Cover Reveal: The Jinx by Ernest Lancaster

It's Raining Books welcomes Ernest Lancaster who is with us today to reveal the cover of his debut novel The Jinx, the first book in his Memphis M.O. series, which releases on July 24.

Disaster strikes and innocents die as police sniper Rick Munro is plagued by a first-call jinx. As his career takes off, he must overcome his rookie mistakes, and keep his team members safe.

When Munro returns to TACT as a newly promoted lieutenant, the jinx torments him still. He must contend with team members’ rival agendas around every turn. Munro finds himself in a battle he can’t escape as corruption and death unfold around him.

Who can he trust? Will Munro break the streak or will it destroy everything he believes in?

About the Author:

Ernest Lancaster retired from the Memphis Police Department as a captain after serving as a cop for thirty-three years.

In the early seventies Lancaster spent two years walking a night beat in downtown Memphis, when The Peabody and Beale Street lay boarded up and crumbling and the center city became a dystopian ghost town after dark. He patrolled in ward cars, trooped for three days through a sea of pilgrims to Elvis’s funeral, edited the Memphis Police Association’s newspaper and acted as the association’s vice-president. For twenty-six years he held positions on the TACT Squad.

Lancaster now resides with his wife and Yorkie in the Smoky Mountains, where they love to hike and camp.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ernest.lancaster.98
Twitter: https://twitter.com/ErnestLancast
Website: http://www.ernestlancaster.com/www.ErnestLancaster.com/Welcome.html

Beyond Jerusalem by Yvonne Crowe

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Yvonne will be awarding a $20 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Nicolina Fabiani and David Baron team up once again to save Jerusalem from itself.

Now David is faced with an impossible choice.
Duty on the one hand, love on the other.
What choice will he make?

In the Eternal struggle for Palestine, David wages war, and Lina the journalist, covers it.

Enjoy an Excerpt

With his arms and legs secured to a metal chair, he was at the mercy of his captors and they were not in a benign mood.

A soldier on either side, dressed in army fatigues untied him, then dragged him down a flight of stairs and along a long narrow tunnel.

Into a corridor painted green with low iron doors on either side. Solid bolts securing them shut.

About the Author:

I am a successful writer who enjoys writing provocative mystery/thriller novels including the popular Nicolina Fabiani series.

When I am not living out little princesses' fantasies and puzzling over teenage boys' take on life I create fantasies for adults, armed with nothing more than an active imagination, a great deal of research and a burning interest in other people's cultures and their countries

Living in New Zealand, which is about as far away from the world's hubs as one can get, I love travelling to places to find ideas and characters for my novels.

Please open your minds and hearts to events we don't understand and are currently overwhelming us. Check out my latest topical novel, BEYOND JERUSALEM: http://amzn.to/2u9Q0uu.

HELP SOMEONE WITH CANCER. Check out my story of how I beat this dreadful disease which kills hundreds of thousands of women worldwide every year. http://amzn.to/2yJdAlg


I had a run in with Stage 4 breast cancer, but chose to treat this successfully with a natural therapy. No surgery and no chemotherapy. I have been cancer free now for five years.

TWITTER: https://twitter.com/YVONNECROWE
AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE: https://www.amazon.com/Yvonne-Crowe/e/B00AH2JACK

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Fueled by Love: Altair by Celeste Prater

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Celeste will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

“Ah, my lovely sisters of fate,” Altair Battaglia whispered softly to the shimmering Insedivertus sky. “What future do you have in store for this humble servant? I await your sign with bated breath.” A calm mission to destroy a nasty drug czar would be nice. But then again, when is anything ever easy? Especially when a set of wide green eyes and red-stained luscious lips has this seasoned warrior oblivious to everything around him…even her lethal Glock-19 hovering inches from his chin.

Fierce, determined, and carrying a burden heavy enough to make a weaker person weep in defeat, Makenna Dunn never thought life would ever cut her a break. How could she have even imagined a mysterious stranger interrupting her deadly goal might flip her world upside down and thaw her frozen heart?

Fast paced and screaming hot, Book 11 in the FBL Series yet again tugs your heart, tingles your senses, and leaves you panting for more. Get ready!

Read an excerpt:

“Angeli,” he growled against her damp hair smelling of vanilla and alluring female. “I’m honored at your trust.”

