Friday, February 24, 2017

Guest Post: READ IS NECESSARY, BUT WHY? by Terry Ervin II




It’s often said (in some variation): An author needs to be a reader.


Most writers are pressed for time, especially if one considers family and career (other than authoring) responsibilities. Even writers who are full-time authors feel there is never enough time. And every minute with a nose stuck in a book is a minute that isn’t spent writing, editing, revising, researching, marketing, and a myriad of other tasks essential for an author to maintain both success and productivity.

So, on balance, is the time spent reading worth the potential payoff?

For me the answer to this question came into focus during an email exchange with a former crit partner. With a husband and children, work, and moving, she had a lot on her plate. Plus, she’s been revising and editing a handful of novels. My former crit partner didn’t feel she had the time to read. But, during the course of our discussion, she indicated that she’d finally sat down and began reading Flank Hawk, and admitted it’s the first novel she’d read in almost two years.

We discussed use of description, including what’s ‘in favor’ on writing forums where we’re active members. While reading my novel, she recognized that the ‘consensus’ on the forums of what works didn’t line up with the way I implemented the use of detail within the story’s narrative. Going back and looking at her latest revision effort, she recognized what was missing and how to make it better.

That’s one thing reading does. It offers new ideas and methods, and reminds a writer of what works. Thoughtful reading encourages a writer to avoid writing with blinders on. Reading offers a bulwark against getting caught up in ‘group think,’ at writer forums or in writing groups.

Reading and re-reading, and studying how a successful author crafted—tells a story—helps me immensely. When I’m unsure, trying something new, or get stuck on some aspect of storytelling, I go back and read and study, seeing how successful authors like Steven Brust, Roger Zelazny and Kevin Hearne (to name several of my ‘go to’ authors) did it. Then I apply what I learned to my current work in progress and my writing style.

For example, that method enabled me to refine the frame story structure in Relic Tech and create the chapter starts in Flank Hawk. The method provided insight into the techniques to write series sequels (Blood Sword, Soul Forge, and Relic Hunted) that are also able to stand alone. The result is that a reader can start with any novel in my First Civilization’s Legacy Series or my Crax War Chronicles and fully enjoy that novel (story), yet those who’ve already read a novel earlier in the series can equally enjoy all novels in the series that follow.

Another reason to read is to spark ideas while recharging one’s imagination. Re-reading and thinking about Zelazny’s Guns of Avalon and Harry Turtledove’s World War Series triggered the thought: How might a dragon fare in aerial combat against a WW II aircraft? That occurrence of pondering resulted in Flank Hawk, the first novel in my fantasy series.





Re-reading One Second After by William Forstchen and Gust Front by John Ringo offered additional ideas, and assisted me in moving forward with my most recent novel, Thunder Wells.


Reading also invigorates critical observation of the storytelling process, and offers insight and uncovers new twists that a writer might use, improving the available array of writing and storytelling skills.

Would anyone expect engineers that design and build cars to refrain from riding in automobiles and note what customers who purchase such vehicles tend to enjoy? Would it make sense for engineers to avoid immersing themselves in the driving experience, where such activities might offer insight into what could be implemented in their next automotive design?

Finally, I find that reading allows me to discuss novels and authors with fellow readers of fantasy and science fiction. This is especially useful at conventions and book signing events. It enables me to both make a connection with potential readers, and to determine if what I write might be of interest to them. And if none of my works are a good match, through reading, I have a plethora of suggestions that might be relevant to the readers’ interest.

Time is a finite commodity. There is no argument on that, but it’s a commodity worth spending with a good book or two…or three.


Author Bio:

Terry W. Ervin II is an English teacher who enjoys writing fantasy and science fiction. Beyond his new release, Thunder Wells, his Crax War Chronicles (science fiction) includes Relic Tech and Relic Hunted, and his First Civilization’s Legacy Series (fantasy) includes Flank Hawk, Blood Sword and Soul Forge. His short story collection, Genre Shotgun, contains all of his stories previously published in magazines, ezines and anthologies.

When Terry isn’t writing or enjoying time with his wife and daughters, he can be found in his basement raising turtles.

To contact Terry, or to learn more about his writing endeavors, visit his website at www.ervin-author.com and his blog, Up Around the Corner, at uparoundthecorner.blogspot.com.

