The authors of Toil and Trouble, a romantic horror Halloween anthology are here to tell you about their tales.
There's also a great giveaway.
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This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The authors will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
The brew is hot and bubbling over with romance and terror in this twistedly beautiful anthology that welcomes the darkness of horror and the temptation of love's veiled promises. Six remarkable tales from six incredible authors fill this book of dark shadows and ancient whispers.
Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble - by Jennifer Patricia O'Keeffe: Enchanted pastries and spell-brewed coffee make Esmerelda's sugar-dusted counter the city's most coveted haunt—until a dangerously charming newcomer slips into her shop, immune to her magic and unraveling her carefully guarded world. As his witch-hunter heritage threatens to burn her legacy to ash, Esmerelda finds herself torn between the threat of revenge from the witch hunter's ancestors and the intoxicating truth of the connection that they share.
Silverwood - by Lynn Hubbard: A lonely rancher's daughter finds her isolated Wyoming homestead upended when an amber-eyed stranger ignites a mud-splattered passion that defies reason—until his supernatural secret and the vengeful ranch hands hunting her force her to choose between the man who saves her and the monster who might destroy her. Torn between fierce protectors and forbidden desire, she must trust the very darkness that could shatter her world to survive the wild frontier's deadliest threats.
Ivy, Lichens and Wallflowers - by James Ryan: Marketing executive Hilda finds solace from her stifling corporate life and overbearing past in the quiet companionship of Miriam, a mysterious 19th-century marble statue in a city micro-park, only to discover their connection transcends stone when Miriam begins answering her handwritten notes through cryptic poetry left in return. As their forbidden connection deepens into an intoxicating dream-bound romance, Hilda uncovers Miriam's supernatural secret: she's a cursed thaumaturge sustained by stolen life force, forcing Hilda to confront whether love can survive the devastating cost of keeping her alive.
Flight 1031: Cosmic Turbulence - by Julian Christian: Diplomatic courier Sarah Martinez boards Flight 1031 expecting routine turbulence, not a Halloween dimensional rift that strands her at Germania International Airport—where the Greater German Reich has ruled since 1943 and perfected technology to harvest souls from parallel realities through consciousness-scanning machinery that pulses with seventeen-beat rhythms. Now trapped in a terminal that breathes like a living organism, Sarah must navigate a world where every passenger hides a secret and her resistance could either save her timeline or doom infinite versions of humanity to eternal enslavement in a Reich that spans all dimensions.
Dream a Little Dream - by Jae El Foster: After a near-death car crash rewires her brain, Sarah's nightmares bleed into reality: sugar on the counter forms glyphs, bats appear out of nowhere in broad daylight, and her own hands betray her—while the velvet-eyed stranger from her dreams appears in her waking hours, his urgency growing as Halloween's veil thins. Now, with her reality twisting into something surreal and an ancient language hijacking her voice, she must confront a dark truth: her soul isn't hers to keep, and the man who saved her in death is the very entity hunting her in life.
Read an Excerpt From ‘A Mirror to Die For’ by Cindy Lewis Smith
In fact, I don't know where he could be. The last time I saw him we argued, but that was the way it was for us. I'd forgive him and we would go on as if nothing happened. This chair is uncomfortable. The seat is worn out and the softness of the padding has long gone. I have to keep squirming and readjusting my body just to be able to endure the sitting.
I noticed the clock on the wall directly in front of me. It's one of those large heavy clocks, probably weighing fifty pounds or more. There's a picture of the Eiffel Tower in the face of the clock. The word Paris is written in a pretty script over the tower. I doubt anyone in this place has ever been to Paris. It's on my bucket list. John Henry and I may honeymoon in Paris once we're married, although he's been talking about going back to Georgia instead.
To distract my thoughts in the silence of this morbidly uncomfortable room, I envision the clock falling and crashing to the floor, leaving a giant hole in the wall where the nail would be. I imagine that the glass in the clock has broken into thousands of tiny pieces. Sharp pointy shards of glass are scattered throughout the room, glittering like diamonds on velvet. Aren't they so pretty?
"I'm sorry, I lost my train of thought."
"Go on," he said, "Tell me more about what happened to John Henry"
I love talking about John Henry. My story, it's all true, you know. Every single word. I wouldn't have believed it myself if it didn't happen to me.