“Just shut up and kiss me before I start thinking too hard.”

Puffy moist lips crashed into his own. He moaned with enthusiasm at her aggressiveness, opened his mouth, and sucked her tongue inside. They dueled for supremacy, causing his dick to push even harder against unforgiving jeans. Her need was raw, thrilling, and matching his own. She clung to him, fingers digging into his shoulders and egging him on with her groans of elated approval.

Around and around he turned, lost to the sensations of finally experiencing a full, uninterrupted kiss from his female. He was hopelessly lost to her presence—bumping into tables, knocking over a chair, and grunting as he slammed into yet another wall. He broke for air, hauled in a lungful of her delicious scent, and fought to do something his mind was totally against happening. He set her down.

Altair tore at his shirt, uncaring of the ripping fabric. He wanted it off. She’s too far away, his befuddled mind screamed. He cried out at the exquisite sensation of her fumbling with his belt, knuckles bumping against his belly. She clawed at his zipper, finally released it, and shoved the jeans to his thighs.

“Oh my God,” she mumbled.
About the Author: Author of the award winning, bestselling series FUELED BY LUST and THREE DIVISIONS trilogy, Celeste has received countless praises for her unique writing style, ability to create memorable characters and mesmerizing worlds for the reader to romp, dream, and drool. Action, suspense, mystery, and sizzling hot, loveable hunks continue to bring on “Top Picks,” “Best Book,” “Book of the Month,” and “Reader’s Choice Favorite” accolades. Her decidedly favorite professional review comment from Long and Short Reviews, “Book one caught my attention, book two had me hooked and asking for more, book three caused my addiction, and book four fed my habit. Now I’m left sitting here hoping for more, like a junkie strung out on alien men,” has gleefully kept her nose to the keyboard and sharing with the world the Fueled By Lust Insedi Warriors and the lucky females who snag them.

Buy Links for All Books:

Bookstrand http://www.bookstrand.com/celeste-prater
Amazon http://www.amazon.com/Celeste-Prater/e/B00H5Y36N2/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1410962247&sr=1-2-ent
Barnes & Noble http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/celeste-prater?store=allproducts&keyword=celeste+prater
KOBO http://prod-www.kobobooks.com/search/search.html?q=celeste+prater
ITUNES https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/fueled-by-lust-drusus/id826723786?mt=11

Celeste loves to engage with her readers. You can find her here:

Website http://www.celesteprater-romanceauthor.com
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*Series best read in sequence
Get the series introduction at a steal for only $3.99

Fueled By Lust Collection: Volume 1
Books 1-4

Available now at www.bookstrand.com/celeste-prater and major retailers

This isn’t thin reading, either folks!
Over 330,000 words of face fanning, sizzling hot erotic romance, action, mystery, and suspense to sink your teeth.

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Deep Sahara by Leslie Croxford

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Leslie will be awarding $10 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

5 Things We’d Probably Never Guess About Leslie Croxford

1. I’m not sure if this counts but I have large numbers of copies of each of my books. Maybe it’s because I’ve travelled a lot and not been rooted to the place where I have my so-called library. So either wanting to finish an unfinished volume, or to re-read something I’d first not been in tune with or easily absorbed, I simply buy another copy. I can remember how many copies I must now have of TENDER IS THE NIGHT.

2. I would pray even if I knew for certain that God does not exist. By this I don’t mean praying in an organised way, using the prayers of a specific religion, but speaking intimately about absolutely anything and everything that comes to my mind in total confidence. And since I haven’t encountered any direct interventions into my world as a result of any praying I have actually done, I should be a very patient interlocutor.

3. I like to write as soon as I get up, in pyjamas, over breakfast. My wife doesn’t appreciate this since she enjoys breakfast and would like us to have it together. But I must not suppose this is a quirk entirely peculiar to me. I read in Albert Camus’ notebooks that he made a resolution to have his shower in future before writing. I think this urge to sit as early as possible with one’s writing springs less from being a workaholic and more from a desire to continue one’s dream sensation, fueling the imagination.

4. As I get older I’m starting to be franker about my likes and dislikes. Actually I dislike champagne, finding it acidic. While wine, I’m finally admitting, disagrees with me. So I much prefer Scotch and happily drink it with even the most refined food, regardless of gourmets’ disdain.

