by John Evans
by John Evans
THEY ARE NOT HUMAN.
At a research station in Antarctica, five of the world’s top scientists have been brought together to solve one of the greatest mysteries in human history. Their subject, however, is anything but human . . .
THEY ARE NOT NATURAL.
Deep beneath the ice, the submerged ruins of a lost civilization hold the key to the strange mutations that each scientist has encountered across the globe: A misshapen skull in Russia. The grotesque carvings of a lost race in Peru. The mummified remains of a humanoid monstrosity in Egypt . . .
THEY ARE NOT FRIENDLY.
When a series of sound waves trigger the ancient organisms, a new kind of evolution begins. Latching onto a human host—crossbreeding with human DNA—a long-extinct life form is reborn. Its kind has not walked the earth for thousands of years. Its instincts are fiercer, more savage, than any predator alive. And
its prey are the scientists who unleashed it, the humans who spawned it, and the tender living flesh on which it feeds . . .
Praise for Michael McBride
“A fast-paced and frightening ride. Highly recommended for fans of creature horror and the thrillers of Michael Crichton.”—The Horror Review on PREDATORY INSTINCT
“McBride writes with the perfect mixture of suspense and horror that keeps the reader on edge.” —Examiner
Michael McBride was born in Colorado and still resides in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains. He hates the snow, but loves the Avalanche. He works with medical radiation, yet somehow managed to produce five children, none of whom, miraculously, have tails, third eyes, or other random mutations. He writes fiction that runs the gamut from thriller (Remains) to horror to science fiction (Vector Borne, Snowblind) . . . and loves every minute of it. He is a two-time winner of the DarkFuse Readers’ Choice Award.
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I spend my life hunting Vamps and Fiends and killing them, but my main goal has always been to destroy my evil father while keeping my sisters at bay.
Sex, drugs and rock and roll keep me going. Oh, and killing things.
This supernatural horror thriller will keep you turning the pages. I promise.
Armand Rosamilia is a New Jersey boy currently living in sunny Florida, where he writes when he’s not sleeping. He’s happily married to a woman who helps his career and is supportive, which is all he ever wanted in life…
He’s written over 150 stories that are currently available, including horror, zombies, contemporary fiction, thrillers and more. His goal is to write a good story and not worry about genre labels.
He not only runs two successful podcasts…
Arm Cast: Dead Sexy Horror Podcast – interviewing fellow authors as well as filmmakers, musicians, etc.
The Mando Method Podcast with co-host Chuck Buda – talking about writing and publishing
But he owns the network they’re on, too! Project Entertainment Network
He also loves to talk in third person… because he’s really that cool.
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Marathon is a quiet little Texas town, and it’s getting quieter. Kids are vanishing, disappearing like tumbleweeds in the desert wind.
Somebody—or something—is taking them. Action. Adventure. Romance. Suspense.
The Bends is a supernatural thriller rollercoaster ride!
Recommended for Fans of Blake Crouch, Stephen King, J.A. Konrath, and Dean Koontz
Bart Hopkins is originally from Galveston, Texas, but has lived all over the world during his 22 years in the Air Force.
He was born in the middle of the 1970s, owned an Atari, and loves 80s music. He can use a card catalog like nobody’s business.
Now, Bart likes to travel, enjoys pretending he’s a photographer, and shares as much time as possible with his beautiful wife and three awesome children. They own a Westie Yorkie named Lulu … or maybe Lulu owns them.
Subscribe to Bart’s newsletter for updates on new releases and giveaways. For a limited time, you can download a copy of DEAD ENDS free when you subscribe!
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The Blackmoore Legacy
Genre: Gothic horror/paranormal romance/
Publisher: Candiano Books
Date of Publication: 06/08/2017
Number of pages: 416
Word Count: 127,046
Cover Artist: Ransom Graphics
Tagline: The Devil shall come for his witches…
Welcome to South Hill, a neighborhood of wealth, secrets, gracious Victorians, and austere manor homes overlooking the port of Fairhaven and the dark waters of Bellingham Bay. Seventeen year old Trevor Blackmoore has lived here is entire life, shunned and feared, along with the rest of his clan, by the elitist and superstitious families that surround them and who regard the Blackmoores as the devil’s concubines.
As a young clairvoyant dealing not only with the dark secrets of his family but also with his homosexuality-two things which have made him an outsider-he struggles to find normalcy. Trevor’s life is made extremely difficult by his tormentors and former childhood friends Cheri Hannifin, Greg Sheer, and Christian Vasquez; the school gods of the prestigious Mariner High School. His only saving grace is Braxton Volaverunt, a captivating young man with secrets of his own.
A diabolical plan sets in motion a chain of events that will fulfill the doomed prophecy of the Blackmoore family. A centuries old curse comes to an end, releasing an ancient and bloodthirsty evil, set on wiping out the family, and Trevor learns that he is at the center of it. Realizing that he is all that stands between this darkness and his family’s survival.
“2017 E-Festival of Words award winner for Best Literary Fiction”
The Best Halloween Songs You Need To Be Listening To This Holiday Season
Halloween, in my opinion, is one of the most magical times of the year. From the autumnal leaves in all of their wonderful colors just before they completely brown and dry, to the perfume of rotting apples, sickly sweet, and to the darkening sky so early in the day.