I readjusted myself one more time in the chair and continued.
"It all started the day I purchased the mirror," I explained.
"You see, I hadn't slept but maybe four or five restless hours the entire previous week. My life had become mundane and boring. The excitement was gone between me and John Henry. His demeanor had changed. He said it wasn't him, it was me who had changed. But, I knew he was lying."
He never told me any truths. Not anything about his past or what he did when he left me. Sometimes, I felt like he was only using me. Like I was a mysterious link or something between what he used to be and what he wanted to be now. It's hard to explain, it was probably nothing more than my imagination.
John Henry was just so ruggedly handsome, I couldn't help myself, so I forgave him often when we argued. Maybe because of our fighting and torrent relationship, the headaches were coming more and more frequently. And, more intense.
I refused to take the prescription medication I was given. Those pills... those little pink and red pills! NO! No, not those pills again. I couldn't take it anymore. I tossed the prescription bottle into the trash can and grabbed the keys to my car on my way out the door. I heard the door slam behind me and I didn't look back. I was not going to think about John Henry, if only for one day.
"My old Chevy was stuttering and in need of some repairs, but it didn't stop me from driving wherever I wanted to go. And that day, I wanted to go across the border. It was a warm day in late September, with barely a breeze moving through the dry air. I was wearing a big straw hat, the same kind the Chiquita Banana woman wears on the TV commercials, a pair of dark sunglasses and shoes that flipped back and forth on my feet."
I was getting low on gas so I coasted into an old, mostly deserted town in southern Arizona. It was just a few miles or so, maybe thirty or forty minutes across the border. I didn't want to take a chance on stalling out the car. Service stations out there are few and far between. I parked my car on a dust covered side street and strolled to the downtown area of this dusty little town.
Some old-timers were outside sitting on benches that lined the wooden sidewalks of the streets. Their wrinkled cheeks were swollen on one side from a wad of chewing tobacco. A dirty brass spittoon was centered on the sidewalk between them. I could feel them staring at me. You know that kind of stare implying that I didn't belong there, that I'm out of place.
Forbidden love
lights the darkest reaches of space
Welcome to Xanadu.
For its elite customers, a space-based paradise of pleasure. For the slaves who
work there, hell orbiting Earth.
Innocent and
inexperienced, Mariel Linderman sells herself to Xanadu to rescue her farming
family from starvation. Streetwise Rain Delgado accepts assignment as a
Pleasure Rep in lieu of a prison sentence for murder. In a world that strictly
prohibits same-sex relations, the passion that flares between them brings
terrible risks. Their unexpected heart-and-soul connection turns their already
precarious existence into a clandestine struggle for survival.
A Word from Lisabet:
The
Mysteries of Inspiration
My
new novella Free Fall began with an impulse purchase. Just of
fun, I was browsing the website of one of my favorite artists, James Help (https://goonwrite.com).
His strikingly original pre-made covers always impress me, while his
hilariously snarky demo titles often have me laughing out loud. Most of the
time, unfortunately, the genres on which he focuses don’t match my work very
well. On this visit, however, I noticed a cover that really spoke to me. It
featured an evocative image of two beautiful women, one blonde and one
brunette, sitting close together in some sort of a futuristic night club.
I
didn’t have a book for this cover, but the drama and passion lurking in that
image were so strong that I just had to buy it. The JPG file sat, untitled, on
my hard disk for more than a year while I worked on other projects. Finally I
cleared my WIP backlog and started thinking about what to write next. I pulled
up the draft cover and got the same punch-in-the-gut feeling about the women
that I’d experienced when I first saw it. I realized that I had to write their
story—even though, at the start, I had no idea, aside from their obvious mutual
attraction,what that story might be.
Creating
Free Fall was far more difficult that most of my writing projects.
Usually when I begin a book, I have at least a mental outline, with the major
events and the expected ending already established. With this novella, I was
feeling my way, trying to discover just who Rain and Mariel were, why they were
in love, and how they were going to survive. When I sat down to write the first
chapter, it flowed onto the page, desperately erotic. After that, though, I
really had to dig. The fact that this was science fiction made things even
harder; that genre requires a delicate balance between imagination and
plausibility. And sometimes too much thought and calculation can stifle
inspiration.
