Sunday, December 9, 2018

Sunday’s Spotlight: When Stars Come Out


When Stars Come Out

(When Stars Come Out #1)

Anora Silby can see the dead and turn spirits into gold coins, two things she would prefer to keep secret as she tries to lead a normal life at her new school. After all, she didn’t change her identity for nothing.

As it turns out, hiding her weirdness is just one of many challenges. By the end of her first day, she’s claimed the soul of a dead girl on campus and lost the coin. Turns out, the coin gives others the ability to steal souls, and when a classmate ends up dead, there’s no mistaking the murder weapon.

Navigating the loss of her Poppa, her mother’s mistrust, and Roundtable, an anonymous student gossip app threatening to expose her, are hard enough. Now she must find the person who stole her coin before more lives are lost, but that means making herself a target for the Order, an organization that governs the dead on Earth–and they want Anora and her powers for themselves.

Friday, December 7, 2018

Blitz: A Prophecy Fulfilled

A Prophecy Fulfilled
Andi O’Connor
(The Vaelinel Trilogy #3)
Publication date: December 9th 2018
Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Paranormal

Regrouping after their escape from the Light Elves, Irewen and her companions fear the worst after black smoke plumes on the horizon. Allowing compassion to rule over reason, they ignore Finnwyn’s warning and return to Lilendvelle, hoping to help some of the survivors stranded in the city’s wake. Instead, they run into a trap.

Completely surrounded by an endless army of Drulaack, they fight for their lives, but their efforts aren’t enough. Irewen is captured and dragged into the heart of the Corrupter’s lair.

Having his prize, the others in the company are granted their freedom, but at a great cost: the one named in the prophecy who is meant to unite the elf forces and stand against the Corrupter is lost to the world – trapped beneath the Corrupter’s talons.

With the aid of his mother’s spirit, Brendell must now find a way to gather an alliance strong enough to march against the Corrupter and his army, but his time is running out. Each day that passes brings Irewen closer to death.

And the world closer to destruction.

Goodreads / Amazon

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Slowly opening her eyes, Irewen braced herself for the fresh wave of pain she knew awaited her. Despite expecting it, nothing prepared her for the intensity of the agony ravaging her body.

She yearned to be back in the Spirit World where the misery of her injuries had been severely dampened. Trying to lift her head, she flinched and dropped it back to the cold stone. There was no going back. This was now her life. This was her normalcy.

Following part of Elthad’s advice, she found something to fixate her attention on, in this case, a small crack in the stone where the wall met the floor.

She studied the jagged line, imagining it into different shapes and scenarios. Time slowly passed, and her pain gradually lessened, but her situation remained just as dismal as ever.

Elthad’s gift needed to be used strategically. She couldn’t unleash the weapon unless the timing was perfect. Elthad wouldn’t respond. For the time being, she was trapped.

Irewen turned her thoughts to her last minutes with Elthad’s spirit. It all seemed so surreal. Although she’d witnessed it first-hand, she couldn’t quite believe that she had Elthad’s weapon in her possession.

She mentally rubbed the small lump now tucked safely behind her right ear. Half the size of her pinky fingernail, it now hid what her cousin had claimed would be the answer to her problems. It afforded her a certain sense of security, but at the same time, her peace of mind was an illusion.

This wasn’t a weapon in the traditional sense of the word. Unlike a dagger or bow she could wield with her hands, or a spell she could summon, it was an intangible theory based solely on trust. Trust that Elthad hadn’t been lying to her. Trust that his power would be released in time to save her life.

Trust that he would do anything at all.

Any promises she’d had of escaping from the Corrupter’s prison vanished. Blinded by her desire for freedom, she’d been a total fool. Elthad had given her hope. Nothing more.

The faint clicking of boots on stone pulled her from her musings. She stiffened as the slow, deliberate steps drew nearer. The hair along the back of her neck stood on end. A villainous aura emanated from the newcomer, permeating the already clammy air. The footsteps stopped, and she took advantage of the silence to study the crack in the wall with a newfound concentration.

A man cleared his throat.

The Corrupter.

She didn’t need to look at the person standing before her to know it was him.

“It’s nice to see that you’ve returned.”

Irewen’s body shuddered at the sound of his voice. Staring straight ahead, she fought off the sensation of thousands of bugs crawling over her skin.

“Welcome to your humble new home. It’s not much, but I’m certain you’ll be quite content here, given time.”

His words slithered about her like poison.

“After all, you have nowhere else to go, now that those in the Spirit World have rejected you. It’s such a shame that you can’t return to the welcoming bosom of the dead. Still, that means you’ll be able to spend more time with me. Doesn’t that excite you?”

Clenching her jaw, Irewen fought the urge to answer. Every part of her ached to tell the Corrupter what she thought he could do with his home and his time. Instead, she kept her mouth shut, replaying Elthad’s warning repeatedly in her mind.

“Don’t give him the fodder he desires. He wants you to react. He feeds off of seeing the effects his words have on others. He craves it. Remaining impassive and silent will be far more distressing for him than any insult you could spew. Never grab hold of his bait.”

“So,” the Corrupter continued after a time, his voice thick with amusement, “you’ve decided to answer me with silence. Never fear, there are many ways to make someone talk. I doubt you’ll survive the first treatment, but that won’t be of any loss to me. Silevethiel and that elf prince you’re so fond of will be the ones you’ll end up destroying. I look forward to it. You’ll have done a large part of my job for me. Those two have been a nuisance.”

No! Irewen mentally screamed at herself at the mention of Silevethiel and Laegon. Don’t react! Don’t bloody react!

Gritting her teeth, she stared at the crack more intently than ever before. It seemed to grow, slowly tripling in size until she swore it would reach out and suck her in to its depths. Eventually, her ire dissipated, and the huge fissure returned to its normal, puny size.

She focused on keeping her breaths slow and even, growing increasingly more thankful that she’d decided to swallow her pride and listen to Elthad. Without his insight, she wouldn’t have been able to recognize what the Corrupter was attempting to do. She would have fallen right into his trap, unraveling like he wanted.