There are pumpkins carved with ghoulish grins on porches and in windows, and there is the feeling that at any turn, you may walk right into a ghost.
Parties are planned, decorations are bought and spider webs strung like the anti-garland of Christmas (which has it’s own horror roots), and the food is made.
There’s only one more thing needed, that one thing to set the mood, and it can often be the hardest to put together; the playlist. There are plenty of Halloween records out there, a Halloween station on Pandora, and they all contain familiars like ‘Monster Mash’ and ‘Thriller’, but there are so many other gems out there. So many unknown and not used. Treasures that have existed for as long as the record.
Below is a list of these relative unknowns and the one’s not thought about but are known by everyone. There are a couple of recognizable sonic faces on this list, but for the most part, these songs will be new friends and give you a unique touch to your Halloween romp.
I didn’t include all of my favorites, that would be too long, but I included those that I go back to again and again.
Robert Johnson-Cross Road Blues: This 1936 Delta Blues track is haunting. In it, Robert sings of going to the crossroads and selling his soul to the devil for the gift of guitar playing. It is more likely, that as with all early blues, there was a great Hoodoo influence and who he refers to as the devil, is actually Papa Legba; the deity ruler of the gates to the other realms.
Claudine Clark-Walkin’ Through a Cemetery: This 1962 track is great with its early funk sound and her throaty voice.
Jack Rivers-Haunted House Boogie: Another fun Halloween hit with Blue Grass elements is a great 1951 hit.
Jack Teagarden-Putting Salt on the Devil’s Tail: This 1941 big band has lingering elements of hoodoo found in early blues tracks.
Cris Kevin-Haunted House: 1959 Halloween Rockabilly that is just plain fun.
Louis Prima and his New Orleans Gang-Mr. Ghost Goes to Town: this 1936 Jazz hit tells a tale of a ghost looking for a good time. Considering Prima was from New Orleans, of course a ghost was walking around looking for a good time.
Bauhaus-Bela Lugosi’s Dead: This iconic 1982 hit from Bauhaus is a must have for Halloween, and the opening sequence of the seminal Vampire film, The Hunger, is downright decadent in its darkness.
Judy Garland and the Scarecrow, Tinman, and the Cowardly Lion-The Jitter Bug: this song was cut from the 1939 film. In lost archival footage, they sing this song while in the haunted forest. It is a fun swing track that perhaps was cut because of how different from the rest of the songs are. Fits right in there with Jeepers Creepers.
Screaming Lord Sutch-Jack The Ripper-this 1963 rock song is a blast. Opening with a woman running and then screaming in terror.
Marilyn Manson-Sweet Dreams: this 1995 cover is dripping with nightmare. I find it to be a constant source of inspiration when I am writing a terribly dark scene.
Michael Jackson-Thriller: one of the most iconic Halloween songs of all time. This 1982, Release will get you moving in all the right ways. A love letter to horror films, my favorite lyric-the one I think is the most powerful and yet so often over looked is “I’ll save you from the terror on the Screen-I’ll make you see that this is Thriller-Thriller night.” It harkens to “keep telling yourself, it is only a movie.” Like most children, the John Landis directed music video film scared me to death.
Datura-Tori Amos: this almost psychedelic 1999 track celebrates the herb that was essential to a witch’s ointment. This dangerous and psychotropic herb got into the pours and is believed may have been the reason witches felt as if they were flying.
Robert Johnson-Hellhound On My Trail- Johnson is back with another 1937 Delta Blues track with heavy Hoodoo influence.
Donovan-Season of the Witch: this 1966 track was a celebration of all of the mystical psychedelic occult revival of the hippie movement. It got a resurgence when it was featured in an episode of American Horror Story: Coven. Give this song a listen and let loose your inner Fiona Goode.
Henry Hall-Here Comes the Bogeyman: this 1932 classic taught young kids how to ward themselves from the bogeyman. It plays like a creepy lullaby and has seen a new life in video games and horror films such as Jeepers Creepers and Sinister 2. It’s haunting melody reaches out through time and has the ability to give anyone the wiggins.
The Four Modernaires-Jeepers Creepers: One of my childhood favorites. Like Here Comes the Bogeyman, this 1938 hit has found infamy in no small part to the film of the same name.
Ted Cassidy-The Lurch: this song (and the video, which I encourage you readers to watch) premiered October 30th, 1965 on the ABC music program Shindig! It is a great, poptastic number with an accompanying dance, and Ted Cassidy-the actor who portrayed Lurch in the Addams Family television show-appeared in costume on set and is featured in the song saying his signature “You rang?” and groaning and moaning in all his creepy and kooky glory.
There you have it! Grab these songs, add them to your party playlist, and have a scream!
“Some writers have great ideas, but fail with the delivery. That is not the case for our author. He has clearly developed his craft and whittled it to perfection”-Wesley Thomas, bestselling author of Nightmare Fuel.
Marcus James is the author of five novels, including The Blackmoore Legacy series. He has contributed to a dozen anthologies from Alyson Books, has been a featured writer for the Seattle Gay News, is the host of Brews and Books at Ravenna Brewing Co. and is host of Queerly Spoken. When not writing he’s cooking, drinking champagne like water, and watching horror films with his husband and their Staffordshire terrier, Nikita. He is 32 years old and lives in Seattle.