5. Outside the classics, be they Beethoven and the Beetles, my favourites are Roy Orbison, for the operatic power of his voice and authentic emotion, and Cole Porter whose lyrics rank in my view as genuine poetry.

Recovering from a nervous breakdown preceded by the death of his wife, Klaus Werner takes advice from a family friend and retreats to a monastery in the Algerian Sahara to sketch desert insects for a book. Upon arrival, however, he discovers a fresh crime scene: the monks have all been slaughtered as they went about their daily routine. Violent extremists, active in the area, are suspected. Numb and exhausted, Werner declines a police chief s offer of safe passage.

Despite the shock of the murders, the desert seems to promise solace, a vast nullity against which Werner can take stock of himself and do his work. Yet, over the weeks and months that follow, his solitude is broken by a succession of encounters with travelling hermits, desert warriors, an attractive American paleontologist and others, all strangely connected to him. Each appears to conceal some kind of secret; even the insects he has come to study are mysteriously deformed, embodying an awful, hidden reality ... Soon Werner is forced to confront the echoes of one of the darkest moments in modern history, and to come to terms with the deepest reaches of his own past.

Deep Sahara is as suspenseful as it is a subtle exploration of one man’s emotional resurgence, rendered sparingly and with great physical and psychological precision.

Read an excerpt:

I left Rome in the summer of 1980. The day before that, I went to see Father Carlo. He had asked me back for a final visit, although he’d already given me the travel information.

Late for my appointment, I hastened toward the German Catholic Church of Santa Maria dell’Anima, on Vicolo della Pace, not far from Piazza Navona. My mother used to take me there every Sunday during my boyhood. The rector had been German; now, its priests were not necessarily so. Yet even the Italian ones spoke the language, knew the country and were likely to have carried on their ministry in Germany at some point.

That was the case with Father Carlo. He was sitting in his office in the adjoining building. It gave onto the courtyard at the back of the church. The blinds were drawn against the summer afternoon glare when I finally entered.

Recalling the priest now, it’s hard to bring him into focus with all that’s happened since. Even then, I was still feeling the effect of the sedatives I’d been taking.

My wife Anja had died. But what I suffered was not only her loss, but the loss of myself, in a total breakdown.

I’d been in our apartment the week after she died. Staring vacantly at some mirror in the empty bedroom, I winced. Something had just moved in the glass. It was a stranger: me.

Father Carlo was waiting for me at his desk. He sat beneath a framed photograph of what I’d later come to know was the young Pius XII as Apostolic Nuncio to Germany in the 1920s. It was at one of the parties Pacelli – as he then was – threw for the political and diplomatic elite in the Tiergarten quarter of Berlin where he’d lived.

Father Carlo adjusted his monk’s habit over an ample midriff as he shifted in his chair to look up from the desk. But he continued 10 straightening its contents, then the rimless spectacles he was taking me in through.

I was sweating and out of breath. I apologised for being late, but explained that, having sold my car, I had walked all the way there from my apartment.

Mentioning it made me recall its shadowy silence, shuttered, too, against the city’s brilliance and traffic. My possessions were half-packed there – the few I would be taking with me tomorrow. Standing there alone, I had simply looked at the rest and left them to move only later if the owner absolutely demanded it. Anja and I had accumulated so much together.

“You’re not very late,” my spiritual advisor said. (For this was what the monk, now indicating the chair at the other side of the desk, had more or less become for me over the last few weeks, regardless of my lack of religious belief. With Anja’s death I had soon found myself using Carlo as a secular Father Confessor, judging it better to rely on him than on the doctor, who’d been of little help.)

“Anyway, you’re here now,” Father Carlo said, “ready to move on. That’s all that matters.”

The priest told me how pleased he was that I had finally decided to undertake the publishing project I’d been offered; how personally helpful I was sure to find it; how conducive to work the monastery would prove. These were all things Father Carlo had said several times before, but which he nevertheless chose to repeat now, with this show of paternal concern.

“Look, I’ve written a letter of introduction to the Abbot for you.” Father Carlo passed me one of two envelopes lying on the desk. They were sealed and made of fine paper.