A sudden chill filled the air. The Corrupter’s anger seeped into her being, and she smiled inwardly. It was working. Even in her pathetic condition and imprisoned in some god-forsaken cell, she had the upper hand. All she had to do was keep her focus and not give him what he craved.

“You have quite a stubbornness about you,” the Corrupter finally said, his voice thick with disdain. “You’re just like your father, but you will eventually crack. Your father did.”

Without waiting to see if she’d respond, the clicking of boots resounded about the stone walls as the Corrupter left her to muse over his words. She held her breath, waiting until the sound of the footsteps faded completely before trusting herself to let the air out of her lungs. She wanted to scream but couldn’t bring herself to make a sound. She had no way of knowing who or what would be nearby to hear.

Closing her eyes, she visualized the crack from the wall. Completely worn out, all of her muscles relaxed, and she felt as though she was melting into the floor. She had no idea how long she could keep up this charade, but she needed to until the Corrupter cracked.

The first tendrils of sleep began to take hold. Before she fell completely into unconsciousness, she wondered if she would survive his outburst when he finally exploded. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so terrible if she didn’t.


Author Bio:

Andi O’Connor is the award-winning author of The Dragonath Chronicles, The Vaelinel Trilogy, and The Legacy of Ilvania. The Speaker is the 2018 Independent Press Award Winner for Fantasy and a Finalist in the 11th Annual National Indie Excellence Awards. Andi’s novel, Awakening, is a 2018 Independent Press Award Distinguished Favorite for Fantasy. Her critically acclaimed novel, Silevethiel, is the 2015 Best Indie Book Award winner for Science Fiction/Fantasy and the 2015 New Apple Official Selection for Young Adult. Silevethiel was also named to Kirkus Reviews’ Best Books of 2013.

You can frequently find Andi as an exhibitor and guest panelist at Comic Cons throughout the country including the Rhode Island Comic Con, Awesome Con, Philcon, Conclave, and Chessiecon. For more information, visit Andi’s website at

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Thursday, December 6, 2018

Blitz: Clearcut

Jack Mahoney
Publication date: December 6th 2018
Genres: Adult, Mystery, Thriller

Adrian Cervantes’s Ranger squad was betrayed and ambushed in Iraq, sent to deliver an embezzled payoff to a man who didn’t exist. The lone survivor, Cervantes went AWOL, returning to the States to distribute his purloined cash to the families of his squad. But it’s not as simple as leaving a check in the mailbox. Every family he visits has their own troubles. Law enforcement hunts him at every turn. And Cervantes’s need to see justice done earns him plenty of enemies.

Cervantes’s first stop is the fading lumber town of Cullinan, WA. His plans to visit the Quinones family are complicated by the death of the father and the suspicions of the widow. Teaming up with a local lawyer, Cervantes uncovers enough questions to cast doubt that the father’s death was a drunken accident. But his investigation puts him in the sights of local bruisers, crooked cops, and the real power behind the lumber mill. In the end, Cervantes discovers a conspiracy that’s robbing Cullinan of its livelihood, and he puts it to rest the only way he knows how.

Goodreads / Amazon



They were told to take care of the old man, but they weren’t told how, so they decided to have a little fun first.

There were three of them: Payden, the oldest at twenty-six, the acknowledged ringleader, slow to act but definitive; and the two Blaylock boys, Jimmy and Tommy, twenty-two and twenty, given to messing with each other if left untended, like a cigarette butt in a pile of dry leaves.

Even while they were waiting, in the muddy turnout across the lane from the roadhouse, they started fidgeting in the back seat of Payden’s truck. Jimmy accused Tommy of farting. Payden ignored it as long as he could until the squabbling turned to actual violence—the echoless smack of meat on bone, Tommy’s plaintive whine as he fought back—and he had to do something.

“Quit it,” he said. He had one of those deep, tired backwoods voices, the vowels hanging together. The Blaylock boys laid off.

About ten minutes later a rhombus of light cut across the roadhouse’s woodchip lot. A burst of classic rock followed it. Heavy footsteps chuffed across the chips: an irregular stride, weight shifting between worn Carhartt boots. Payden’s vantage point was narrow, just a gap between the thick pine trees at the end of the driveway, but it sounded like the old man. He raised a hand to get the Blaylocks’ attention, quieting them, forestalling a discussion over who’d stayed hot after they graduated that was about to turn into another fight.

It was the old man. He was walking heavily but not staggering. More tired than drunk, Payden guessed. A woman closer to Payden’s age trotted out after him. She caught the old man while he leaned against the doorframe of his Tacoma, one hand on his elbow.

He shrugged her off. Not angry, but weary. Payden, who’d spent two hours in a cramped Ford cab with the Blaylock brothers, almost sympathized. Then he blinked and shook his head, as if cleaning the emotion off the slate of his mind. Sympathy wouldn’t help.

The woman backed away, saying something else. The old man didn’t respond. Her body language cycled from hope, to reluctance, to defeat: hands dropping to her sides, shoulders slumping, turning her back to him as she walked back inside. The old man unlocked his truck and climbed in. In the pale glow of the dome light, Payden saw the old man slump back against the headrest. Sleeping another one off in the parking lot, he thought.

“Here we go,” Payden said.

The three of them got out of Payden’s truck, closing the doors softly at his direction. They crossed the tree-lined road. The night was thick with the smell of damp loam and sharp pine. Payden glanced back once, at the Blaylocks, but they were quiet and kept their hands to themselves. They might have been fuck-ups in every other aspect of their lives, but they could be relied on to follow a leader’s example.

Payden patted the heavy lump in his jacket pocket to keep it from swinging with his stride.

They approached the old man’s truck. Payden waved the Blaylocks around to the driver’s side. When they were in position, Payden opened the side door, pulled himself up via a meaty grip on the cabin roof, and slid into the front passenger seat. He shut the door quietly behind him.

The old man blinked out of his unconscious stupor. He stared at Payden, uncomprehending. Payden had been rehearsing this bit in his head—he had an opening line he was happy with—but for the moment he stared back. For the Blaylocks, the violence was the fun part. But for Payden, it was having someone in his power: that moment they surrendered, acknowledging that they no longer had a say in what was coming. Sometimes they begged, which was always nice.