1 The Blackmoore Legacy set (includes signed copies of Blackmoore, Symphony for the Devil, and the prequel; Rise of the Nephilim).
During an ill-fated girls’ night out, still reeling from the loss of her husband, Liv Bestte meets a mysterious, old woman who promises to return her husband to her – for a price. It isn’t until the reanimated corpse of her late husband has begun terrorizing the hills and hollows around Julian, West Virginia, tearing flesh from bone, that Liv learns the price is her soul.
Now Liv is racing against time to find a way to satisfy this debt without sacrificing herself. And she soon learns that the only way she might escape her grisly fate is by offering up her daughter, Tegan, in her place.
But is it already too late for Liv? Is Liv’s fate sealed by family history? When Liv is about to make an ill-fated decision, it is Liv’s younger sister, Abby, who stands in her way, despite the fact that Abby was the first victim of the resurrected thing that was once Conner Bestte.
He woke. Suddenly, as if escaping a nightmare. He groaned as he forced his dry, matted eyelids open. Despite his effort, only more darkness pressed in around him. His tongue was thick and swollen in a mouth that felt stuffed with sawdust. The air seemed heavy and smelled of strong chemicals and synthetic materials.
His legs were stiff, and his back ached. Shifting his weight, Conner discovered that his body was confined. Confused, he felt around him and discovered a space only a little larger than his own size, preventing him from moving.
Even after that detection, the panic didn’t immediately set in. His thoughts were drifting in a thick fog, memories hazy, and his immediate circumstances failed to register. He couldn’t remember where he was or how he got here, and the lack of any illumination prevented him from doing a proper survey of his surroundings.
But it was more than that. Conner couldn’t remember exactly what had happened to him before he woke, not the immediate events that placed him there, or those preceding them. He couldn’t recall a single name to cry out, not even his own. All he knew was that he wasn’t where he was supposed to be. He knew it deep in his gut.
This was wrong.
He struggled with the snippets he could recall – faint images and impressions of faces and people and places. But none helped him recall anything more. He waited for his mind to clear, for the miasma to lift.
Conner pressed his hands against his confinement and wondered at the cool, smooth texture of the fabric he was tearing at. When the crushing realization that he was imprisoned registered, a cold chill crept over him. He was entombed and alone.
His mind suddenly racing, Conner fumbled to find some latch, some bolt or lever that would open a door or a window or a hatch to release him from his stifling cell. But there was none. No exit. No escape. And when he opened his mouth to scream for help all that burbled up from his throat was an unintelligible, garbled howl.
Thrashing, Conner threw himself against the low ceiling and walls of his personal vault. He clawed desperately at the soft, silky material inches from his nose until his cold fingers touched hard, smooth wood – then he paused. He ran his fingernails over the polished wood. It was much too hard. Clawing wouldn’t see him through it. If nothing else could cut through the fog in his mind that fact had. It was horribly apparent.
Conner searched himself, his hands pausing as they found his belt buckle. Loosening his belt, he slipped it from his waist. Then, gripping the metal buckle tightly in his hands, he proceeded to hack at the wood until it splintered. He continued to chip away, for endless seconds, minutes, hours, the buckle cutting into his fingers and his fleshy palms with each thudagainst the roof of his cramped tomb, until a small break in the wood finally opened and Conner could smell the dank, rich odor of earth and well-watered sod.
He continued on, pressing his muscles to action, summoning an incredible strength he never knew he had.
Conner’s fingers tore into the soil, shoveling mud and muck into his cramped confines until he could finally begin to pull himself into the small chasm he’d dug. Then, with his legs beneath him, he continued to dig and push and work his way up through the loose earth until his right arm jutted up and out of the ground into the open air. He could feel a cold, soft rain striking his skin.
He used his legs to push his upper body up out of the earth, a dark sky above him, the gentle rain splattering against his cheeks, his fingers raw from tunneling through rock and dirt. Then, with one final burst of strength, Conner hauled himself up out of the ground, collapsing in the mud beside the tombstone.
It didn’t sink in. Not at first. Not for a long while. He’d read the name on the tombstone four times before he could finally place it – Conner Bestte. And, when it did register, he let loose another garbled howl.
He knew the name was his, but he couldn’t conceive of why it appeared on a tombstone. What was he doing here? Who had done this to him?
Shambling down the hill, weaving through a forest of gravestones and monuments, Conner made for the gates of the graveyard and the mist-shrouded road beyond. He struggled onward, his joints aching, his mind reeling, his memories still only discordant, drifting remnants of images and ideas, disembodied emotions and vague recollections.
But, as he hobbled along, one image came to him. One image stood out among all the others as he pressed ahead – her image. The image of that young, beautiful woman, the woman he knew he’d once loved, the woman he knew he’d once desired, longed for, yearned for, the one woman he’d risked everything for – was the woman he now wanted to kill more than anything, to rend her limbs from her body and listen to her scream in agony as he ripped the flesh from her bones. He wanted to place her under his heel and stamp out the last gasp of her life.
But, struggle as he might, he couldn’t remember why. Although, in that moment, as he stumbled out onto the street, thewhy didn’t matter.
