surprised if she was involved.”
“You might try talking to her the next time you’re together.”
“I haven’t been with anyone since you and I made love.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Guess I can’t say the same for you.”
Ah, back to the pain. It almost felt better. At least we’d enjoyed most of the evening before igniting the white flag. I should have shot back at him with some retort, admonished him for judging me, but I was too buzzed and confused with guilt and readily accepted my role as dartboard for the night.
“So tell me, are you and Lysander serious? Do you care for him?” he asked.
“Yes, of course.”
His arms stiffened.
“He’s a friend,” I added.
His eyebrows shot up in disbelief.
“I’m not dating him. I’m not dating you either. Yes, we—” Frustration stifled my words. “What do you want me to do? Wait nine years? I don’t think our relationship can stand nine years of hurting each other.”
His arms tightened, tightened, tightened and suffocated my thoughts. “He’s using the blood exchange to manipulate you.”
“He’s not manipulating me. You know better than that.”
“Lysander is a very old vampire, and I can assure you, he didn’t spend those hundreds of years in a monastery. He knows exactly what he’s doing.”
“Just like you know exactly what you’re doing with Portia?”
“That’s different.”

He let me pull out of his embrace. “Sure it is,” I said, before turning away from him. The bar came into view and, needing a destination, I sprinted off before he could prevent my escape. I chanced a glance back and saw Portia had claimed him for the next dance. He whirled her onto the dance floor, but not before locking eyes with me for one last, hard stare.

Excerpt 2:
“See, that’s the difference between demons and vamps. No honor, here.”
I stuttered a laugh. “Demons do not have honor.” I paused. “You have honor. You just don’t want to admit it.”
“Does an honorable vampire lust after the woman his friend desires, but can’t have?”
I laughed, taking his words as typical alpha supe flirtation, but when I looked at his face, my laughter stilled. He wasn’t joking. I dropped my gaze to the deck, and he returned to messing with the sails.
His admission had tainted our breezy conversation, and a salty awkwardness layered the air between us for the rest of the cruise. When Ewan had stumbled upon Lysander comforting me after my encounter with Dominic, I had to lie to him. Of course, that led him to imagine a much worse scenario than the actual truth, which I couldn’t reveal. Now a new, more insurmountable obstacle divided Ewan and me, but the episode with Lysander was almost more unacceptable to Ewan because I’d caused it. And now, Ewan had written our relationship off, and I was sailing in the moonlight on a boat captained by a hot vampire, who used to be a pirate, and who had given me the occasional glimpse into a passion and vulnerability that would be increasingly hard to resist. I was screwed.
We cruised into the Oakland Inner Harbor, heading for the Alameda Marina. He pulled up next to a catamaran and docked the boat. We disembarked and traversed the wooden dock, heading for one of the new oyster bars that signaled the revitalization of the once-industrial area. I clutched my scarf against the chilly air creeping along the waterfront. The nearly-full moon projected an incandescent glow onto the water, providing the only light to dispel the thickening darkness. We left the dock and took a dirt path intersecting a concrete sea wall on our left and a string of warehouses on our right. The only sound came from the water slapping against the sea wall. I darted my eyes around us and sidled closer to Lysander. The shadows lengthened, seeming to nip at my heels as we walked. Shadows didn’t have malevolent intent, did they? These seemed to crouch, ready to pounce; Seemed to whisper, “Come . . .”
Lysander gave me a reassuring look, obviously perceiving my nervousness. The lights of the bar about fifty feet ahead became visible, and I shook off my anxiousness. I was with a fricking vampire who used to be a pirate.
Lysander stumbled.
“Not very smooth for a vampire,” I said with a laugh.
He didn’t laugh back. His only response was to stop suddenly and groan. I moved to face him and recoiled at the sight of his face illuminated by the moonlight. “What the hell? You’re turning all Nosferatu on me. I liked the movie and all, but it’s not a look that works for you.”
When he met my eyes, and I saw his confusion and desperation, I realized this wasn’t some normal vampire transformation. His skin was shriveling in sick slow motion before me, prune-like, turning to the color of ash and flaking away as if burning from the inside out. “Oh, Christ. Lysander, what’s happening?”
“I don’t know,” he managed to croak from a throat that was shrinking upon itself.
Whispers, real now, louder, drifted toward us from the shadows clinging to the spaces between the warehouses. No. I’m not going crazy. Someone is out there. “Who’s there? Son of a bitch. Show yourself!”
A soft laugh answered me.
Fuck this. I turned toward the warehouses, but a tug on my pants stopped me. “Blood,” Lysander rasped.
“Where . . . oh.” He meant my blood. “We can’t.”
“I’m dying.” His voice sounded as shriveled as he looked. His skin was no more than a thin layer of plastic shrink-wrapped around protruding bones.
I slapped my head with my palm. Oh God. Oh God. I can’t do this. I wasn’t worried about transforming into a bloodsucker. I knew it took much more than a few blood exchanges to turn someone. My fear came from my own power. Like with Dominic’s lieutenant, the necromancy could taint the blood connection and turn Ly into a zombie. I took another look at him and dispelled my fear. He was dying. Maybe he was stronger than Dominic’s lieutenant. Maybe his blood would resist my power. Please.
I squatted next to him, held out my wrist, and squeezed my eyes, not sure what to expect. Getting sucked on by a vampire was supposed to feel better than ecstasy—that’s why so many people frequented the vampire club—but when the lieutenant had sucked my blood, his fangs had felt like hot pokers ramming into my neck.
Lysander jerked his fangs into my wrist, and I cried out. Okay. No pleasure here. His fangs shook, like he needed his fix bad. He tore at my skin with sloppy slurps. I gritted my teeth at the pain that scorched my wrist. My arm shook, but he held tight and sucked. I didn’t even know if this would work. I didn’t want him to die, but what would I do if he transformed into a zombie? I felt my power murmur inside me, unhappy at the intrusion, but I stamped it down, hopefully before it could taint the blood.
Lysander pulled off my wrist. The force of the movement caused me to fall back on my ass. The air and ground spun around me, and I fought off the nausea with deep breaths. The moonlight slashed across Lysander’s profile, and I sighed, relieved at the pale, vampire tone of his wonderfully tight and unshriveled skin. I reached out my hand, trembling violently, and touched his shoulder. He twisted his head, and I recoiled, seeing the same emptiness in his eyes that the lieutenant had reflected when he’d drunk my blood.
No. No. No.


