Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Author Isaiyan Morrison & Dark Curse

Hi all!

Please help me welcome Author Isaiyan Morrison to my blog today!



Dark Curse
Deamhan Chronicles
Book 2
Isaiyan Morrison

Genre: Adult Paranormal

ISBN 069226325X       
ISBN 13 978-0692263259
ASIN: B00MO1T7O8

Number of pages: 202
Word Count: 79,000

Cover Artist: John Cosentino

Book Description:

The Deamhan world is in disarray. Freed from Limbo, Lucius, the once feared and Ancient Lugat, goes on a killing spree to wipe out any remaining traitors in the city of Minneapolis.

Meanwhile The Brotherhood's return along with the growing population of vampires riles up the remaining Deamhan who choose to stay behind rather than abandon the city. The body count continues to pile up forcing both humans and Deamhan to pick a side.

Either allow Lucius to free the Pure Ones, the first living Deamhan from Limbo, or take him out and cripple their already fragile presence in the city.








Excerpt:
Anastasia's eyes meandered over them. They were young, no older than ten years max. When she attempted to scour their minds, a barrier blocked her. The female Ramanga rushed at Anastasia in Deamhan speed but she quickly moved out of the way, grabbing the back of her shirt and tossing her several feet in the air and onto the roof of a parked car.  The Metusba catapulted himself at Remy but he jumped several feet into the air, avoiding his attack.
Anastasia rushed at the Metusba and she sank her teeth into the base of his neck, ripping at his flesh. He screamed, pushed her away, and fell to the pavement on his knees. 
From the roof of the car, the Ramanga flew at Remy with fists raised and her mouth opened, revealing her fangs.
“I've never hit a pretty woman before.” Remy smiled.
She swung and he ducked, feeling the brisk wind travel over his head. Her punches continued nonstop but with each punch Remy evaded, the faster the punches came. He finally found an opening and his fist connected with her stomach. The Ramanga's feet wavered but she immediately found her footing and she swerved to the left, avoiding Remy's rising left punch. She raised her knee, striking Remy's in the chin and he fell back on the pavement.
She quickly maneuvered herself on top of him, striking him over and over again with her fists. Remy's head jerked from right to left, feeling his cheeks burn with each hit until Anastasia wrapped her arm around his attacker's neck and threw her off of him.
She helped Remy to his feet and they ran off in Deamhan speed with the two Deamhan following them. Their stride took them under a freeway, splashing through knee high water, and they turned sharply left. They passed through stop and go traffic, side streets, sidewalks, and eventually near the banks of the Mississippi River.
They took the river south, leaving the city, and entered a desolate area filled with rotting cornstalks and farmhouses. They stopped in the quiet area, being only a few miles from Blind Bluff Manor. They turned around but the two Deamhan were nowhere in sight.
“That wasn't hard.” Remy scanned the area across the river. He looked to the left at the tall dirt and rock infested embankment. “I think we lost them.”
Anastasia wasn't so sure. She looked up just in time to see the female jumping down at them. She tackled Anastasia and they both fell into the wild currents of the river.
Anastasia felt the coolness of the water streaming over her face and into her ears. It was an awkward position, knowing that neither of them would drown because Deamhan didn’t breathe. She pushed the female back and she jumped out of the water, just in time to see the male, also in midair, and his right leg connect with the side of her face.
She landed on the sandy shore, swallowing a handful of sand. She turned over to see the female towering over her with a raised stake. For a second Anastasia’s eyes filled with uncertainty. Stakes were meaningless, unless the female aimed for her heart. However, if the female's goal was to incapacitate her, she would strike elsewhere, leaving Anastasia alive for them to toy with.
Remy rushed toward the female but she immediately turned, burrowing the stake into his left shoulder. He stumbled back and the female grabbed the stake, dislodging it, and struck again, hitting just beneath his heart.
Anastasia found her chance to make her move. Brandishing her teeth, she bit down into the female's neck and she pulled back, ripping flesh from bone. Blood gushed from her wound and she fell to the sand. Again, Remy and Anastasia took off down the banks of the Mississippi River. The river curved and winded around, bringing them to another remote spot. This time a freeway ran on both sides of the river with a bridge slightly above them. Anastasia stopped, noticing that stars no longer dotted the sky. In the darkened horizon appeared a tint of red, signaling sunrise. She had to finish this now and get to Blind Bluff Manor. They climbed the embankment and approached the freeway. They ran through the traffic, dodging semi-trucks, cars, and other passing vehicles until they made it to the other side.
Remy held his chest and he bent over. “Good thing these Deamhan can't aim to save their life.” He coughed.
Anastasia examined his wound. “You'll heal.”
They heard the swift steps of the two Deamhan approach them. Again the male launched himself at them but Anastasia tossed him aside. He slammed into a nearby abandoned granary and Anastasia looked from the corner of her eye, seeing the female raise her stake, aiming for Remy's back.
Anastasia quickly moved and she caught the female by her wrist before the stake made its impact. With her other hand she plunged her fist through the female's chest, reaching her heart. The female's eyes widened and she snarled before Anastasia ripped her heart from her chest. The Ramanga dropped to the ground and her body slowly began to dissolve into a puddle of blood, dust, and bone fragments.
Anastasia turned her attention to their male attacker, watching him limp toward them.  Dark blood poured from his mouth and a long piece of wood protruded from his stomach. She walked calmly over to him. His heavy eyes wavered.  “You failed.” She plunged the stake into his heart and nonchalantly she returned back to Remy, uninterested in watching the Deamhan's body wither away.
In the distance she heard a male’s voice coming from a small house on a hill. The front door opened and she saw the outline of a farmer gripping a shotgun in hand.
“Let's get going. We don't have much time.” She wrapped Remy's arm around her shoulder. She took one final look at the remains of their two attackers before sprinting in Deamhan speed for Blind Bluff Manor.



