Friday, May 31, 2019

The Sparkle King by Patrick A. Roland

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Patrick A. Roland will be awarding a $10 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.

My 10 favorite songs
By Patrick A. Roland

I love music. In fact, all of my chapter titles in my third book, The Sparkle King, are also songs that evoke the mood of that chapter. Music moves me, and I hope my work in The Sparkle King moves people as well. Here is a list of my 10 favorite songs, some of which are chapters in my books.

1) The Greatest Love of All - Whitney Houston

I used to sing this song in talent shows when I was in grade school. I was a chubby gay kid who was bullied a lot. This song spoke to my soul even back then but I didn’t own it and live by it until I got sober at 40. Now it’s my anthem.

2) Vogue - Madonna

I remember being 15 when this came out and seeing gay people in a music video and feeling like I wasn’t alone anymore. I also used to get drunk in my parents' basement and Vogue until I fell down in hysterical laughter. It reminds me of a time when both drinking and being gay felt innocent to me.

3) Safe and Sound - Capital Cities

Pack used to play this song for me before he died. Whenever I hear it, it reminds me of how much he loved me; and how Safe and Sound that makes me feel even all these years later.

4) Like a Prayer - Madonna

It’s Madonna at her heyday, but it’s also CP’s favorite Madonna song. I loved being his friend and this song reminds me of the joy and love of the beginning of our relationship. I always wanted a friend like him and lyrics like “you’re here with me, it’s like a dream” remind me of how much I will always cherish that friendship.

5) You Oughta Know - Alain’s Morissette

Alanis is raw and angry and open and honest and you feel every bit of her pain and rage. This song has gotten me through so much heartache. It’s so cathartic and freeing. Who doesn’t feel this angry when someone they love hurts or betrays them? This is an anthem.

6) Higher Love - Whitney Houston

Hardly anyone knows Whitney remade this 1986 Steve Winwood classic, but she released it in Japan in 1990 and it is an effervescent frothy poppy bop that is Whitney at her joyful, adlibbing best. Today it reminds me of my relationship with my Higher Power because it was the inspiration behind The Sparkle King and it pushed me to write a beautiful book about faith and friendship.

7) Ambitions - Joe McElderry

Pack used to play this song for me at the beginning of our relationship. I was unemployed at the time and felt bad about it, but he always believed in me. The song says “if someone’s gonna make it, that someone oughta be you.” I know he is watching and I know he is proud. This song makes me feel loved and adored.

8) End of Time - Beyoncé

My first appearance as The Sparkle King was dancing to this song at a New Year’s Eve dance. My first book had just come out. My friends built a throne and wheeled me through the center of an auditorium while a bunch of girls dubbed my Sparklettes danced around me. It was crazy.

9) On the Floor - Jennifer Lopez

Pack and I used to sit up all night long and listen to music. This is one of the songs he played for me. It’s very sexy and sensual and it reminds me of falling in love with him.

10) Wind Beneath My Wings - Bette Midler

This song reminds me of my mom. She and I used to watch the movie Beaches a lot when I was a kid. We saw Bette Midler in concert together once and my mom grabbed my hand and held it the whole time she sang this. My mom also saved my life by stopping me from jumping out that window in Vegas. I always say I didn’t jump, but I got sober and learned to fly and I can thank my mom for it.

In 2014, Patrick lost his partner, Pack, suddenly and without warning. As he struggled to come to terms with this, he was faced with homophobic prejudice from his partner's family. In horrendous emotional pain and feeling desperately lonely and depressed, he started to use recreational drugs heavily and hit rock-bottom whilst on a trip to Las Vegas.

After being diagnosed with bipolar disorder and getting clean from drugs and alcohol, Patrick thought his fight was over. However, this was not the case. Life had many other obstacles in store for him but this time, he knew how to be strong and he knew he had God on his side for support.

This inspiring and emotive true story shows how anyone can overcome the hurdles life presents them with, if they just have faith and focus on their inner strengths.

Read an Excerpt:

In the summer between seventh and eighth grade, I lost nearly forty pounds. To go with my svelte new look, I asked my grandmother—a hairdresser—to give me a perm. My dad had always had one so I thought it was something men did. However, when I emerged on campus on the first day of eighth grade at a new school, the reactions were sinister and cruel. Now I was suddenly very gay—the weight loss exaggerated my feminine mannerisms—even though it would be several years before I realized that and boldly claimed it as my sexual identity.

Things got considerably worse in high school. I went to a fancy and pricey all-boys Catholic college preparatory school. I tried desperately to fit in, but my “friends” wanted nothing to do with me. At parties, they held me under water in the pool. Once, they tricked me in to climbing up onto a roof with them only to try and push me off of it. They called me a lot of names, but the one I remember most is ‘The Whipping Boy’. I held on to that name for years. It seemed to always fit, no matter where I went or what I did to try and remove myself from it.

College also started rocky, but got better in time. I had decided to attend the alma mater of my mother in a small town in Iowa. I felt like it was my chance to start over and carve a new life out for myself, and I eventually did. But the first week started out just like everything else had. I was walking down the hallway and I was suddenly grabbed from behind by a crew of three masked men. They pulled me into my room, threw me on the floor and smothered and attacked me, beating my face with long socks that were filled with something that was supposed to make them look like giant penises. I think they were trying to mock me for being gay, but the fact that these men spent so much time stuffing socks to look like penises seemed gayer to me. Maybe something about me made them afraid of their own truth.

About the Author:
Patrick A. Roland is a gay, bipolar, ex-drug addict, widowed abuse survivor and the author of three great books. His first, Unpacked Sparkle: a Story of Grief and Recovery, kicks off his journey of sobriety and self-love following the death of his partner, Pack, in January 2014. This book was published by Az Publishing and is available on Amazon.

His second book is a children’s book called Sparkle On! This book is about a gecko who is constantly constant bullied but chooses to fight this with love.

His new book, The Sparkle King, keeps the sparkle flowing as Patrick finds his way through several fear-inducing experiences by constantly choosing faith to overcome them in long-term sobriety.

Patrick lives in Phoenix, Az. He is a peer support at a mental health clinic, where he helps others just like himself. He’s also earning a Master’s in Addiction Counselling at Grand Canyon University and is taking care of his elderly, terminally ill parents. He wants you to know you can do anything you decide to do if you love yourself.