Available at Amazon



About the Author:

Mimi Sebastian raised herself on books and the strange and unusual, and an unhealthy dose of comics and movies. When a career as a punk guitarist failed to materialize, she completed her degree in urban planning, spent two years in the Ivory Coast with the Peace Corps, and another three years in Brazil. By day, she debates the merits of transport oriented development, by night she writes about necromancers and pirates. She’s convinced she could live off coffee, ice cream, and comic books, but is sure only one of those is good for her health.

She's a member of Romance Writers of America and the Fantasy, Futuristic and Paranormal chapter of RWA. A transplant from the beaches of Florida, Mimi now wanders the desert in Phoenix, AZ, and attempts to balance writing with a day career, fantastic family, and household diva: her Amazon parrot.




http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/13508578-mimi-sebastian


Tour giveaway 

A print copy of book one, Necromancer's Seduction, zombie playing cards, and $10 Amazon gift card. Open to US Shipping

Rafflecopter
http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/ba112ffc764/" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway

Link to grab code

display link



Please thank Mimi for joining us! Check out her links!

Keep Writing!
Jodie Pierce

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Marie Michelle Coleman & Bespoken

Hi all!

Please help me welcome Author Marie Michelle Coleman to my blog today!






Bespoken
A Nightangel and Daydreamer Novel
Book One
Marie Michelle Coleman

Genre:  paranormal romance//urban fantasy

Publisher:  Suburban Island Publishing

ISBN:  978-0991146628
ASIN:  B00IXA9UKK

395 pages on Kindle
368 pages in paperback
Word Count:  92,000

Cover Artist:  Doug Pecht

Book Description: 

Nobody ever told Casey how dangerous a little daydreaming could be.

