Thursday, March 17, 2016

Daughter of Magic by Teresa Roman - Book blitz & excerpt

Daughter of Magic by Teresa Roman
Publication date: 15 March, 2016
Genres: Urban Fantasy, Young Adult

Synopsis:

Lilli sees things no one else does.

Desperate to make sense of the dreams and visions that have plagued her since childhood, Lilli confides in Devin, her closest friend, and the boy she’s fallen for.

Instead of questioning her sanity, Devin confesses to secrets of his own, which are far darker. His revelations about magic, witches and demons stun Lilli. But it’s what he knows about Lilli’s mother, long believed to be dead, that leaves her feeling betrayed. Despite her anger, Lilli will have to learn to trust Devin again, because he is the only one who can protect her from a dark danger that’s coming for her from a world away.




Excerpt from Daughter of Magic

“Look at me,” Devin ordered the man. He spoke slowly and quietly, but there was no mistaking the anger in his voice. “You will apologize for being impolite, and then you’ll leave.”
For a moment the man looked stunned, almost hypnotized. I thought for sure he’d demand to speak to Rob again and both Devin and I would get fired. Instead, he turned to me and said, “I’m sorry for being impolite.” He even sounded contrite. “I need to leave.”
I watched him walk away, still not sure exactly what had just happened and spooked by the way he repeated Devin’s words.
When the door closed behind him, I looked at Devin. “What did you just do?”
“Nothing,” he muttered.
“No, it wasn’t nothing,” I said. “How’d you get him to do that?”
“He had no business speaking to you like that, so I asked him politely to apologize and he complied.”
“Uh, uh. No way.” I had no idea how Devin made that man to apologize, but there was more to it than he let on. Somehow, I just knew it.
“What are you suggesting? That I have some sort of magical power and can make people do whatever I will them to? You told me yourself last night that you don’t believe in magic.”
I did say that. Because it was true. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Devin was keeping something from me. And this wasn’t the first time, either.
After a pause, I said, “You know what I find curious? Why is it that you know so much about me, yet I hardly know about your life at all?”
“What is it you want to know?” he asked.
I wasn’t sure how to respond. I didn’t have any specific questions, but I felt a growing sense that Devin had secrets.


GIVEAWAY

As part of the book blitz with Xpresso Book Tours, there is a blitz-wide giveaway for a $25 Amazon gift card. (Open internationally)

a Rafflecopter giveaway


Buy the book via Amazon and B&N.


About the Author:
Teresa currently lives in beautiful Sacramento, CA with her husband, three adorable children and a dog named Parker that her son convinced them to adopt. When she's not at her day job or running around with her kids, you can find her in front of the computer writing, or with her head buried in another book. If you'd like to find out more about her, she can be found at www.teresaromanwrites.com where you can also sign up for her newsletter to receive exclusive book release information.

Author links:



Tuesday, March 15, 2016

Smells Good - Flash Fiction


Her fingertips traced the ingredients before her, touching them gently as if they might break or be emotionally scarred if she handled them otherwise. Her skin was soft, her touch gentle, as she laid a bunch of dried herbs on her table, slowly and smoothly plucking at the leaves and flowers and putting them in the large glass bowl before her.

Her hand went for the fresh rose petals, but then retracted.

Now is not the time for these, she thought.

She began humming a tune, a melody only she can hear in her mind, an ancient piece of magical music. Her eyes glowed with the spark of magic as she began to stir her potion and reconnect with her past, present and possible future.

Black dress and black nails; she liked the colour. Some called it gothic and witchy, but it brought her peace. She was after all a witch. She stopped stirring and pulled a strand of purple hair behind her ear. Then began to pluck some of the rose petals: red and white, purple and blue.

She raised her hand above the bowl and let the petals glide downwards to float on the surface of the now black mixture.

Her eyes sparkled again as continued to hum her tune. She wasn't sure if it was a tune of her creation or if it was passed down to her. But what did it matter? It was magical and it ignited her witch's blood.

A knock at the door awakened her from her reverie.

Who could it be?

She stirred the potion one more time then went to open the door.

It was her date; she'd forgotten about him – that's what spell-casting and potion-making do.
He held her around the waist. Black didn't bother him. He found it 'enigmatic' as he once told her.

"Have a seat. I'll be right over."