Now
that the book’s done, I’m pretty happy with it. It captures the sense of danger
I felt when I first saw the cover, as well as the love-and-lust connection
between the two protagonists.
I
only hope my readers agree.
Excerpt (Adult - Explicit):
They don’t speak. They can’t speak, with
their mouths welded together in a feverish kiss. Rain tastes like that
atrocious Martian brandy that’s become so popular. She smells of male sweat and
designer aftershave. Mariel doesn’t care. She runs her hands down along Rain’s
strong back, feeling the muscles shift under the synthetic smoothness of the
other woman’s jumpsuit. Pressing her body against Rain’s, she holds tight as
her lover pins her against the wall. Their breasts mash together, the double
layer of fabric between them slippery and frustrating.
“Damn it!” Rain lets go long enough to grab
Mariel’s zipper and drag it down below the waist. She pushes the one-piece
garment off Mariel’s shoulders, then hones in on her throbbing nipple, sucking
hard.
Mariel gasps as lightning arcs from her
exposed breast to her cunt. Rain rakes her teeth across the sensitive nub of
flesh before transferring her mouth to the opposite nipple. At the same time,
she forces a hand into the crotch of Mariel’s coverall and slides a firm
fingertip over her rigid clit.
The transition from anxiety to desire is
instantaneous. After all, they have no time to waste. Mariel grips Rain’s
shoulders and humps her fingers, deeply embedded now in Mariel’s slick folds. A
climax swells in her depths, gathering power second by second until it launches
as a fiery explosion of pleasure. Her knees buckle but Rain holds her tight,
one arm around her waist while the other hand still plays in Mariel’s pussy.
Those knowing fingers awaken new cataclysms of bliss. Helpless, grateful, Mariel
shudders through another fierce release.
AboutLisabetSarai:
LISABET SARAI
writes
in
many
genres,
but
F/F
fiction
is
one
of
her
favorites.
Her
lesbian
erotica
and romance credits include contributions to
Lambda
Award
winner
Where theGirlsAre (“Rush Hour”), Ippie-winning CarnalMachines (“Her Own
Devices”),Best LesbianRomance2012 (“Clean
Slate”), ForbiddenFruit:StoriesofUnwiseLesbianDesire (“The
First Stone”),
Best Lesbian Erotica 2015 (“The Late Show”)and Lammy-nominated Coming Together:GirlonGirl (“Sundae,
Bloody Sundae”).She has also published a number of standalone
lesbian titles including historical tale By Moonlight and high-spirited
paranormal romance The Witches of Gloucester.
Lisabet holds more degrees than anyone would ever need, from prestigious educational institutions who would no doubt be deeply embarrassed by her explicit literary endeavors.
She has traveled widely and currently lives in Southeast Asia, where she pursues an alternative career that is completely unrelated to her writing. For all the dirt on Lisabet, visit her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com)or her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com).
Laury A. Egan is here to tell us about Jenny Kidd, thriller - romantic suspense.
There's also a great giveaway.
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Enter a world of glittering facades that cloak sexual
perversion, art forgery & murder
Jenny Kidd
by Laury A. Egan
Genre: Thriller, Romantic Suspense
“A twisted and sinister affaire macabre.”—R.D. Hartwell
While spending autumn in Venice, a young American artist, Jenny Kidd, hopes to
create a portfolio of paintings to launch her career and establish her
independence from her tyrannical father. At the Guggenheim Collection, she
encounters Randi, a colorful British woman, who invites her to a masked ball at
the Palazzo Barbon. There, she meets the seductive Caterina Barbon and her
brother, Sebastiano, who entice Jenny into a world of glittering façades that
cloak sexual perversion, art forgery, and murder. As Jenny struggles between
her attraction to Caterina and her growing awareness that she is in danger,
Jenny discovers an inner strength and spirit worthy of her infamous pirate
ancestor.