“He’ll make sure you’re well looked after. And then it occurred to me that while you’re here for me to wish you Godspeed, I might as well also send a note with you for another monk, Father Erich. He’s one of the Order’s hermits, in permanent retreat even further south. I hope you’ll meet him too. There’s every reason why you should.”

“How can I, if he’s a hermit?”

“They come in when the monastery holds a chapter. And the Abbot will take care of giving him the letter. Or any of the monks should know how to get it to him.”

“I’ll do what I can,” I said. “It’s most important that he should receive it,” Father Carlo said, glasses glinting as he handed over the letter.

Taking it, I could not see beyond the opaque lenses.

About the Author: Leslie Croxford is a British author and Senior Vice-President of the British University in Egypt. Born in Alexandria, he obtained a doctorate in History from Cambridge University. He has written one novel, Soloman's Folly (Chatto & Windus), and is completing his third. He and his wife live in Cairo.

Buy the book at Book Depository or Amazon UK.

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The Renaissance Club by Rachel Dacus

Rachel Dacus is visiting with us today to celebrate the release of her newest book The Renaissance Club. Discover five surprising things you might not know about Rachel Dacus.
~~~~~

Five! That’s a fairly tall order. Speaking of tall orders, #1 has to do with height. My name is on a piece of space junk orbiting the Earth. That’s something most people would never guess about anybody, but most people didn’t grow up as a rocket scientist’s kid. My father worked for Thompson Ramo Wooldridge (now TRW) when I was a kid in the race-to-space 1950s. His job was, basically, to blow up rockets. That was his job because they had to keep blowing them up until they found a liquid fuel mix that could propel a rocket high enough to get into space. The purpose of this was to be able to scare the Soviets with the threat of a rocket that could decimate their country. The Soviets had already developed such a rocket, and America had to catch up, or possibly become toast—literally, a toasted continent. Dad’s missiles eventually worked, we developed the Atlas, which is still in use. One day my father took me and my brother to see the hangar where the missile was. He had someone write our first names on a first stage of the rocket. This is the part that’s jettisoned when the second stage ignites and kicks the missile higher. The discarded first stage piece goes into orbit indefinitely, and it did, bearing our names. I remember the day he took us to the hangar and we saw the names, right there on the side.

#2 is that I’ve written 14 musical plays. Call me Hammerstein. Okay, but don’t call me Oscar. I have had some produced and it’s some of my greatest fun to sit in on rehearsals, blow kisses to the cast, and then argue with the director. Musical theater is something I adore, in part because it ties together several types of writing I do, namely narrative, drama, and poetry (song lyrics are close to, but not the same as poetry). It’s like doing crossword puzzles: so hard you can’t resist. A very tight structure to play inside.

A fact that surprised me to remember is #3: I once received lessons in juggling in exchange for giving ballet lessons to a circus troupe. I’ve forgotten how to juggle, though I remember how you do it (keep your eye on the ball in the air at all times). I’m sure I could revive the skill with practice. Juggling is something I believe they should teach in grammar school, when we could all learn it easily, and even small town streets might be filled with strolling jugglers.

#4: I have a Shakespeare in my family tree. You wouldn’t know it to look at me. I hope.

#5: My terrier’s full kennel name is Elfinsilk’s Teresa d’Avila. It’s a remnant of the time when I was beginning to write The Renaissance Club, and Saint Teresa of Avila was a character involved with my time-traveling heroine, May Gold. I know, a half-Jewish art historian having discussions with a dead Catholic saint. It really worked, I thought. And when I got a new puppy, I named her in the lively saint’s honor. Yes, she was really a very lively saint. And now a very lively puppy. (St. Teresa later disappeared from the novel.)

May Gold, college adjunct, often dreams about the subject of her master’s thesis - Gianlorenzo Bernini. In her fantasies she’s in his arms, the wildly adored partner of the man who invented the Baroque.

But in reality, May has just landed in Rome with her teaching colleagues and older boyfriend who is paying her way. She yearns to unleash her passion and creative spirit, and when the floor under the gilded dome of St Peter’s basilica rocks under her feet, she gets her chance. Walking through the veil that appears, she finds herself in the year 1624, staring straight into Bernini’s eyes. Their immediate and powerful attraction grows throughout May’s tour of Italy. And as she continues to meet her ethereal partner, even for brief snatches of time, her creativity and confidence blossom. All the doorways to happiness seem blocked for May-all except the shimmering doorway to Bernini’s world.

