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Handbook for Mortals Book Tour

Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Geeknation Press
Publication Date: August 15, 2017
Pages: 448
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About the Book

Zade Holder has always been a free-spirited young woman, from a long dynasty of tarot-card readers, fortunetellers, and practitioners of magick. Growing up in a small town and never quite fitting in, Zade is determined to forge her own path. She leaves her home in Tennessee to break free from her overprotective mother Dela, the local resident spellcaster and fortune teller.

Zade travels to Las Vegas and uses supernatural powers to become part of a premiere magic show led by the infamous magician Charles Spellman. Zade fits right in with his troupe of artists and misfits. After all, when everyone is slightly eccentric, appearing ”normal” is much less important.

Behind the scenes of this multimillion-dollar production, Zade finds herself caught in a love triangle with Mac, the show’s good-looking but rough-around-the-edges technical director and Jackson, the tall, dark, handsome and charming bandleader.

Zade’s secrets and the struggle to choose between Mac or Jackson creates reckless tension during the grand finale of the show. Using Chaos magick, which is known for being unpredictable, she tests her abilities as a spellcaster farther than she’s ever tried and finds herself at death’s door. Her fate is left in the hands of a mortal who does not believe in a world of real magick, a fortuneteller who knew one day Zade would put herself in danger and a dagger with mystical powers…

Handbook for Mortals is the first book in the series of this urban fantasy, paranormal romance series by author Lani Sarem.

Following Zade through the trials–and romance–of finding her own place in the world, readers will identify with their own struggles to fit in, reflected in the fantastic, yet mundane world of Zade’s life.

Handbook for Mortals is in development as a motion picture set to debut in 2018.


“Hopefully I wasn’t interrupting something important,” Mac said, with no attempt at feigning actual sincerity. I could tell he didn’t care that he had interrupted, or that he had been rude.

“Just kindness.” I responded. I don’t think he expected my answer to be truthful, and he looked taken aback. He had probably expected me to say “Oh, no worries! Nothing important.” He made no comment, but backed off a little. When he continued talking, he had a bit less snap in his voice.

“I’d like to schedule a crew call for you once your contract has been signed. You, me, and all of our techs, so we can go over your trick and map out how it will be safely implemented into the show.” He knew that calling what I had done a “trick” instead of an illusion I would take as a slight. It’s sort of like telling someone who had just won an Olympic gold medal and was proudly wearing it around their neck, that their necklace was cute. Mac kept incessantly tapping his Sharpie on the side of his clipboard and shifting his weight between his feet.

I stood up slowly and calculated, looking him square in the eye, which probably surprised him a bit since he was at least six feet tall. I’ve always enjoyed the luxury of being a tall girl. I’m five foot nine inches and so while I don’t usually tower above any guys I know, I can definitely look them directly in the eye. Most girls who at five feet five inches (which, I believe, is an average height for a woman) have to look up. My height was an advantage that I never took for granted and here, again, I was happy that I didn’t have to look up to him—figuratively or literally. In heels I could even be as tall or taller than him and I’ve always loved that part about being the height I am. I half smiled and slowly spoke, “Maybe you misunderstood. I don’t show anyone how it’s done. That wasn’t just for the audition. I handle this illusion on my own.”

Mac held still for a moment, and then glanced up from his clipboard, looking irritated. He pursed his lips and flared his nostrils. The tapping stopped. He dropped the clipboard from his stomach and held it in his hand while pointing his finger directly in my face. “Listen, lady, I don’t know who else you worked for, but we don’t do that Lone Ranger stuff around here. I’m the technical director and in charge of everyone’s safety, no matter how stupid you want to be. You do what I say, and I keep your pretty self from getting hurt. Got it?” I’m fairly certain he growled at me as he spoke.

Myriad thoughts ran through my head and I’m pretty sure several seconds passed in silence as we stared each other down. I could feel my hands tightening into fists. I really did want to punch him. I could see it happening. I’m not strong by any means but I’m also not a wimp. I wouldn’t have broken anything, but he would have been bruised and sore. I quickly ran through the possible outcomes of punching the technical director on my first day of work. It didn’t really seem to be the best idea.

I leaned into him so closely that it might have looked like to an outsider that I was about to kiss him. I huffed a little and my words were slow and deliberate. “I understand this is your job and all, but I don’t think you’re listening to me,” I hissed. I tapped his chest with my finger and he jolted a bit at my touch. He looked at me like I was speaking some kind of foreign language.

“I’m not listening? Lady, you need your ears cleaned,” he snarled back. He turned around to walk away, as if that was the end of our conversation. If he was trying to piss me off more, it was working.

I grabbed him by the shoulder, stopping him in his tracks and swinging him around to face me. My face had flushed and I’d raised my voice to a full yell. “And you need to get some manners. I’m not showing you how it’s done, okay? If we have a problem I can go to another show where the technical director doesn’t have a God complex. I’m not a girl who needs a knight in shining armor.” I was practically snarling at him.

Mac gritted his teeth and looked like he might hit me, but I knew that wasn’t really an option for him. Guys like him didn’t hit women, no matter how mad we made them. He laughed loudly. “Ha! Good luck finding a Technical Director who will treat you like the princess you clearly think you are. If I found you locked in a tower, I promise I’d leave you there.” Mac whipped around again and this time saw Riley, who had been standing just a few feet away from us the whole time. Riley was pretending not to be paying too much attention, but you could tell that was all he had been doing. I couldn’t blame him. Mac glowered at Riley and barked, “Where’s C.S.? Riley, go find Charles. Now!”

“On the move,” Riley replied with a nervous, almost panicked look on his face as he ran off to the side and disappeared.