The old man spoiled it. “The hell you doing …” He trailed off, wiping some spittle off his beard.

The dome light clicked off.

Well, let’s see how that opening line works, Payden thought. “You promised to give us a ride! Remember?”

The old man blinked, processing “us” for a second. He took in the Blaylocks, standing just outside his door. He said nothing, but his breathing grew shallower and quicker.

“Remember?” Payden’s plan didn’t hinge on the old man swallowing this line, but he wanted to try it out. He thought it was clever. “They’re closing up? Kicked us out? I told you we could go drink at my cousin’s cabin, maybe smoke a little. Just need you to give us a ride, is all.”

The old man’s soft chest rose and fell, a pulsing little flannel lump. He looked at Payden’s hands. “I haven’t said anything.”

Payden glanced toward the roadhouse. The old man’s truck faced the front corner. The nearer wall didn’t have any windows. Whoever was inside might see the truck if they went to the front door and stared at an oblique angle through the glass panel in the front, or if they opened the door all the way and poked their head out. But they’d be cleaning up now. Payden could hear the bass of the stereo echoing around the empty interior. The dishwasher would be running and mop water would be sloshing across the floor. They’d have bigger things to worry about than a regular sleeping one off.

“Keys,” Payden said.

The old man didn’t move. “I haven’t said anything.”

“That’s not what I fucking asked you.” He shoved the old man’s arm aside and fished in the pocket of his denim jacket. He took the keys out. He reached across the old man like he was some mute obstruction—a coat thrown over the seat, perhaps—and opened his door. Jimmy caught it and opened it the rest of the way.

Payden got out on his side and dragged the old man across the front bench so Jimmy could get in. The old man didn’t even put up a token fight. Payden watched him—his head limp, staring at his hands curled up in his lap—while Tommy came around and got in the passenger seat. The Blaylocks sandwiched the old man in the front.

“The switchback. Like we talked about.” Payden shut the door. Jimmy peeled out while Payden was still crossing the road. His heavy jacket pocket knocked against his hip bone while he jogged.

Payden got in his truck and followed the Blaylocks as they drove the old man down the road, down the winding tree-lined path that took them out of the hills. Having the Blaylocks out of his truck wasn’t the relief he thought it’d be. It was too quiet. Payden didn’t mind the quiet, but he needed something to set it against. He needed those two morons’ aimless squabbling to be quiet alongside, to be superior to.

They emerged from the trees, with the wall of the hill on one side and the few streetlights of Cullinan in the valley below. Payden wondered who else might be up at this hour. Other drunks like the old man, perhaps, and the businesses that served and cleaned up after them. Maybe one of the sheriff’s boys, circuiting the six-block downtown in his rattling cruiser. But Cullinan didn’t have much of a nightlife. Not that Payden worried about witnesses. He just liked moving around when no one else was.

Ahead, the old man’s truck jinked sharp, left to right. Brake lights flared. The truck pulled onto the shoulder, overlooking the valley.

Payden didn’t swear. Why disturb the quiet with cursing that no one else could hear? Instead, he pulled onto the shoulder about thirty yards behind the old man’s truck. He got out and approached on foot. He pressed one fist against the heavy jacket pocket on his right side.

Jimmy got out while Payden was still approaching. He looked down at himself, preoccupied with wiping something off his jacket. He didn’t seem to realize Payden was approaching until Payden drew within a foot, and even then he didn’t look up. “Son of a bitch,” he murmured.

Payden grabbed Jimmy’s shoulder. Jimmy stopped. Payden angled him forward. “The switchback.”

“I know, Payden, but son of a bitch got sick.” The epithet was slurred, its edges worn off from frequent use: suvvabitch.

“And you had to stop to clean up.”

“It’s all over my fuckin—” Jimmy looked down at his jacket. He let his hands flop to his sides.

“Because you wanted to look good? It’s important for something like this that you look good?”

The truck rocked on its springs. From the darkened truck cabin came a violent motion and the sound of a fist smacking flesh.

Swearing, Payden opened the driver’s door. Tommy wailed on the old man, brushing his arms aside with one hand and punching him sloppily with the other. The old man grunted, trying to stretch back and cocoon up at the same time. The result would’ve been comical, even to Payden, if it hadn’t been a complete waste of time.

Payden tried to reach past the old man to push Tommy off, but there wasn’t enough room in the cabin. The old man flailed, pushing Payden away, as if fearing assault from both flanks. Growling in frustration, Payden got out, jogged around the hood, and opened the door on Tommy’s side. He dragged Tommy out by the belt, tossing him to the muddy shoulder.

Tommy skidded back until he hit the crooked guardrail. He pressed himself against it to help himself up. He glared at Payden. “He got sick on me. All over my pants. Some of it got in my—”

Payden crossed the distance between them in two strides. The second stride turned into a right cross: foot planted, shoulder twitched forward, marble fist into porcelain jaw. It wasn’t a beatdown out of anger, as Tommy’s had been, though Payden was plenty angry. It was discipline.

Tommy’s knees buckled, pointing outward, and he slumped to the mud.

Payden went back to the truck. The old man propped himself up on his elbows and touched his face. He winced as he made contact with his busted lip, his reddened cheekbones. The numbness from his earlier drunk must have worn off.

Payden climbed into the cabin. “Hell.” He took a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped the blood off the old man’s mouth. “How you feeling?”

The old man’s jaw shook as Payden pulled his hand away. “I haven’t told anyone. I won’t tell anyone.”

Payden nodded. “How’s the jaw? Go like this; does it click or anything?” He opened and closed his mouth like a nutcracker.

“Please.” The old man’s shoulders heaved. “Just … just let me …”

And that was what summoned Payden’s anger back: the sheer stupidity of that plea. Just let you what? Let you keep drinking yourself to death? Let you keep whining to anyone who’ll listen about how you caught a bad rap? What do you have to live for, anyway?

He reached back for his laden jacket pocket. “I’ve got something for you.”

“Payden, no.”