May has to choose: stay in her safe but stagnant existence, or take a risk. Will May’s adventure in time ruin her life or lead to a magical new one?

About the Author:

Rachel Dacus is the daughter of a bipolar rocket engineer who blew up a number of missiles during the race-to-space 1950’s. He was also an accomplished painter. Rachel studied at UC Berkeley and has remained in the San Francisco area. Her most recent book, Gods of Water and Air, combines poetry, prose, and a short play on the afterlife of dogs. Other poetry books are Earth Lessons and Femme au Chapeau.

Her interest in Italy was ignited by a course and tour on the Italian Renaissance. She’s been hooked on Italy ever since. Her essay “Venice and the Passion to Nurture” was anthologized in Italy, A Love Story: Women Write About the Italian Experience. When not writing, she raises funds for nonprofit causes and takes walks with her Silky Terrier. She blogs at Rocket Kid Writing.

Website: http://racheldacus.net/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/rachel.dacus?ref=br_rs
Twitter: https://twitter.com/rdacus?lang=en

Buy the book at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kobo, or iBooks.

The Details of My Reality by Katie L. Oslin

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Katie L. Oslin will be awarding a $50 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Amy Thatcher is full of despair since her best friend is no longer by her side. Known as the ice queen, Amy is quick to dismiss people and barricade her sweet and beautiful soul. Although young, she’s wise beyond her years. And nothing and no one is going to get in the way of achieving her goals; or so she thinks.

Life soon shows Amy that it has other plans. She’s suddenly thrust into a world full of difficult circumstances and even more difficult decisions.

Read an excerpt:

He hugged me tightly for so long I wondered if he’d ever let me go. Our cigarettes developed the longest ashes I ever saw. As mine finally fell to the ground, I was reminded of how quickly I fell for Johnny and how our relationship had been burning for the last three years. Eventually, we, too, like that ash, would fall. We would end up a memory of something that burned so deeply into our souls and it too would eventually turn to ash.

Such thoughts swirled through my mind, as I drove without a destination. Eventually, I found myself at the park where Johnny and I went that fateful night when he showed me the secret overlook and took my virginity and my innocence. I decided to park the car, then I grabbed my emergency blanket, flashlight, and cigarettes and walked toward the precipice where it all began.

A tear fell down my cold wet cheek. I sighed and gave him my heartbreaking answer. “Honestly?” I held back my tears as best I could. “I want you to leave me alone, Johnny. I want you to love me enough to let me go. I want you to help me finally get over you by staying the hell away from me. I want you to stay out of my life and let me be. Please, Johnny, I’m begging you.

“I want to be happy. I deserve that, and you of all people know it. Since I can’t have it with you,” I said, crying a little harder, then I deserve to have it with someone else. So, please, Johnny, if you love me like you say you do, you’ll let me go.”

About the Author:

Katie L. Oslin is a Midwesterner who started writing diaries, poetry and many short stories at a very young age. As a newly published author THE DETIALS OF MY REALITY is her first novel.

She is also a wife, mother and bachelor’s prepared registered nurse. Living on the coast of North Carolina, she frequents the beach and finds inspiration in the sound of the waves and the solitude of her surroundings.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/katieloslin
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/katieloslin
Instagram: http://www.intstagram.com/khaoos1982
Website: http://www.katieloslin.com

Buy the book at Amazon.

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Man of Honor by Chris Malburg

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Chris Malburg will be awarding a $15 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

There is a unit buried within the Chinese People’s Liberation Army. Unit 61398—the cyber warfare unit. Li Yong prepared his entire life for command of Unit 61398. Li Yong believed this was the ultimate honor and service to the State.

Then America’s airliners started plunging from the sky. There is no honor in being the world’s worst mass murderer. How do you right the most terrible wrong? How do you prevent the State from slaughtering your entire family if you fail? How do you balance a moral imperative against a lifetime of homeland allegiance? How does Li Yong stop the unstoppable?