#Excerpt: THE PIPER'S PRICE by Audrey Greathouse


The Piper’s Price
Audrey Greathouse
(The Neverland Wars #2)
Published by: Clean Reads Publishing
Publication date: February 21st 2017
Genres: Fairy Tales, Retelling, Young Adult

Peter is plotting his retaliation against the latest bombing. Neverland needs an army, and Peter Pan is certain children will join him once they know what is at stake. The lost boys and girls are planning an invasion in suburbia to recruit, but in order to deliver their message, they will need the help of an old and dangerous associate—the infamous Pied Piper.

Hunting him down will require a spy in in the real world, and Gwen soon finds herself in charge of locating the Piper and cutting an uncertain deal with him. She isn’t sure if Peter trusts her that much, or if he’s just trying to keep her away from him in Neverland. Are they friends, or just allies? But Peter might not even matter now that she’s nearly home and meeting with Jay again.

The Piper isn’t the only one hiding from the adults’ war on magic though, and when Gwen goes back to reality, she’ll have to confront one of Peter’s oldest friends… and one of his earliest enemies.


EXCERPT:
They found the forest’s hiking trail moments before breaking the tree line. “Where are we going, Peter?” He was heading toward a mobile home community next to the state park.
He continued to walk with confidence. His usual cocky stride looked surprisingly like the swagger of an ordinary teenage boy. “My friend lives here. Don’t worry. Don’t look like such a stranger here.”
She didn’t want to appear conspicuous, but Gwen was too baffled to help it. The unkempt lawns were boxed in by chain-link fences covered in varying degrees of rust. They passed a lawn littered with bicycles; on the other side of the gravel street, two different cars were parked on the lawn, clearly non-functional. Satellite dishes were on every trailer home. Despite all being painted differently, the track housing still managed to present a uniformity of depressing color.
Multiple houses had motorcycles out front or a dog milling around their yard. When she and Peter passed a pack of Rottweilers, the dogs ran up to the fence and began snarling until all the other dogs in the neighborhood were barking too. “Ignore it,” Peter advised her.
She was scared. This was not the sort of place she ever expected to visit with Peter. She didn’t trust his ability to protect her here. This wasn’t his world, but it wasn’t hers either. They were both out of their element. Peter just didn’t have the sense to realize it.
Winding down the gravel road, Gwen matched Peter’s pace almost step for step. They approached a blue-and-grey house. Like the others, it had wooden latticework around the bottom to help obscure the fact it didn’t have a foundation in the ground. The square house reminded Gwen of how she would take shoeboxes and try to turn them into homes for her dolls by decorating them. It was hard to fathom that she was walking up the plastic steps of the porch to knock on the door.
She waited, feeling her heartbeat in her throat, her toes, and everywhere besides her chest. Even the predictable noise of the door opening startled her.
A woman with a long, black braid and beige cardigan stood in the doorway. Gwen looked up at her, and then watched as the sharp features of her dark face dissolved into unadulterated shock.
“Peter?”
The startled woman ushered them in. She was just as uncomfortable with their presence in the trailer park as Gwen. Once inside, they stood in a living room full of old furniture, facing a kitchen with old electric appliances. There was no unity or romance to the orange recliner, chipped mixing bowl, off-white blender, dull toaster, and sunken couch. It was a bunch of old stuff that looked like it represented several decades of objects abandoned at Goodwill. The chingadera and bric-a-brac wasn’t any more cohesive: porcelain angles, an antique pot, a vase full of bird feathers, and a stopped clock made the place confusing and strange in the same way her grandmother’s house had been.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed, pulling her cardigan close and tossing her thick braid over her shoulder and out of her way. She had a shapeless housedress underneath the beige sweater, and a pair of black leggings insulating her legs as she stomped around, heavy-footed in her leather slippers. She looked comfortable, except for the unexpected guests who were putting her so ill at ease. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I need your help,” Peter said.
“They’re still keeping tabs on me.”
“That’s why I came in disguise.”
“You’re being irresponsible. You’re jeopardizing us both, and Neverland to boot.”
“I took all the right precautions. This is important.” Hollyhock and Foxglove wrestled their way out of the pixie purse and came twinkling out now that they knew they were safely inside.
“You brought fairies here?” she exclaimed. She leaned down and grabbed a hold of his arm, forcing him to look her dead in her dark eyes. Gwen wanted to leave. This wasn’t a friend, not anymore. This was a grown-up, and unlike Antoine the aviator, she was not amused with Peter’s wartime antics.
“What happens if they figure it out and come to question me?”
Peter scoffed. “You won’t tell them.”
“What if they threaten to arrest me? They could put me away forever until I told them what they needed to know, and nobody here would stop them.”
Peter broke free of her hold with ease; she wasn’t actually trying to restrain him. “Preposterous,” he declared. “If they did that, you would sit, stone-faced and silent in your cell until they all died.”
“What if they beat me?”
“You’d take the blows as though you were made of rock, and you would not speak.” Peter seemed to disregard the question.
“What if they tortured me and stuck blades under my nails?” she demanded.
“Then you would not even scream, but stay silent as a stone!” Peter insisted, hopping up onto a wooden kitchen chair at her dining table, looking down at the woman.
“What if they bring knives and cut off my fingers, one at a time, until I told them how to find you?”
Peter yelled right back, “Then you would steal their knives and scalp them all like the redskin princess you are!”
Her anger slunk off her face and out of her shoulders. She shook her head, frowning as a sad laugh escaped her. She clung to her sweater, blinking back tears, until, at last, she flung her arms around Peter. Still on the chair, he had to bend down to return the embrace.
“Oh, Peter,” she muttered, unaware of the tears slipping off her smiling face. “Oh, Peter.”
“It’s good to see you, Tiger Lily.”