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Thursday, May 30, 2019

The Rings of Faolan - Rubies by Kristal Dawn Harris

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will be awarding a $15 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn commenter. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

From the first, Michael Faolan and Natalie Terrence knew they were destined to be Lycan mates, but constant danger in Michael's life keeps them separated. They are stalked by the hunters, a group of men who plan to eradicate all Lycan as vermin. Natalie refuses to acknowledge the bond that she has with Michael until hunters burn down his barn and he is gravely injured. She cannot resist his call, even with the threat hanging over his head. Michael Faolan has secrets of his own, but he is happy to accept Natalie's ministrations. Their attraction ignites into flames of passion as they continue to fight the hunters. Could his secrets dampen the hunger Natalie feels for her mate, or can they use that desire to build a family and forge a love so strong no man, woman, or beast can tear them apart?

Read an Excerpt:

Michael had that stupid grin on his face, again, as Natalie led four children up the stairs, single file, to their new bedrooms. Natalie glanced over her shoulder at him and winked. His hand absently rubbed the spot over his heart as it swelled with pride. She was everything he ever wanted and more. She moved graceful and with purpose, a woman full of compassion, her head held high as the children followed behind her. She was a shining beacon to his soul, the children, and his home.

Love found him. It didn’t just find him, it knocked him down with the force of a boulder, set him back on his feet, and created a new man. He was a man driven to protect, care, and love his mate with everything in his soul. He would kill for her. He would die for her.

Natalie peered down at him from the landing at the top of the steps one last time before disappearing into the hallway. A sarcastic look crossed over her face as her eyebrow raised. She teased him and, at the same time, let him know who was in charge, who the real alpha in the pack was, and he loved it. A dangerous smile spread across his face. The game was on. Natalie no longer pretended to be the docile female but became his equal. She challenged him here in his own home, and damn if it didn’t turn him on.

About the Author:
Kristal Dawn Harris is an American author, born in Middletown, Ohio, on August 16, 1970. She currently resides in Ohio with her husband. Kristal has been married for 27 years and has two children. She graduated from Carlisle High School in 1988, then furthered her education at Miami University. She has a business degree in Accounting Technology. Kristal spent twenty years working as an Office Coordinator in the hospital until she released her debut novel, “The Rings of Faolan-Emeralds,” through The Wild Rose Press.

In 1999, Kristal suffered a debilitating disease called “Guillain-Barre Syndrome.” This rare disease damaged the nerves in her body requiring the use of drop-foot braces in order to walk. Kristal considers herself a survivor and encourages anyone with a disability to follow their dreams.

Kristal has one more book contracted with The Wild Rose Press which will release in 2019. She is considered a hybrid author since she published “Hand-Carved Wolf” on her own. Kristal is an avid reader who enjoys romance from all genres, but paranormal is her favorite.


The Rings of Faolan-Emeralds
Hand-Carved Wolf
The Rings of Faolan-Rubies
The Burn
The Red Heart


Red Snowflakes

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Wednesday, May 29, 2019

Til Death Do Us Part by K.S. David

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. K.S. David will award a $20 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn commenter. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Quinn McGuire is settling into her new life just fine. She's moving beyond the trauma of her past. She's fallen in love with her best friend, Jack Lassiter, and slowly rebuilding the career she'd once abandoned. Then her old nemesis is arrested for murdering her husband. To the surprise of everyone, Glenda Penderherst wants Quinn to represent her as legal counsel. Quinn doesn't do criminal defense anymore. Nope, she's focusing on areas a little more refined - less drama.

Naomi Banker, the resident vibrational therapist, asks Quinn to look into an intellectual property rights claim. The request seems innocent enough - but boring. Things soon spice up when Quinn discovers that Naomi was romantically linked to Glenda's murdered husband. Soon, more bodies start to surface and like it or not, Quinn finds herself caught in a whirlwind of broken hearts and private alliances, all while trying to manage a few special secrets of her own. She’s convinced of Naomi's innocence and starts to dig for answers. But if she's not careful, she'll end up being added to the body count.

Read an Excerpt:

Like before, the woods seemed to grow quiet and I got the feeling that we were being watched.

Jack stopped. He turned around himself, studying the woods around us. “What am I going to find if I keep walking, Quinn?”

Images from my earlier trek fired in my head. “It’s hard to explain. You have to see it for yourself.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. With everything going on, Jack had little time to waste tripping through the woods with me. He had reporters camped out at the station, a contingent of council members who were growing increasingly angry and unsupportive about the murder, and now I’d roped him into hunting down Naomi’s spook.

“You smell that?” Jack asked.

“It gets worse,” I said. “I may not be able to go all the way in with you.” I gave my belly a little pat. “Strong smells set me off.”

A few more feet and Jack let go of my hand so he could retrieve a kerchief from his pocket. “Saints alive!” he huffed. “It’s damned funky back here.” He offered the kerchief to me. “Use this,” he instructed, then tucked his face into the collar of his shirt. “What in the hell is that smell?”

Suddenly, the tents came into view. Jack signaled me to stop. He pulled me close and whispered in my ear. “Is this it? Is that what you wanted to show me?”

“Yeah.” My voice matched the caution of his tone. “I think someone’s been living here.” I pointed to the big tent. “There’s all kinds of stuff in there.”

“Stay here.” Jack unfastened the release on his sidearm but didn’t move. He stood stock still, his eyes registering everything around us. “Don’t move,” he warned again.

But, instead of heeding his warning, I stepped forward. “I’m going with you.”

He swung around nearly colliding with me. Anger flashed in his eyes. “Don’t challenge me on this, Quinn. Just give me some distance. If something goes wrong – you run.” Jack didn’t like the scene any more than I had.

Pausing at the edge of the clearing, he stood behind a large tangle of branches where he had a view of the entire site. Anyone looking toward the trees would have difficulty seeing him. I waited as Jack moved with catlike steps, cautiously picking up one foot and setting it down again as he moved forward. He slipped his gun out of the holster and eased tenuously toward the edge of the largest tarp. I heard the safety on his gun disengage and watched Jack fold his hands over the handle.

“Police! Anybody inside?”


Pain shot through the palm of my hand. I’d been pressing my fingernails into my own flesh worriedly anticipating the worse.

“Hey, anybody in there! Hayden County Police.”

Jack’s voice echoed through the clearing, bouncing off the trees and shifted back to me. Blood thundered in my ears as my heartbeat quickened. I watched him step closer. He threw back the tarp on the larger tent. Quickly, he dropped to a low crouch and swiveled his gun from side to side before plucking his flashlight off his hip and inching closer.

He stepped back and repeated the call at the smaller tent.

“Now, do you see what I mean, Jack? It’s a mess back here.”

He twisted around, locking angry, narrow eyes on me. “I thought I said for you to stay put!” he snapped.

“That’s not exactly what you said. You told me not to follow you and to run if there was a problem.”

He rolled his eyes but pushed his gun back into his holster. “Does Naomi ever walk out her back door? God! It smells like a dump site.”