From Chris Malburg, author of God’s Banker, comes the Enforcement Division Series’ next riveting installment--Man of Honor.

Read an excerpt:

“Getting colder,” Jack said and shuffled his boots over the icy turf. “By the time this is over all these people will be half frozen.”

Helen Kaito turned toward her husband and into the onslaught of wind and snow. Snatches of live broadcasts from breathless reporters floated on the wind and swirled around the crowd 200 strong. Just his way of preserving that stoic reserve, Helen thought. She pulled her scarf tight around her neck and stuffed both hands into her jacket pockets. Around them people stamped their feet in the snowy field hard against the banks of Elkhart’s St. Joe River. “How much longer?”

She watched Jack look around the field. Police officers stood in small groups talking quietly among themselves. Firefighters stayed near their rigs waiting to put their exhaustive training to work. The silence spoke volumes. No celebration here. “They told me it should happen about 4:10 pm.”

“My God, Jack...”

Jack nodded slowly. “I know, hon. It sucks.”

Helen watched the crowd searching the northeastern sky. Some pointed. At what? She checked her watch. Not yet. Too soon.

Jack unzipped his backpack and pulled out binoculars. Helen had given him the heavier items when they geared up back home. She took water—frozen by now—energy bars, extra gloves, socks, and the knit cap she knew Jack probably wouldn’t wear. Summer or winter, he liked the feeling of the breeze on his shaven head. “What?”

About the Author:

Chris Malburg is a widely published author, with over 4 million words published in 22 popular business books and four novels. Simon & Schuster, Putnam, Wiley and McGraw Hill all publish Chris' work which is consumed in most western countries. 

After Stanford Writers School, Chris began the fun side of his career. He has crossed the chasm into fiction with the fourth installment in his Enforcement Division series. Man of Honor is a cyber thriller about the storied Chinese PLA's Unit 61398—the cyber terror division.

http://twitter.com/#!/ChrisMalburg
http://facebook.com/chris.malburg
http://www.linkedin.com/in/chrismalburg
CRM@WritersResourceGroup.com

Buy the book at Amazon.

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Daughter of Aithne by Karin Rita Gastreich

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Karin Rita Gastreich will be awarding a $15 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Why do you write in your genre? What draws you to it?

As an author, I love the challenge and freedom of fantasy. The genre allows us to stretch the limits of reality, exploring the human condition inside entirely imagined worlds. In addition, I believe there’s a lot of magic in real life, but many of us are blind to that magic. Fantasy brings magic to the forefront and makes it a central part of every character’s story, allowing all of us to better recognize the magic in our own lives.

What research/world-building is required?

Solid characters form the core of any fantasy novel, so the most important thing authors must understand is human nature – how we respond to challenges, disappointments, triumphs and failures in life as well as in love. If you can master that, you can write a fantasy set in any world. Everything else (technology, wardrobe, battle scenes, ecosystems, architecture, etc.) is just logistics.

Name one thing you learned from your hero/heroine.

Stay faithful to your path and to your own personal truth. Fight for what you believe in. Always act from compassion. Never say no to love.

Oops. That was more than one!

Do you have any odd or interesting writing quirks, habits or superstitions?

I’m not all that familiar with the habits of other writers, so I don’t know if any of my habits are quirky. I’m a fairly disciplined writer; I think about story telling all the time, and whenever I have a chance, I sit down at the computer and write.

Are you a plotter or pantser?

Both. I generally have an idea where a story is leading when I start writing, but I listen to my characters and if they decide to take the plot in a new direction, I follow their lead.

Look to your right – what’s sitting there?

At the table next to me in the coffee shop, there is a young woman at work on her computer. She has a big smile on her face and she’s wearing awesome winter boots with a bold floral pattern. Seems like the kind of person I’d like to have as a friend.

Anything new coming up from you? What?

Yes! If I weren’t responding to this interview, I’d be working on a contemporary dark fantasy called The Hunting Grounds. Set in my hometown of Kansas City, it is the chilling yet moving tale of one woman’s confrontation with her own death, and the power of love to carry us through the darkest nights of the soul.

Do you have a question for our readers?

What’s on your reading list for 2018? In lieu of that, tell me one special wish you have for the new year!