Only the urge mattered – the urge to do her harm, the urge to see her dead, the urge to rip skin and muscle away from her body with his teeth.
That is all that mattered.
The rest would come to him later, when he’d finished with her.
Jerome Sparks is a native of West Virginia. He majored in the highly unprofitable and nonspecific field of Creative Productions while attending the University of Charleston in Charleston, West Virginia. Hoping to become a college professor, Sparks went on to earn a Master of Arts degree in Humanities, with a concentration in literary theory from the West Virginia Graduate College located in Institute, West Virginia. But, after an unsuccessful attempt to teach English at the college level (for which he offers his most sincere apologies to his former students), Sparks took the easy out and pursued a J.D. from Tulane Law School in New Orleans, Louisiana. Sparks called New Orleans home for several years, haunting the bars and bistros of the French Quarter, before finally following a girl back to West Virginia where he is currently practicing law. (Yes, he married the girl.) Sparks and his family now live happily in the West Virginia hills.
On Twitter: @Jerome_Sparks17
Author’s Blog: http://jeromesparksauthorblog.blogspot.com/
On Amazon: http://amzn.to/2trDJT7
On Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2sTJeIG
Hunted: A Jonathan Harker Novel
Genre: Supernatural Thriller/Urban Fantasy
Date of Publication: May 14, 2017
Number of pages: 270
Word Count: 55,000
Slinging Spells with Broken Ribs Isn’t Easy
Jonathan Harker, mage and life-long demon hunter, wakes to find himself tied to a chair and severely wounded. His captor, a demon in service to a summoner who wants Harker alive.
Armed with impossibly powerful magic and a gang of demon toughs, the summoner has snared Harker in a deadly trap. Nothing is ever easy, and being new in town has left Harker with few allies. However, with help from a Fortune-Teller named Clover and a self-described “Kitchen Witch” named Momma Dee, Harker fights back.
To prevail, Harker must walk unprepared into a pit of demons and black magic – and come out alive on the other side.
My brain righted itself, and I could pull my thoughts together.
Neither demon seemed to possess magic. Instead, the creatures relied on their strength and speed. There was no matching those physical attributes. To survive, I would need to use a different tactic. Direct confrontation had failed, twice. My next trick was misdirection.
“Tell me,” I said. “How did a low-powered summoner rank high enough to afford two Demon Nobles?”
Both demons, who were whispering to one another across the room, turned to face me.
“You know us,” Cresh said with a tone of surprise. The demon still pressed one hand tightly against his wounded side.
“Yes,” I said.
“You knew and you still entered to battle?”
“To be fair,” I said. “I had no idea who was waiting.”
Cresh huffed a small laugh; Mindal growled.
Well, I thought. I know which one is the smart one.
Christopher Draven has worked as an instructional designer, newspaper journalist, and ghost writer.
One soggy Monday morning, he committed to leaving behind the soul-stealing work of corporate puppetry and escaped to a meadow where he could concentrate on his passion. Since that fateful day, Christopher has focused on learning the craft of fiction.
Hunted: A Jonathan Harker Novel was Christopher’s debut, and his best friend said it was swell.
Dreams are the perfect shelter for our fantasies, safe havens to step inside without changing our daily lives. For Lark Braithwaite, all that is about to change. During the last six months, Lark has dreamt of a mysterious Irish lover who knows what she wants and gives her exactly what she needs. In her waking life in busy London, things aren’t as ideal, as her long-term relationship with Charles, her controlling fiancé, has hit a dry spell.
When Lark is called home to Oregon for her father’s funeral right in the middle of a high-stakes corporate merger, she heads back to face the demons from her past. What she doesn’t expect is to meet her dream lover in the flesh. Niall O’Hagan steps straight out of her fantasies and right into her life, and the powerful connection they share rocks her foundation. Although she’s dealing with the bitterness of being betrayed by Charles and his jealousy, Niall soon stirs Lark’s awareness of the superficiality of her existence and reawakens not only her sexuality, but her soul.
Roxanne D. Howard is a U.S. Army veteran who has a bachelor’s degree in Psychology and English. She loves to read poetry, classical literature, and Stephen King. Also, she is an avid Star Wars fan, musical theater nut, and marine biology geek. Roxanne resides in the western U.S., and when she’s not writing, she enjoys spending time with her husband and children. Roxanne loves to hear from her readers, and encourages you to contact her via her website and social media.
In Her Blood
(The Dagger Chronicles #1)
Published by: Amberjack Publishing
Publication date: May 1, 2015
Genres: New Adult, Romance, Supernatural
Alex Stone wants to pretend the supernatural doesn’t exist.
As the owner of a hot new clothing line, the only thing she’s killing is her competition – until she gets a phone call from her past. As the Dagger, she was a member of the covert ops team tasked with hunting threats of the supernatural kind. For the super soldiers of Night Command, the rules were simple: take the pills, fight the bad guys, and live to tell no one. After putting a bad-ass vampire on ice landed her in a padded cell, Alex thought she’d left the hunting game for good. Now she’s in the orbit of a handsome vampire with a problem. And sometimes keeping secrets bites.
Jason Stavros has the best of everything and life eternal. To the human world, Jason was just a poor boy who made it to the top. For a human turned vampire, the fight for a place in the inner circle of the ruling class hinges on one task: convince the best ex-vampire hunting assassin to become his personal bodyguard and save them all.