“A little gem...a top-notch thriller…Jenny Kidd spins its web as languidly as
an afternoon by the canals. Egan’s descriptions of the food, the art, and the
general atmosphere are as purposeful as they are evocative. Her prose is
full-bodied and elegant, and she makes prosecco and prosciutto as sumptuous as
the work of Titian and Tintoretto. As delicious as Egan’s writing is when it
comes to describing masked balls, four-course lunches, and miniatures painted
in pastels, she also knows how to propel a mean action scene. The last twenty
pages or so are a breathless rush of dark passageways, tense interrogations,
and perfectly executed gore that leave you gasping and satisfied.”
—Jerry L. Wheeler, Out in Print
“A very compelling suspense novel, rife with stunning imagery and shocking plot
beats. An eerie, glittering world.”
—Jennica Dotson, author of “A Reaper’s Folly”
“The plot becomes…dizzying in its twists and turns. Not only does this book
offer a riveting story, but her sentences have a cadence that will carry you
along. Once I had reached the half-way point in the book, I found it impossible
to put it down.”
—Martha Miller, G & L Review
Laury A. Egan is
the author of fifteen books of fiction: Jenny Kidd (revised
edition); Fair Haven; Jack & I; The Black
Leopard’s Kiss & The Writer Remembers; The Psychologist’s
Shadow; The Firefly; Once, Upon an Island; Wave
in D Minor; Doublecrossed; Turnabout; The
Swimmer; The Ungodly Hour; A Bittersweet Tale; Fabulous!
An Opera Buffa; and The Outcast Oracle. Two collections have
been published; Contrary: Stories and a Play and Fog
and Other Stories. Her short fiction and poems have appeared in 90
literary journals and in multiple anthologies. Two full-length poetry
volumes, Snow, Shadow, a Stranger and Beneath the
Lion's Paw, were issued in limited editions, as were two chapbooks, Presence
& Absence and The Sea & Beyond. Laury is also a
fine arts photographer, instructor, and former book designer. She lives on the
northern coast of New Jersey.
The authors of The Ghosts of Border House are here to tell us about their paranormal romances.
There's also a great giveaway.
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Experience centuries of Scottish hospitality—whether you're
breathing or not.
Series Intro:
Border House has stood on the River Tweed since 1100,
witnessing centuries of Scottish history and accumulating many permanent
residents along the way. This ancient fortified manor, once a hunting lodge and
defensive tower, now serves as both a charming hotel and an unintentional
retirement home for spirits who can’t or won’t move on to the next realm.
The house is home to a medieval king, a turncoat scribe, a lonesome English
soldier, two Victorian ladies, one unhappy go-go girl, a Scottish Brewmaster,
and more. Each ghost brings their own quirks, complaints, and centuries-old
drama to daily life at Border House. Whether you’re a living guest checking in
for the weekend or a long-dead resident who’s been here for ages, everyone has
a story to tell.
Welcome to Border House—where checkout time is optional, and some guests have
been extending their stay for centuries.
This series features standalone paranormal romances written by various authors.
Love Lost & Found
The Ghosts of Border House Book 1
by Vanessa Victoria Kilmer
Genre: Paranormal Romance
When a love haunts
every lifetime, you have to grab it and hold on.
In 1566, Thomas Kincaid is murdered at Border House by
agents of the Scottish King. Thinking himself betrayed by his soulmate, Sara
Mae Stuart, Thomas curses her to a life of reincarnation with his dying breath.
When Sara Mae dies of a broken heart, she is reborn again
and again.
Fifty-five years of longing, and a love that transcends
death.
After
fifty-five years, Nova Guthrie has returned to Scotland for the annual
Halloween Ball at Border House. Or that is her excuse to return to the home of
her youth and bid farewell to memories of her lost lover.
What
she doesn’t know is that Donnal Stuart still haunts the grand mansion, along
with a few other ghostly characters—one of whom will do everything she can to
keep them apart.
This
story is about true love and secret ghost powers bundled up in a haunting tale
of second chances.
Vanessa Victoria Kilmer
told her first story to an angel who visited her when she was locked in
a dark, medieval attic at the age of four.
She grew up in the Salzburg region of Austria, surrounded by
fortified castles, primal salt mines, and the drama of ancient places.
Her fiction teems with murder, magic, and madness. She
explores the abuse inflicted by those closest to us and the various ways people
deal with the damage.