Where to Buy

Handbook Series | Amazon

About the Author

Lani Sarem always wanted to work in the entertainment industry. She began acting at age 3 and continued to act and perform through her early years. Lani started writing scripts when she was 11 and over the years has done everything from writing, acting, band managing and helping start and work festivals. She’s managed bands like the Plain White T’s and Blues Traveler and toured with everyone from Ryan Adams to Gnarls Barkley. Lani has appeared in films like Mall Cop 2 and Jason Bourne. Make sure to catch her in her latest film Trailer Park Shark on the Syfy channel this July as Roxy.

Connect with Lani

Facebook | Facebook Page | Handbook’s Twitter | Personal Twitter | Handbook’s Instagram | Personal Instagram | Website | Goodreads


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Book Tour · Book Tour Wednesday · Excerpts · Giveaway · Silver Dagger Scriptorium

Katrina Williams Series Book Tour & Giveaway

Genre: Crime Mystery, Thriller
Publisher: Lyrical Underground
Publication Date: September 13, 2016
Pages: 336
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The first in a gritty new series featuring sheriff’s detective Katrina Williams, as she investigates moonshine, murder, and the ghosts of her own past…

Katrina Williams left the Army ten years ago disillusioned and damaged. Now a sheriff’s detective at home in the Missouri Ozarks, Katrina is living her life one case at a time—between mandated therapy sessions—until she learns that she’s a suspect in a military investigation with ties to her painful past.

The disappearance of a local girl is far from the routine distraction, however. Brutally murdered, the girl’s corpse is found by a bottlegger whose information leads Katrina into a tangled web of teenagers, moonshiners, motorcycle clubs, and a fellow veteran battling illness and his own personal demons. Unraveling each thread will take time  Katrina might not have as the Army investigator turns his searchlight on the devastating incident that ended her military career. Now Katrina will need to dig deep for the truth—before she’s found buried…

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Crime Mystery, Thriller
Expected Publication Date: September 12, 2017
Publisher: Lyrical Underground
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From the author of A Living Grave comes a gripping police procedural featuring sheriff’s detective Katrina Williams as she exposes the dark underbelly of Appalachia . . .

Dredging up the Truth

Still recovering from tragedy and grieving a devastating loss, Iraq war veteran and sheriff’s detective Katrina Williams copes the only way she knows how—by immersing herself in work. A body’s just been pulled from the lake with a fish haul, but what seems like a straight-forward murder case over the poaching of paddlefish for domestic caviar quickly becomes murkier than the depths of the lake.

Soon a second body is found—an illegal Peruvian refugee woman linked to a charismatic tent revival preacher. But as Katrina tries to investigate the enigmatic evangelist, she is blocked by antagonistic FBI agents and Army CID personnel. When more young female refugees disappear, she must partner with deputy Billy Blevins, who stirs mixed feelings in her, to connect the lake murder to the refugees. Katrina is no stranger to darkness, but cold-blooded conspirators plan to make sure she’ll never again see the light of day . . .

We had lights on our helmets and a flashlight each, but our progress was really because of Billy’s familiarity with the path. Three turns and one crawl-through and we came out into a chamber. At one end water dripped and trickled, seeming to bleed right out of the stone and filled a small basin. At the other end, the basin emptied into a silent steam that disappeared into a fissure the size of my fist. In between was a flat space on which we sat. Billy pointed out shapes and features in the walls and ceiling.

“Are there bats?” I asked.

“Not all caves have bats,” he answered without laughing or making me feel bad for asking. “But this one has something better. Something special.”

He slipped down to his knees and put his face low. For a second I thought he was going to put his head under the pool of water. Instead, he shined his flashlight around until he found what he wanted.

“Come look at this.” His voice had become a whisper.

I joined him staring into the light beam within the water. What, at first, I thought were reflections, moved away from the light. Fish. They were tiny, like minnows, but the color of bleached bone. Their eyes were small and dead looking. It was as if I was looking into a ghost world.

“Down here.” Billy pointed with the flashlight then poked a finger into the beam.

There, along the line of his finger was a white rock.

“A pebble?” I asked.


The rock moved and the strange shape resolved into what appeared to be a tiny lobster.

“Crayfish,” I said excited. It was so colorless it was practically transparent at the edges. “So pale.”

“They don’t need color in the darkness. They don’t need eyes either.”

I sat up, stunned and elated by the place I was in. “Thank you,” I said looking around. “For sharing this with me.”

“This isn’t what I wanted to share,” Billy said.

He reached to the lamp on my hard hat and killed the light. After a moment, he turned off my flashlight. Again he waited a few seconds to turn off his flashlight. Finally, after a longer pause, he turned off his own headlamp.

We were in the kind of complete darkness I don’t think I’d ever experienced. It was thrilling and jarring at the same time. I reached and took his hand without even thinking. The black we were in was like distance and I wanted to be close.

“Why?” I asked.

“Look around,” he answered, softly.

“It’s dark,” I said. “Nothing but black.”

“There’s no light. But absence isn’t exactly black.”

“I don’t understand.” I shook my head then wondered why.

“Some of the guys I know . . .” Billy said then stopped.

I knew he was talking about something different then, but still the same. A change in subject not in meaning. I waited, like waiting for a suspect. He had to be the one to fill the silence.

“Veterans,” he continued. “Guys who were over there. We talk sometimes. They talk a lot about the things they see when they close their eyes. It’s always personal. No one ever has the same experience or the same . . . vision on events. Look around. Do you still see nothing?”

I did as he asked and noticed for the first time that blackness wasn’t exactly, only blackness. There were patterns of light, vague shimmers, not entirely seen, but not simply imagined, I was sure.

“Something . . .” I admitted.

“Our eyes don’t like complete darkness. When there’s no light to be seen, the optic nerves still fire, populating the void with specters. The thing is, your eyes won’t see what mine do and I won’t see what you experience. Darkness is singular. What you see, is your particular darkness, no one else’s. No matter how well you describe it, no one will see it the way you do.”

“You’re not talking about darkness.” I actually thought I heard fear in my voice.

“You’re holding my hand.”

“Yes,” I answered, squeezing.

“Is it real?”