Join Alex, Jason and a new team of young hunters as two worlds unite against a common enemy. As the body count begins to rise, Alex and the Tracker Team fight friends and enemies to find the answers they seek.
What’s been happening in the dark will finally come to light.
She enjoyed seeing those chains of pure silver wrapped around the vampire’s scrawny arms like tattoos. He barely resembled the picture of the old parish priest the Cardinal sent them two weeks ago. His brown skin hung from his bones like an ill-fitting suit. His paunch bounced up and down as he struggled to get loose. It took longer to catch him, much longer than it should have, but all’s well that ends well.
Alex Stone, call-sign Dagger, ran her fingers through her dark hair. Flakes of dried blood and sand fell as she pulled the dirty mess into a ponytail. Benjamin Palmer, Team Commander, snatched her wounded hand back down and tightened the field dressing as he griped at her about how dumb it was to try to catch the sharp end of a knife with her hand. She knew that . . . now.
“Who do you think you are,” he said as he gave the knot one last yank, “Superman?” Ben checked her busted lip with a shake of his head. “That’s gonna hurt like hell till morning.”
Alex just nodded, taking the pills in her good hand and swallowing them with a quick sip of warm water from his canteen.
Under normal circumstances, Alex would be pulled from the field, evaluated and possibly scrubbed from the next assignment for that stunt. But time was running out and this wasn’t normal, not even for the top vampire hunting team in the country.
Graduating with a Masters in Creative Writing from Southern New Hampshire University, Janice’s first novel, In Her Blood, is the first book in her vampire adventure series The Dagger Chronicles. This series introduces you to the world of Alexa “Alex” Stone, ex-vampire hunter and assassin turned fashion mogul. Hiding in plain sight, Alex must return to the world of the supernatural in order protect a handsome vampire and her own secrets. Look for Book Two, By Blood Sworn to hit online outlets soon. Janice is looking forward to readers of New Adult Fiction and Vampire lore to embrace a new kind of action adventure hero, a woman with many secrets and many stories to tell. (Author photo courtesy of Omar Ramos Photography www.omarramosphotography.com/Makeup by LaChandra Middlebrooks)
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Alexandrea Weis & Lucas Astor
Publication date: October 3, 2017
Genres: Adult, Supernatural
Over a hundred years after the death of Magnus Blackwell, Altmover Manor sits abandoned.
Lexie Arden and her fiancée, Will Bennet, are determined to rescue the neglected Mount Desert Island landmark. They want to make Altmover Manor their home. But Magnus has other plans.
A spirit bound to his former residence, Magnus finds himself inexplicably drawn to the young woman. She has a supernatural gift; a gift Magnus wants to exploit.
As Lexie and Will settle in, secrets from Magnus’s past begin to surface. Compelled to learn all she can about the former owner, Lexie becomes immersed in a world of voodoo, curses, and the whereabouts of a mysterious dragon cane.
Magnus’s crimes won’t be so easily forgotten, and what Lexie unearths is going to change the future … for everyone.
Alexandrea Weis is an advanced practice registered nurse who was born and raised in New Orleans. Having been brought up in the motion picture industry, she learned to tell stories from a different perspective and began writing at the age of eight. Infusing the rich tapestry of her hometown into her award-winning novels, she believes that creating vivid characters makes a story memorable. A permitted/certified wildlife rehabber with the Louisiana Wildlife and Fisheries, Weis rescues orphaned and injured wildlife. She lives with her husband and pets in New Orleans.
Lucas Astor is from New York, has resided in Central America and the Middle East, and traveled through Europe. He lives a very private, virtually reclusive lifestyle, preferring to spend time with a close-knit group of friends than be in the spotlight.
He is an author and poet with a penchant for telling stories that delve into the dark side of the human psyche. He likes to explore the evil that exists, not just in the world, but right next door behind a smiling face.
Photography, making wine, and helping endangered species are just some of his interests. Lucas is an expert archer and enjoys jazz, blues, and classical music.
One of his favorite quotes is: “It’s better to be silent than be a fool.” ~Harper Lee (To Kill a Mockingbird)
Estelle Caldwell caused a war with her birth.
Estelle Caldwell has friends, family…everything a girl could ask for. But
as she looks back on her life andher birthday approaches, weird
things start to happen.Questions are left unanswered. Her feelings are starting to become clear for the one she’s been in love with her whole life.
People she knows start to become strangers to her.
She has to leave to protect them… to protect… him.
Do you know what it feels like to hold fate in your hand?
Was it fate that my whole life got turned upside down?
He was the reason I had to leave.
Making the sacrifice caused my heart to rip in two.
I wanted normalcy. I wanted my life to be my own.
But it’s nothing without the people I love, and it’s for
the people I love that I have to leave.
Please be kind.
Will he still remember me?
Will our first and last kiss be one and the
Please be with me.
Family is tested.
Memories are everywhere.
Love is one of the biggest
reliefs and hurts you can have at the same time.
***The continuation from Book One- Pneuma***
Follow Estelle and Reed’s journey in Book Two- Surge.
surge /surj/ noun
I am a Leo. Born August 10, living on the east coast. I self-published my first novel, PNEUMA, November 2014, and it’s hasn’t stopped since.