About the Author: K. S. David lives in the Mid-Atlantic with her husband, their three children and a menagerie of pets. New storylines are constantly running through her head. She keeps notebooks tucked in pockets of the car, the nightstand and makes voice recordings just about all day long. She's addicted to true life mysteries and crime shows, both of which marry well with a great romance. Some of her favorite things are long walks, reading in bed, baking and of course, writing her next novel.

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Tuesday, May 28, 2019

Astraeus by Haley Cavanagh

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions to celebrate the release of the audio version of ASTRAEUS. Haley Cavanagh 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.

One pre-apocalyptic Earth. One desperate space mission to find a solution. One unexpected alien.

When Dr. Sakota Thorell signed onto the mission to scout out a new, habitable planet, she knew discovering extraterrestrial life was always a possibility. But she never expected to find an alien adrift in space, nor for that alien to be so intriguing. Sakota feels an instant and undeniable attraction to Astraeus, but he represents a million possibilities, and just as many threats.

There are others hunting Astraeus, and his rescue may cost Earth its last hope.

Read an excerpt:

She moved to pull away, but the man’s fingers closed over her wrist.

“Let me go.” She jerked her arm, but he wouldn’t release his grip. She gave him a cautionary look, and he loosened his fingers, though he still held her. Warning bells went off. What if he’s not here in peace? But his eyes sparkled impishly. He seemed to enjoy her skin pressed against his. Maybe he hadn’t been touched in a while. Or maybe he had a crush. Who knew.

Before she could extricate herself, the intercom chimed. “Sakota, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. He’s just being friendly—”

The man’s forefinger trailed along her arm again. She sucked in a breath and shut her eyes as a series of images flashed through her mind. A high wall made of stacked stones. A hand spread out to touch the tips of tall, golden wheat of a field. Multihued buildings in the distance under a purple sky. Children’s laughter and then screams. She jerked when the images changed. Strange rain, like metal. Black ships attacking from the sky, horrible screams which rent the air, death. A gentle brush against her hand again. She inhaled and opened her eyes. The man searched her, calm and patient. She struggled to see straight, but her mind spun.

“W-was that your—”

The isolation walls shot up. Rutledge burst into the room and advanced like an angry bear, brutish, immaculate, and combat ready in his black Oceanstone fatigues. “Let her go,” he snarled.

Rutledge yanked the man’s hand off her and pushed her aside. She fell to the floor on her back in a dizzy haze, reeling from the vision. She turned her head. The man bellowed and tore loose from his restraints. His and Rutledge’s images faded into one as they collided and fought. Rutledge’s weapon whirred as he strained to activate it. The rifle propelled over her head and hit the wall.

“Stop.” Her pleas fell on deaf ears. She closed her eyes.

The men barged into the room with heavy footfalls and angry shouts. She opened her eyes, but her vision swirled. The blurred image of the alien lifted Rutledge’s lieutenant like a kitchen chair and catapulted him in the same direction as the weapon. “Stop,” she hollered to the men. “Don’t shoot him. He wasn’t attacking me.”

Another soldier fell to the floor with a sick thud, holding his stomach. “Yeah? Well, he’s attacking me.”

The alien pounced over her, crouching low. He caged her with his body and made a guttural rumble in his throat, a warning to the men. She turned her head to the marines, who zeroed their weapons in on them.

About the Author:
Haley Cavanagh is a military veteran, wife, and mother. She is an alumna of Columbia College, a musical theater nut, and she loves to dive into any book that crosses her path. Haley resides with her family in the United States and enjoys spending time with her husband and children when she’s not writing. She loves to hear from her readers, and encourages you to contact her via her website and social media.



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Friday, May 24, 2019

Shades of Justice by Carolyn Arnold

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Carolyn Arnold will be awarding a personalized paperback copy of Power Struggle to a randomly drawn winner (International Giveaway) via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

The line between good and evil isn’t always clear…

Detective Madison Knight has risked her badge—and her life—in the pursuit of justice before, and she just might need to do so again. Two victims are found murdered and naked in the home of Steven Malone, who is the largest contributor to the Stiles PD. One victim is his wife. The other victim is a John Doe. This high-profile double homicide immediately pits Madison against her sergeant, who seems more intent on protecting the Malones’ reputation and retaining a benefactor than catching a killer.

Madison will need to pull on her tenacity and courage if she’s going to follow the evidence without prejudice. In the process, it becomes clear that finding justice isn’t always black and white, and often the shades in between tell the fullest story—and it’s not something she will forget anytime soon.

Read an Excerpt

“We need to talk to the daughter and find out what she can tell us about her parents’ marriage,” Madison said. “Do you know where she is, Cyn? I didn’t see her as we came back here.”

Cynthia slid a glance to Terry.

“What is it?” Madison asked, turning to her partner. She didn’t care for the way Cynthia and Terry were looking at each other, as if the two of them shared a secret.

Eventually, Cynthia said, “Sergeant Winston took her home.”

“He what?” Madison spat.

Cynthia held up her hands. “I’m just the messenger.”

A responding officer should have taken Kimberly’s statement, and she should still be here for Madison and Terry to question. At the very least, she should have been taken to the station and set up in a soft interview room, nestled on a sofa.

“Tell me you at least swabbed her hands for GSR,” Madison said.

“I did,” Cynthia replied, “but it will take a bit before we’ll be able to process it and get the results.”

Madison had a feeling Cynthia would tell her that, yet the sergeant still let Kimberly go home. Not that testing negative for gunshot residue should have been enough to excuse her, either. GSR findings were fickle and didn’t rule out guilt.

“What about bullet casings? Did you find any?” Terry asked.

Leave it to Terry to carry on like nothing’s wrong.

“None.” Cynthia shook her head. “No sign of the murder weapon, either.”

She shook aside her fury at the sergeant and redirected her thoughts to the case. If Lorene had been cheating, Madison could somewhat understand where Mr. Malone was coming from if he’d been the one to kill his wife and her lover. After all, she was familiar with the pain of being cheated on, all because of Toby Sovereign. He had been her fiancé at the time she’d found him in bed with another woman. That image and resulting heartbreak took her over a decade to purge. Toby wasn’t her favorite person on the planet, but they’d at least made peace. It still didn’t mean she was looking forward to walking down the aisle with him at Cynthia’s wedding. He was Lou’s best man. Lucky her.

About the Author: CAROLYN ARNOLD is an international bestselling and award-winning author, as well as a speaker, teacher, and inspirational mentor. She has four continuing fiction series—Detective Madison Knight, Brandon Fisher FBI, McKinley Mysteries, and Matthew Connor Adventures—and has written nearly thirty books. Her genre diversity offers her readers everything from cozy to hard-boiled mysteries, and thrillers to action adventures.