Payden pulled out a fifth of vodka. He unscrewed the cap with one hand. The other hand pulled the old man closer, sliding him across the vinyl bench.

“I haven’t told anyone. I’ll never t—”

With one massive hand, Payden pinched the old man’s nose shut and forced his head back. He forced the bottle between the man’s teeth and tipped it. The sharp varnish smell of cheap spirits filled the cabin. Payden tucked his chin to keep the old man’s flailing from scratching up his face.

The old man started sputtering and choking. Payden kept pouring. Much of the glugging vodka seeped down the old man’s jaw, soaking his shirt.

When the bottle was empty, Payden let go of the old man’s nose. The old man sat on the bench, arms limp at his sides, gasping for air. Payden got out and went to the guardrail, wiping the bottle down as he went. He flung it into the darkness and waited until he heard it land in some underbrush.

He went back around the front of the truck, nearer the road, where Jimmy was helping Tommy walk off that right cross. Jimmy looked up at Payden. His eyes were blank: not scared, not angry, not even questioning what had happened—just a pair of big empty saucers, waiting for Payden’s instructions to fill them.

“Go get your truck from the switchback,” Payden said.

“That’s like …” Jimmy turned, staring into the unlit distance, as if he might see a sign. “… like, two miles from here.”

Payden ignored the interruption. “Stay on the shoulder. If you see headlights, hit the deck. No one can see you out here, remember?”

Without waiting for further objections, Payden clambered back into the driver’s side. The old man hadn’t moved. His breathing had slowed a great deal, like a child about to fall asleep. But he wasn’t out yet. His head turned on his limp neck, and his watery gaze rested on Payden. His lips moved weakly, pulling back from the teeth. “D …” Flooded with cheap vodka and stinking of fear, he lacked the strength to finish. But Payden might have guessed what he was trying to say.


Payden put one hand on the old man’s jaw, the other on the crown of his head. He tilted the chin up, resting the head perpendicular to the spine. Then he took a deep breath and twisted sharply.

The crick-ack reverberated through the cabin.

Payden used his handkerchief to wipe down the steering wheel, console, and bench. He got the door handles, the door levers, and the little calf tongue that adjusted the rearview mirror. When he was satisfied, he pulled on the kitchen gloves he’d tucked inside his jacket earlier in the evening.

There was a narrow gap between the guardrails at the edge of the shoulder. A man would have to turn sideways and shimmy to get through it, and it would lead to nothing but a forty-degree decline and a long tumble through the underbrush. But it was wide enough that a man might stagger up to it and piss if he pulled over.

Payden slung the old man over his shoulder like a sack of laundry. He carried him to the gap in the guardrail. With one grunting heave—bend at the knees, deep breath, explode upward—he tossed the old man down the hill. There were a few moments of splintering branches and dislodged pine needles. Then silence.

Sighing, Payden turned and headed back to his own truck. He left the old man’s vehicle in the darkness behind him, the door open, the door alarm chiming into the night. He trudged uphill, feeling it in his calves, the adrenaline and anticipation wearing off. As much as he hated to admit it, the whole improvisation had stemmed from trying to have a little fun with the old man first. Next time—and Payden didn’t kid himself there wouldn’t be a next time—he’d dispense with the frivolities.

Author Bio:

Jack Mahoney lives on the North Shore of Massachusetts. When he’s not practicing jiu-jitsu or catching up on crime thrillers, he’s putting in work on the next Adrian Cervantes novel.

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Wednesday, December 5, 2018

Blog Tour: Paper Girl

Paper Girl
by Cindy R. Wilson
Genre: YA Contemporary Fiction
Release date: December 4th 2018
Entangled Teen


I haven’t left my house in over a year. My doctor says it’s social anxiety, but I know the only things that are safe are made of paper. My room is paper. My world is paper. Everything outside is fire. All it would take is one spark for me to burst into flames. So I stay inside. Where nothing can touch me.

Then my mom hires a tutor. Jackson. This boy I had a crush on before the world became too terrifying to live in. Jackson’s life is the complete opposite of mine, and I can tell he’s got secrets of his own. But he makes me feel things. Makes me want to try again. Makes me want to be brave. I can almost taste the outside world. But so many things could go wrong, and all it takes is one spark for everything I love to disappear…

Review: While not as emotional or dramatic as I’d hoped, this story is enjoyable for a quick read. I liked Zoe and enjoyed seeing her learn to deal with her struggles.

About the Author

Cindy lives at the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, and loves using Colorado towns and cities as inspiration for settings in her stories. She’s the mother of three girls, who provide plenty of fodder for her YA novels. Cindy writes speculative fiction and YA fiction, filled with a healthy dose of romance. You’ll often find her hiking or listening to any number of playlists while she comes up with her next story idea.

Author Links:


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Blog Tour Schedule –

December 4th

Bumbles and Fairy-Tales   Promo Post

Character Madness and Musings     Promo Post

The Cover Contessa Promo Post

Crazy for YA    Review

Mythical Books   Promo Post

Lilly’s Book World     Review

Rainy Day Reviews      Promo Post

December 5th

Movies, Shows, & Books    Promo Post

Declarations of a Fangirl   Promo Post

Chapter through life    Review

Adventures in Writing    Review

Adventures Thru Wonderland      Review

Vesper Dreams     Review

December 6th

Literary Meanderings      Promo Post

I’m All About Books    Promo Post

Lisa Loves Literature    Review

Kimber Li    Promo Post

December 7th

Cindy’s Love of Books Review

Books Direct    Review

Angel Leya       Promo Post

Introvert Booklover   Review

December 10th

The Poetry Hub   Review

Devouring Books     Review

Twirling Book Princess     Promo Post

Living a Hundred Lives    Review

December 11th

Beauty and the Armageddon    Promo Post

The Avid Reader      Promo Post

Mikayla’s Bookshelf    Review

Treestand Book Reviews      Review

December 12th

Nemesis Blog      Review

Another Book in the Wall   Review

Rhythmicbooktrovert     Promo Post

Hauntedbybooks     Review

December 13th

My Lovely Secret Review

YA/NA Book Divas Review

ashleysgotbookcitement      Review

Willow’s Thoughts And Book Obsessions    Promo Post

December 14th

Oh Hey! Books.    Promo Post

Smada’s Book Smack    Http://     Review

The Phantom Paragrapher    Review

Confessions of a YA Reader   Review


Tuesday, December 4, 2018

Blog Tour: Ruins on Stone Hill

Check out my stop on the Ruins on a Stone Hill blog tour!
Ruins on Stone Hill (Heroes of Ravenford #1)

by F.P. Spirit

Genre: YA Fantasy

Release Date: December 2016


Magic is easy. 