“What do you mean?”

“My hand. Me. Am I real”

“Of course,” I said. “Why would you not be?”

“That’s what I tell the other guys. We all have our own darkness within us and sometimes it gets out, it shadows our lives, the entire world we see. Those times we get so wrapped up in seeing our own thing, our own darkness, we forget the real out there beyond it.”

He let go of my hand and I was suddenly untethered. I was adrift in my own darkness. It was a familiar feeling. In a way, comforting. The same way what is familiar and expected is always somehow a comfort. But I didn’t want the darkness anymore. I realized I wanted his hand.

“Billy . . .”

He touched my face. Then the touch became a hold as he placed his hands to each side with his fingers in my hair. His thumb rested on the scar that framed my eye and I didn’t mind.

“I don’t want to live in the dark anymore,” I confessed.

Then Billy Blevins kissed me.

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I wasn’t born in a log cabin but the station wagon did have wood on the side. It was broken down on the approach road into Ft. Rucker, Alabama in the kind of rain that would have made a Biblical author jealous. You never saw a tornado in the Old Testament, did you? As omens of a coming life go, mine was full of portent if not exactly glad tidings.

From there things got interesting. Life on a series of Army bases encouraged my retreat into a fantasy world. Life in a series of public school environments provided ample nourishment to my developing love of violence. Often heard in my home was the singular phrase, “I blame the schools.” We all blamed the schools.

Both my fantasy and my academic worlds left marks and the amalgam proved useful the three times in my life I had guns pointed in my face. Despite those loving encounters the only real scars left on my body were inflicted by a six foot, seven inch tall drag queen. She didn’t like the way I was admiring the play of three a.m. Waffle House fluorescent light over the high spandex sheen of her stockings.

After a series of low paying jobs that took me places no one dreams of going. I learned one thing. Nothing vomits quite so brutally as jail food. That’s not the one thing I learned; it’s an important thing to know, though. The one thing I learned is a secret. My secret. A terrible and dark thing I nurture in my nightmares. You learn your own lessons.

Eventually, I began writing stories. Mostly I was just spilling out the, basically, true narratives of the creatures that lounge about my brain, laughing and whispering sweet, sweet things to say to women. Women see through me but enjoy the monsters in my head. They say, sometimes, that the things I say and write are lies or, “damn, filthy lies, slander of the worst kind, and the demented, perverted, wishful stories of a wasted mind.” To which I always answer, I tell only the truth. I just tell a livelier truth than most people.

Connect with Robert

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Audio Tour · Book Tour · Book Tour Wednesday · Excerpts · Giveaway

Next Stop, Chancey Audiobook Blog Tour

Genre: Contemporary Fiction
Publisher: August South Publishing
Publication Date: December 22, 2016
Narrator: Suzanne Barbetta
Length: 10 hours, 8 minutes
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About the Book

Looking in your teenage daughter’s purse is never a good idea.
After all, it ended up with Carolina Jessup opening a bed & breakfast for railroad fanatics in a tiny Georgia mountain town. Carolina knows all about and hates, small towns. How did she end up leaving her wonderful Atlanta suburbs behind while making her husband’s dreams come true?
The town bully (who wears a lavender skirt and white gloves), an endless parade of teenagers through her house, and everybody’s talk about a ghost have Carolina looking for an escape or at least a way to move back home. Instead, she’s front and center for all of Chancey’s small town gossip.
Unlike back home in the suburbs with privacy fences and automatic garage doors, everybody in Chancey thinks your business is their business and they all love the newest Chancey business. The B&B hosts a Senate candidate, a tea for the county fair beauty contestants, and railroad nuts who sit out by the tracks and record the sound of a train going by. Yet, nobody believes Carolina prefers the ‘burbs.
Oh, yeah, and if you just ignore a ghost, will it go away?

Audio Excerpt

Where to Buy

Audible | Amazon

About the Author

 “A new voice in Southern Fiction” is how a recent reviewer labelled Kay Dew Shostak’s debut novel, Next Stop, Chancey. Kay grew up in the South, then moved around the country raising a family. Always a reader, being a writer was a dream she cultivated as a journalist and editor at a small town newspaper in northern Illinois.

“Next Stop, Chancey”, published in 2015, was the first in the series set in the small, imaginary town of Chancey, Georgia. The fifth book in the series, “Kids are Chancey” will be released August 2017.

Seeing the familiar and loved from new perspectives led Kay to write about the absurd, the beautiful, and the funny in her South in both her fiction and non-fiction.

Visit Kay’s website at to sign up for her newsletter and to read more about her journey. Kay is also on Facebook and twitter. All four Chancey books (along with the first in a new series set in Florida) are available on Amazon in print and eBook.

Connect with Kay

Website | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon

About the Narrator

Suzanne Barbetta is a Jersey girl, a blue collar kid from Jersey City who binged on B-Movie Musicals and Godzilla flicks as a kid. She became a voracious reader when she realized the magic of books allowed her to become anyone, anywhere, and in any world. A storyteller and performer since the age of 5, she later apprenticed at 2 regional theaters earned her union card and became a proud member of SAG-AFTRA. She’s worked in theater, indie films and commercial voiceover. Audiobooks are a way to satisfy her pathological addiction to reading. Now based in NYC, she is also the voice of the Fierce, Funny, Fab Fangirls of the new Serial Box Publishing audio series, Geek Actually.

Connect with Suzanne

Website | Facebook | Twitter

Fast Five Facts

Reasons you chose to narrate this book

  1. I loved Carolina Jessup, the main character, and her wry wit.
  2. I grew up a city kid, so I got to experience life in a small town.
  3. A fun supporting cast of town gossips, sullen teens, cranky old men, train nuts, and a bully swathed in lavender and white gloves – a true Steel Magnolia.
  4. Because it’s the story of an imperfect mother learning to stand her ground, stand up for herself and overcome long-time fears and hang-ups.
  5. Portrayal of a strong, but not perfect marriage: I love a romance and HEA as much as the next girl, but Carolina and her husband share an affection and intimacy that seemed strong and REAL without us needing to see them in the bedroom.