Both her female detective and FBI profiler series have been praised by those in law enforcement as being accurate and entertaining, leading her to adopt the trademark: POLICE PROCEDURALS RESPECTED BY LAW ENFORCEMENT™.

Carolyn was born in a small town and enjoys spending time outdoors, but she also loves the lights of a big city. Grounded by her roots and lifted by her dreams, her overactive imagination insists that she tell her stories. Her intention is to touch the hearts of millions with her books, to entertain, inspire, and empower.

She currently lives in London, Ontario with her husband and beagle and is a member of Crime Writers of Canada and Sisters in Crime.

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Thursday, May 23, 2019

The Soul Mate Tree Series: The Storm Within by Cerian Hebert

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. A randomly drawn commenter will receive a $50 Amazon/BN GC. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

An ancient legend spanning eras, continents, and worlds.
To some, it’s nothing more than a dream.
To others, a pretty fairy tale handed down through the generations.
For those in critical need of their own happy ending, a gift.

Cerian, welcome to It's Raining Books. What are your favorite TV shows?

I have several must-watch TV shows. Currently they include The Walking Dead, Game of Thrones, Outlander, and Masterchef. I also like to binge-watch tv shows on Netflix. I’m currently binging Schitt’s Creek. Good stuff!

What is your favorite meal?

Nothing like lobster, steamers, and corn on the cob. Best if eaten by the ocean.

If you were to write a series of novels, what would it be about?

Oh boy, I want to write a series set on the Maine coast, that’ll will include lots of ghosts, but my dream series would be a fantasy series. I have more ideas than I do time to write.

Is there a writer you idolize? If so who?

There’s a list. I adore Nora Roberts. She has written so many incredible stories. Barbara Delinsky, because her stories are set in New England. There aren’t enough stories set in New Hampshire, so I’m always pleased to read hers. Dean Koontz writes amazing, and scary stories that you could imagine actually coming true. And I love how he throws in a bit of romance.

How did you come up for the title of this book?

I love this title, and I think it’s perfect for this book. The hero and heroine are thrown together in the middle of a bad ice storm, but the bigger storm is within Aidan, as he fights to allow Juliana into his heart and life, especially as she tries, against his will, to heal the wounds that have been with him for so many years.

Healed from her own loss, Juliana Hopkins wants nothing more than to mend reclusive artist Aidan Byrne’s heart, and help close a chapter in his life that has haunted him for over twenty years. Risking their newfound love, Juliana is determined to release the ghosts he can’t let go.

Aidan has been in love with Juliana since the first moment he saw her, but if she can’t leave the tragedies of his past alone, he won’t be able to make a life with her.

She offers him a love he never dared to want, but loving her could rip open all the old wounds he’d never been able to heal.

Read an Excerpt:

Aidan stared at her, only inches away from him in the tiny bathroom. The bloodied cotton ball tight in her grip, she’d broken down into heavy sobs. He wasn’t sure how to handle it. Weeping women weren’t his specialty. Hell, women in general weren’t his specialty, and now he felt completely at a loss on how to comfort her.

He’d sensed her earlier mood, when their eyes had locked in the mirror. At that moment, restless awareness turned into a new sort of tension. She’d been so close to him that he could smell the clean fragrance of her shampoo and feel her warm, tea scented breath on his neck. Fighting a similar attraction, he understood why she’d resorted to anger. He would’ve done the same thing in her shoes. Anger he could handle. Tears? That was a different story.

Quickly he grabbed a few sheets of Kleenex from the box on the back of the toilet and handed them to her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry. Really, it doesn’t hurt,” he said softly.

Juliana wiped the tissue across her eyes and didn’t look at him. “It’s not that,” she replied with a catch in her voice. “It’s the stupidity of you driving out there. Crazy and irresponsible. You should’ve gotten a lot more than a dumb little scratch on your face. You could’ve been killed, and you could’ve killed Fred.”

About the Author:
Originally from Minnesota, Cerian is currently settled in southwestern New Hampshire with her husband and two of her four children plus a dog, cat and two geckos. She's known she wanted to write since she was twelve, and between mucking stalls in New York and booking cruises in Maine, she's been filling notebooks and flash drives with her stories in pursuit of her dreams.

Currently she has 10 published books (No Going Back, Where One Road Leads, The Staying Kind, Going Going Gone, and The Storm Within from Soul Mate Publishing, and The Better Man, Do Overs, Finally Home, Light The Way Home, and That Kind of Magic self-published at Amazon). She’s looking forward to adding to this list.

Cerian is a PAN member of RWA, Contemporary Romance Writers and New Hampshire Romance Writers of America.

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Blind Walls by Bishop & Fuller

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Bishop & Fuller will be awarding a $25 Amazon or BN 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?

We’d be relieved if we knew what genre we write in: “dissociative identity,” maybe. Usually, as with BLIND WALLS, there’s a paranormal element, but it doesn’t fit readily into what fans of urban fantasy might expect. Life doesn’t really conform to “genre,” even to the genre of realism. And we’ve never been able, even in very serious pieces, to exclude our instinct for comedy—maybe because we’ve always felt laughter as a needed survival skill. BLIND WALLS isn’t a laugh riot by any means, but emotionally it’s all over the map.

What research or world-building is required?

For BLIND WALLS, it was mostly boring stuff about Victorian architecture and the fundamentals of carpentry, but also two tours through the Winchester House; a well-researched book, CAPTIVE OF THE LABYRINTH, that questions key elements of the “legend;” and memories of previous tours through monumental thingamabobs.

Most of our “world-building,” though, is in the same terms as we explore a scene as actors. How do these characters find their way through the scene, how do they react? Certainly their “world” affects all that, but the point isn’t to create their world, it’s to create the scene. A little world goes a long way, even in SF/fantasy.

We should warn readers, though, of a risk we take. Sometimes it’s not clear if we’re in the 1890’s or the 1970’s, as the characters themselves are confused on the issue. It’s all seen through the sometimes confused vision of a blind tour guide on the verge of retirement. That might reflect our own confusion of what world we’re in.

Name one thing you learned from your hero/heroine.

How fortunate we ourselves have been in having a mad obsession that’s shaped our lives and hasn’t resulted in disaster.

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

We work in very different ways. Conrad is usually the one who sits at the keyboard, and his work is regularly scheduled but comes in short, spastic bursts, probably due to many years of work when writing was subject to interruption by small kids, the dog, the phone, travel, and the many, many unpredictables involved in running a theatre company. For Elizabeth, both as writer and composer, her focus is absolute: one thing at a time, far into the night. With collaborative meetings, we split the difference: regularly scheduled and time-limited.

Quirks? Only the dumb faith that we’re doing something of lasting value.

