Tuesday, November 21, 2017

Cove reveal: Warning Call


Warning Call
Danny Bell
(The Black Pages, #2)
Publication date: December 21st 2017
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult
Elana Black. Saving the day even if she has to tear a hole in the universe to do it.
An unbeatable mythological horror has its sights set on Elana, and that’s not the worst of her problems. Gods want to use her, shadowy agents want to eliminate her, and a powerful sorcerer wants to kill her; all as she rushes to stop an event which portends the death of her best friend, Olivia. It’s all catching up with her, and just in time for Christmas. Elana is going to have to figure out how all of it is connected but she’s in over her head, outnumbered, and running out of time.
And she always thought magic would make her life easier.
There is also a limited release cover:


Author Bio:
My name is Danny Bell. I want to tell stories and avoid writing author profiles. I read—when I should be interacting with people, I named my cat after a cat I liked in a book, I’m pretty sure I saw a ghost one time—though I’ll never admit it publicly, I’m too tall for the earth, and I’ve never eaten a vegetable. I lied about the vegetable part. Wait… is someone going to read this?

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Thursday, November 16, 2017

Spotlight on Risen by Roxanne Heath


Spotlight on:
 Risen


Synopsis:
Ragnarok – the cyclical occurrence resulting in the slaughter and resurgence of the universe – is once more coming to pass, taking with it the best warriors that can be offered up to the jaws of Fenrir and his monstrous kin. When three of the best and most burnt-out warriors decide that dishonor is their only hope of permanently escaping the cycle, they abdicate their home world and make the jump to Earth. Taking refuge in unsuspecting members of a fragmented family they find that, while the fallen soldiers of their home are returning to fight in the battle, Earth’s deceased are mistakenly doing the same. The dead are rising, and their only call is to destruction.

Excerpt:
At that moment the three of them hear a snapping twig and the low sounds of someone or something shuffling through uncut grass. When they hear the wet snarl that accompanies it the three of them wheel around to see several creatures stalking out of the trees, their gait awkward and their eyes blazing yellow.
Ása is the first to her feet, reaching for the staff she’d propped against the log. She takes a firm hold on the canvas-bound grips at either end and begins to rotate them in opposite directions, feeling the internal mechanism engage. Under pressure of her grip the blades swiftly begin to protrude from inside the hollow, thick-walled staff. As the rotational abilities of Ása’s wrists come to an end the blades lock into place, a gleaming fourteen inches of sharp, oiled metal protruding from each end of the weapon. She takes several wide steps towards her enemies, giving her ample room for offensive maneuvers. Behind her and to either side she hears Ari and Egill draw their weapons, and she need not look to see where they’ve positioned themselves. She knows their tactics as well as her own.
Ása closes her eyes for a moment, taking the split second to trigger within herself an adrenaline rush that slows the scene to half-speed. She takes hold of the spear by the middle grips and begins to twirl it, positioning it to her left and to her right, picking up speed until she is essentially wielding a silver blur that makes her both lethal and unreachable. The first of the Risen makes its way into her range and she moves the spear upward, catching it under the chin with a sickening crunch as metal meets bone. Its head snaps backward and it falls. Another takes its place and she catches it in the cheek with the staff itself, watching its rotten face splatter open. With no close enemies she resumes the twirling pattern, backing up towards the sound of Egill’s voice.
The creatures take her retreat as their cue to break from a slow shamble to a fearsome rush. Ása turns away and sprints to the outskirts of the area in which they fight, crossing the mock boundaries in her head and creating a viable gap between herself and her enemies. She stacks the Risen – keeping one positioned behind the other at all times – and when the next of the monsters closes the gap she brings the spear up and twirls it, swinging it against its face twice as she finishes out the move. The momentum of the blunt force trauma to its head snaps its neck, and as the creature stumbles Ása shoves him back. He is the last to fall, and Ása returns to the others where they stand, chests heaving, among blood-stained grass and remains.
“We may be too late,” Egill says in the post-battle silence, slow to catch his breath. “They have already begun to rise.”

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Follow the author on: Twitter / Facebook



Tuesday, November 14, 2017

Book blitz:


Mad Magic
Nicole Conway
Published by: Month9Books
Publication date: November 14th 2017
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult
Mad Magic is a beautifully dark and rich Young Adult fantasy from Nicole Conway, bestselling author of the Dragonrider Chronicles.
Josie Barton is a high school student living in terror. Invisible creatures torment her everywhere she goes, constantly getting her into trouble at school, and even haunting her apartment. But just when Josie thinks things couldn’t get any worse . . . she meets the guy from across the hall.
Zeph Clemmont is a changeling with enemies in all the worst places, fighting to undo a curse that threatens to end his life. Survival means he will have to swallow his pride and trust Josie with all his darkest secrets.
With the help of a gun-slinging shaman and the enigmatic Prince of Nightmares, Zeph and Josie are only a heartbeat away from defeating one of the most diabolical faerie villains their world has ever known.
EXCERPT:
WHAT IS MAGIC?
“Magic is like water. It’s required for all things on this earth to live and it cycles through the world to be reused over and over again. Some things, even some people, soak up more of it than others or require more of it to live. Children are usually more attuned to it than most. They soak it up like little sponges.” Each word from his lips carried a weight I could feel hanging in the air. “Any being on earth is capable of using it, although humans lost interest and forgot how to do that a very long time ago. Most of them can’t even see it or feel it anymore. Their minds have turned to things of metal. It can be that way for faeries, too. In fact, a lot of us have fallen from our former glory to be fed by the machines of the modern world.”
A strange, wild hunger rose up in me so suddenly it made my body stiffen. If magic was real, then surely it had something to do with all the strange things that had been happening to me. I needed to know more—I needed to understand.
“Where does it come from?”
“The moon.” He paused, holding a liquor bottle in each hand as he turned to look me in the eye. “Or at least, that’s what the old songs say. No one knows for sure. But magic is raw energy that we can use as we choose. Even a small amount can accomplish miraculous or even terrible things.”


Author Bio:
NICOLE CONWAY is an author from North Alabama. She graduated from Auburn University in 2012, and has previously worked as a graphic artist. She is happily married and has one son as well as a cat and a dog. She enjoys blogging, traveling, cooking, and spending time with her family.

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Saturday, November 11, 2017

Spotlight on SMOKE by Roxanne Heath



Smoke by Roxanne Heath



Title: “Smoke: A Novel”
Author: 
Synopsis: Finding a dead man in the woods seems, at first, like any other routine tragedy. Burdened by a lack of scientific evidence, the investigation takes a much darker turn when a series of interviews uncover sordid details from this dead man's past including a history of magic and violence. This story takes the four main characters on a journey trying to determine the cause of death, leading each to question his or her own motivations for wanting the truth, and quickly revealing the consequences of betraying the trust of the dead.​



Excerpt:

They make their way outside, to where the air is sharp and cold and the entire night is still. No sooner has the first lungful of icy air rendered the both of them breathless when Noah turns and veers towards the back of the building, to the tennis courts which are lightly dusted with snow that sparkles beneath the security lights. They stand there for a minute and Noah thinks to himself that this will be a perfect setting. Maybe now, with her blood enchanted by the music, with the night as pretty as it is, with the fact that they do not at all feel like themselves, maybe she’d accept this one fantastic thing.
Londi does not press him for information as to why they are there, but she accidentally lets loose a shivering breath and it is this that breaks Noah from his reverie.
“Sorry,” he says, abruptly turning to face her. “Here.” He takes off his coat and drapes it over her shoulders, despite her protests. No matter what she says, she is visibly shaking from the cold, and his residual heat inside the coat does feel rather nice.
“I don’t need it, I promise,” he says with a small half-smile, before rolling up his sleeves. He does as his father had done so many years ago, calming himself against everything, even against shivering though the night air bites at every inch of his skin. When his heart has steadied enough, he lets the words pass through his lips, much more from memory than understanding. They are barely louder than a whisper, but it is enough.
It is not long before the sigils on his arms are alight, an electric green – an odd distinction to be made, where color was different depending on the one who cast the spell –  and Noah does not even hear as Londi accidentally lets loose a few curses before slamming her hand over her mouth. It is extraordinary to come face to face with something so straight out of fiction and yet here it is in plain sight. There they are, the sigils she’d only seen glimpses of when he reached over to grab a book from his bag or reached up into his locker to retrieve his lunch. These odd glimpses had been nothing but, and now they are real, real and glowing so brightly they looked as though they must burn terribly and against the stark contrast of the dark night. She wants to shield her eyes against this almost painfully-bright vision but is held steadfast. He reaches over and plucks one from his arm, throwing it into the air where it hovers for a moment before bursting outwards into a brilliant green flower over five feet wide.
He tosses several more into the air, plucking from a different sigil each time and every time what he creates is of an equally beautiful quality. As a closing act he plucks one from the opposite arm and turns to face Londi, letting it spark in his hands for a moment before snapping his fingers against it. Closing in on itself before forming in a brilliant, sparkling display, the ring forms above her head then settles gently down until all at once she is surrounded. It gently undulates around her, and she is afraid to move inside of it for what might happen.
“It’s okay. Go ahead,” he invites. “Feel it.”
So she does, and each time it is like passing her hand through a frozen fog.
Noah feels himself growing exponentially fatigued, and so with a small groan he breaks concentration and the ring disintegrates into nothing, leaving their eyes seeing nothing but dense splotches in the wake of its brilliant light.
Londi stands there, shaking, but not from the cold, and Noah looks at her expectantly.
“Well?”
“It… you weren’t lying,” she says. She rolls up the sleeve of Noah’s jacket to reveal her wrist, running her thumb over the spot where she’d let him draw a tiny, abstract looking symbol not two weeks before. He’d claimed it was to ease her mind, to protect her against any bullies she might attract as a result of his friendship. She hadn’t believed him then, and the way she looks at it now in light of the demonstration suggests a mixture of disbelief and horror yet neither is true. More than anything it’s a puzzled sense of belief, albeit one that is threatening to make her float up and away out of her own head.
“No, I wasn’t,” he responds quietly.
“This is for protection?” Londi asks, reaffirming what he’d told her when he’d drawn it.
“Your life has not been entirely kind,” Noah says, a trace of embarrassment in his voice. “But you have been kind to me all the same. I try and protect my allies wherever I can, because I know others will not.”