Runs Aug. 23rd-30th⎮Open internationally

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Book Tour · Book Tour Wednesday · Giveaway · Silver Dagger Scriptorium

Bound Souls Book Tour & Giveaway

Sci-Fi, Fantasy Romance
Publisher: Kuumba Publishing
Publication Date: February 10, 2017
Pages: 289
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A supernatural love triangle that tests the bounds of science, truth, and faith.

Regent Lela of Asiya is the most powerful person on her planet but she is powerless to save the life of her beloved soulmate—Zion Grace. For thirty years they lived as husband and wife, but Zion’s time is at an end. Lela must go on without him.

“There will never be anyone else for me.”

Despite having died, nothing can keep Zion from his soulmate. He’s back but not as the man he once was. Zion must help Lela move on with her life, lest he lose her forever. But how can Zion convince Lela to accept the love and affections of another man when he still wants her for himself?

“I love you, Lela. My heart is forever yours.”

Lela and Zion are bound souls, destined to live eternity together. For these lovers, death is not an end, but a fateful beginning.

Where to Buy

Amazon | B&N | Kobo | iBooks

N. D. Jones lives in Maryland with her husband and two children. Having earned a M.A. in Political Science, she is a dedicated educator. She taught high school social studies for nine years. Currently, she is a professional development teacher specialist with a local Maryland school system, working on increasing student achievement through teacher and administrator efficacy. N.D. is also a continuing education student who is pursuing her doctorate in education in Community College Leadership.

A desire to see more novels with positive, sexy, and three-dimensional African American characters as soul mates, friends, and lovers, inspired the author to take on the challenge of penning such romantic reads. She is the author of two paranormal romance series: Winged Warriors and Death and Destiny. N.D. likes to read historical and paranormal romance novels, as well as comics and manga.

Connect with N.D.

Website | Facebook | Goodreads | Twitter | Pinterest | Instagram | Amazon

Books by N.D. Jones

Winged Warriors Series:

Fire, Fury, Faith

Heat, Hunt, Hope


Death and Destiny Trilogy:

Of Fear and Faith

Of Beasts and Bonds

Bound Souls Travel Mug and “Fire, Fury, Faith” audiobook


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Book Tour · Book Tour Wednesday · Excerpts

High Hopes Blog Tour

Contemporary Romance
Publication Date: April 19, 2016
Pages: 209
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About the Book

“It was one stolen night. He was my soulmate and I’d never felt more alive. I couldn’t tell him I got pregnant. It would’ve ruined everything. But now his daughter wants to meet him and I need to make things right.” Another tear escaped down her cheek. “Everybody’s going to hate me.”

Three friends are rocked when a 20-year secret blows their world apart. Steamy, passionate, and unpredictable. If you like sizzling love triangles you won’t want to miss it.

Grace has kept her heart-breaking secret for twenty years – a love child she gave up for adoption. She was a penniless student – how could she raise a baby alone? Then she receives a letter out of the blue. Her long-lost daughter is searching for answers.

Her two best friends are married and don’t know one of them is the girl’s father. If Grace confesses now, the marriage will be destroyed and it will surely be the end of their lifelong friendship. But what choice does Grace have?

Set in the wilds of Poldark-country – the stormy cliffs and windswept beaches of picturesque Cornwall – an engrossing saga filled with suspense, simmering jealousy and heartbreak. Can a future be built on the quicksand of secrets and lies? Surely there can be no second chances when three friends discover they don’t know each other at all.

Exclusive Excerpt

“You’re not telling me you can do ballroom dancing?”

“My gran taught me. She said proper dancing would impress the girls.”

“Sounds like your gran knew a thing or two.”

Those sparkling green eyes were intoxicating. It wouldn’t take much to reel him in. Who was he kidding? He was already dangling from the hook. She stepped easily into his arms amongst the crowd of waltzing pensioners.

However uncool it sounded, waltzing to Glenn Miller was way sexier than jiggling about in a sweaty club. His hand on Grace’s trim waist could hardly contain itself on the outside of her top. Pressed as she was against him, she must be able to feel what she was doing to him. If he didn’t have her soon he would burst in more messy ways than one.

He brushed a strand of hair from her face and kissed her. A proper kiss, deep and searching until her mouth, with its sugary hint of cream and jam, became the centre of his universe. He broke away laughing, embarrassed by the way his heart was thudding. He was definitely losing the plot.

“It wasn’t that bad, was it?” she murmured. “Maybe we need more practice.”

He kissed her again, slow and sexy, his hands splayed at the small of her back. His thumbs drifted like feathers over her waist and up, brushing the hard peaks of her nipples through the flimsy fabric of her top. He wanted her badly but they couldn’t snog like randy teenagers in the middle of a tea-dance.

“Time to go?” he whispered, keeping hold of her hand until they were safely outside.

They hadn’t noticed the rain, although it must have been lashing the ballroom windows. All around them, stallholders scurried to pack everything up as punters made a dash for their cars. They strolled hand in hand, getting drenched as they kissed their way back to the car. Grace seemed to love it as much as he did.

She got into the passenger side, kicking off her shoes. “What a sight we must look,” she laughed as she put her muddy feet on the dashboard.

“Speak for yourself.”

But drenched, she was sexier than ever. Her top had slipped down one shoulder, so wet he could see the pattern on her lacy bra. The peaks of her nipples tormented him as he kissed her, long and hard until he heard the subtle change to her breathing.

Her top slid up. Her rosy nipples poked through the white lace of her bra, hard against his thumbs as he brushed them. He worked them free, sucking them one by one into his mouth. Until he remembered they were in a public car park and she was wearing jeans.

“You’re sexy as fuck, Grace. But I doubt you’re a back-seat kind of girl.”