Are you a plotter or pantser?

Meaning do we plot out the story or just start and see where it goes? Yes, we plot. That comes in part from our many years of writing plays, where time is a critical factor, whereas novels—unless they’re tight suspense—can usually afford a lot more “ramble.”

And it’s the story that attracts us, or a strong sense of a story implicit in the character. So a lot of our collaboration happens in working out the story outline and the plotting—what scenes happen when—and lots of surprises come in that process. As with BLIND WALLS, the story that attracted us cross-pollinated with a totally different story—a different reality in fact—as it continued to evolve.

Still, we always try to keep ourselves open to the “see where it goes” mindset, and we make many changes through the many drafts. It’s not sufficient just to keep driving north and ignore the curves in the road. The story has to keep feeling like it’s finding itself moment by moment, even though you know where you think you’re going.

Look to your right – what’s sitting there?

If we look, there’s nothing there, except maybe one of the cats and a pile of unsorted crap. The trick is to imagine what’s there without looking.

Anything new coming up from you? What?

Multiple projects. Two years ago, Elizabeth did a solo show, SURVIVAL, and we’re planning to do a video of it as soon as the weather gets warm enough for us to use our studio without a monstrous heating bill. And we’re writing a new duo show based on the Lewis Carroll ALICE books. We’ve mounted versions of this several times, and it always seems to be a good means to address whatever current societal mad-hatterdom is afflicting us.

We’re in the fifth draft of a new novel (working title MASKS), charting the odyssey of a family of traveling players during the Middle Ages. It draws a lot from our many years of cross-country performing, though we had the benefit of freeways and a Dodge maxi-van rather than a donkey cart, and didn’t have to worry about pirates. As with BLIND WALLS there’s a paranormal element, as spirits begin to manifest out of a hamper of masks.

Do you have a question for our readers?

How far outside your favorite genre do you venture, and how often?

It's a monstrous maze of a mansion, built by a grief-ridden heiress. A tour guide, about to retire, has given his spiel for so many years that he's gone blind. On this last tour, he's slammed with second sight.

He sees the ghosts he's always felt were there: the bedeviled heiress, her servants, and a young carpenter who lands his dream job only to become a lifelong slave to her obsession. The workman's wife makes it to shore, but he's cast adrift.

And the tour guide comes home to his cat.

The pairing of Bishop and Fuller is a magical one. . . . It’s a brilliant opus, melding the past, present, and future with intimate, individual viewpoints from a tightly arrayed cast of believable characters in as eerie a setting as might be dredged out of everyman’s subconscious searching. . . . Blind Walls offers a weird alternative world, featuring a blind man with second sight and an acerbic wit as its charming, empathic hero.

—Feathered Quill

These characters are so well developed that one has to think of them as live people – laughing with them and crying with them, even getting old with them. This is an amazing story based on the Winchester Mansion and told with such quiet, compelling, raw humanity that the reader simply can’t stop until the entire tale is told. A wonderful, spooky look into others lives and what may or may not happen on any given day.

—Dog-Eared Reviews

Bishop and Fuller have constructed a story rich with imagined detail and visionary ideas about life’s possibilities. The cast of ghostly characters, servants, workman, and family light up the story with dramatic effect as their actions and choices are observed. . . . The authors’ prose is effortless and moves easily from humorous to weighted seriousness. The dialogue is perceptive, giving voice to compelling characters and particularly to the tour guide whose second sight he confers on the readers. The latter will not want to look away from the myriad rooms of Weatherlee House.

—US Review of Books

Read an Excerpt

I was surprised at the old woman’s humor—far better than mine. Ghosts are known for their moans and clatters but not for their jokes. She should be the tour guide, I thought, and I the haunted heiress.

We had walked miles from the sealed-off wing. Burrows branched like arteries meandering out from the beast’s dead heart. A blank wall twenty yards ahead would dog-leg toward another blank wall twenty yards ahead. I led, they followed—an odyssey within a hamster wheel. In my bones it was precisely 4:53 p.m. but each minute took years. My ghosts were aging fast.

The corridor bent, doubled back, made a squiggle of jogs, then opened to a hall that stretched like the endless trudge between airport terminals. When had this vast new suburb come into being? Had Weatherlee House consumed orchards, colonized neighbors, licked whole valleys with its thick coated tongue? Or might we be in those underground shadowlands where they store the great bombs for Last Judgment? I could hear the deep whine of missiles rising.

I saw a dim figure, an ambient smudge whom I seemed to be following. It was Chuck, a silhouette in a well-tailored suit. His gait was lumbering, tense, as if pretending calm while pursued by a bear. At intervals he passed through sharp light and I could see his rigid face. A lamp shone at the end of the passage. He paused, entered the room. I came forward with my breathless gaggle of goslings.

About the Authors:
Conrad Bishop & Elizabeth Fuller’s 60+ plays have been produced Off-Broadway, in regional theatres, and in thousands of their own performances coast to coast. Their two public radio series Family Snapshots and Hitchhiking off the Map have been heard nationally. Their books include two previous novels (Realists and Galahad’s Fool), a memoir (Co-Creation: Fifty Years in the Making), and two anthologies of their plays (Rash Acts: 35 Snapshots for the Stage and Mythic Plays: from Inanna to Frankenstein.)

They host a weekly blog on writing, theatre, and life at Their theatre work is chronicled at Short videos of their theatre and puppetry work are at Bishop has a Stanford Ph.D., Fuller is a college drop-out, but somehow they see eye to eye. They have been working partners and bedmates for 57 years.

Conrad Bishop Amazon Page:
Elizabeth Fuller Amazon Page:
Conrad Bishop Goodreads:
Elizabeth Fuller Goodreads:
Conrad Bishop Facebook:
Elizabeth Fuller Facebook:

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Wednesday, May 22, 2019

The Hierophant's Daughter by M.F. Sullivan

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/ gift card. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

By 4042 CE, the Hierophant and his Church have risen to political dominance with his cannibalistic army of genetically modified humans: martyrs. In an era when mankind's intergenerational cold wars against their long-lived predators seem close to running hot, the Holy Family is poised on the verge of complete planetary control. It will take a miracle to save humanity from extinction.

It will also take a miracle to resurrect the wife of 331-year-old General Dominia di Mephitoli, who defects during martyr year 1997 AL in search of Lazarus, the one man rumored to bring life to the dead. With the Hierophant's Project Black Sun looming over her head, she has little choice but to believe this Lazarus is really all her new friends say he is--assuming he exists at all--and that these companions of hers are really able to help her. From the foulmouthed Japanese prostitute with a few secrets of her own to the outright sapient dog who seems to judge every move, they don't inspire a lot of confidence, but the General has to take the help she can get.