 



About the Author:       

Isaiyan Morrison was born and raised in Minnesota. She moved to San Diego, California while in the Navy. She now resides in Texas with her two cats, a pit bull dog, and two guinea pigs. Dark Curse is the second book in the Deamhan Chronicles.

























Tour giveaways open to US Shipping

Prize Pack One:

$30 Amazon Gift Card
1 copy of Dark Curse. Deamhan Chronicles #2 (paperback or ebook, winner's choice)
4 bookmarks
1 box vampire incense

Prize Pack Two:

$10 Amazon Gift Card
4 bookmarks
1 box vampire incense

Prize Pack Three:

$5 Amazon Gift Card
4 bookmarks


Wednesday, October 8, 2014

Author Mav Skye & Supergirls

Hi all!

Please help me welcome Author Mav Skye to my blog today!





Supergirls
by Mav Skye

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

BLURB:

Sisters Jenn and May have finally found their golden ticket out of the slums. Pervy sugar daddy, Frederick Bells, promises to be an easy score with a big payoff—millions are hidden within his mansion.

The plan is simple: tie up the pig, steal his cash, and skip town. But fate has a different plan, including a villain with a wicked imagination. The sisters resort to playing their childhood game SUPERGIRLS to battle their fears in Bell’s den of horrors.

Will the SUPERGIRLS find their prize or will their heads join the pile behind the black cellar door?


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

Excerpt:

Old folks say the world is simply made of black and white. There is no gray. How is that true? How does that sum up reality? Right now, this second, I could toss the dagger, grab May’s hand and escape through the white door, white like heaven, and what then? We’d have zip. Nada. We can’t return to the studio. Fat Bastard and Leroy know where we live. All we’d have is our miserable, crappy (and psychotic) lives.

And each other, something whispers or does it whistle? I don’t know anymore. Through the white door—it’s running away. Running away from the one thing May and I have always wanted: peace.

No, the only way to peace is through darkness, the black door, through the cellar to the money.

I turn and face the black door, place my hand on the bolt. There is a monster in the dark to confront.

Perhaps I’ll die, perhaps May will. This is where the gray area lies, the future. Why can’t there be a clear-cut way of what to do and when?

The moaning creature pounds the door.

Fat Bastard. I grit my teeth and draw my eyes away from the tree with gems. Black, white or grey: if you want something you have to go for it, the consequences be damned.

The monster pounds the door harder.

May startles and turns to me.

I motion to her and breathe, “When I unbolt the door, I’ll drop to the floor and you shoot.”

She says nothing, but stands back and aims the pistol.

I say, “One, two, three…”


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



AUTHOR Bio and Links:


When Mav Skye isn't turning innocent characters into axe murderers, refinishing old furniture, chasing around her spring ducklings, or reading the latest horror novel, she's editing at the almighty Pulp Metal Magazine.

She adores puppies, pirates, skulls, red hots, Tarantino movies and yes, Godzilla.

Especially Godzilla.

She is the author of Supergirls and The Undistilled Sky. Look for her wicked horror romance, Wanted:Single Rose, this fall and the second book in the Supergirls series, Night without Stars, early 2015.

Find Me: Website:  http://www.mavskye.com/

, Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/MavSkye

, Facebook Page: http://on.fb.me/1qPcFVK

, and Goodreads: http://bit.ly/1mtblVa

 Supergirls is available in print or ebook at: Payhip : https://payhip.com/b/ijUy (50% discount at Payhip if you "share" the book) & Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00LWHA438, Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00LWHA438?*Version*=1&*entries*=0

Mav will be awarding a $35 Amazon GC to a randomly drawn winner and a signed paperback copy of Supergirls (interntional) will be awarded to another randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. A $25 Amazon GC will be awarded to a randomly drawn host.