That’s what Glolindir thought, until he came across his first real monster. 

Luckily, he survived, thanks to his new “friends.”

Lloyd, the reckless young warrior with blades of fire. 

Seth, the sarcastic halfling who might be an assassin.

Aksel, the genius little gnome whose very touch can heal.

Little did they know that things were about to go from bad to worse.

After one hundred and fifty years of relative peace, dark forces stir around the little town of Ravenford—monsters, black magic, creatures of the night.

The only thing standing between Ravenford and certain destruction is this band of young misfits.

Buy on Amazon 
Review: I’ve always enjoyed a good fantasy, and loved how easy this one is to read and follow! The characters are fun and interesting, and the plot and setting are detailed enough to give the reader a clear picture of what’s going on without causing too much of an info dump.


Lloyd followed Seth’s finger and saw a strange sight. The
bottom half of a skeleton stood in the middle of the path. He watched curiously
as Brundon rushed up behind it and kicked it with his boot. The creature
whirled around and began chasing him, but Brundon dodged and ended up behind
it. The tracker kicked it and dodged again. It was like watching a strange
A familiar voice came from behind him. “He sure is
stubborn.” Lloyd turned in time to see Titan walk up beside him, a thin smile across
her lips. “I guess we should go help him.”
Lloyd fell in beside her. They walked up the trail together
as the crazy fight continued. They stopped a few feet away, watching as Brundon
dodged the skeleton again.
Titan chuckled softly. “Would you like a hand?”
Brundon glanced their way and shook his head. “No, I got
Titan glanced at Lloyd and shrugged. “Like I said,
Lloyd had a sudden idea. He held out his hammer and called
over to the tracker. “Hey, Brundon, care to try it out?”
Brundon had just swung behind the skeleton again. He glanced
over at Lloyd and his eyes fell on the proffered weapon. A broad smile spread
across his face.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
“Sure, accept his help and not mine,” Titan said with mock
Brundon backed away from the sightless skeleton. “Only his
weapon, love, only his weapon. Of course, if you want to hand me your mace…”
“No, no. I’d like to see you wield that hammer.”
“Suit yourself.” Brundon reached the two of them and
accepted the hammer from Lloyd, attempting to heft it with one hand. Without
warning, the head of the hammer dipped and began to fall. Brundon swiftly
grasped it with his other hand, catching it just before it hit the ground.
A short laugh escaped Titan’s lips. “Having some trouble
“I’m…just…fine…” Brundon grunted. Slowly but surely, he
lifted the hammer back up. He grasped it firmly with both hands, and after a
few test swings was able to effectively wield the weapon. “See, piece of cake.”
Titan chuckled under her breath. “Yeah, sure it is.”
Brundon ignored her, turning and rushing the roving
skeleton. In a couple of minutes he reduced it to a pile of cracked bones.
Brundon stood over the pile with a grim look of satisfaction on his face.
“Well?” he said, glaring defiantly at Titan.
“Oh yes, all hail Sir
, the skeleton slayer.”
Sharp snorts of laughter broke out from down the trail.
Lloyd turned around in time to see Seth roll off the skeleton he had been
sitting on and fall onto the ground. He lay there laughing until he couldn’t
Titan taunted him further. “Well, Sir Brundon, there’s another skeleton waiting to meet its end via
your mighty mallet.”


Brundon fixed his partner with an acid stare. It quickly
faded though, replaced with a half-twisted smile. “Why not.” He shrugged, then
strode down the trail to finish off the last skeleton. While Brundon joyfully
hammered away, Lloyd and Titan rejoined the others.
About the Author
F.P. Spirit has always loved fantasy. From the moment he received his very first copy of Lord of the Rings back in high school, he was hooked. Today, somewhere between work and family, F. P. manages to write young adult sword and sorcery fiction. His series, Heroes of Ravenford, chronicles the adventures of a young band of misfits in the dangerous world of Thac. The last book in the series, The Baron’s Heart, is due out this fall.




To learn more, you can go to his website, sign up for his newsletter, or follow him on Twitter.






Monday, December 3, 2018

My Monday

Wow, I can’t believe it’s already December! (Where has all the time gone?!)

Not that it’s a bad thing, it seems that this is the one time a year where I get to slow down a bit and focus on resting, relaxing, and reevaluating. I’m behind on posts, between holidays, family, and being sick (the flu?) I’ve been struggling to just keep up with everything on my ‘to-do’ list! Good news is that I’ve had a bit of time to read during the chaos, and while still not anything to brag about, my numbers are still low, but the few I did get through were all so good!

And that’s pretty much it for updates this week… As mentioned, I haven’t been feeling well, and we’ve all been passing this thing around for a few weeks. (There’s 5 of us in the house so there’s always someone sick lately it seems.)

One smallish update. We are on month 4 of 6 for the school payments so my parents are talking about paying the last bit in one large payment so that I can fully commit to getting accepted and ready for school next fall. (Though after the visit I had last month, August can’t come soon enough! I had initially hoped to get in next month, but there’s too much that needed done, and this payment was preventing me from getting my transcripts.)

Blitz: April in Atlantis

April in Atlantis
Alyssa Day
(Poseidon’s Warriors #4)
Publication date: November 5th 2018
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense

She’s Poseidon’s first and only female warrior…

When April, Poseidon’s first-ever female warrior, meets Pine–“don’t call me a werewolf” — prince of the European wolf shifters, she saves his life and then gives him the finger, because the sound of his sexy Scottish accent when he said “I think I’m in love, lass” gave her shivers in places shivers had no right to be. She’s a warrior, not a werewolf groupie. But now she’s trapped between the werewolf who wants her and the werewolf who wants her dead.