Author Bio:
Audrey Greathouse is a lost child in a perpetual and footloose quest for her own post-adolescent Neverland. Originally from Seattle, she earned her English B.A. from Southern New Hampshire University's online program while backpacking around the west coast and pretending to be a student at Stanford. A pianist, circus artist, fire-eater, street mime, swing dancer, and novelist, Audrey wears many hats wherever she is. She has grand hopes for the future which include publishing more books and owning a crockpot.

You can find her at audreygreathouse.com.


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Wednesday, February 22, 2017

Interview with Lynn Kellan, RUN TO HER

What is something you’ve lied about?
I didn’t realize how much I was lying to a friend until I found myself growing more and more uncomfortable whenever I was with her. We just weren’t a good fit. She liked to complain about the school our kids attended, and then she’d apologize for being so focused on the negatives. I told her I didn’t mind. I was willing to listen to her, but her negativity began to weigh me down. It was darned difficult to come up with a way to tell her that I didn’t want to hear bad stuff all the time. I tried to steer the conversation to happier topics, but she always seemed to drift back to the stuff that bothered her.
Eventually, I gently stepped away from that relationship. It was difficult to do, because close friends are tough to come by, but it was the right thing to do. Since then, I’ve felt a lot happier.

Who is the last person you hugged?
I hugged my daughter this afternoon when she came home from school. She’s a teen, so hugs are a rare and wonderful thing.
Whenever I hug someone I love, I take a big whiff of them. Their shampoo, the scent of their skin, the scent of wind and school that clings to their clothes. 
My dog is much easier to catch for a hug, but I usually end up covered in hair after those encounters. (My dog is a Sheltie. In other words, my dog is 10% bone and 90% fur.) Whenever I hug my dog, she smells like corn chips and tennis balls.

What are you reading now?
I am reading MISTRESS OF THE VATICAN by Eleanor Herman. It’s an entertaining history book about the Vatican in the 16th century. I tend to gravitate to historical non-fiction when I’m looking for things to read at night. If I’m reading a compelling fiction novel, it’s difficult to put the book down. So in the interest of getting a good night’s sleep, I often read non-fiction right before bed.
I’ll read romance during the day. If I know I’m going to need to entertain myself for a chunk of time, I know a romance will keep me happy. My favorite romances contain a lot of drama, emotion, and action. The most recent romance that I read was: THE HATING GAME, by Sally Thorne. It. Was. Fantastic! Unfortunately, it was her very first novel. So, I have to wait until her 2nd book is released. I can’t wait!!

I also love anything by Kristen Callihan. She is amazing. I’ve read my copy of Shadowdance five times over the past six months. She writes paranormal and contemporary, and I’m amazed at how well she does both.