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Please thank Mav for joining us today. Check out her links, contest and book!

Keep Writing!
Jodie Pierce


Thursday, September 25, 2014

Author Gretchen S. B. & Hollownton Homicide

Hi all!

Please help me welcome Author Gretchen S.B. to my blog today!





Hollownton Homicide
Anthony Hollownton
Book 1
Gretchen S. B.

Genre: Urban Fantasy / Mystery

ISBN: 978-1495499463
ASIN:

Number of pages: 258
Word Count: 82,628

Cover Artist: Talina Perkins

Book Description:

Homicide detective Anthony Hollownton thought he had seen it all until he and his partner, Rick Nelson, are called to a murder scene unlike any Tony has come across. There are no witnesses and none of the neighbors heard a thing.

Once Tony starts to investigate the facts of the case become stranger and stranger.

As the body count rises Tony is drawn into a world he did not know existed.

Starting with a visit from a dead woman from his past.

He must decide whether the paranormal truly exists or if these killing are some kind of delusional gang war.








Excerpt:
Anthony swung up in bed. What had woken him? Had his alarm gone off? There was a ringing noise. He turned to his left and made a grab for the phone next to his bed.
“Anthony Hollownton.”
That was as polite as they were getting for the middle of the night. If they had a problem with that they could deal with it. He looked at his alarm clock, five am. That meant barely more than two hours of sleep. Why would someone call him at five am?
There was a pause on the other end.
“Hello.” He repeated. He felt himself freeze.
He could hear talking on the other end. He silently pleaded that it wasn’t the same woman from earlier. He was just frustrated enough to trace the call and chew her out. He heard a male voice come on to the other end and Anthony exhaled, forcing his muscles to relax one by one. He had to get sleep; he was jumping to ridiculous conclusions.
“Hey Tony, sorry to call so early man, but I gotta ask you a question.” It was his partner. The tone in the man’s voice sounded serious but genuinely upset about saying whatever it was he was about to say.
Tony felt himself tense again, what if something was wrong with Amanda or the baby?        “What is it Rick?” Tony tried to sound neutral.
When he heard his partner sigh he relaxed again feeling more tired than before.
“Look man, I don’t believe it but Amanda asked me to so I’m doing it.”
Tony screamed in his head. He wanted to get back to sleep. “Get to the point Nelson. I want to go back to bed.”
The use of the last name was usually reserved for when they were working. It showed Rick he meant business and told him to get to the point.
“As you know the land line is on Amanda’s side of the bed and she has picked up three phone calls since we went to bed she says it was a woman who laughs and hangs up. After the third time Amanda called *69 and the number is yours, your land line anyway. I wasn't sure at first since you don't really use it. But when I double checked in my cell, the numbers matched. I told her it was crazy, since you never have women over. I told her that outside of her and other cops you don’t even know any women, no offence, but she’s making me call anyway to make sure.”
Tony’s jaw dropped. Now he was wide-awake. He must have been silent too long because his partner’s voice came on with a worried tone.
“Hey Tony, you still there?”
Tony flicked on his bedroom light and scanned the room, empty. “Yeah man, I’m here, just shocked. I don’t have anyone here and I’ve been asleep. You know it could be some prank caller who knows how to reroute numbers or something.”
Tony debated telling his partner about the call at work but quickly dismissed it. With a wife and a four-month-old daughter Rick had enough on his plate.
“Yeah, I figured as much. I was just calling to make sure. Sorry for waking you up man. I hope you can get back to sleep.” 
Tony nodded. So did he. “Yeah, good night Rick.”
He heard his partner say something to his wife. “Good night Tony, See you tomorrow, I mean today.”
As he hung up the phone Tony looked about his room. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Against the wall at the foot of his bed was his 42' TV. To the left of the bed was the closet, which was still open from when he put away his work clothes, no one was in there. To the right of the TV was the door out into the rest of the apartment, still closed. Everything on the nightstand was still where he left it. Turning, he looked at the window above the bed, still locked. He turned back reaching into the top drawer of his nightstand and pulled out his gun and got out of bed. If there was anyone in his apartment he was going to find them.



About the Author:

Gretchen happily lives in Seattle, Washington where she spends her time creating new characters and situations to put them in. She also enjoys cheering on her local sports teams, even though it sometimes seems they are allergic to winning (Except the Super Bowl!).

She graduated from Central Washington University with a BA in History and a BA in Philosophy. She loves that Washington provides a large range of activities, from Shakespeare in the park to rodeos. At the end of her adventures she unwinds by curling up on the couch, knitting while catching up TV shows via Netflix.






Let's thank Gretchen for joining us today! Check out her links and book!

Keep Writing!
Jodie Pierce

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

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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   

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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

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Jodie Pierce