He’s Europe’s werewolf prince…

Pine wanted April the moment he saw her, just before she saved his life. Then he knew he must make her his. But the appearance of his long-lost and presumed-dead twin complicates Pine’s plans, and this time it’s April’s life at stake. Together, April and Pine are so much stronger than they are apart, but the heat between them may be enough to burn down the world.

Can two such unlikely allies find their way past danger to love? Or will mutual seduction be the beginning of the end?

Warning: This book contains magic, Atlantis, Poseidon, warriors, a wolf shifter, an evil twin, archery, wolf cubs, Europe, Scotland, Scottish accents, a king and queen, sibling rivalry, a black sheep, bad boys, paranormal romance, fantasy, matchmaking, laughter, danger, kisses, and a happily ever after. Read at your own risk!

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

You can also grab book 1 – January in Atlantis – for FREE!

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Atlantis, the war room adjacent to the throne room, April 1st…

April stalked back and forth past the scarred wooden table that dominated the room, fists clenched at her sides, muttering creative suggestions under her breath in ancient Atlantean as to what the king and Denal could do with their idea. She’d expected to be kicked off the team after she’d been so rude to the man she’d only later found out had been an actual freaking prince. Instead, they’d hit her with this.

King Conlan, tall, dark, and gorgeous in that uniquely Atlantean royalty lineage way, leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure the throne would fit up my ass, and if Cerberus ripped my arms and legs off, my wife and son might be rather annoyed with you.”

She froze. “You heard that?”

Denal, one of the king’s elite fighters and now the leader of her team of Poseidon’s Warriors—or Denal’s Desperate Dozen, if you hung out in taverns for any time at all—blew out a sigh and shoved his hands into the pocket of his faded jeans. “You see, Conlan? Hopeless. This is a terrible idea. Also, April, I know you haven’t spent much time around royalty–”

“Try none.”

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “But a little respect might be nice. Or I’ll take you to the training grounds and kick your ass.”

She scowled. Unfortunately, this was a threat that carried some weight. Denal had been a warrior for longer than she’d been alive, because Atlanteans lived very long lifespans. He was unbelievably hot, in that “look at me and I’ll kill you” feral kind of hot way, but she hadn’t the slightest interest in bedding him. She just wanted to impress him.

To impress the king.

Great start, fool.

She abruptly knelt and inclined her head. “My apologies, your highness, if I have offended you. Well, of course I offended you. Gah. I mean, the throne up your ass thing might have come across worse in translation…”

She smacked her forehead. After muttering dire insults to the king, she was now questioning whether he could understand ancient Atlantean, the language of his royal ancestors.

Maybe she could stab herself in the kidney next and get the pain over with faster.

Conlan laughed.

He laughed?

“April. For Poseidon’s sake, get up. And if you call me ‘your highness’ again, I’ll be the one kicking your ass on the training grounds. My sword play is a little rusty these days, but I can take on a youngling like you.”

She leapt to her feet, a hot rush of denial searing up her throat, ready to boil forth in a mass of words, when her brain kicked in: He’d said a youngling.

Not a female.

She was a youngling, compared to his five hundred or so years, so it would be ridiculous to be offended, and she was getting tired of looking for offense from every corner. She’d made it—she’d been accepted into Poseidon’s Warriors, even if on a misfit kind of team.

“Look.” Denal strode over to her and poked her in the shoulder. Hard. “Try not to be a jerk. I’m telling you, as the head of this insane team of misfits, that you’re going to be an ambassador to the wolves.”

She refrained from poking him back and gave herself a hundred points for her massive amount of restraint. “For how long?”

“A year.” Denal studied her face and then glanced at the king, whose face was impassive. This was Denal’s decision, then.

“Six weeks,” she countered, without much hope, but it was fun to watch that nerve in Denal’s jaw jump.

“Six months, and if you argue with me again, it’s going to go back to a year,” he said, his eyes narrowing.

“I’ll take it.”

“Good call.”

The king stood up and stretched. “I have politics to play, crushing boredom to endure. Or maybe I’ll go chase my son around the garden for a while. April, do a good job. If you put me in the middle of the wolves’ civil war, we’re going to have a problem.”

His eyes darkened, and the genial king fa├žade disappeared, so that April saw the dangerous predator lurking beneath. Conlan had been a fierce warrior for hundreds of years before he took the throne, and she could tell that nothing had changed.

“Yes, your highness,” she stammered, taking a step back.

Conlan’s face lit up with a huge grin. “You did it! I warned you. Now you can meet me on the training grounds in an hour for a bout. You’d better warm up your sword arm, warrior, because I’m not holding back.”

Denal groaned. “Don’t hurt my newest team member, Conlan. Do you know how hard it is to find good fighters?”

April blinked. He thought she was a good fighter?

“It’s not hard at all,” the king said, his calm voice completely at odds with his narrowed eyes. “Or else somebody at the younglings’ training academy needs to lose his or her job.”

Denal raised his hands. “Fine. It’s not hard to find good fighters, but it’s hard to find people with the skills and temperament to be one of Poseidon’s finest, as you well know.”

He thought she had the skills and temperament to be one of Poseidon’s finest?

April swallowed. This meeting hadn’t gone at all like she’d imagined. She’d thought she was going to be booted off the team. Instead, she found out she was one of Poseidon’s finest, who was going to be an ambassador to the European wolves, after she sparred with the king.

She needed a drink.

Conlan pointed at her. “One hour. Be there or I’ll track you down.”

She nodded to them both and then walked out of the room. Maybe she’d have that drink after her sword fight…

With the king.

Of Atlantis.

In one hour.

She started running.


Author Bio:

Alyssa Day is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than forty novels filled with kissing, laughter, mystery and magic. Alyssa’s paranormal series include the Poseidon’s Warriors and Cardinal Witches paranormal romances and the Tiger’s Eye Mysteries paranormal mysteries. In an Alyssa Day book, the good guys (and gals!) always win and happily ever after always prevails!