Historical romance is one of my favorite genres, and I’m looking for suggestions. Got any good ones?

How do you come up with the titles to your books?
I try to pick phrases that my characters say or think. For instance, in ANYTHING YOU ASK, the hero would often say, “Anything you ask” when the heroine asked him for something. In RUN TO HER, the hero admits that he’s been running to her every since they’ve met, but she’s always been too fast to catch…until one lie changes everything.

Share your dream cast for your book.
Wladimir Klitschko (real-life heavyweight professional boxer) would play my hero. Wlad is a huge guy with a rugged, Slavic face. Whenever I think of my hero, I think of Wlad. A real tough-looking guy. Hayden Panettiere (the pretty blonde American actress) would play the heroine, who is an accountant. She doesn’t appear to have much in common with the hero until she realizes she might be the only one who truly understands the hero’s ugly past.


AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Lynn Kellan writes contemporary romance about strong men who have a weakness for smart women. She believes men and women aren't that different, because everyone wants to be with someone who will empty the dishwasher. To prepare for her career as a romance author, she fell in love with bad boys, burly athletes, battle-hardened Marines…and married a chemist. Lynn has won numerous writing contests and served two terms as President of her local Romance Writers of America chapter, but she feels a true sense of accomplishment whenever she doesn't embarrass her teenaged kids.

For love. For funny. For ever.

Find Lynn at http://LynnKellan.com

RUN TO HER is on sale for $2.99


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Monday, February 20, 2017

Q&A with Eve Langlais, BECOMING DRAGON


What is the sweetest thing someone has done for you?
Married me ;)
Such a brave man.  I think it’s very special when two people come together because of love and commit to being with each other.

How would you spend ten thousand bucks?
So I have to admit to being a bit of a bore when it comes to finances. I’d either fund a renovation project with it or throw it on the mortgage.

Where do you get your best ideas?
Shower. I don’t know what it is about the soothing hot water…lol. I often times will figure out the next plot twist or shift in the story that will get things moving.

What comes first, the plot or characters?
A bit of both. The plot often drives how the characters meet and then that plot keeps them coming together.

What does your main character do that makes him/her special?
He is kind of cynical and convinced he’s a monster—so you automatically just want to hug and love him. She is the height of snobbery but is so cute doing it, you can’t help but laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BLURB:
Can he embrace the beast within?

I’m a monster. That’s what Brandon thinks when he flees the medical institute that changed him. Living a normal life isn’t in the cards for him because, while he can hide his scaly skin, his wings are hard to miss. So he runs and lives in the shadows where monsters belong. What he didn’t expect to find were others just like him, and they call themselves dragons. Or so Aimi with the violet eyes tells him when she pins him to the ground.

Seriously, though, dragons?

He doesn’t want to believe, but the evidence is mounting. Not helping his resolve is the fact that the woman with the silver hair doesn’t fear the monster and wants to claim him.

However, before he can think of his own happiness, he has to rescue his little sister. Uncle Theo kidnapped her, and Brandon will do anything to get her back, even if he must embrace the monster within to become the dragon.

Buy links:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR Bio and Links:

A New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author

Hello, my name is Eve. I’m a stay at home mom who writes full time in between juggling my three kids, hubby, and housework, I write hot romance with a bit of a twist. I like strong alpha males, naked chests and shifters. Lots of different breeds of shifters. I am also extremely partial to aliens, you know the kind who abduct their woman and then drive them insane…with pleasure of course.I love to write, and while I don’t always know what my mind is going to come up with next, I can promise it will be fun, probably humorous and most of all romantic, because I love a happily ever after.

Eve Langlais author page : https://www.facebook.com/eve.langlais.98/

Web page to find out all there is about Eve: http://evelanglais.com/

Twitter: @evelanglais

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Friday, February 17, 2017

#Excerpt: AUTUMN'S DANCE by Sarah Gai


Autumn’s Dance
Sarah Gai
Publication date: February 14th 2017
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance

“A story that captures your heart and continues you thinking about it long after you fall asleep.”
Autumn Nash lives a nomadic existence with her harvest-travelling father, except every summer when they return to one place like clockwork…Ligonier, PA. But this season, Autumn meets a young man who changes her world and makes her long for more.