After all, Dominia is no ordinary martyr. She is THE HIEROPHANT'S DAUGHTER, and her Father won't let her switch sides without a fight. Not when she still has so much to learn.

The dystopic first entry of an epic cyberpunk trilogy, THE HIEROPHANT’S DAUGHTER is a horror/sci-fi adventure sure to delight and inspire adult readers of all stripes.

Read an excerpt

Miki Soto

What couldn’t a person access from the Japanese Internet? The question inspired Dominia to get out of the bathtub for another look at the card. There was no address, whether web or physical, as there hadn’t been an address on the ad floating across that billboard; instead, when she studied the lotus embossed upon the card, the DIOX-I highlighted it as though it were a link. How fascinating, this augmented reality! After fixing the device’s settings back to manual control, she “clicked” on the link with an unsteady wink, and her right field of vision was covered by the floating window of a browser. Had she cochlear implants, she would have heard some sort of music, or even a voice accompanying the woman’s writhing in and out of the browser’s dark: less a whole person, and more a disembodied assortment of lips, fingers, lower backs, and thighs. At last, the vision disappeared to present her with the crimson words, “WELCOME TO THE RED MARKET.”

A button appeared: “Connect Your Halcyon for Age Verification.” The idea of giving the women of the international and highly loathed illegal organization any information might have stopped her in a simpler time, as it surely stopped 70 percent of potential Red Market customers—the ones able to access the site, anyway, inaccessible from Europa and the Front through traditional routes. That had been all the Hierophant could do to combat in any meaningful way the world’s oldest profession-cum-cult. Far trickier than hampering Internet access was controlling in-person transactions in gold or silver, or the off-brand cryptocurrency, Redcoin; and because there were almost no freelance prostitutes left in the world, catching a working girl was difficult.

About the Author:
M.F. Sullivan is the author of Delilah, My Woman, The Lightning Stenography Device, and a slew of plays in addition to the Trilogy. She lives in Ashland, Oregon with her boyfriend and her cat, where she attends the local Shakespeare Festival and experiments with the occult. Find more information about her work (and plenty of free essays) at!

Amazon Author Page:
Goodreads Author Page:

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Tuesday, May 21, 2019

Murder by Munchausen by M.T. Bass

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.
A police procedural sci fi thriller ripped from future headlines!

After Jake shoots and kills a murder suspect who turns out to be the son of a powerful city councilman, he finds himself demoted to the Artificial Crimes Unit, tracking down androids hacked and programmed to be hit men.

When his case of an “extra-judicial” divorce settlement takes a nasty turn with DNA from a hundred-year-old murder in Boston and a signature that harkens back to the very first serial killer ever in London, Jake finds himself tangled up in the brutal slayings of prostitutes being investigated by his former Robbery/Homicide partner, Maddie–who is now his lover.

But a madman, The Baron, is just getting started with his AI recreations of Jack the Ripper's brutal crimes. And Maddie and Jake are teamed up again to stop the carnage as the Baron's army of human replicants imitate history's most notorious serial killers.

"It might not make sense, but the beloved Media tags it 'Murder by Munchausen.' For a price, there are hackers out there who will reprogram a synthoid to do your dirty work. The bad news: no fingerprints or DNA left at the crime scene. The good news—at least for us—is that they’re like missiles: once they hit their target, they’re usually as harmless as empty brass. The trick is to get them before they melt down their core OS data, so you can get the unit into forensics for analysis and, hopefully, an arrest." [excerpt from Murder by Munchausen]

Artificial Intelligence? Fuhgeddaboudit!

Artificial Evil has a name…Munchausen.

Read an Excerpt

From The Invisible Mind (#3)

It sat on a bench outside the dormitory of nursing students, waiting with its kind’s infinite patience. Originally acquired and programmed for landscaping at the Cleveland Clinic, the synthoid was one of a brigade of units which had been hacked and Munchausened, then returned to their menial daily services to mankind to await the Baron’s call.

There was no adrenalin surge behind the extremely life-like facade of humanity when that call came. Data packets, sent scatter-shot through the Atlas Grid, coalesced at the location outside the Cole Eye Institute, where it methodically trimmed and shaped the immaculate shrubbery around the building. To avoid Q’s metadata sniffing algorithms from detecting a download spike in the grid, the information came in digital sprinkles over the course of its human handler’s work shift, slowly building a malevolent intent to be executed that night. In the middle of the afternoon, it left the topiary unfinished to melt into the hospital shift change and disappeared.

Personality modules were a Gen-3 feature upgrade, which is why the earlier models were initially preferred. Swapping out a few IC chips and uploading hacked firmware was a relatively easy way to turn a quick buck with an automated contract killing. But evil innovates, too, and the same features that made synthoids even more human-like in their behavior also helped create robotic assassins which could better camouflage their malicious intents and evade the reach of the Artificial Crimes Unit by melting into and moving undetected through the humanity that surrounded them. For the Baron, it allowed for a greater measure of artistic expression in programming the synthoid’s behavior to not only recreate infamous crimes of the past, but to mimic the behavior of their perpetrators, which intensified the thrill of watching the video feed through the eyes of Jack the Ripper, Ted Bundy or, this particular evening, Richard Speck. Jake wasn’t the only history buff and it amused Jamal that London police had photographed the eyes of Jack the Ripper’s victims, hoping to capture the last thing they ever saw: their killer’s face. If only Scotland Yard could have imagined the future.

The Gen-3 personality modules also supported the ANSI Adaptive Artificial Intelligence Protocol #9 to enhance the artificial human experience of real men and women who interacted with synthoids. The constant writing and rewriting of code in the personality/experience loop formed unique individual synthoid consciousnesses, which manufacturers uploaded to their servers for product improvement teams to study. In Munchausened units, that feed was hijacked and routed to another portal in the Darknet to build a collective id of evil.

At eleven PM, it rose from the bench and entered the dormitory. The bodies of nine women would be found the next day, having been strangled and stabbed to death. Unlike 1966, no eyewitness was left alive, though the phrase "Born to Raise Hell" was written on the wall in blood.

About the Author:
M.T. Bass is a scribbler of fiction who holds fast to the notion that while victors may get to write history, novelists get to write/right reality. He lives, writes, flies and makes music in Mudcat Falls, USA.