She sighed and stretched, not bothering to cover her naked breasts. His head was bursting with the taste of her, his erection borderline painful. They could go to a hotel but he wanted more than that with Grace.

“I’ve got work tonight,” he reminded her. He didn’t remind her he needed the money. “Tomorrow, we’ll have all day…”

Where to Buy

Amazon CAN | Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon AUS

About the Author

Described as an exciting new voice in Women’s Fiction, Sue Lilley lives in the north east of England, when she isn’t escaping somewhere else in her imagination. She is often found eavesdropping for inspiration. Her first two novels were well received. Another Summer is “an alluring example of its genre”. High Hopes is “a story that holds immense appeal for readers who like plots containing sizzling love triangles.” She is hard at work on her third novel.


Connect with Sue

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Book Tour · Book Tour Wednesday · Excerpts · Giveaway

Dream Frequency Blog Tour

Young Adult, Fantasy
Publisher: 8N Publishing, LLC
Publication Date: June 30, 2017
Pages: 413
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About the Book

Christine would never have considered herself new recruit material for a secret U.S. agency. Until recently, she’s just been an ordinary girl graduating from high school and wondering if a friendship with Gabriel, a mysterious coworker, would grow into something romantic. When Christine’s fascination with Gabriel leads to her discovery of dreamworlds, she learns that she’s anything but ordinary. In this thrilling conclusion to Dream Girl, Christine and Gabriel must choose their allegiances and face corruption, conspiracy, and the complexities of love in order to save themselves and everyone who matters to them – or die trying.


I spread my arms as I start to enter the veil. For a few moments, it’s all white wisps around me but time seems to slow down once I’m out. My arms and legs are floating out around me and I’m just suspended in cold, silent space.

Another memory pops into my mind. This time, I remember the first time I kissed Christine. We were in the woods after dark. The blackness of night was so complete that it felt just like this. Just two souls reaching for each other in the void.

Zemma appears at my side, “What are you-” she starts, but falls silent. Her eyes reflect the glowing lights of the stars. Her mouth hangs open in wonder.

The stars aren’t a million light-years away from us now, they’re slowly moving around us like a gigantic, gentle snowfall. They make sounds too, like the shimmering vibrations a cymbal makes after you crash it.

We hang in the air, rotating leisurely like we’re planets, silently breathing in the view. The muscles throughout my body go slack as I lean back and let the nothingness support me.

Finally, I reach out my arm and let one finger trail across the bare skin of Zemma’s forearm. Goosebumps rise along the path like stardust following behind a comet.

She turns her face and her star-filled eyes to me.

“Gabriel,” she breathes, “this is the most incredible thing you’ve ever made.”

Her words are like air inflating my chest.

Maybe it’s the memory of Christine. Maybe it’s hovering in the quiet of space. Whatever it is, I reach out both hands to Zemma and take hers. Since we’re floating, it only takes a little tug to set her into motion toward me. I can’t tear my gaze from her warm brown eyes. She doesn’t stop herself until she bumps against my chest. Her body is pressed against mine. Her face, inches away.

The coolness of space is warming up pretty quickly.

Where to Buy


Other Books in the Series

Buy: Amazon

About the Author

S.J. is a cheerful Michigan girl who writes strange and somewhat dark stories for young adults and those who love to read YA literature.

Connect with S.J.

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Book Tour · Book Tour Wednesday · Excerpts · Giveaway

Mr. Prescott Blog Tour

Genre: New Adult, Romance
Publication Date: August 20, 2017
Pages: 164
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About the Book

I’m the Mayor of London.

I’ve come to New York purely on business. The usual boring meetings with other politicians.
I don’t expect my time here to be exciting in the slightest.

But who’s that woman I met this morning? No, girl. That would be a more accurate term for her.
She’s only twenty-one years old. A college student. Someone who shouldn’t get mixed up with a guy like me.

But I can’t get her out of my mind. Every single time I close my eyes, I see her face.
How can someone I just met do this to me? That’s the kind of stuff that happens in movies. Not real life.

I know this will be a dangerous risk for me, but I can’t help it. I want her. I need her.
And whatever it may do to my career, I won’t stop until I have her.

Mr. Prescott is a standalone New Adult Romance novel told entirely from the point of view of the male lead.


Nicole had no idea what I was planning.

It was a large elevator, so thankfully we weren’t too hemmed in by my bodyguards being there with us. Still, I didn’t want her to think they were going to be with us the whole time.

“Don’t worry,” I said, looking straight ahead at the door to the elevator. “These guys aren’t going to be so close all night.” Nicole didn’t say anything. It was almost as if I could feel her shyness. “You know back home in England, these things are called lifts. Not elevators.”

“I know,” is all she managed to produce.

I wasn’t too worried about her. I knew her true self would show up once she saw the spectacle I had prepared. Meeting a celebrity can be overwhelming for most people. But she would get over it very soon.

Just a few more moments.

The elevator came to a stop. The door slid open. Nicole stepped out… and froze a moment a later.

I chuckled and joined her side. We were in a corridor that led towards a green door. Not what my dinner guest was expecting at all.

“I wasn’t lying about taking you to the roof,” I told her. “I’ve got a surprise for you. Come on. Follow me.” I didn’t turn my head to see if she was indeed following me. I had no doubt that she would. Her curiosity was piqued. This night was already proving to be more than she expected, and she was intrigued about what was coming next.

Trust me when I say that I knew she wouldn’t be disappointed.

Usually that area would be completely off-limits for anyone who isn’t an employee. But being a famous politician has plenty of perks. A little convincing was all the manager of the hotel needed. He didn’t want to do or say anything that would upset the mayor of London. People in his position are told not to say no to men like me.

That’s why the normally locked green door was now open. I escorted Nicole through and stood to the side so she could take it all in.

The world famous skyline of New York City was shining in every direction she turned. It was a dazzling sight. Hell, even I had to fight the urge to look around in wonder.