Eric Foster has been sent to stay the summer in Ligonier with his grandfather in hopes of altering his path as his life spirals downward. His direction changes the moment he sees Autumn; he knows his very reason for breathing is solely to be with her.

When Autumn is ripped away from Ligonier, she leaves Eric confused and devastated that their time is over. Both teens struggle through the years gone by without the other. Will Autumn ever see the boy who changed her life again? Will Eric wait for her? Will Autumn ever make it back to Ligonier? And what will happen when buried secrets surface?

Discover a love that takes you back to what it’s all about—the confusing, yet simplistic, beginnings of falling in love and watch it evolve into something that takes your breath away.

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Request a review copy here!

Author Bio:
So this is me in short. I'm plus size and completely adorable (or so my husbands tells me) A momma of three princes who light my world. I drink way too much coffee, chocolate is a staple. I love to write after midnight and my love for short stories will never fade. With such a limited amount of time to enjoy quiet writing, I have mastered the skills of fitting a lot into a small amount of pages. Humour keeps me smiling and well.. if you've read my books you'll know that I put a lot of myself into the characters. And to answer your questions. My best friends and I forgot the part about growing up and love every minute of it. Aside from writing I also run a publication IndieLove Magazine, promoting Indie Awesomes from a range of fields and professions.

Check it out at www.indielovemagazine.com

In 2017 I will be saying goodbye to Chick lit for a while and heading into Contemporary Romance. I hate to be put in a box! Join my street team at www.sarahgai.com and come have some fun!
Love to all xo.

Wanting to write for all the women out there who want a good short read about strong friendships, romance and body positive, love the skin you're in kind of fiction.

Check out http://Facebook.com/sarahgaiauthor or www.sarahgai.com


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Wednesday, February 15, 2017

#Excerpt: CHAMELEON by Zoe Kalo


Chameleon
Zoe Kalo
Publication date: February 2nd 2017
Genres: Gothic, Young Adult

An isolated convent, a supernatural presence, a dark secret…
17-year-old Paloma only wanted to hold a séance to contact her dead father. She never thought she would be kicked out of school and end up in an isolated convent. Now, all she wants is to be left alone. But slowly, she develops a bond with a group of girls: kind-hearted Maria, insolent Silvy, pathological liar Adelita, and their charismatic leader Rubia.

When, yet again, Paloma holds a séance in the hope of contacting her father, she awakens an entity that has been dormant for years. And then, the body count begins. Someone doesn’t want the secret out… Are the ghost and Paloma’s suspicions real—or only part of her growing paranoia and delusions?