Casey Sloane appreciates the power of a good daydream. It’s the perfect antidote to the pressures of her hectic life as an associate attorney at a high-powered Washington, D.C. law firm. When the nightangel Gabriel takes up residence in those dreams, Casey is more delighted than surprised. Gabriel is the perfect mixture of danger, otherworldly beauty, and out-and-out temptation required to throw her daydreams into a state of perpetual overdrive.

But when the nightangel sheds his wings and arrives in the real world for a real-time relationship with Casey, she gets a quick education on the unforeseen consequences of secret daydreams.

Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/4YeTJQqJy_g   

Available at Amazon  BN  Smashwords  ARe  Txtr  iTunes

EXCERPT ONE:

The Gabriel of a thousand shaded daydreams drew her back toward him in one firm, proprietary movement. Hard against soft. Dream against dreamer. He fit himself against her so her breath was his and the pounding of her heart must have echoed in both of their ears. His eyes drank her in as she stood wide-eyed in her wet, black dress, trying to relegate his appearance to nothing more than the hallucinatory aftereffects of too much rolling around on petal-strewn beds with make-believe nightangels when you had sworn off them. She felt like she’d gone on a bender after being in a sort of daydream rehab outpatient program that required total abstinence in order to stay free of nightangel-induced complications.
Where was Dr. Drew when you needed him?
The angel tore his gaze away from her image in the mirror and sought out the smooth cream of her shoulders and neck. He marked the place where they curved together with a single shattering kiss. The power of that kiss rendered her motionless within his hands. He’s not real anyway, she told herself. She was not going to squander what was a pretty fantastic not-real moment by over-examining it.
She dropped her head back against the nightangel’s shoulder instead; her face lifted up and away from him, her neck turned and bared. His cool breath fanned the anticipation that heated her skin. She closed her eyes. She waited. Casey knew the spot where his mouth would touch next. She knew it without looking. He pressed his lips against the sweet spot where her pulse beat so Casey almost cried out and then he rained a brutal storm of soft kisses down upon her. They poured along the places where the damp wisps of hair clung to the nape of her neck, across the heat of her flushed cheeks, against the corners of her open breathless lips—rushing, pausing, traveling forward again. He smoothed her brow with these kisses before releasing another hungry deluge of them along the other side of her neck.
She was soothed and panicked by the frosted, urgent pressure of those lips. She could either scream “stop” and see what happened next, or stay still and silent while he kept making her weak in the knees with this onslaught of kisses. She went with not moving or speaking. She had released herself to the moment. She had given herself over to something that could not be happening anyway.
Soft-eyed vampires, sharp-mouthed angels—these were the things of dreams, not reality.
“It’s only a dream.” She murmured the sentence out loud, some of her fear melting under the icy sweetness of his kisses on her skin and her own reassuring words.
Her imagining lifted his head. He smiled at her in the mirror with a certain new understanding. Casey produced a small, nervous smile in answer without meaning to smile at all. The exquisite illusion—even more dazzling than in any of her daydreams—buried his face in her sable hair. His mouth was parted and sighing as it brushed against the silk of it. She thought he might speak. She did not want him to speak. Because if he spoke, he would be real. And if he was real, she was so screwed.
“Casey,” the vision breathed her name.
She was so totally screwed.




EXCERPT TWO:

The music rose in her ears. She turned from it. She let it ebb until all she could hear was its echo. She was drifting toward Gabriel and the flame-light. Where she wanted to be was with him—right or not. She didn’t care if it was perilous. Bring it on, angel. And then let’s call it a night.
She approached the arched window of rough gray stone draped in white. She yanked back the curtain, compelled to have at least one glance into the landscape of the dream before leaving. A cry escaped her lips before she could stop it. She could not believe what was spread out before her. The sky was the color of cold mud. The garden below was barren, as if settled into the dead of winter. The roses were blooming though, on leafless stems, mostly prickle and nothing green about them. The flowers themselves were washed out and papery. The wind was a low moan and it flung itself on her now that it was unrestrained by the heavy draperies. She stood there a long time taking it in. She did not see Gabriel but she knew he was nearby. His closeness made her weak and breathless. She wished she were back under his cold wings now—safe and sound, safe with him—but it was too late for that. She laid her hands on the window ledge. She held it tight. She waited for him.
The rough-hewn stone was jagged beneath her fingers. The sky was darker now—rust-red with no light underneath. Sharp little snowflakes began to fly through the air, they cut at the flesh where they touched and began to cover the garden over. The wind smelled of nothing but the cold heart of winter. The blood began to roar in her veins, her pulse to race. She did not have to look. She knew he was there. Draw back, her reason said. Stay a bit longer, her heart responded.
She closed her eyes as he came beside her and when she opened them again it was to a sky a shade of dark lavender she had never seen before. It faded into a crisp, starless black; the wind grew lower and swept the snow away. Now that the scent of rain, green grass, and roses clung to the air, it was warmer. The roses were in full bloom and calling out to her as flowers do in dreams. She glimpsed Gabriel beside her through the veil of her lowered lashes.
“Just a while longer, Casey,” he murmured through lips of hungry red. “Let us come to an understanding. It is important.” He cast a coaxing smile her way; a white, sharp secret lay behind it. The harsh rustle of his transparent wings reverberated in the quiet room.
Yes, there was definitely more of the bloodangel than dreamangel about Gabriel now.


EXCERPT THREE:

His eyes shone like the sun through the treetops on a summer day. Casey thought that was kind of crazy considering he was a nightangel and preferred the darkness. All that light raining down on her was banging against her heart like it was a tin roof in a summer thunderstorm. The curve of his lips told her she would be swimming in the fiery glow of his attention if he had his way.
She couldn’t help but admire him. She gazed up at the nightangel, the way an artist studies her own handiwork with proprietary pleasure. He was handsome, more than handsome; he was the definition of masculine in her personal dictionary. His nature was undiluted by modern convention. Everything about him was unequivocally male—strong, purposeful, and confident. He had a little bit of the knight in shining armor thing going but he played by his own rules. And he was smart as hell. Gabriel was perfect. He was everything she had ever wanted in a man and was afraid to get.
A fan of soothing light stretched behind him and Casey realized it was the radiance of the nightangel’s wings spread out at his back. Yes, he was perfect and it didn’t hurt that he had a Class A set of wings sprouting out of his back either. He was some dream. He beamed down at her. The world tipped on its axis.
The dreamangel was looking more irresistible than she had ever remembered him being—and that was saying something because vampires with the wings of fierce angels had a certain natural tendency to hold a mortal in thrall by virtue of their very presence. She tried to shake herself free of the spell he was casting over her. Doing this was difficult. She could not get enough of her angel. Maybe she was a kind of angel-holic. She shouldn’t like nightangels so much. They tended to take advantage of it. 






About the Author: 

Marie Michelle Coleman is a paranormal romance and urban fantasy author whose book, Bespoken, is the first in the Nightangel and Daydreamer series. She's been in love with the written word since she was old enough to turn the pages of her first book. She's always had a fascination with vampires and angels. Sitting down at the keyboard and turning on the paranormal blender was a natural next step.

Marie lives in the Washington D.C. area. She believes in the power of a compelling dream, the therapeutic merits of loud music, and the benefits of always being in the middle of reading a great book. Marie has a soft spot for a good romance and likes to laugh. Jane Austen is her favorite author. She'll probably always be a little in love with Mr. Darcy.

She grows roses in her garden but no matter how hard she tries, they don't look anything like the ones in Casey Sloane's daydreams.





Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/mmichellecoleman

Tour Giveaway

2 signed print books 

2 ebook copies 

gift card

Rafflecopter 
http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/ba112ffc770/" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway

Link to grab code

display link


Let's thank Marie for joining us today! Please check out her links and her book!

Keep Writing!
Jodie Pierce

Thursday, September 11, 2014

Author Melinda VanLone & Promise of Magic

Hi all!

Please help me welcome Author Melinda VanLone to my blog today!



Promise of Magic
House of Xannon
Book 3
Melinda VanLone

Genre: urban fantasy

ISBN: 978-0-9887455-4-4
ASIN: TBD

Word Count: 65k

Cover Artist: bookcovercorner.com

Book Description:

On instinct, Tarian bowed her head in return, shocked. “Dulra. Welcome.” She breathed the words, awed by the presence of creatures she’d only known through legends. What is the Balance Court doing here?