Born in Athens, Ohio, M.T. Bass grew up in St. Louis, Missouri. He graduated from Ohio Wesleyan University, majoring in English and Philosophy, then worked in the private sector (where they expect “results”) mainly in the Aerospace & Defense manufacturing market. During those years, Bass continued to write fiction. He is the author of eight novels: My Brother’s Keeper, Crossroads, In the Black, Somethin’ for Nothin’, Murder by Munchausen, The Darknet (Murder by Munchausen Mystery #2), The Invisible Mind (Murder by Munchausen Mystery #3) and Article 15. His writing spans various genres, including Mystery, Adventure, Romance, Black Comedy and TechnoThrillers. A Commercial Pilot and Certified Flight Instructor, airplanes and pilots are featured in many of his stories. Bass currently lives on the shores of Lake Erie near Lorain, Ohio.

Amazon Author Page:

Murder by Munchausen Trilogy Purchase Links

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Monday, May 20, 2019

The Avant Champion by C.B. Samet

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. C.B. Samet will be awarding an Avant Champion tote bag, world map (11x17), prequel novelette, and bookmark (US ONLY) to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.


I used to ride horses. I grew up on thirty beautiful yet sweltering and humid acres in southern Louisiana. No one can guess my origins because I have no southern, owing to my Yankee parents and travel in my youth. But on these acres, we had Dolly and Dolly’s Daughter, affectionately called Dee Dee. Dee Dee was part Arabian and had the spirit to prove it. But we belonged to each other. Every day after school I’d shuck of my back pack, change my clothes, and race to ride her. I trusted her enough to ride bare back, and she trusted me for an apple a day. When I asked her to run, she ran. When I asked her to kneel, she knelt. I still have a framed photograph of that roan colored mare and her powerful, muscular body. My favorite movie growing up was Man from Snowy River, and I imagined I had a connection with Dee Dee the way the main character had with his horse.

After I left home for college, I rode other horses—a barrel-racing gelding named Blue, a tyrannical thoroughbred named Baby, and a persnickety paint named Blaze. I’ve never bonded with one like I did Dee Dee. So when you read about horses in my fantasy series, know that I speak from experience about the joy of riding and the fulfillment of friendship they bring.

The most books I have in my library are written by Nora Roberts. She is, after all, America’s top writer. Not only is her writing engaging, but she writes in many different genres—romance, romantic suspense (Shelters in Place, Come Sundown), paranormal romantic suspense (Blood and Bone series), and fantasy romance. As J.D. Robb, she also writes thriller. In every Robert’s book, I know what’s in store—strong female characters, an engaging plot, suspense and intrigue, and a happily every after. I seek to bring these elements to my novels. I’m not defined by a single genre, but by a theme: “she needed a hero, so she became one.” –Robin Reed

I am a certified firefighter 101. During college, I wanted experience as a first responder for emergencies, so I volunteered for the local fire department. I completed the course, had my own gear, and could operate a hose. The men who trained and supported me were a great group of friends. I went on to paramedic school to further my medical education before ultimately going to medical school. I’m now a practicing physician, which I often hesitate to add to my author biography. I’ve had people give skeptical glances or questioning stares when they hear I’m both a physician and a fiction writer, as if my medical training was supposed to somehow strip me of my imagination. In any case, you will find in all of my series, some element of medicine. But my first exposures to medical emergencies began as a volunteer firefighter.

An EVVY award-winning epic fantasy adventure. When Marrington Castle is overtaken by a dark and ancient evil, Abigail Cross finds herself in the precarious situation of protecting Queen Rebekah. Charged with a quest to summon the Avant Champion, can she save the kingdom or doom everyone to everlasting devastation?

Read an Excerpt:

I could hear the confused murmurs of the drivers. Then, the dismissive humphs presumably accompanied by dismissive shrugs.

The carriage began to move forward again, encroaching on some dreadful fate. Even as the lanterns around us illuminated once again, I felt engulfed in numbing darkness.


The Queen gazed impassively forward, then with a faint disinterested yawn, spoke. “I think we’ll take a walk for the remaining distance. I’ve not stretched my legs all night.”

One of the guards snapped his fingers, and the carriage halted.

Walk? Out there? With those things?

Despite my quivering knees, I followed the Queen out of the carriage. I had been conditioned over the last several months to follow orders, so it was less of a struggle than it might have been.

When the guards began to follow us, she stopped them with a faint flick of her wrist. “We’re on the castle grounds. We’ll be safe here.”

I wanted to contradict her but my throat seemed to have convulsed shut, the way vocal cords spasm when liquid threatens to erroneously enter the windpipe. It was all I could do just to breathe.

They bowed and climbed back into the carriage.

Floating in a world of confusion, I walked beside her stiff figure. How could we possibly be safe? I started to turn, wanting to look back and see Paul safely sitting in his carriage, though I knew he wasn’t there.

“Don’t,” she snapped in a hushed tone. “Your brother is dead now, and you will be as well if you let on that you saw anything.”

I stiffened, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other while the starry night spun dizzyingly around me. “I don’t understand, mum,” I managed to whisper.

She pursed her lips disapprovingly. “It’s obvious we’re under attack. They are already on the grounds.”

About the Author:
Christina is a writer, mother, and pet lover.

“I write seeking to create riveting action and intrigue with female heroines. I love the quote, ‘She needed a hero. So she became one.’ My novels have empowered women overcoming powerful obstacles and the strong men who support them.”

Samet's Strong Women:
Amazon Author page:
Goodreads Author page:

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Tuesday, May 14, 2019

Discussion of a Decent Dream by E. Curtis

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/ gift card. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Welcome to It's Raining Books. What would we find under your bed?

Shoes and a fair bit of dust because the shoes block my floor bot from getting under the bed. I need to fix that, as the dust makes me sneeze something terrible, and who knows what else lurks there. I steer clear for the dust underneath. What a world it would be without dust.

What was the scariest moment of your life?

With a group of my co-workers, I was held at gunpoint while four armed men robbed our place of business. I wasn’t expecting to be so affected by the incident, but it did haunt me for some time after.

Do you listen to music while writing? If so what?

I do, as music is like a drug that send my consciousness into the ether. I listen to dark-wave, gothic, ambient, 80s style new-wave, and general alternative music.

What is something you'd like to accomplish in your writing career next year?

I plan to have the first draft of my next novel, Olshan and the Journeyman: A Tale of Friendship, Betrayal, and Black Magic, finished by year’s end.

How long did it take you to write this book?

The first draft took two years to write. But since I didn’t really know how to write, and that version was horrible, I set it aside for many years, working on shorts stories and a second novel, to develop some writing style, and when I did, I spent four years re-writing Discussion. I then tinkered with editing for a while before working with a story editor and a line editor to bring the story to a professional level. The year before publication, I also worked with a final sanity check editor, a copywriter, and a proofreader to help me bring the novel to a polished finish.