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EXCERPT:
Madre Estela remained standing by the door. “Get a bucket and fill it with water.”
Her hypercritical eyes sliced through my self-worth as I grabbed one of the metal buckets, lifted it into the sink, and turned on the faucet. I watched, transfixed, as the water gushed like a torrent spurting from an open artery. The cold spray raised goosebumps on my arms.
Madre Estela snapped her fingers. “Move.”
As I hauled the bucket to the door, some of the water slushed over the edge and splattered to the floor.
“Add the detergent,” she said stiffly, irritated by my clumsiness.
I chose a green bottle, twisted the cap, and poured. The acrid pine smell stung my nostrils.
“Get a sponge and a brush from there. Get going. We don’t have all evening—unless you want to work in the dark.”
I gritted my teeth, but pretended not to be bothered. I suspected that the one thing that this nun couldn’t stand was indifference.
Outside, it was almost dusk. In spite of the intense screeching of the coquíes, the drum of the waterfall hit my ears. It was louder now than the last time I’d been here. How was that possible?
I felt a drop of rain. Great.
Madre Estela put one hand out, palm up. “My, my. What’s this?” She looked chagrined, and I suddenly realized why. If it rained, I would have to go inside, ruining her plans. “What are you standing there for? Start scrubbing.”
I was tempted to throw the bucket of greenish water at her face. Instead, I prayed for rain as I walked across the rose garden. Once at the gate, I glanced back at her.
“You’ll work until I come for you, understood?” she said, hands on hips in her usual stance. She pointed to one of the second-floor windows. “I’ll be watching from there.”
And that was it. She was gone.
For a moment I just stood there. If only my friends could see me now. They would never believe it.
I opened the gate and walked into the graveyard. The statue of Gabriel greeted me, its face fiercer in the dusk. The temperature must have been in the low seventies. I was glad I had my cardigan.
Suddenly, the garden lamp post lit up. I turned, startled. I wasn’t sure if it had automatically switched on or if someone, maybe Madre Estela, had done it from indoors. I glanced up at the second-floor window, expecting to find her face. I had the chilling sensation of being watched. There was nothing. The windows glowed with yellow light, a multitude of feral eyes keeping guard.
However, behind one of the ground-floor windows on the right, a figure appeared. Tall, blurred. Madre Superiora? I was sure that was her office. Yet, something about the shape of the head and the shoulders made me think of…Rubia. What was she doing in Madre Superiora’s office?
Just as abruptly as it’d appeared, the figure vanished from view.
The incident left me strangely unsettled.
Focus.
I splashed some of the water on one of the tombstones and got to work. The sound of hard bristles against stone blocked the hum of the waterfall. Almost.
Go away, damn it.
As I crouched to work on a second tombstone, doing my best not to get wet in the process, something shifted at the edge of my vision. I jumped to my feet, my heart thudding. Gabriel. Its wings had rippled with movement.
Dear God…what’s happening to me?
I rubbed my forehead and grimaced, my fingers shaking.
I felt another drop of rain. If it was going to rain, why didn’t it? The sky was playing with me, too. Mocking me.
I cursed the clouds and started scrubbing again.
I had another sensation of being watched and this time, yes, it was Madre Estela behind the window. I pretended I hadn’t seen her and tried to keep focused on the task at hand. The water had turned blackish with grime.
I don’t know how long I scrubbed. I lost track of time. But it was dark. My back and shoulders were sore and my hands stung from the harsh detergent.
Madre Estela was long gone from the window.
Half panting, I sat down on the edge of the tombstone and tossed the brush aside in disgust. I looked at the statue again, but it was motionless. I turned to the windows again, my eyes slowly moving from one to the other.
From one to the other.
Expecting to see the face. Wanting to see it.
Nothing.
Yet, that weird sensation of being watched, again.
My gaze shifted to the woods, to the exact place where the cemetery ended and the forest started. There was a path there. Narrow, obscured by the trees. For a long moment I sat, mesmerized. Then I stood up and began to approach it. The breeze picked up as I got closer, carrying with it the cool, slightly pungent smell of the waterfall.
I stopped at the very edge, the darkness enveloping me, the dampness seeping through my clothes.
The wind sighed, rustling the leaves and fluttering my hair.
Icy breath, on the back of my neck.
I’m in here… a voice whispered from the shadows.
I spun around in terror.
Then I hit something hard.

Author Bio:
A certified bookworm and ailurophile, Zoe Kalo has always been obsessed with books and reading. Reading led to writing—compulsively. No surprise that at 16, she wrote her first novel, which her classmates read and passed around secretly. The pleasure of writing and sharing her fantasy worlds has stayed with her, so now she wants to pass her stories to you with no secrecy—but with lots of mystery. She lives amongst cats and books in Belgium, and is the author of the Cult of the Cat young adult fantasy series and the Retribution novella series for adults.

Sign up for her newsletter at www.ZoeKalo.com and get her exclusive short story “Irkalla.”


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#Excerpt: CASKET GIRL by Maggie Mae Gallagher



“Okay, Josh. What would you like to know?”

“I need to inform you first of your right to have an attorney present.” There was the uptight termagant for rules, law and order.

“Why would I need an attorney? You don’t think I’m a suspect, do you?” A stifled laugh caught and died in her throat. She, Isabelle Toussánt, a suspect in a murder case? Not in this lifetime. Although, by his tone she instinctively knew he wasn’t kidding, not one bit. Isabelle was rarely ever shocked. Her gift of foresight kind of gave her the 411 on what was coming, most of the time. This was a curve she hadn’t expected. What was next, the revival of the Spanish Inquisition?

He chewed over her response a moment, paying attention to her every subtle move, before answering. “That remains to be seen. If you could run me through the events this morning, please.”

Like she’d already done at least a half-dozen times for the New Orleans police, but what was one more time hashing through the gory details of a morning she’d rather be forgetting?