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Wednesday, November 1, 2017

Book Blitz: Winter's Siren


Winter’s Siren
Krystal Jane Ruin
Publication date: November 1st 2017
Genres: Paranormal, Young Adult
For the last five years, Fawn has been the star soprano of a secluded opera house, forced to sing for her kidnapper.
His daughter, Devi, waits patiently in the shadows, hiding a face so horrible that no one who’s seen it will look at it again.
As Fawn plots her escape, whispers spread through the shaded corridors of dark sorcery, warning her that she must flee by the next opening night.
But when Fawn draws close to the exit, it’s Devi who’s standing in her way, leading Fawn to suspect that Devi has something to gain if she fails.
(a dark reimagining of Swan Lake)
EXCERPT:
Frosty air nips at my nose. I stand almost knee deep in fresh fallen snow, letting the diffused sunlight hit my face. There is no sound. Peace settles over me. In this moment, I truly feel like I’m in the middle of nowhere.
Something cold and wet explodes on the back of my neck. For a moment, I fear the worst. A boil. Pus. My father’s description of my mother’s face plays out in my mind.
But then I hear Andrew laughing behind me. I touch the rough skin on my neck and bring a shaky and damp glove to my face. Snow. It’s just snow.
It’s the middle of the day, and my face is uncovered. To make everything worse, it’s bright outside. Freezing and overcast, but bright.
My hands fly to my face automatically.
“Are you going to let me get away with that?” Andrew laughs again.
I twist around and peek at him through my fingers.
He stands before me, his arms spread wide. A thick coat covers his arms, and in his gloved hands, he holds another snowball. “You have two seconds to stop me!”
I flip my hood over my head and drop down to gather snow in my hands.
Another snowball bursts against my head. The wetness plasters my hair to my face. I hurl my deformed ball in his direction. It misses him completely.
Another wad of snow lands on my neck while I gather a larger, rounder ball of snow. “Cheating!” I throw my handful at him. It lands weakly by his knees.
“Here, let me help you.” He climbs towards me and gathers a nice, solid ball in his fist. He hands this to me, and then stands back and spreads his arms wide again. “Try again.”
I throw it square at his nose.
“Ow!” He covers his face and cries out dramatically. “It’s in my eyes!”
“Stop it! Are you serious?” I navigate closer to him, and he falls back into the snow. I run to his side and hear laughter bubbling out from behind his hands. “Jerk!” I shovel snow over his body, and he laughs all the while.
Then he goes still. I stop.
“Andrew?” I lean in close. “Andrew?”
He lunges out of his shallow grave and tackles me to the ground.
A panicked scream leaves my body as he lands on top of me, heavy and warm. Then a strange sound comes out of my mouth. Something that’s never come out of it before. Laughter.
His braid hangs down, inches from my sunken cheek. Suddenly aware of how close his head is to mine, the laughter dies in my throat, and I slap my gloves to my cheeks.
“You have such beautiful eyes,” he says.
My breath is trapped in my chest. It hurts. I don’t know how much he can see of my face—my hood is pulled low and my hair and hands cover everything else—but I fear it’s too much.
“Andrew . . .”


Author Bio:
Krystal is the author of supernatural and paranormal fiction, living in the Tennessee Valley with a collection of swords and daggers. When she's not hoarding stuffed pandas, hourglasses, and Hello Kitty replicas, she can be found in YouTube hole or blogging about books, writing, and random things at KrystalSquared.net.