“Tarian A’marie Maitea Xannon, of the House of Xannon, Keeper of the Water Artifact, you are summoned to the Balance Court.”

 She’d been summoned, and every particle of her being cried out to answer it.
Despite the advanced stage of her pregnancy, Tarian has some explaining to do. Fulfilling her Agreement with the Carraig was an issue of honor—but it led to complications. The Keeper of the House of Xannon is called to account, and Tarian must embark on a dangerous mission which could cost her the life of her unborn daughter, end in disaster for all planes of existence—or save the world.

Some promises are deadly to keep. Will the promise of magic be one of them?


Excerpt:

Tarian forced her eyes open to focus on the rock in front of her. Earth as dense as anything she’d ever seen, more power than she’d ever experienced. The feeling of old that surrounded it. The sense of longing as if the stone itself wanted freedom from the long and arduous task it had been set. She grabbed onto the longing and let the stream of energy pour into it, into the Stulos, then twisted it as she’d done once before. Another twist, and the flow of power into the Stulos reversed. Three streams of colored light became one solid column of white.
A thousand voices sounded in her head. High ones, low ones, her sister’s voice, dolphin cries and emotion, all around and through her. The energy bound them into something greater than mere humans and Ancients. They were timeless. Eternal. It was almost like she felt when she made love with Daric, but…different. At once more intense and at the same time more encompassing. Less personal. More global. As though the universe spoke through her, and she through it. The awe of it. Tears spilled onto her cheeks.
Another cramp gripped her body and she swayed on her knees, gripping the rock as it crumbled, trying to maintain her balance as the ground shifted and her body twisted. Not now. Too soon. Not now. Too soon. She couldn’t be…the baby couldn’t be…
The voices rose in her head. Everyone joined in as the power flowed around and through, around and through, until she, the Caraigg, her sister, the baby, and the dolphins were all one with it. The crack in the Stulos widened, a giant lesion extending from the floor all the way up until she couldn’t see the end. Cold retreated, heat entered. A loud snap. The Stulos shattered into a million pieces that hung suspended in air for a flash of eternity before rushing outward to the edges of the cavern.
A dolphin cry sounded, triumphant, exalted, as the world exploded in a rain of cold fire, magic power, ash and lava.





 About the Author:

Melinda VanLone writes fantasy and science fiction, freelances as a graphic designer, and dabbles in photography. She currently lives in Rockville, Maryland, with her husband and furbabies. When she's not playing with her imaginary friends you can find her playing World of Warcraft, wandering aimlessly through the streets taking photos, or nursing coffee in Starbucks.


twitter: @melindavan





 Tour giveaway 

2 - $15 Amazon Gift Cards

1 – Stronger Than Magic audio book (digital, from Audible)

2 – Finding Flame ebooks

code
http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/ba112ffc768/" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway

Link to grab code

Display link



Please check out Melinda's link and good luck in her contest!

Keep Writing!
Jodie Pierce

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Author Janis Hill & Isis, Vampires & Ghosts-Oh My!

Hi all!

Please help me welcome Author Janis Hill to my blog today!



Isis, Vampires and Ghosts – Oh My!
Other World Series
Book One
Janis Hill

Genre: Urban Fantasy

Publisher: Hague Publishing

ISBN: 978-0-9872652-7-2

Word Count: 90,000

Cover Artist: Jade Zivanovic

Book Description:

Too late to save her sister’s life, Stephanie Anders must now try to save her soul from the vampire who has possessed her, Branwyre, eighteenth vampire Lord of the Aegean.

With only the aid of the ghost of a pissed-off Buddhist monk with a potty mouth and the modern day Priestess of Isis, Stephanie must take on demons and other denizens of a world she knows nothing about if she is to succeed in banishing Branwyre.

But even more difficult than that, she must learn how to forgive her sister Estella for what she did to her if she is to have even half a chance of saving her soul. Welcome to a world within our own – the Other World.