“I woke up early, just before dawn,” she explained, unease settling in her belly. He couldn’t really believe she was capable of something like that, could he? Her persona didn’t scream psycho killer in her book. Maybe she was a bit eclectic in her tastes, but she didn’t even kill spiders, preferring to relocate them outside.

“Is that a habit of yours?” he asked, looking up from his note-taking.

“I’m a pretty early riser, but lately I’ve been waking earlier than usual.” She couldn’t believe she’d just admitted that. She might as well have painted a sign on her forehead that read, Potential killer. Ask me how. She shook her head at the absurdity of it all.

“Any particular reason?” His pen hovered above the notepad.

How did she answer this one without sounding guilty? Because if she indicated that she’d been having bad dreams that were giving her bits of early morning insomnia, he’d want to know what they were about. She didn’t want to explain this point, not when the dreams were rooted in her past. Then she’d have to explain the beatings and abuse. The last emotion she wanted to see on his face was pity. She’d gotten out. She’d survived the trauma. And even if there were parts of her that still resonated with her past, there was nothing she could gain from telling him the truth. She’d beg forgiveness from the goddess later for her dishonesty. No good would come out of explaining this to him, there was no point. She knew she had nothing to do with Kiri’s murder.

“No,” she lied, controlling her features, understanding that he could toss her in jail for obstruction on a federal case. And then they would discover the truth, the one she’d kept buried for years regarding her identity. If it got out… A terrified tremor ran along her spine. Then he would know and he would find her. She’d rather die.


BLURB:

All he wants is to find a killer...

FBI Special Agent Josh Blake has seen some bizarre cases in his day. His latest case is one for the record books. He has multiple homicides, corpses drained of every ounce of blood, and no suspects. When rumors surface that the French Quarter may be hiding an insidious monster bent on drenching the streets in dead bodies, he must suspend logic and place his trust in the mystical.

She wants a fresh start...

Isabelle Toussánt left her family home in the bayou five year ago, cutting all ties with her abusive whiskey swilling stepfather, to forge a new life in the French Quarter. Now a successful business owner of Madam Toussánt’s Mystical Gifts in Jackson Square, and a Seer with voodoo roots. The foundation of her new life shatters when one of her employee’s winds up dead and she is dragged into a deadly game where she becomes the target of a serial killer.

A passion neither expected...

Determined to stop the brutal slayings, Josh must rely on the beautiful Isabelle who makes him question everything he has ever known about life and death all while surrendering to a desire hotter than a Bayou night. When Isabelle disappears without a trace, with tourists flocking to the party capital for Halloween, and the body count continues to mount, Josh will be forced to push beyond the boundaries of what he thinks is possible and rescue the woman he loves before it's too late.

PURCHASE LINK:  https://goo.gl/6WdMKj

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AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Born in St. Louis, Missouri, Maggie grew up listening to Cardinals baseball and reading anything she could get her hands on. She remembers her mother saying if only she would read the right type of books instead binging her way through the romance aisles at the bookstore, she’d have been a doctor. While Maggie never did get that doctorate, she graduated cum laude from the University of Missouri-St. Louis with an M.A. in History.

Maggie is a bestselling and award-winning author published in multiple fiction genres. She also writes erotic romance under the name Anya Summers. A total geek at her core, when she is not writing, she adores attending the latest comic con or spending time with her family. She currently lives in the Midwest with her two furry felines.

Visit her website here:

Visit her on social media here:
Facebook: FB.me/MagMaeGallagher   
Twitter: @magmaegallagher

Don’t miss these exciting titles by Maggie Mae Gallagher!

The Mystic Series
REMEMBER ME
CASKET GIRL

The Cantati Chronicles 
RUPTURED
ANOINTED
ASCENDED

And if you like your romance with a bit of spice and kink be sure to check out Maggie Mae Gallagher writing as Anya Summers!

The Dungeon Fantasy Club Series
HER HIGHLAND MASTER, Book 1
TO MASTER AND DEFEND, Book 2
TWO DOMS FOR KARA, Book 3
HIS DRIVEN DOMME, Book 4
HER COUNTRY MASTER, Book 5
LOVE ME, MASTER ME, Book 6
SUBMIT TO ME, Book 7
HER WIRED DOM, Book 8


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