One of my biggest problems was having too much to read. Now my newfound problem; having too much to write and not enough hands to type it out. Not enough brains to put the stories together fast enough. Not enough tea or coffee to keep me awake 24/7.
So, like every normal person, I have to take it one day at a time.
My cravings for sweets keep me going, any sort of cakes (especially red velvet), pies, cookies, and ice cream.
I have a cat named Bongo-Bongo, who loves to get in my way when I’m trying to work, but is too cute for me to fight him off.
And then I have my family, specifically my husband, who puts up with my endless nights, my tapping of the keyboard, my ridiculous imagination, and yet, he always encourages me to believe in myself and follow my dreams.
When Sheriff Eustace Hildersham comes into possession of his father’s once-lost revolver, he suspects there is more to the story than he remembers. He sets out on a personal investigation only to find himself caught between another family’s grudge and a dogged reporter with malicious intent. Hildersham continues to search for the truth, not knowing it will lead to another appearance of the Driver and his phantom Camaro.
Book three in the experimental Driver series.
The pockmarked road stretched out to meet the gutter-ash gray of the horizon. Bleak and without end, it drew a bead to nowhere, anywhere. Dreary, leafless trees peppered chalky smudges of landscape on either side.
A black car tore down the road at a furious pace. The motor howled a guttural wail; the exhaust snarled in response. With a long hood and wide, fastback body, the Camaro sailed across the asphalt as if slung by a slingshot.
Behind the wheel, the Driver pressed his foot firm against the accelerator, his etched face set in grim persistence. He drove like he was being chased, like if he slowed even for a moment he would be overtaken.
A mop of shaggy hair fell across his forehead and neck. He wore the same red flannel as he had the day before, and the day before that. It was the same red flannel he had worn for the last eighteen years; he died wearing it.
It’s been ten years since the Great Extinction, when Supernaturals threatened to destroy humanity. Now, in the sleepy town of Wayside, Nevada, seventeen-year-old Cassie Grant’s life couldn’t be more ordinary. etermined to get into an Ivy League college, her focus is squarely on her studies. But suddenly everything changes when she witnesses Jason Taylor, a cute and quiet loner, mysteriously save a young boy from falling to his death. Although the Supernaturals ultimately retreated to their planet, three families were left behind—including Jason’s. So far, they’ve been successfully hiding in plain sight. But Jason knows that if Cassie exposes him, all their lives will be in peril—especially since Cassie’s father is the head of the Alien Eradication and Defense Department. At first, befriending Cassie is Jason’s survival tactic. But as they spend more time together, they begin to fall in love. With the authorities closing in and a hidden threat that could tear the very Earth apart, can Cassie and Jason keep each other safe—or will their star-crossed romance start another war?…
Sonya Weiss is a freelance writer, ghostwriter, and author, including the Stealing the Heart series with Entangled Publishing. She’s addicted to great books, good movies, and Italian chocolates. She’s passionate about causes that support abused animals and children. Her parents always supported her bringing stray animals home, although the Great Dane rescue was a surprise.
“So what’s the plan now, LT?” Simmons moved his arms in a repetitive semicircle manner like he was making a snow angel in the leaves. “We just going to sit here and wait for the jungle to take us? Or do you think we’ll just die from boredom and exhaustion?”
“Quiet, Simmons,” Garcia said.
“We keep going.” He didn’t want to let them know that they might be stalked by a tiger, which would only cause more panic in the group.
“I guess there’s only one answer right now,” Donovan said, resting back on his elbows.
“What’s that?” Harris asked.
“We’re screwed.” Donovan could summon a smile even in the direst of situations, thrusting his hips in the air. “We’re completely and totally screwed. No chance at all.”
“Please don’t say that,” Harris’s voice cracked.
“Donovan, seriously? Why do you have to go on and say something stupid like that?” Jackson nudged Donovan’s thigh. “You’re gonna scare the kid.”
“’Cause it’s true. He’s right.” McEvoy smacked the back of his neck, smashing some insect guts into his skin. “Look at us. Nobody wants to say it, but we’re lost. No map. A useless compass. Not much food. Lost. And don’t get me started on these bugs.” McEvoy slapped the back of his head again, this time catching the bug and causing it to pop like a balloon. McEvoy gagged as he looked at his palm before wiping it across his thigh.
“They sure seem to like you,” Simmons said. “Must have some of that sweet boy blood.”
“Why do you have to start when I’m worrying over here? And I don’t have any sweet boy blood.”
“Enough. No more talk of death,” Williams said, tossing one of the river pebbles he kept in his pocket at McEvoy. “No more talk of anything. We take a short sleep and get going.”
“If you say so, boss.” McEvoy squirmed as the rock plunked him on the shoulder.
“What I wouldn’t give to listen to a little Doors right now. Just fade away with it all.”
Donovan looked up at the stars. “Seems appropriate to die while listening to some good music
“How’s the injury?” Garcia dropped to one knee and went to untie Williams’s makeshift compression bandage. “I’m not sure how many we of these left. Maybe one.”
“Shouldn’t I ask how your shoulder is doing?”
“No need to worry about something small like that,” Garcia responded. “I’m not the one with a rotting leg.”