Available at Hague Publishing
         




Extract from Isis, Vampires and Ghosts – Oh My! by Janis Hill
Chapter 5

Estella had the grace and timing to wake up just after I’d hauled her dead weight, literally, into the chair and balanced it there long enough the grab the rope.
“By the Light of Isis, what do you think you’re doing?” Her tone was nearly petulant enough to be the old Estella asking me, not the new peace-and-love one.
“Following your High Priestess’ instructions.” I grunted while tying her hands behind her back as best I could, before continuing to wrap the rope around her and the chair.
“But why are you tying me to a chair now?” she asked, aghast to realise just how tight I had done it. “Branwyre can’t take over until night time. We’ve got at least another hour.”
Ignoring her question for a moment, I snatched her right foot and tied it to the corresponding chair leg. Then, ignoring the attempted kick, did the same to her left one.
“Roxanna clearly states in her instructions here to gather the required items, purify them and set it all up, you included.” I waved the note at her before continuing to wrap her legs, backside and chair in the rope. Yeah, I’d gotten a decent amount. Who says two for one sales are a waste of time? “Nowhere in her instructions does it say we should stop for coffee and a chat. When I’ve got as much of it ready as I can before moonrise, I can actually have a rest. You know, something even we non-undead need to do from time to time.”
She went to protest, I even paused to watch the show I felt she was about to perform, but other than gaping a few times like a stunned fish, she stayed quiet. Wow, this Light of Isis was amazing if it could prevent the Queen of Whinge from speaking.
“Fine then,” she finally managed, a slight sulky tone to her voice. “But how am I meant to eat dinner?”
I sighed; I hadn’t honestly thought of that, going along the lines that she was dead. Yes she was an animated corpse right now, but dead was dead. You shouldn’t have to provide meals for them.
“Nowhere in my instructions does it say I have to feed you.” I muttered. Then feeling I should relent a little as she’d found it within herself to be nicer. “But how about I order pizza, and you eat it cold later. Surely even the Light of Isis can’t have cured you of your cold pizza habits.”
She sighed, but said no more for a moment. Didn’t even pout, which surprised me even more than the silence.
“I do wish you’d be more respectful of Isis and her purifying Light,” is all she eventually said as I was adding a few more knots to the back of the chair.
“Uh-huh.” I was more interested in making sure I’d done a good job, than listen to a lecture on appropriate religious respect. Especially from someone who in the past hadn’t held any respect for anyone or anything.
“And no dinner is fine; I don’t seem to have the need to eat that often anymore.” She continued, trying to watch me over her shoulder. “I won’t have you dissing cold pizza though.”
“Sure!” I said, standing back and wiping sweat from my brow and then my hands on my dress. I remembered I was still in one of my best ‘sombre but not kinky’ little black dresses, not having had a chance to change. So Roxanna’s wodge of cash was buying me a few clothes tomorrow, too. Why not! If I wasn’t allowed to go home until this was all over, she owed me at least a pair of jeans and clean underwear. I checked the instructions again. Okay, so all items purified, sister roped tightly into chair. Salt time! Boy I hoped the motel’s maid service wouldn’t be too pissed at me, or at least wouldn’t notice until after we’d left.





About the Author:

Janis grew up in and around Darwin, Australia, and its rural surrounds. As a child, she spent a lot of time around 'science geeks' at the Darwin University, where her father was a lecturer for many years. It took her a long time to realise that not everyone got to grow up like that or could relate to all the Science Labs scenes in the old Dr Who.

Janis now lives in the Adelaide Hills with her husband and 3 children, lovingly referred to as the ‘Demonic Hordes’. She is a semi-retired ICT Support Officer who, when not writing, takes pride in her work as a Haus Frau while dabbling in the art of translating century old cookery books into modern recipes to experiment on her family with.

@Janis_Hill






 Tour giveaway


5 ebooks and signed business size book cards  

5 ebook copies of  Isis, Vampires and Ghosts – Oh My! and signed business size book cards  

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/ba112ffc761/" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway

Link to grab code

Display link 

Please check out Janis' links and contest. Good luck!

Keep Writing!
Jodie Pierce

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Author Jessica O'Gorek & Gemini Rising: Ethereal Fury

Hi all!

Please help me welcome Author Jessica O'Gorek to my blog today!