She currently lives in northern Florida with her daughter,
son-in-law, grandson and two black cats. Between writing novels, she paints,
takes pictures with her white camera named Traitor and embroiders tapestries.
Please visit her website at vanessavictoriakilmer.com and
sign up for her newsletter to get updates on current work in progress and new
release information.
Leah Miles
writes romance and paranormal fiction from her small-town in South Georgia,
where she lives with her husband and cocker spaniel while running an insurance
agency and Airbnb business.
After a dozen years in news production at CNN, Leah Miles
now manages an insurance agency and an Airbnb business in rural Georgia, while
writing romantic suspense and paranormal romance featuring take-charge heroes
and fierce heroines.
Marteeka Karland is here to tell us about Chains, Kiss of Death MC, a motorcycle club romance.
Read on for details...
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Kiss of Death MC
Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense, Age Gap
Date Published: October 17, 2025
Three black cats. One grumpy biker. Fate’s about to get witchy. And
wickedly hot.
Elvira – Halloween’s my favorite holiday, until one teeny mishap
with my practice spell. Suddenly I’m homeless, stinking of swamp gas,
and dragging three black cats into a biker compound… Where I meet
Chains. Big, broody, and superstitious as hell, he glares at my “demon
spawn” like they’re plotting his death. But the way he looks at
me? Let’s just say my spell isn’t the only thing that’s
likely to combust. He’s all hard muscle and harder attitude, and I
can’t tell if he wants to banish me… or bend me over the couch
and have his wicked way with me. I would definitely approve of option number
two!
Chains -- I don’t fear much after nine years inside, but Ellie is chaos.
She’s a walking disaster. Loud, messy, and makes Halloween look like a
lifestyle, not a holiday. And her damn cats have me spooked. I tell myself
she’s trouble. Too naĂŻve. Too good. Then she kisses me, and
suddenly I’m ready to sell my soul for another taste. My MC brothers
think it’s funny. Screw em. Elvira’s mine. And if anyone touches
her, I’ll burn this place to the ground.
WARNING: Chains contains memories of domestic abuse and manipulation. However,
there is a happy-ever-after ending that will make you feel warm and fuzzy.
EXCERPT
Elvira
I stood in the center of my apartment, surveying the disaster zone that used
to be my living room. The cauldron, which was actually just my favorite stock
pot, lay on its side on the stove. Dark green liquid dripped steadily from the
countertop by the stove onto the cheap linoleum floor. My witches’ brew
experiment had gone spectacularly wrong, again, filling the air with a stench
so foul it made my eyes water. I’d only wanted to create a love potion.
Instead, I’d concocted what smelled like a demonic skunk had mated with
rotting eggs in a garbage fire.
“It’s okay, babies,” I cooed to the three black cats,
who’d retreated to their carriers the moment the pot bubbled over.
“Mommy just had a tiny magical mishap.”
Lucifer hissed from behind his carrier door, his yellow eyes narrowed in
judgment. Binx paced in tight circles, while Salem had his paws pressed
against his nose. Even my familiars couldn’t stand the smell.
“I know, I know. I should have followed the recipe.” I pulled my
tank top over my nose, breathing through the fabric. “But who has time
to find owl feathers and moonwater on a Tuesday night?”
I flung open every window in my apartment, the October air rushing in but
barely making a dent in the stench. The smoke detector, which had been
screaming for ten minutes, finally quieted. Green sludge dripped from the
ceiling above the stove where the potion had splattered during its violent
eruption. My carefully arranged Halloween decorations were now coated in
something that looked like radioactive snot.
“We can fix this,” I muttered to myself, only half convinced.
“Just need some bleach, maybe an exorcism, definitely a new
carpet…”
The pounding on my door made me jump. “Miss Blackheart!” Yeah. He
didn’t sound happy. “Open the door right now!”
“Coming, Mr. Peterson!” I sang out in my cheeriest voice,
frantically attempting to right the fallen cauldron. Green goo sloshed over my
fingers, burning slightly. “Just freshening up!”
I wiped my hands on my black jeans and pulled my long hair back into a heavy
ponytail. Taking a deep breath, I immediately regretted it as the fumes hit my
lungs, I opened the door with my most innocent smile even as my eyes watered.