She headed back into her kitchen, surveyed her potion.

What was I making?

She sniffed it. It smelt good.

Oh, well, I might as well add a bit of oil and turn it into some kind of room freshener – again.


Sunday, March 13, 2016

Excerpt from Evelina by Timothy Pearsall

Book: Evelina
By: Timothy Pearsall
Genres: Supernatural, horror, thriller, action, strong female, paranormal, dark, adult.
Age: 16+

Synopsis:

Evelina is a mutation. Some would say an abomination. She feeds on the suffering of others, and her curse is longevity. Throughout the ages she is drawn to the miseries of mankind, where there is war and suffering you will find her. At times a warrior, a mercenary, an assassin, a whore.

In modern London, Evelina tangles with an ordinary young couple and their lives are changed forever. The huntress becomes the hunted culminating in a showdown with the son of a former adversary. Flashbacks of her former life both illuminate and complicate her unnatural character. The pace is fast, the action bloody and furious.


Excerpt from Evelina


Gaul - AD61

The gladiatrix was hungry. But it was not food for the stomach that she hungered for. She hungered for the pain and suffering of men. She had been travelling through Gaul with a group of merchants protected by four mercenaries. They’d each vied for her favours and she played them off each other for amusement. They could see she was a fiery young woman but had no idea of her true nature.
At a hostelry on the edge of a growing village that offered a ferry crossing, they paid for food and lodgings. Eventually, with the aid of plenty of wine, she goaded two of them into fighting over her. Their half-hearted wrestling soon became a fight to the death and she cheered as they drew swords, their leader however was less than impressed and intervened, dragging them outside.
She glared at him with eyes like daggers, thinking, “You will be the first.”
Later that night she crept up to him as he slept,
“Come with me…” She roused him and led him unobserved outside, the night was cold and she pressed herself against him, he could tell she was naked beneath her robe.
“Carry me.” She asked him as she nodded towards the woods. Only one set of footprints left the lodgings. Once out of sight and deep in the woods, he threw her down and roughly cast aside her robe, her pale skin inviting to his touch. Their copulation was brief but rewarding, and then afterwards the gladiatrix had her own way.
She stunned him with a stone, quickly bound his hands behind his back and sewed his lips together with four looped stitches of hemp. They were too far from the village for his muffled bellowing to be heard.
She worked on him for some time, compelled by his agonies until she was finally sated. Feeling invigorated she made a trail to the river and cleansed herself thoroughly before sneaking back to the lodgings.
In the morning there was much ado, as it was believed the evil spirit known to the locals as Magwyrm had taken Pietro. They quickly buried his mutilated corpse and hurried onwards on their journey to Rome.

*

London, Windsor - 2000

On their way home from Walther's houseboat Susan felt the old insecurities rise up again; washing over and through her, the worthlessness, that vile impotence. How could she express her guilt? How could she ever be worthy of anyone’s love? Had she any to give?
“Poor Richard…” She regretted. “…Do I really love him? Does he love me?”
They talked little on their way home, neither noticing the passing cars or the piercing crescent moon.
In her mind she whirled and swooped around in a world of regret and guilt.
While his mind was lost in confusion, “What the hell is going on?” he tried to rationalise the bizarre twists in recent days. He held on to her arm, caring and wanting her close, and completely unaware that she was oblivious to his touch.
Neither of them heard the enthusiastic shrieking of the teenagers that they crossed the road to avoid, or even the begging whine of the homeless door-sitter. Susan was solely focused on the death of her mother and father, and the role that the strange woman called Eve might have had in it.
“I’ll find you.” She whispered without realising. Her unconscious words went unnoticed by Richard, drowned out not just by the hubbub as they walked by the open door of a pub, but more by the labyrinthine suppositions whirling around his mind.
At home, like automatons they prepared for bed. Each unconsciously observing their usual bedtime rituals, neither totally aware of each other. Dreams came to both of them, at least they thought they were dreams.
Richards dream:

He awoke, stared at the slightly fluttering curtains ahead.
“Why are they red?” his confusion multiplied as they began to part, pulled aside like cinema drapes.
A terracotta-paved street stretched away from him, heat blasted up from the sun-baked stones. He turned suddenly at the sight of buildings to his right, ancient stone crafted and temple-like.