“Have you lived in New York your whole life?” I asked Nicole.

“Yes,” she said in a voice that I could barely hear. Her chest was rising and falling. Her heart was clearly thundering in her chest at what was in front of her.

“Well, I bet in all that time you’ve never seen the city like this.” A slight wind was coming in from the east. It caused strands of Nicole’s hair to dance a little. Suddenly, I lost focus of the view and zeroed in on the girl. I didn’t even care where I was. The rooftop of a hotel, or a back alley in a bad neighborhood. My thoughts were entirely devoted to Nicole. I was taking in her features with something akin to hunger.

I shouldn’t have been feeling that way. My type was sophisticated, graceful women. Women close to my age. Not someone like Nicole. She was too young. Too inexperienced. Too much of a novice when it comes to the ins and outs of life.

But I couldn’t help it. It was as if she had claimed my soul. Like I never wanted to be with another woman ever again. So much emotional attachment to her so soon. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t even know how such a thing was possible.

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About the Author

 I’m a guy who likes to cut right to the chase, so here we go: I’m a male author of Romance/Erotica novels that are told entirely from the POV of the male protagonist. If you enjoy happy endings and steamy tales about people falling in love quickly, my stories are for you.


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Book Tour · Book Tour Wednesday · Excerpts · Giveaway · Silver Dagger Scriptorium

A Burning in the Darkness Book Tour & Giveaway

Mystery, Thriller, Crime, Romance
Publisher: Troubador
Publication Date: April 12, 2017
Pages: 253
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A murder at one of the world’s busiest airports opens this simmering crime story where a good man’s loyalty is tested to its limits. Michael Kieh is a full-time faith representative serving the needs of some of the 80 million passengers, but circumstance and evidence point to his guilt. His struggle to prove his innocence leads him on a charged journey that pitches love against revenge.

Michael’s loneliness was eased by a series of brief encounters with a soul mate. When she confides a dark secret, he is motivated to redress a heart-breaking injustice. Together they must battle against powerful forces as they edge dangerously close to unmasking a past crime. But Michael faces defeat when he chooses to protect a young witness, leaving him a burning spirit in the darkness.

Michael’s commitment to helping those in need was forged in the brutality of the Liberian civil war. Protected by a kind guardian, he too was a young witness to an atrocity that has left a haunting legacy of stolen justice and a lingering need for revenge. More poignantly there is a first love cruelly left behind in Africa because of the impossible choices of war. When Michael and his former lover find each other once again they become formidable allies in proving his innocence and rediscovering their lost love.

The writing is such that the reader is gripped immediately, and swept into a plot that packs intelligent themes and emotional depth into a twisting, page turning read. – The Book Bag

…plenty of twists and turns to keep you hooked until the very last page, A Burning in the Darkness will prove to be difficult to put down. – Bestsellersworld


Young Foday Jenkins spied a curious sign at the far end of the concourse. The seven-year old weaved his way through the hurrying travellers with their trolley-loads of suitcases.
There were airline pilots and cabin crew walking briskly towards their international flights and armed police strolling like fortress watch guards. A rainbow glistened in the eastern sky beyond the floor-to-ceiling glass walls, watched in wonder by the frustrated passengers whose flights had been delayed by the ferocious summer storm. A charcoal wash of lightning-filled rain clouds shrouded the distant city outline.

Foday arrived at the sign. It was a matchstick man or woman kneeling, praying.
Beneath it, there was an entrance of two heavily frosted glass doors. He pushed them open and stepped inside. When the doors closed behind him there was a nice silence. He was in a room, maybe twice the size of his classroom, but it seemed so much bigger because there were sacred symbols from all over the world and holy words on the walls and little statues, and it wasn’t brightly lit in here like outside, yet it wasn’t so dim that it was scary. The duskiness made you look. There was a lovely smell in the air, the scent of a far away country.

There was a row of electric burning candles that could be switched on for a handful
of coins. There were six happy photographs of teenagers from all over the world tacked to the wall above the electric candles. One of the happy faces looked like his older sister
Ameyo. She smiled that way. Uh-me-yo. This is how Mummy said it. There were
handwritten notes stuck around the photographs with words like Please remember. Foday wondered if the person who wrote one of them had been crying because the ink was smudged.

On a cloth-covered table, there was a visitor’s book. Foday wrote his name and
address: Foday, 19 Bletchley Avenue, London NW22, UK, Europe, The World. He added I
really like this place.
Over on the other side of the church, tucked around a corner, there was a wooden
playhouse. A sign outside the door read: If you want a priest to hear your confession, press the button.

Foday turned nervously when he heard the loud sounds of the bustling concourse as
the church doors opened. He could see a silhouetted figure against the gleaming frosted
glass. The figure focused into a heavy man walking down between the seats. He stopped,
agitated and sweating.
‘Are you lost?’ the man asked.
Foday knew he shouldn’t talk to strangers.
‘Where’s your mummy or daddy? Are they with the priest? Are you alone?’ he asked
Foday pressed the button requesting a priest to take confession.

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AP was born and grew up in Ireland. He now lives in London and works in TV. He is a single father with three beautiful children. He studied English and Philosophy and then post-graduate Film Studies.

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Book Tour · Book Tour Wednesday · Excerpts · Giveaway · Silver Dagger Scriptorium

Sin Eater Release Tour & Giveaway

Fantasy, Paranormal
Publisher: Creative Alchemy, Inc.
Publication Date: July 17, 2017
Pages: 175
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Aria Knight has an unusual set of skills: she will hold back the hounds of Hell so you can fly toward the Pearly Gates, and she will wipe your slate clean so that you don’t become karma’s bitch…for a price.

A Sin Eater has to make a living in today’s world somehow.

But when she’s called in the dead of night to perform her rite for a recluse billionaire, she stumbles upon a murder scene, and the evidence points to her.