Alyssa’s many awards include Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA award for outstanding romance fiction, and the RT Reviewer’s Choice Award for Best Paranormal Romance novel of 2012. Her books have been translated into a zillion languages but she’s still holding out for Klingon.

Website / Facebook / Alyssa Day’s DayDreamers / Twitter / Instagram



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Blitz: The Viking’s Captive

The Viking’s Captive
Quinn Loftis
(Clan Hakon #2)
Published by: Clean Teen Publishing
Publication date: November 27th 2018
Genres: Historical, Young Adult

Prophecy spoken.

Alliances broken.

Will duty come before love?

The Viking’s Captive is the exciting sequel toThe Viking’s Chosen by USA Today Bestseller Quinn Loftis.

Two worlds collide in this epic historical fiction centered on an undeniable chemistry that smolders against the odds. Richly written and injected with moments of humor, this action-packed romantic tale will leave you breathless.

Novels in The Clan Hakon Series Include:

The Viking’s Chosen (February 12, 2018)

The Viking’s Captive (November 27, 2018)

The Viking’s Consort (Fall 2019)

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo


“If you vomit on my lap, I will most likely throw you overboard,” Dayna, my incredibly helpful sister, told me for the fourth or fifth time.

“If you hadn’t come running after me like a sodding fool, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself captured. Then you wouldn’t even be on this boat, and you wouldn’t have to worry about me vomiting on you, now, would you?” I asked as I clutched my midsection. My stomach seemed to think it should take its cues from the ocean upon which we sailed. It rolled and flipped just like the waves.

“First, if I hadn’t come after you, then that would make me a coward and not much of a sister, so that was never an option. Second, if I hadn’t gotten captured, then you would be all alone with no one to hold your hair while you vomit, now, wouldn’t you?”

“Do we have to use the term vomit in every sentence?” Hilda, the Hakon clan Oracle, healer, and Torben’s mother, asked dryly.

“Apparently, we do since you just used it yourself,” Dayna pointed out.

Hilda shot me a sly grin, with one eyebrow raised, asked, “You don’t mind if I just put a small hex on her, do you?”

“She is my sister, so I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Thank you,” Dayna said a bit smugly.

“But if you feel it’s absolutely necessary, I guess I could overlook it,” I added, earning me a pinch from said sister.

I had no idea how long it had been since Magnus, Torben’s jarl, had captured us. On one hand, he’d done me a favor. I certainly wasn’t going to have to marry Cathal now. On the other hand, my sister and I were now the prisoners of a man who was slowly losing his mind. I wasn’t sure which was worse, being married to a madman or being stolen by one. For whatever reason, I seemed to have suddenly become a hot commodity to lunatics. I chuckled to myself.

“Pray tell, sister, what is so funny?” Dayna asked.

“Madmen want me,” I said as I groaned and shifted my head, which was indeed lying in my sister’s lap, where I very well might have been sick at any second.

“Do you think she’s already delirious from being at sea?” Dayna asked Hilda.

Hilda snorted¾a most unladylike sound. “We’ve only been at sea for half a day at most. If she’s already delirious, then we are going to need to shore up her constitution.”

I was just about to tell her where she could shove her shoring up when I quickly covered my mouth and sat up. I refused to vomit. If I did, it would feel like Magnus was winning in some bizarre, silent game between the two of us. Once I was sure I could open my mouth without anything but words coming out of it, I addressed Hilda. “I am feeling more than just my own illness, worry, and fear.” I pressed my hand to my heart and rubbed it as if that could somehow remove the ache. “There’s a pain deep in my breast.”

Hilda nodded. “That would be the anchor bond between you and my son. You are feeling his worry and fear as well as your own. And knowing how deeply Torben feels anything, I imagine he is in quite a bit of distress, though he won’t show it on the outside.” She shook her head. “No, he’s a warrior through and through. On the outside, he will look as though he could slit your throat without a second thought. But on the inside, he is frantic to get to you.”

“Is that why you weren’t wailing about the possibility of Torben being dead when Magnus said he was?” Dayna asked.

“I would know if he were dead. A part of me would die inside as well.” I looked back to Hilda. “Will he kill Magnus?” I asked.

She nodded. “It is his destiny to become jarl of the Hakon clan, as it is your destiny to rule at his side. For that to happen, the old jarl must die. Magnus will never relinquish power willingly. Our two nations will grow stronger, not only because they embrace one another’s differences, but because they need new blood. Your offspring will be strong.”

The boat gave a mighty heave, and Dayna and I both nearly fell off the small bench upon which we were perched. Hilda didn’t appear bothered at all by the motion. She noticed the expression I was giving her and shrugged.

“I’ve lived at sea a long time. She and I are well acquainted.”

“Forgive me for speaking out of turn,” Dayna said, gripping the seat beneath her as though it might try to toss her into the bottom of the boat, “but your life has been about as fun as a house rat’s on cleaning day if you’ve spent that much time on the ocean.”


Author Bio:

Quinn is an award winning author who lives in beautiful Western Arkansas with her husband, two sons, Nora the Doberman, and Chewy the Cat who thinks he’s a dog. She is the author of 17 novels, and 2 novellas, including the USA Today bestseller, Fate and Fury. Quinn is beyond thankful that she has been blessed to be able to write full time and hopes the readers know how much all of their support means to her. Some of her hobbies include reading, exercising, crochet, and spending time with family and friends. She gives all credit of her success to God because he gave her the creative spirit and vivid imagination it takes to write.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter



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Friday, November 30, 2018


Spotlight Tour: Steps to Knowing God

Book Details:

Book Title: Steps to Knowing God by Correna R. Barzey

Category: Adult Non-Fiction, 118 pages

Genre: Christian Living

Publisher: Westbow Press

Release date: February 28, 2018

Tour dates: Nov 12 to 30, 2018

Content Rating: G

Book Description:

For an action-packed revelation on how to live a satisfied life with Christ, every page of this book highlights the truth of God and His desires for us. It is filled with spiritual nutrients and helpful tools that will transform and change lives for the glory of God, thus giving us the ammunition needed to withstand the evil one Gaining a better understanding of God and developing spiritual qualities that will deepen your devotion to Him and will steadily transform you into His likeness.