“Since you put it so gently.”
“You said it yourself. Might as well be honest. We’re just a sideshow.”
Williams knew there was reason to be concerned. He could smell the infection from three feet away: rotting eggs. Based on Garcia’s tempered reaction, it could only be getting worse.
“Hey, what about the radio? We’re on higher ground. Might be worth giving it another shot.” Harris, with his naïve youthfulness, held on to a simple hope.
“Go for it. Not like it’s going to hurt,” Williams answered, drifting back to the memories in his mind. Seagulls cawed from around Annapolis harbor, the zip of a fishing line pulled as a fish splashed on the surface. It was only a pipedream.
“It ain’t even turning on,” McEvoy said. He clicked the switch a few times, relying on a miracle that would not happen.
“Oh, come on,” Harris whined. He slapped the radio a few times—the old magic trick never quite worked out for anyone with experience in electronics.
“Relax, guys. That things as useless as both of you.” Donovan said, drumming his fingers along the ground to the beat of whatever Doors song played in his head.
“Wait. Think I got something.” McEvoy’s words called their attention. The radio whined as McEvoy adjusted the knob until a muffled song broke through the static.
“What’s that?” Jackson asked, leaning in as if he could listen better.
“I don’t…I don’t know.” McEvoy honed in on the signal until a distinct muffled chant emerged. The small troupe stared at each other, a mixture of confusion and disbelief as the unknown words captivated them.
“It can’t be,” Donovan said.
“Maybe some local station?” Harris asked.
The chanting grew more distinct with little melody to the deliberate words.
“A local station…out here? No damned way.” Williams said, noticing the VC perking his head up with a glaze covering his face. It was as if the chanting signaled the VC to wake.
“These people have some weird tastes,” Jackson said.
The troupe gathered closer, exchanging glances between each other and the radio. The lights flickered with the strength of the foreign words, the dials shifting back and forth.
“You recognize any of this?” Williams looked at McEvoy.
“I…no. It’s…too old. An older dialect.” McEvoy shrugged.
The chanting intensified, the chorus of foreign words almost shouting. The treetops around them rustled as a stiff breeze suddenly rolled across their makeshift camp. Williams looked back at their VC prisoner, who remained silent, transfixed by the radio’s signal.
“This ain’t right. None of this is right.” Harris withdrew from the contraption.
“Hold on to yourself,” Donovan said. “Nothing we can do.”
Louder. Faster. The radio shuddered with the strength of the signal.
“Turn if off.
Turn it off,” Garcia demanded.
The VC’s lips started to move, almost in unison with the chanting, but he did not make a sound.
McEvoy twisted the dials, but the radio refused to obey.
Its housing crackled then sparked, causing McEvoy’s arm to snap back. The sharp smell of burnt rubber and metal poured out of the case. Then, with a pop and brilliant flash, the radio went silent, its light fading to black. The VC then dropped his head in concert with the chanting as it came to an abrupt halt.
“Jesus,” McEvoy said, blowing on his finger.
“El Diablo,” Garcia muttered in a voice low enough for only Williams to hear.
In addition to writing JC is a practicing attorney specializing in estate planning and corporate law, he is the recipient of the American Health Lawyers Association award for his legal writing.
JC makes his home along the Chesapeake Bay with his wife and two children.
Author website: http://www.jcbraswell.com
Amazon Author: https://www.amazon.com/JCBraswell/e/B00YLOWUP4/
In this book, written in the style of Stephen King, two young people on vacation in a small New England seacoast town battle unspeakable horror and solve a hundred-year-old mystery. Fourteen Victorian mansions whisper dark secrets among themselves, and a dangerous shadow roams up and down the wide, wintry boulevard in search of new prey.
Snow pellets blow white across the boulevard and up onto the wide, night-shadowed porch of the house just in the center of the block. Inside, past leaded glass doors and heavy oak furnishings, something moves.
Up the polished mahogany staircase, and up yet another flight to the third story something moves that has no breath, no warmth, no life.
There is a narrow passageway to the attic, locked behind a heavy door with steel bands. The shadow pauses at the door only long enough to pass cold fingers over the padlock. It falls heavily to the floor and the door opens. The shadow passes through, as quietly as a midnight breeze in an icy cold forest. Here, no light at all warms the creaking steps. It is darker than the inside of death.
In the attic, the bitter, knifing cold whirls and eddies around shapeless mounds of old memorabilia and the shadow moves silently to a dormer window. Cobwebs—spun by industrious spiders long dead—are brushed aside and a single candle is placed on the sill. And in the darkness a flame is struck.
Outside, the wind falls off to nothing, and snow drifts listlessly to the ground. The candle flickers briefly and catches, burning a pinprick hole in the vastness of the night.
Far out to sea, a single cry begins and then falls silent.
And in the dormer window, where the shadow has settled down to wait, the candle flares brightly and then goes out.
Don Sloan is a former journalist for a large metropolitan daily newspaper and also an avid book reviewer, with more than 200 reviews posted on Amazon. His goal with the Dark Forces Series is to present readers with a new and exciting horror and suspense thriller experience. He currently lives in the mountains of Western North Carolina with his wife of 39 years, and, when not writing, enjoys a cold glass of Chardonnay in the evenings, sitting on his back deck.