In an attempt to clear her name and uncover the true culprit, Aria is forced to team up with a private investigator who’s possessed by three spirits, and a handsome wizard who would rather see all Sin Eaters like Aria go extinct.

Aria knows her job is never easy, but now it’s become downright deadly.

SIN EATER is the first book of the Aria Knight Chronicles by USA Today bestselling author Samantha LaFantasie and Alesha Escobar, author of the best-selling Gray Tower Trilogy.

Aria would die tonight.

If Hessa didn’t unlock her damn door and let her in, that would certainly be the case. Aria’s back stiffened when she heard the faint but distinctive howls from the Hounds of Hell. Their shrieks always struck her as a cross between wolves wailing at the moon and jackals whining into the night.

Hessa finally opened the door and stood at the threshold, sizing her up and taking a long drag from her cigarette. A tear, mingled with ruined mascara, trailed down her cheek. “Thanks for coming, Aria. This was the last thing Mom asked for, so…”

“I understand. May I come in?” Aria nearly knocked her over trying to slip inside. The howling grew louder. They were down the street, and Aria’s time was running out.

“Yeah.” Hessa rolled her eyes at Aria’s terse attitude, but she’d do the same if she could hear what came their way.

“You should place a ward around the house.” Aria speed-walked down the hall.

“Okay…” Hessa’s voice trailed off.

She wished she had been called sooner. If the hellhounds made it to the dead woman before she did, then she’d have to watch them tear the old woman’s soul to shreds before dragging her off to the abyss.

Aria wrinkled her nose at the smell of wet fur and garbage. A small dog somewhere in the house barked a few times. As if drawn like a magnet to metal, she guided herself to the last room, toward the deceased. A short, white-haired woman in a long-sleeved gown lay in repose on a bed. Her arms were crossed just below her chest, with her hands meeting in a clasp.

Aria’s lips pressed into a thin line. She didn’t have time for this. She had told Hessa over the phone not to move or position the body. She quickly took the dead woman’s right hand and extended it, placing it to her right side. She did the same for the left hand, so that nothing sat on or near the deceased’s chest. She felt the moment Hessa cast her warding spell around the house. It felt like a stab of tension in her chest, the same type people felt when walking downstairs and missing a step.

“What was her name?” Aria asked, when Hessa joined her in the back room. She needed to know this in case she needed to grab the spirit’s attention.


“Beautiful name. Do you have the bread?” Aria grabbed a rickety stool from the left corner of the room and brought it over. She sat down next to the bed. The hellhounds circled the house, probably salivating over their prey. Aria could hear their gleeful snarls at the prospect of devouring another soul. If she weren’t careful, they would tear into her as well. It wasn’t unheard of for them to go after sin eaters.

Hessa jabbed her cigarette into an ashtray on the nightstand and then unraveled a fresh-baked loaf of bread. Steam rose from the bread, and Hessa used the towel that was covering the small loaf to protect her hands as she transferred it to her mother’s chest.

As a sign of respect, and also as a way to mark the beginning of the Final Rite, Aria inclined her head in a slight bow, mentally offering up an ancient prayer of blessing. She was the very last call, the end of the line for many. Probably in some ancient desert Monastery or buried in the Vatican archives, there was a dusty old manuscript with a footnote, speaking of the loophole offered by sin eaters. Most would ask for her if they couldn’t reach a priest, or as extra “insurance” after receiving Anointing of the Sick.

Aria raised her right hand, palm facing forward, revealing the birthmark that identified her as a sin eater. She lowered her hand, but kept it suspended in mid-air just above the bread. She already felt the pulsating power of the S-shaped mark on her hand that begged to let the flame emerge. It happened whenever she began a sin eating ritual, and the first time her birthmark erupted into a large flame, she fell on her ass and tried to smother it with a handkerchief. Not exactly a move that would instill confidence in a client entrusting their loved one’s soul to her.

The flame meant there were sins that needed to be ripped away from a penitent Lora and passed on to Aria instead. Lora’s soul would be free to throw off any shackles burdening her and find peace, and Aria would know that she helped guide someone to paradise. There were also the perks of increased longevity for Aria, youthful appearance, and extra cash. Witching families paid well for this gig.

“Once I begin,” Aria said, watching the flame on her palm subside, “don’t interrupt the process.” She decided not to mention that hellhounds would make their way in within the next few minutes, seeking Lora’s soul.

Aria turned her attention toward the bread resting on Lora’s chest. She reached over with her right hand and took the small loaf, biting off a large piece and chewing it. The bread was plain and slightly salty, but what really made an impression on Aria was the rush of mystical energy that filled her from head to toe. All of her physical senses were amplified in that moment. The lights in the room looked brighter, the color of Hessa’s green dress and auburn hair were more vibrant, and the scent of wet fur and garbage returned with a vengeance.

And so did the howls of the hellhounds.

Where to Buy

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I’m a caffeine addict and chocoholic who enjoys reading and writing engaging stories, loveable (and not-so loveable) characters and expressing my creativity daily. I write fantasy with intriguing characters, action-packed scenes, and always throw in a good dash of humor and romance.

Science Fiction and Fantasy are my favorite genres, but I also adore the classics (Shakespeare, Dante Alighieri, etc.) and I have a soft spot in my heart for Victorian poetry. You can geek out with me all-day every day over these

Some of my favorite contemporary fantasy authors are George R.R. Martin, Robert Jordan (rest in peace), J.K. Rowling, Neil Gaiman, Jim Butcher (Dresden Files made me love Urban Fantasy), and Ilona Andrews among others. I enjoy movies and shows like Sleepy Hollow, Supernatural, Arrow, The Flash, The Avengers…there are too many to name!

I want to read more comics and graphic novels, please shoot a recommendation or two my way (I LOVE the Hellblazer comics, by the way).

Please don’t be a stranger–I want you to kick up your feet, sip your coffee (or tea) and join in on my weekly rants, discussions, and updates.