Betrayed by her own prodigy, Eolyn stands accused of treason. As power-hungry nobles dismantle her life's work and honor, the desperate queen forges a risky alliance with the ruthless and cunning Mage Corey. Determined to defend her son's claim to the throne of the Mage King, Eolyn prepares for her last and greatest battle, this time against her own sisters in magic.

Across the Furma River, Taesara of Roenfyn is drawn out of seclusion and into an ever-more vicious game of intrigue and war. Subject to the schemes of a shrewd uncle and the mysterious ambitions of the wizards of Galia, Taesara struggles to assert her own destiny, even as she takes up arms to defend her daughter's inheritance.

In the climactic finale to The Silver Web trilogy, threads of love, honor, betrayal, and vengeance culminate in a violent conflict between powerful women, opposed to each other yet destined to shatter a thousand-year cycle of war.

"An enticing and elegant series finale, filled with magic and turmoil." -KIRKUS REVIEWS

Read an excerpt:

Eolyn shifted in her seat. A thousand words stood poised upon her lips, of which only a handful could be chosen and delivered. Each conversation in the coming days had to be undertaken with great care, especially when it came to this mage.

“Why did Thelyn come for us, and not you?” she asked.

“I was needed to track down the magas still residing in the City,” Corey replied. “Besides, Thelyn was the better mage for that task.”

Mariel, she thought. He would not have had the heart to bind Mariel.

A small sign, perhaps, that Mage Corey could yet be counted among her friends.

“I understand you are to oversee their interrogation,” Eolyn said.

“It is true, my Lady Queen.”

“I have expressed my concerns about this to the King. He assures me that you and your mages will not be permitted to—”

“My Lady Queen, if there is one thing you have learned in the years of our friendship, it is that I will do whatever must be done in the moment at hand, and I will harden my heart to see it through.”

“That may be the case, Mage Corey. Yet I also know that words are your most effective tool. You have never resorted to violence to obtain what you require.”

Corey let her statement hang in the air.

Eolyn averted her gaze, suddenly aware of the icy tension in her hands.

I, too, am being interrogated.

“You did not bring a scribe,” she said quietly.

“What need have I for a scribe, my Lady Queen?” He softened his tone. “We are, as of yet, simply conversing.”

About the Author:

Karin Rita Gastreich writes stories of ordinary women and the extraordinary paths they choose. She lives in Kansas City, Missouri, where she is part of the biology faculty at Avila University. An ecologist by vocation, Karin has wandered forests and wildlands all her life. Her pastimes include camping, hiking, music, and flamenco dance. In addition to THE SILVER WEB trilogy, Karin has published short stories in World Jumping, Zahir, Adventures for the Average Woman, and 69 Flavors of Paranoia. She is a recipient of the Spring 2011 Andrews Forest Writer’s Residency.

Website: http://krgastreich.com
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/EolynChronicles
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Eolyn-110814625640244/

Purchase link for EOLYN, Book One of THE SILVER WEB: http://www.amazon.com/Eolyn-Silver-Web-Book-1-ebook/dp/B01B8F4G50
Purchase link for SWORD OF SHADOWS, Book Two of THE SILVER WEB: https://www.amazon.com/Sword-Shadows-Silver-Web-Book-ebook/dp/B01G5L1GEG
Purchase link for DAUGHTER OF AITHNE, Book Three of THE SILVER WEB: https://www.amazon.com/Daughter-Aithne-Silver-Web-Book-ebook/dp/B06WCZYRNW

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Dark Child by Miriam Newman

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Miriam will be awarding a $10 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Born at a royal banquet for King Conor MacNessa of Ulster, Deirdre is predicted by Conor’s own druid to be blessed and cursed with a beauty that will make kingdoms contest over her. He names her “Deirdre of the Sorrows” and urges the king to slay her. But Conor, unwilling to murder a babe, takes her under his protection only to fall prey to the curse when she is nearly grown. Captivated by her youth and beauty, the aging king will go to any extreme to possess her.

Read an excerpt: Once inside, the king and his guests found beef and mutton and pork…fowl and venison and fine, firm pink salmon borne on ice across the sea from Alba where ice was often to be found. Curds and whey they had, and all else that a dairy might supply. There were breads and cakes, pies and pasties of every sort and great quantities of wine, honey mead and ale both light and dark. Yet so deep went Conor’s unease that he had no appetite for them. Singers, dancers and musicians both foreign and native performed, male and female alike, but the crash and roar of the storm drowned out the sounds of their merry-making. Men marked that never had such a storm visited Ulster. Irishmen all they were and accustomed to the rains and gales of their island, but even Conor agreed it seemed no natural storm and that he, too, had a feeling of doom.