Gemini Rising: Ethereal Fury
by Jessica O’Gorek

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BLURB:

Angry at the human race and its methodical destruction of her resources, Mother Earth recruits souls who have just left their bodies to serve Her, and turns them against humanity. Gemini, a clan of paranormal beings, picked from these possessed humans, emerges. A powerful, rising force proceeds to carry out Mother Nature’s plan to systematically destroy towns, cities, states… and eventually, the world. Amidst the chaos, a forbidden relationship between a human girl, Violette, and Onyx, a lead Gemini, begins. They will both find themselves in the middle of a revolutionary war that will either save, or destroy our world.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~

EXCERPT
Chapter 4
Everyone has spare humans-

“Give me my brother back and I’ll go to Saint Augustine’s,” a small voice, that of a child, caught his attention. He could barely make out the shadow of a little girl to his right, huddled behind a larger man with bulging eyes and greasy hair. With more gusto in her voice, she stepped out from behind the man and stood up taller, her jaw set in challenge.

“I said, let my brother Collin go, and I’ll get you into Saint Augustine’s.”

Something about the guts it took to speak to him so defiantly and offer herself for sacrifice intrigued him, but he wasn’t sure if she was even a member of the church.

“You belong to the church?” Onyx watched her head fall and her eyes blur with tears.

“I did…once.” She faltered in her brave facade, something in her broke, the frown on her face turned into a dark grimace.

“So none of you are current members?” A few murmurs of the word “no” and he was satisfied. Their testimonies seemed heartfelt and sincere. He did not feel like entering all of their minds one by one, his ire began to fade and the temperature immediately fell a few degrees. “All right, enough,” he said in defeat. The atmosphere then changed to one of relief and confusion.

“But you didn’t answer our question. We answered yours, but you didn’t answer ours!” A balding man almost cried as he slumped against the wall and rubbed his wrists where his shackles had scoured them raw.

“Why?” A woman beside him chimed in as Onyx turned to leave.

“Give me my brother! I know you have him!” The shy little girl was now screaming accusations at him, her fists pumping the air, but he paid her no mind.

It was always easier to leave out the details. Tork always said there was nothing worse than a room full of hysterical captives. Bad enough to be human, but add in the adrenaline and the fear of the unknown, they became that much more insufferable. He ignored their pleas and timid curses, pulling the door shut with a thud, cutting off their curious stares. Someone yelled out they were hungry and he hesitated a little, trying to remember what hunger was. Ah yes, the need for food. The youngest of his clan, Sapphire, usually fed them three meals a day: canned food, all stolen from the local country store. He had no need for food and didn’t keep any around. Sapphire and some others would simply slip into the stores at night and rob them blind in small quantities.
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHOR Bio and Links:



I was born in Chesapeake, Virginia on April 19th, 1979. I was raised within the American Indian religion and was taught great respect for the earth and all its living beings. Powwows, sweat lodges, vision quests, you name it, I’ve done it. I was the weird kid who would confront kids on the playground in elementary school when they squished a bug. I would very sincerely tell them what they were doing was morally wrong and then I would pray for the bug to come back as a butterfly in its next life.

I grew up admiring my father, Barry Weinstock, as an author. He took me around the country to different places so he could research and write his Wilderness Survival books. One of his greatest works, “The Path of Power,” was written with a great medicine man, Sunbear.

When I was twelve I started hand writing novels. My first one was two thousand pages. My dad always encouraged me and would rave about my writing. He gave me the confidence I needed to keep writing and follow my dream. My daughter, who is twelve, is currently working on her first novel. I hope to continue the legacy.

https://twitter.com/GeminiRising1        

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Jessica-OGorek/306913389429972

http://geminirising1.blogspot.com              
                                 
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17977415-ethereal-fury

Barnes & Noble:


Amazon:



Prizes for the tour are as follows:
• One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card.
• One randomly chosen host will receive a $25 Amazon/BN.com gift card.
Please use this rafflecopter code on your post:

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/28e434201/" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway

If you cannot embed the code, please use this HTML link:

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/28e434201">Enter to win a $50 Amazon/BN gift card - a Rafflecopter giveaway
 
Follow the tour and comment; the more they comment, the better their chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here: 



Please thank Jessica for joining us today! Check out her links and contest!

Keep Writing!
Jodie Pierce