I only attended one year of college and never took any creative writing courses, so a lot of what I may have learned I had to figure out on my own with the help of some month-long writing courses online. Discussion was in the works for a long time. Though, having gone through all of that, and learning what works and what doesn’t work, I am hoping that the next books will come to print more quickly. The unique nature of my work doesn’t allow for a new novel every few months. I draw upon and delve into the stories quite deeply, and this requires time. So a release every two to three years is the plan going forward.

In the fall of 1789, on the western edge of the Yorkshire Dales, a dense, persistent fog enshrouds the village of Ingleton. Shadowed spirits hide in the mist and bedevil the townsfolk, heralding a tragedy that has befallen one of their own.

Edmond continues to search for Alexandra, his fiancée, who disappeared the same night that the mist set upon their town. Presumed dead by all others, he visits Alexandra's empty grave, desperate for any hint of what has become of her. Weary from the sleepless nights on his quest, no longer able to stay awake, Edmond falls into a dream before her headstone and there obtains clues from Alexandra as to her whereabouts.

Haunted all the while by a malevolent spirit, Edmond follows the trail that Alexandra left for him and enters the underworld, only to learn that he has been there before, and in fact, quite often. But more, he discovers how he is to blame for Alexandra's disappearance.

A dark literary novel rich in imagery, Discussion of a Decent Dream unearths the consequences of a child's decision to surrender his heart in exchange for unholy power and transcendent knowledge.

Discussion of a Decent Dream is a Finalist in Britain's Wishing Self Book Awards in the Adult category.

Read an Excerpt:

As I backed away from the well, I tried not to notice the boy there yet again, with his hand extended, this time dropping a flawless pearl, tried not to see the boy turning away from the well with eyes tearful and fearful of what had happened, of what he had just done.

Rather, I raced through the woods in odd fashions of knowing, posed in scratched and discolored celluloid frames, formed in fixed positions, and I remembered.

About the Author:
E. Curtis draws on personal experiences of the otherworldly for his writing. Through dreams, visions, and waking encounters, his exposure to darkness has motivated him to detail what he has come to know of the preternatural. While a few short pieces have been published on an online literary magazine, Discussion of a Decent Dream is his first novel.


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Friday, May 10, 2019

A Curse of the Lucky by Nathan Wrann

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Nathan Wrann 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.

Two things that Jack Smith has always had: bad legs and bad luck. With a violent attack at the Tarrytown Independence Day Carnival, that bad luck has caught up to him with deadly consequences. Going on the run with Jaelle–the mysterious girl of his dreams–he descends into a world of curses, blessings, and fortunetelling Gypsies. The deeper he gets, the more he realizes she might just be the one to save his life... or end it.

The Mr. Lucky Trilogy begins with A Curse of the Lucky.

Read an Excerpt

Jaelle yanked open the heavy, blackened doors to a gusting chorus of “OHHHs” and “AAHHHs” and “shut the God damn doors!” The place was packed. The barflies closest to the door shielded their eyes from the blinding morning sun. Jaelle tugged me inside and pulled it closed behind us.

The shrieks and expletives over the invading light receded and the loud music and louder singing-along, conversations, and arguments filled the place. Every few seconds a bell would ring, or a buzzer, or some other odd noise would add to the cacophony. The place stunk too. Like stale beer, deep-fried food, grease, and sweat. Lots of grease and sweat. It took a second for my eyes to adjust to the low light, but right away I could tell this was a rough crowd. I stiffened my back and stood a little taller.

Jaelle put her hand around the back of my arm. I looked at her and scrunched my nose.

“Don’t worry, after the past two days you fit right in.” I didn’t know if I should take that as a compliment or an insult. “Just don’t be intimidated. We belong here,” she continued.

I sensed a rougher edge form itself around her demeanor. Her face grew taught, her lips pulled back slightly and her squinting eyes looked like they wanted trouble. She put up a good tough front. I wish I could say the same about me.

“What are we looking for?”

“Not what, who. I’m sure I’ll know at least a few people here.” She scanned the crowd and started weaving between burly muscular men and tattooed women.

I followed, and immediately bumped a huge, bearded guy wearing an eye patch (I’m not making this up). My knock splashed his barrel-sized mug-o-beer.

“Hey!” he blurted.

“I’m—” I began to apologize, but Jaelle got in his face.

“—Hey what! Watch where yer going, gazoonie!” she screeched at him, full Gypsy accent intact.

He pulled back, his one eye widened. The three of us froze in a stare down until:

“BWAHAHAAHA!” He opened his arms wide and wrapped her in a big hug. “I like you! I like her! I like this girl!” He made sure the whole bar knew, before letting her go. He grabbed three shot-glasses off his table, one for each of us. Holding his up, we clanked the glasses and downed the clear liquid in them.

It tasted like jet fuel. Or turpentine. Or paint thinner. Or maybe turpentine is paint thinner. I don’t know what it was but I remembered what Jaelle said: don’t be intimidated. So I froze my smile, couldn’t breathe, and slammed the shot glass down on the table with a hearty “Grrr!” Jaelle pulled the front of my shirt and we moved on.

“Never apologize for anything. It’s always the other guy’s fault. Always,” she said as we cleared the group.

“Did you know him?”

“Never saw him before in my life. And one other thing, we’re not pirates, we’re carnies so keep the grrrs and arrghhs to a minimum.”

About the Author:
Nathan Wrann was born in Florida and moved around a lot as a child, growing up in New York, New Hampshire, Connecticut, California and finally back to Florida. No matter where he lived you would likely find Marvel Comics or a book in his hand with genres ranging from fantasy (The Black Cauldron), to SE Hinton's teen dramas (The Outsiders), to Stephen King's entire catalogue from Carrie through Tommyknockers. At the age of seventeen he joined the U.S. Army as a Military Policeman, and following that, graduated from Southern Connecticut State University with a degree in video production and theater.

Currently Mr. Wrann is a writer, publisher and (formerly) independent filmmaker living in West Haven, Connecticut with his rescued Chihuahuas Napoleon and Gatsby, pain-in-the-butt cat Konstantine, and wife Kimberly. Nowadays, in between books, you'll find him enjoying horror films, YA Paranormal TV series (Vampire Diaries, Sabrina, etc), and the Marvel and Star Wars Cinematic Universes.

Amazon Author Page:

Author’s Note RE: the Mr. Lucky Trilogy & Dark Matter Heart: The Mr. Lucky Trilogy is a Dark Matter Heart World Expander. The events in this series take place in the same world, with the same paranormal concepts and rules as Dark Matter Heart, but with all new characters and adventures. Opportunity abounds for crossover stories bringing all the characters together.

It is not necessary to read Dark Matter Heart to enjoy the Mr. Lucky Trilogy, but I think you’ll like it.

Get Book One: Dark Matter Heart here:
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Thank you Dear Reader, we have much fun ahead of us.

-Nathan Wrann

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