“Nonsense,” Felim insisted stoutly as the king merely nibbled at his food, for he saw all his plans dashed to destruction and the favor he wished of Conor turned to stone. “’Tis but a storm!”

Hardly had the words left the storyteller’s mouth than a terrifying scream split the air, a sound to raise the bristle hair on a hound’s back.

“’Tis only my wife, who labors,” Felim insisted, but the king took not a bite further of his food and sat with a pale and ashen face.

“’Bring her here,” Conor ordered, “that I may see if that is the scream of any mortal woman, for I much doubt it.”

And so the unfortunate woman was required to present herself to the king.

“Tell me true,” Conor demanded, “was it you who screamed?”

Felim’s haggard and trembling wife, fearing for her life, nonetheless shook her head, for she knew her maidservants would give her away if she lied to the great king.

“Nay, my lord,” she replied. “’Tis the child that screamed from inside my womb.”

“This is a thing I have never known!” Conor exclaimed, while beside him his druid Catha stood abruptly to lay a hand upon the mother’s belly, his expression dire.

“’Tis the scream of a girl child,” he predicted, “and her name will be Deirdre, the call of alarm, for she will bring war.”

About the Author: Fantasy poetry driven by myths and legends has been my passion for as long as I can remember. I was published in poetry before catching the romance writing bug. I bring that background to my writing along with a lifelong addiction to horses, an 18 year career in various areas of psychiatric social services and many trips to Ireland, where I nurture my muse. My published works range from contemporary fantasy romance to fantasy historical, futuristic, science fiction and historical romance. Currently I live in rural Pennsylvania with a “motley crew” of rescue animals.

http://www.miriamnewman.com
http://www.thecelticroseblog.blogspot.com
https://www.facebook.com/AuthorMiriamNewman
https://twitter.com/miriamnewman

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Fire by Sam Rook

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Sam will be awarding a $20 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

The thrilling conclusion to the Knights of Av’lor trilogy!

Trapped on Av’lor and left for dead by her betrayer, Kathryn’s unrelenting determination is the only thing that might overcome the invading Zahkrinon army.

With the portal destroyed and the Zahkrinon army fast approaching, Kathryn and Lanclor have no choice but to focus on the survival of the Knighthood before they can consider rescuing Rachel. Unexpected events threaten their victory and the combined Av’lorian and Earth forces struggle to survive as their numbers dwindle.

They find the Zahkrinon are more dangerous than they had ever imagined.

Read an excerpt:

The momentum of her flight drove the sword completely into the back of the Zahkrinon’s neck along with her hands, up to her wrists. She felt pieces of bone cut through her gloves and she clenched her teeth from the pain. A dark wave of energy left the creature’s hands just after impact and drove into the dark elves instead of Hal’s group. Kathryn forced her spell through the blade and felt the Zahkrinon’s muscles tighten under her as it screeched in pain.

She clung to her sword for dear life as the Zahkrinon’s arms struggled to rip her from its back as it twisted back and forth in an attempt to throw her. Tucking her wings, she made herself smaller and poured more power into the fire spell. The smell of burning flesh made her gag, but she didn’t relent.

The bastard took forever to die and it was bound and determined to take Kate with it. With an agonized scream, it fell from the building and tried to turn itself in midair so it fell backward. Kate let go of her sword and pushed herself to the left before they hit the ground. Her effort was enough not to get crushed, but failed to dodge the Zahkrinon’s wing which caught her body and thrust her against the ground.

Nidira threw herself at her brother’s side and intercepted the knife meant for Lord Alextor’s heart. All around the table, the bare-footed servants randomly attacked the members of the meeting. Blood splashed across the table, a startling contrast against the white slices of bread. Hal jumped to his feet and looked behind him just as a servant prepared to attack.

About the Author: Sam Rook lives in Vermont with her husband and two children. Her passion for fantasy novels began in high school with her desire to write following shortly thereafter. Software engineer by day, fantasy author by night, she strives to give her readers a chance to enjoy worlds that transport them away from the stress of everyday life.

Website: http://www.samrook.com

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