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ENTER TO WIN!
A city that doesn’t believe in magic. Bloodthirsty weredragons. Good thing this reckless playboy has superpowers…
It’s been said that monsters cry when a good man goes to war. But they should run screaming like little school girls when that man is secretly a wizard, and maybe not necessarily good…
Nate Temple’s all-consuming quest to avenge his parents is temporarily put on hold when shape-shifting dragons invade St. Louis. And perhaps cow-tipping the Minotaur for answers might not have been Nate’s smartest opening move, because now every flavor of supernatural thug from our childhood nightmares is gunning for him. Nate learns that the only way to save his city from these creatures is to murder his best friend…
Nate’s choice will throw the world and his own conscience into cataclysmic chaos: avenge his parents or become a murderer to save his city. Because to do either, he’s going to have to show the world that magic is very, very real, and that monsters are very, very hungry… To survive, he might just need to take a page from the book, How to Win Friends and Influence Monsters.
If you like Jim Butcher, Kevin Hearne, or Patrick Rothfuss, you will LOVE the first installment of The Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller series.
A Wizard, an Angel, and a Horseman of the Apocalypse walk into a bar… The ancient pact between mankind, Heaven, and Hell has been broken. And this upstart wizard’s quest for vengeance may have just kicked off Armageddon. So, time for a drink… or maybe two.
Already plagued with sinister night terrors that could qualify him as a card-carrying psychopathic insomniac, Nate can barely even manage to put his pants on in the morning, let alone pick teams for the Apocalypse.
But when he’s framed as a demon sympathizer, condemned by the Armies of Heaven, and hunted down by both his allies and the Four Horsemen, this wizard doesn’t think it can get any worse…
Then they take away his magic. And a wizard without magic stands no chance against the forces of Heaven and Hell…
The Brothers Grimm – legendary supernatural assassins – have escaped their prison, and their first day in St. Louis could be Nate Temple’s last…
Sharing a beer with Death – one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse – really put a few things into perspective for this foul-mouthed, billionaire wizard. Like finally strapping on the boots to propose to his girlfriend.
But assassination contracts have a way of putting wedding plans on hold. Perhaps permanently. And with the entire wedding party on the bloodthirsty Grimm’s hit-list, and his family fortune in jeopardy, Nate realizes they can’t run and they can’t hide. So, time to do magic and stuff…
But with every flavor of supernatural thug teaming up to help the Grimms, Nate realizes that friends have become enemies and enemies have become friends, and he’s forced to cross lines that are better left uncrossed.
When magic, claws, and teeth dance to the song of war, the only thing left to learn is who lives and who dies. And if Nate can live with the consequences.
No wonder a guy is terrified to propose…
My resume is pretty full: I’ve cow-tipped the Minotaur, decimated a gang of weredragons, sucker-punched an Angel, and eaten pancakes with the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse…
I’ve kidnapped one of the most powerful wizards on the planet, and slaughtered the Brothers Grimm. I’m kind of a big deal.
But I never thought I’d find myself at a crossroads, a pawn in a deadly game that I hadn’t known existed, willing to sell my soul to save the life of someone I loved… That’s when I learned true fear, because the world I thought I knew was all just smoke and mirrors, and I was just a puppy playing amongst wolves…
What do you do for Thanksgiving Dinner when your guests are Death, an Angel, and a slew of other monsters? You have a nerf gun war, of course… But the Queens of Fae want to crash his party. And the Beast Master is abducting shifter children for a Monster Circus.
Thanksgiving Dinner plans with Death, an Angel, a vampire, Achilles, and a slew of other monsters are cut short because a Monster Circus has come to town. And the Beast Master needs new Monsters for his show…
But the Queens of Fae also want a little deep-fried wizard for the holidays.
Oh, and Nate is losing that last finger-hold on his sanity: hallucinating, and talking to creatures that no one else can see. The ancient demon inside of him is getting stronger, fighting for dominance, and only one of them can survive.
But when a wizard curses Nate, extorting him to rescue a lethal Chimera child from the Beast Master’s Circus, Nate’s only option is to partner with his inner demon, risking his very soul. But his friends begin to doubt and fear this new, darker Nate, taking matters into their own hands – even when that means standing against him.
With allies turned enemies, the Fae breathing down his neck, and a dangerous child’s life on the line, Nate must call upon, bully, and coerce new storybook legends and gods to save his traitorous friends from becoming the Beast Master’s next victims…
Discover what – if anything – Nate is willing to sacrifice to save the friends who betrayed him…
Shayne is a man of mystery and power, whose power is exceeded only by his mystery. In other words, a storyteller.
He currently writes the Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Series, which features a foul-mouthed young wizard with a chip on his shoulder attempting to protect St. Louis from the various nasties we all know and fear from our childhood bedtime stories. Nate’s been known to suckerpunch an Angel, cow-tip the Minotaur, and steal Death’s horse in order to prove his point. His utter disregard for consequences and self-preservation will have you laughing and cringing on the edge of your seat.
Shayne holds two high-ranking black belts, and enjoys conversing about anything Marvel, Magical, or Mythological. You might find him writing in a coffee shop near you, cackling madly into his computer screen while pounding shots of espresso.
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