Connect with Alesha

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Book Tour · Book Tour Wednesday · Curiosity Quills Press · Excerpts · Giveaway

The Eldritch Heart Blog Tour

Fantasy, Young Adult
Publisher: Curiosity Quills Press
Publication Date: August 1, 2017
Pages: 320
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About the Book

Princess Oona Talomir enjoys the little things that come with her station: a handmaiden, her lavish bedchamber, and scores of fancy dresses―the duty to win a decades’ long war, not so much.

Oh, did I mention assassins?

Seers foretold the conflict would end by her hand. From the moment she drew her first breath, the neighboring kingdom has been trying to kill her so she could not grow powerful enough to destroy them. The king, fearing for his daughter’s life, has kept her confined to the castle grounds for most of her sixteen years. With the tide of war turning against them, the burden of her crown becomes too much to bear, yet one thing lifts her spirits amid the gloom.

Her servant girl, Kitlyn.

Alas, in a kingdom obsessed with the god of purity, she is terrified to confess her forbidden love. When her father makes a demand she cannot abide―marry a prince to forge a military alliance―Oona panics. He is handsome and honorable, but he’s not Kitlyn. Unable to admit why she cannot obey, Oona does the only thing she can think of, and runs away.

Alone and unprepared in the wilderness, she prays the gods will let Kitlyn find her—before the assassins do.


Oona weaved through the garden paths for a little while before a patch of moss unseated from the stonework under her foot and took her to the ground. Kitlyn pounced, and they rolled together for a few tumbles before coming to rest with Oona on her back. Kitlyn grabbed handful after handful of mulch and dropped it on Oona’s head.

She squealed, raising her arms in a poor attempt to defend herself. Soon, they collapsed and laughed, out of breath.

“That cloud looks like a frog.” Oona pointed up.

“All I see are leaves.”

“There’s a little hole in the canopy. Scoot closer.”

Kitlyn crawled over, almost ear-to-ear, to peer at the gap. “Oh. You’re right!”

Oona’s mouth dried out. She tilted her head to the left, touching cheeks with Kitlyn. On contact, the girl grew tense and awkward.

Distant trickling water caught Oona’s attention. “Let’s go to the pond.”

“All right.” Kitlyn rolled to her feet and pulled her upright. “We’re almost there anyway.”

Oona tugged her along to the northwest end of the castle grounds. The great keep wall, some twenty-five feet tall, framed a manmade pond in the corner beneath the ivy-covered stone, with a curved bank that gave it the overall shape of a fan. A tiny rowboat sat in the same spot so long that it too had become enshrouded with ivy. Oona questioned the point of a boat in a pond so small it would take less than thirty seconds to row from the bank to the innermost corner, but maybe they needed it to repair the wall. Or something.

“It’s so peaceful here,” whispered Kitlyn.

Oona pulled her over to the bank and tested the water with a toe. Cold, but not intolerable. With her free hand, she gathered her gown up a bit to keep it dry and stepped in, ankle-deep. Dense mud oozed between her toes, and she laughed at how alive it made her feel.

Kitlyn squeaked as she followed. “It’s freezing.”

“A little.” Oona tugged her to the right, toward a mossy stone bench a short distance into the water. “You’re right… it is peaceful.”

Oona took a seat and tucked her dress about beneath her legs so she didn’t have to hold it to keep it dry. She moved her feet back and forth in the water for a little while, and tried to pick a polished stone from the muck with her big toe, but couldn’t get it dislodged.

The afternoon sun had glided far enough to the west beyond the wall to shadow the pond. Honeysuckle and the scent of water, earth, and moss swirled in a breeze that hissed among the treetops. Only the occasional chirp of a bird or rapid scampering of a squirrel broke the calm. Tiny fish nipped at her feet, making her grin and squirm.

“Peaceful,” repeated Kitlyn wistfully.

“Yes.” Oona looked to her left, realizing she hadn’t let go of Kitlyn’s hand.

She didn’t let go either. As their eyes met, a hundred different moments replayed in her memory: happier times frolicking in the garden or playing pranks on the adults, less happy times―more as of late―worrying about responsibility and politics. Sad times, like when Kitlyn had been paddled twice and wouldn’t even talk to her for a few days. I thought she hated me after that.

Kitlyn bit her lip.

Oona squeezed her hand. Something felt different. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears. She didn’t want to let go. Didn’t want the world outside of the corner pond to exist anymore. They’d been best friends their whole lives despite the vast difference in station. Best friends… those words didn’t quite feel adequate to the task of what bubbled up inside her. Dizziness made the garden spin a little, and she looked away.

I’m imagining this. Kit’s my friend. I couldn’t tell her what I’m feeling… what if she’s disgusted? The mere thought of Kitlyn making a face of horror stabbed her like an icicle in the heart. She traced her thumb side to side over the back of Kitlyn’s hand. The black-haired girl didn’t pull away, but she stared into the water while swishing her feet back and forth. She sat straighter, tense, worried.

A lump welled thick in Oona’s throat. Everything she wanted to say jumbled up like a bunch of soldiers trying to cram themselves through a narrow doorway all at once, and jamming to a halt. Her metaphoric army dropped their swords and collapsed in an ungainly heap.

“Peaceful,” she croaked.

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About the Author

Born in a little town known as South Amboy NJ in 1973, Matthew has been creating science fiction and fantasy worlds for most of his reasoning life. Somewhere between fifteen to eighteen of them spent developing the world in which Division Zero, Virtual Immortality, and The Awakened Series take place. He has several other projects in the works as well as a collaborative science fiction endeavor with author Tony Healey.

Hobbies and Interests:

Matthew is an avid gamer, a recovered WoW addict, Gamemaster for two custom systems (Chronicles of Eldrinaath [Fantasy] and Divergent Fates [Sci Fi], and a fan of anime, British humour (<- deliberate), and intellectual science fiction that questions the nature of reality, life, and what happens after it.

He is also fond of cats.

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