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Tuesday, October 31, 2017

Cover reveal: Beneath the Lighthouse


Beneath the Lighthouse
Julieanne Lynch
Publication date: TBA
Genres: Horror, Young Adult
SOME SECRETS ARE MADE TO BE UNCOVERED.
Sixteen-year-old Jamie McGuiness’s sister is dead. Sinking into a deep depression, he frequents the lighthouse where her body was discovered, unaware of the sinister forces surrounding him.
When an angry spirit latches onto Jamie, he’s led down a dark and twisted path, one that uncovers old family secrets, destroying everything Jamie ever believed in.
Caught between the world of the living and the vengeful dead, Jamie fights the pull of the other side. It’s up to Jamie to settle old scores or no one will rest in peace—but, first, he has to survive.


Author Bio:
Julieanne Lynch is an author of urban fantasy and contemporary fiction for both adults and teens. Julieanne lives in Northern Ireland, with her husband and five children, where she works on novels full-time. Before becoming a writer, she considered a few different career paths, a rock star being one of them. She studied English Literature and Creative Writing at The Open University and considered journalism as a career path. However, she decided writing was the way for her and is thankful for each day she lives her dream.
Julieanne is represented by Italia Gandolfo of Gandolfo Helin & Fountain Literary Management, and is both traditionally and independently published.

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Thursday, October 26, 2017

Book Blitz : Posse Legends


Posse: Legends
T. Hammond
(Posse, #1)
Publication date: October 26th 2017
Genres: Urban Fantasy, Young Adult
It should have been an easy job.
Track the jackal. Locate the girl. Rescue said girl. Return bad puppy to the Council for questioning.
As leader of the Posse, a paranormal alliance, shapeshifter Lexa O’Clare thought she’d seen everything over the past millennia. Neither she, nor her vampire partner, Etienne, expected this case to be different.
A fugitive werejackal leads them to a secret lab where supernaturals are unwilling subjects in genetic experimentation. The Posse uncovers a conspiracy implicating high-ranking members of the Inter-species Council.
Can anyone’s motives be trusted?
Lexa: a shapeshifter sheriff who also proxies for humans killed before their destinies are fulfilled.
Etienne: a Knight Templar, turned master vampire.
Yasmin: a dragon who walked among the gods.
Jade: an historian & Fox-familiar to a cranky dragon.
Sentinel: a gargoyle who mourns the fall of Atlantis.
Richard: a witch with a target on his back.
Tris: a rare polyshifter with an eye for a sexy male.
Rhys: four months ago he was human…
EXCERPT:
I rocked forward on my arms so I could lean closer and hear more clearly. My attic bedroom was directly above the coven leader’s desk, and from this angle, I had a clear line-of-sight to the witches gathered below. It’s surprising how, after all this time, they still hadn’t caught on to the fact I was spying. I could see and hear everything they discussed. Note to self: when creating a sound-dampening spell, it’s not sufficient to muffle the walls, windows, and door—the floor and ceiling should also be considered.
The peephole had been a fortuitous mishap. I’d been practicing my air-moving skills when I accidentally created a small tornado. Hey now, it was a little one, only a couple feet tall—it’s not like I created a whirlwind of epic proportions. Did you know, if you got air spinning fast enough over a single focal point, it’s possible to drill a hole in a wood floor? It was easy enough to make a plug to conceal the damage, and my room’s simple privacy spell was always active, so there were no worries of discovery. Even if they’d looked up—and they never looked up—my magic was flawless enough they’d see an unblemished ceiling. Cocky witches.
Each coven contained a main circle of twelve witches, plus a priestess. The strongest groups consist of extended families who could pick and choose the most promising amongst themselves, but most covens are formed from a collection of individuals with varying degrees of power and skill. Mother Nan’s coven was moderately talented, with a core group of six sycophants, err…I mean, mature practitioners, all of which were crowded around her desk—standing, of course. The seventh witch was Lea, a semi-strong practitioner who still lacked emotional control over her mouth and her magic, but was her mother’s favorite daughter.
“He’s an abomination.” Mara spat the words as if they left a foul residue in her mouth.
“Too true,” Betti agreed, as was her nature.
“It’s a miracle we haven’t been killed in our beds,” Ella said, lips pursed in sour disapproval.
“Oh, definitely, in our beds.” Betti nodded in quick little jerks, like a bobble-head doll.
Coral sniffed. “It was touch-and-go while he went through his let’s-set-everything-on-fire phase.”
Oh, come on now, I’d been sick, running a high fever. I was seven! You’d think, after all this time, they could let it go.


Author Bio:
T, a paranormal romance and urban fantasy author, feels writing is not a calling so much as it is a compulsion. No one is more surprised than she is when characters take over the plot and dialog, (re)directing stories in directions she had not (consciously) intended. Although T starts out each novel with a basic outline, she finds one or two chapters into the novels, not only have the characters shredded her outline into tiny unidentifiable pieces, they use the resulting confetti in a nose-thumbing parade.
T is fully convinced the writer is the tool a story uses to tell its tale.

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