Buy the Book:







Meet the Author:





Correna R. Barzey is a mother of four, born on the tiny island of Montserrat in the Caribbean. She was brought up in the church from a young age by her grandmother and is a devoted christian who delights in God and His Word. Correna knew she had a passion for writing as she began to write inspirational poems for friends and loved ones, however, looking at this world desperately in need of Christ, she decided to write this book to give others a clearer understanding of Christ.

Connect with the author: Twitter ~ Facebook ~ Instagram

Enter the Giveaway!
Ends Dec 8, 2018

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Blog Tour: Inkling

About the Book:


Author: Kenneth Oppel

Pub. Date: November 6, 2018

Publisher: Alfred A. Knopf Books for Young Readers

Formats: Hardcover, eBook, audiobook

Pages: 272

Find it: GoodreadsAmazonAudibleB&NiBooksTBD

From the acclaimed author of The NestThe Boundless, and Airborn comes a brilliantly funny, breakout book about a boy who discovers an ink blot that’s come to life! Perfect for those who love Hoot and Frindle and sure to be a hit with kids everywhere!
The Rylance family is stuck. Dad’s got writer’s block. Ethan promised to illustrate a group project at school–even though he can’t draw. Sarah’s still pining for a puppy. And they all miss Mom. So much more than they can say.
Enter Inkling. Inkling begins life in Mr. Rylance’s sketchbook. But one night the ink of his drawings runs together–and then leaps off the page! This small burst of creativity is about to change everything.
Ethan finds him first. Inkling has absorbed a couple chapters of his math book–not good–and the story he’s supposed to be illustrating for school–also not good. But Inkling’s also started drawing the pictures to go with the story–which is amazing! It’s just the help Ethan was looking for! Inkling helps the rest of the family too–for Sarah he’s a puppy. And for Dad he’s a spark of ideas for a new graphic novel. It’s exactly what they all want.
It’s not until Inkling goes missing that this family has to face the larger questions of what they–and Inkling–truly need.
Kenneth Oppel has given us a small masterpiece of middle-grade fiction. Inkling is funny and fizzy and exciting, and brimming with the kind of interesting ideas and dilemmas that kids will love to wrestle with. And Sydney Smith is creating wonderfully inky illustrations to bring the story to vivid life. Get ready. A little ink blot is about to become your new favorite character!

My Review- I read this, and at first I wans’t sure what to think. The idea sounded interesting, though the author was new to me, and I hadn’t heard much about him or this book. Now I’ll admit, I kind of wish I had read the print copy instead since I seem to have missed out on the illustrations, since I ended up reading the digital ARC instead (O.O) I’ll have to fix that soon, hopefully. Anyway, I ended up loving this book! While it would get 4/5 stars from me, I really enjoyed how the story was written, and the characters were all well written and fun to read about! I loved Inkling! (I really want there to be a sequel!)

About Kenneth:

I was born in Port Alberni, a mill town on Vancouver Island, British Columbia but spent the bulk of my childhood in Victoria, B.C. and on the opposite coast, in Halifax, Nova Scotia. At around twelve I decided I wanted to be a writer. I started out writing sci-fi epics then went on to swords and sorcery tales and then, during the summer holiday when I was fourteen, started on a humorous story about a boy addicted to video games. Photo credit: Mark Raynes Roberts

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads

Giveaway Details:

3 winners will receive a finished copy of INKLING, US Only.

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Tour Schedule:

Week One:

11/1/2018- The Reading Corner for All– Review

11/2/2018- Here’s to Happy Endings– Review

Week Two:

11/5/2018- Belles Book Blog– Review

11/6/2018- D Wants to Read– Review

11/7/2018- Beagles & Books– Review

11/8/2018- YA Books Central– Interview

11/9/2018- Belle’s Archive– Review

Week Three:

11/12/2018- Maddie.TV – Review

11/13/2018- Cindy’s Love of Books– Review

11/14/2018- Bri’s Book Nook– Review

11/15/2018- FUONLYKNEW– Review

11/16/2018- BookHounds YA– Review

Week Four:

11/19/2018- Twirling Book Princess Excerpt

11/20/2018- Book-Keeping– Review

11/21/2018- A Dream Within A Dream– Excerpt

11/22/2018- All the Ups and Downs- Excerpt

11/23/2018- Lilly’s Book World Review

Week Five:

11/26/2018- The Layaway Dragon– Review

11/27/2018- The Cover Contessa– Interview

11/28/2018- The Pages In-Between– Review

11/29/2018- Adventures Thru Wonderland- Review

11/30/2018- Oh Hey! Books.– Review

Wednesday, November 28, 2018

Cover Reveal: Spirits of Power

Author: Pearson Myles
Title: Spirits of Power
Series: Echo of a Hero, Book 1
Genre: YA Fantasy
Release Date: March 19, 2019
Cover Designer: RMGraphX
 Add to TBR
Available for preorder!

Two months after surviving an accident that should have killed him, Austin Bennet woke up with his bed on fire. That was only the beginning. As a foreboding scar spreads on his chest, Austin discovers that he has inhuman abilities. Soon hiding from the government’s enforcers, Austin finds himself swept away by The Orchid, a reckless insurgent who happens to also be one of the plenaries, a powerful race of beings with incredible powers and technology that were outlawed by society decades ago.

But is it really the plenaries humans should fear? When rumors surface about someone manipulating the world government, Austin’s new allies fear an old enemy of theirs has returned. Could Austin be the key to reunifying humans and plenaries? Or is he just a tool of destruction created for an even darker purpose?

Preorder now!
Pearson Myles has been writing stories since he was sixteen years old, drawing inspiration from his childhood adventures traveling across the United States with his family. He especially loves the slopes of Denver, Colorado, where he wrote his first draft of Spirits of Power. Pearson is a huge fan of books and has read The Hobbit and the Harry Potter series far too many times to count. When he isn’t reading or writing, Pearson is training as a martial artist in Tae Kwon Do. Echo of a Hero: Spirits of Power is his first novel.


 Hot Tree Self-Publishing