Mr. Peterson stood there, his face the color of an overripe tomato. The vein
in his forehead throbbed with such intensity I worried it might burst. His
nostrils flared before he clamped a hand over his nose as the wall of stink
hit him.
“What in God’s name --” He choked, stumbling backward.
“The entire building smells like… like…”
“Aromatherapy!” I offered brightly. “It’s a, um, rare
Eastern technique for cleansing negative energy.”
His eyes bulged as he peered past me into the apartment. “Your ceiling
is green! There’s smoke everywhere!”
“That’s part of the process?” My voice lifted higher with
each word, betraying my desperation.
“The Johnsons in 3B are throwing up. Mrs. Wittlesby’s cat fainted.
The Andersons’ dog is howling like it’s seen a ghost.” He
thrust a piece of paper at me. “This is an eviction notice. You’re
out, Miss Blackheart.”
I took the paper with trembling fingers. “But Mr. Peterson, I’ve
always paid my rent on time, and --”
“I don’t care if you paid your rent in gold bars! You’ve
violated every health code in existence. People are evacuating the damn
building!” The longer he spoke, the louder he got. And he’d been
pretty damned loud to start with.
Behind me, one of my cats let out a mournful yowl. “Those damn black
cats of yours,” he muttered, making the sign of the cross. “I knew
they were bad news.”
I felt my cheeks flush. “Don’t blame my cats for this.
They’re innocent.”
“You have until tonight to get out,” he bellowed, gesturing wildly
at my smoke-stained ceiling. “Eight hours! After that, I’m calling
animal control for those beasts and the hazmat team for… whatever
hellbrew you’ve cooked up in here.”
“But where am I supposed to go?” My voice cracked, the reality of
my situation finally sinking in. “You can’t kick me out with no
notice!”
“Not my problem. And it’s my damn building; I’ll do whatever
the hell I want. Take it to court if you want. Don’t care. But until you
get a court date, I want you out of here!” He stepped back, pulling a
handkerchief over his nose. “I’ve put up with the stink for the
last time. Eight hours, Miss Blackheart. Not a minute more.”
The door slammed in my face. I stood there, clutching the eviction notice,
feeling the edges of panic creeping in. Sure, I could take him to court.
He’d have to call the police to force me to leave and they
wouldn’t make me unless there was a court order. But, honestly, I knew
it was time to move on. I wasn’t ready to leave yet. I’d hoped to
save a little more money before then. But maybe this was a sign.
My hands shook as I turned to face my ruined apartment. The clock on the wall
shaped like a grinning skull showed it was already noon.
“Well, shit,” I whispered to no one in particular.
I sank down onto my potion-spattered couch, the eviction notice crumpling in
my grip. My eyes burned, and not just from the fumes. I really wasn’t
sure where I was going to go. I had a couple thousand dollars in my savings
account, and a hundred in my checking to do me until payday. If I could find a
new place that wasn’t too expensive, I might have enough for a security
deposit and first month’s rent. If I was really lucky. And that was
assuming I could find something in the next eight hours. Right. Not a
snowball’s chance in hell.
I glanced at my phone, scrolling through the pitiful list of contacts until I
came to Carrie’s number and took a deep breath. We weren’t exactly
close friends, but she’d always been kind to me at the coffee shop where
I worked weekends. She seemed like a really nice person. She’d offered
me a place to crash the last time my landlord threatened to kick me out. I
hadn’t taken her up on the offer then since I only knew her from the
coffee shop, but I wasn’t sure I had many options at the moment.
The phone rang three times before she picked up. “Ellie! Hey!” She
sounded excited. To hear from me?
“Hey.” I tried to keep my voice steady, but it wavered.
“I’m so sorry to bother you, but I’m having a bit of an
emergency.”
“Oh no, Ellie! What kind of emergency? Are you all right?” Carrie
sounded distressed. She was such a sweet person I had no doubt she genuinely
was distressed.
“I… um… may have accidentally created a biohazard in my
apartment and gotten evicted?” I laughed, the sound hollow and
desperate. “I need to be out by eight tonight, and I have nowhere to go,
and I have my cats, and --” My voice broke, tears threatening.
There was a muffled commotion in the background. I could hear Carrie talking
and other people responding, but it was like she had her hand over the speaker
or something. I closed my eyes, bracing for rejection.
“Now drop me a pin and we’ll get over there.” Carrie sounded
determined and, I thought, authoritative? Like she was the one giving the
orders and everyone else was doing her bidding. So, I did as she instructed.
“We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
Relief flooded through me so fast I nearly dropped the phone.
“We?” My voice came out a squeak. I knew Carrie’s man was a
member of a local motorcycle club called Kiss of Death. Which I kind of liked
the sound of, but it was still a motorcycle club. Honestly, though, I kind of
thought the guys I’d met at the coffee shop were much safer than some of
the people living in this building.
“Oh yeah! The girls are gonna get you a room ready while Hannah and I
are bringing Knuckles and Hawk. We’ll get you packed up and out of there
in no time.”
“I don’t want to cause anyone any trouble, Carrie. It’s bad
enough I’m asking you guys for a place to stay.”
“Nonsense! We all want to help!” There was more racket in the
background, then Carrie was back. “We’re bringing boxes and some
big contractor bags. Anything you want to keep that’s soiled or smells
too bad we can put in there and wash later. Be on the lookout for a blue
Bronco.”
About the Author
Marteeka Karland is an international bestselling author who leads a double
life as an erotic romance author by evening and a semi-domesticated housewife
by day. Known for her down and dirty MC romances, Marteeka takes pleasure in
spinning tales of tenacious, protective heroes and spirited, vulnerable
heroines. She staunchly advocates that every character deserves a blissful
ending, even, sometimes, the villains in her narratives. Her writings are
speckled with intense, raw elements resulting in page-turning delight entwined
with seductive escapades leading up to gratifying conclusions that elicit a
sigh from her readers.
Away from the pen, Marteeka finds joy in baking and supporting her husband
with their gardening activities. The late summer season is set aside for
preserving the delightful harvest that springs from their combined efforts
(which is mostly his efforts, but you can count it). To stay updated with
Marteeka's latest adventures and forthcoming books, make sure to visit her
website. Don't forget to register for her newsletter which will pepper you
with a potpourri of Teeka's beloved recipes, book suggestions, autograph
events, and a plethora of interesting tidbits.
Verity Rose is here to tell us about First Light - Tales of the Vanguard: Rune Saga Book 1, an epic fantasy.
There's also a great giveaway.
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A promise filled with hope in a world not meant for dreamers
First Light
Tales of the Vanguard: Rune Saga Book 1
by Verity Rose
Genre: Epic Fantasy
In a world struggling with political and religious
differences, eighteen-year-old Arkrune—"Rune" to his friends—dreams
of something greater than the quiet life in his small village of Locke. Trained
by his stern but loving father, a renowned blacksmith and former warrior, Rune
sets his sights on joining the famous monster fighting guild known as the
Vanguard.
When Rune embarks on his journey to the city of Hilden to pursue his destiny,
he carries with him more than just a finely crafted sword—but also a mystery
tied to his bloodline and the dormant power within him. Along the way, Rune
forms bonds with battle-hardened warriors, fends off deadly attacks by monsters
and men alike, and begins to uncover the hidden strengths he didn’t know he
possessed.
Verity Rose grew up in a blink and you’ll miss it Indiana
town where the school library doubled as an escape hatch. She wrote her first
fantasy scenes at thirteen, lost the thread for a while, wrestling with
undiagnosed ADHD and mental health potholes. She rediscovered her voice after
becoming a mom and stumbling into a gaggle of online book nerds who egged her
on. Armed with a social work degree from Ball State and a lifelong conviction
that characters are as real as the hands on the keyboard, she now pours that
people first empathy into stories that refuse to stay quiet.
When she isn’t tormenting her characters, Verity is probably
reverse engineering a Korean street food recipe, sourcing single origin coffee
beans from ethical roasters, or hoarding trash in Dragon Age or Skyrim. Her
literary inspiration is equal parts Rick Riordan’s mythic swagger, Suzanne
Collins’ high stakes heart, and John Flanagan’s cozy camaraderie.
Verity was raising her family (and her caffeine tolerance)
amid Indiana cornfields and now adventures in the Pacific Northwest with them.
She’s always down to swap book recs, coffee tips, or preferred RPG builds.