About the Author:
Timothy Pearsall was born in England and grew up in the industrial West Midlands known as 'the black country'. As a young man he moved to London where he began to write fiction as a hobby. The hobby was largely shelved for several years when he married and had children. He now lives in Norwich, England, and works in local government. Now that his children are grown up and he is widowed, he is able to spend more time writing, he has updated and renamed his Domina Mortis books and released Evelina as the first in a dark paranormal series.

He describes Evelina as a "dirty and Stabby" supernatural soap heroine.

He describes himself from the Desiderata poem as an off-the-peg person 'going placidly amid the noise and haste'.

Connect with the Author:


Thursday, March 10, 2016

Takhayyal Writing Prompt 31: The Library

Welcome back Ladies and Gentlemen, Artists, Poets, Writers, Authors, Dreamers, Friends and Family; Welcome EVERYONE to Nadaness In Motion's bi-weekly picture-prompt writing challenge Takhayyal.

Last minute update: I've decided to include two pictures this time.

What does the picture/do these pictures speak to you? Feel free to be inspired by only one picture or both.


The Ruined Library. Image found on www.jpwilder.net





Beauty and the Beast. Picture found online. Author unknown but I'm guessing Disney


Arabic for Imagine, Takhayyal is a challenge for writers of all ages and genres; a place to spark creativity.
Your post can be in English or Arabic, prose, poetry, short story, flash fiction; you name it and write it.

General rules:
·        No nudity, violence, and/or abuse.
·    Leave the link to your post in comments below OR post your piece as REPLY to this post
·        Your piece MUST be inspired in some way or other by the above picture
·        Multiple entries allowed
·        It is not required but it is a nice and encouraging gesture to comment on others' pieces.
·        Feel free to add your Twitter handle (@....) so I can tag you in my tweets!

Let's IMAGINE!


Tuesday, March 8, 2016

Tom Stacey gives an excerpt of fantasy novel Exile - Blog tour



Exile: A novel of the Bloodforge
Author: Tom Stacey
Genre: Fantasy, Adventure


Synopsis:

A gripping tale of heroism and the darkness within


On the fringes of the Verian Empire, two small boys stumble upon a strange altar, buried in the heart of a mountain. There they awaken a horror unseen for generations, that will descend upon the realm of men while it is at its weakest. For Veria is a nation at war with itself, only recently recovered from a bloody rebellion, and the time of heroes has passed. The empire is in a state of chaos, and while its ruler, the Empron Illis, rids the land of his remaining enemies, unseen forces are gathering at the borders. However all eyes are turned inwards. The Empron is not a well man, and there are whispers among the common folk that his advisors are spies; demons that only wear the flesh of men.

Yet there is hope...

In the distant mountains, a forester who has buried his past learns that he has not been forgotten, and that his crimes have sought him out at last. But he is no simple woodsman. He is Beccorban the Helhammer, Scourge, Burner and the Death of Nations, and his fury is a terrible thing.

For when all the heroes are gone, Veria will turn to those it has forgotten, before all is lost.



EXCERPT FROM EXILE

 The first thing he noticed was silence. The black abyss in which he swam was utterly still: no whispering breath of breeze, no gentle hiss of water on rock — a sound he was all too familiar with, even if he could not remember exactly why. A dull thudding in his chest and the constant throbbing of his skull were the only things that let him know he was still alive, unless it was some cruel trick by the Black God. But wait… did they have ravens in Hel? There it was again: the harsh caw of one of the Black God’s winged followers, fallen cousins of the songbird, painted in pitch by the Unnamed to reflect their grim duty.
His eyes seemed sealed shut, the lids gummed together by something sticky and unyielding, perhaps blood. Soon it did not matter, for a wash of pain hit him. What had been muted warmth in his thigh suddenly became a searing white-hot agony that shot upwards into his side. Now he could feel the cold metal of the gorget around his neck, now he could feel the bite of the buckles and clasps holding his armour to him. The weight of the steel seemed such a hindrance, when surely hours before it had been the difference between life and death. He didn’t even have the strength to wipe the obstructing fluid from his brow.
Yet the temporary immobility of the Soldier — for he could be nothing else — soon became a blessing. For a new sound broke the silence. Amongst the squabbling birds and the ripping of dead flesh from cold bodies, the shrill mirth of several young children could be heard, accompanied by the lower warning tones of adult women. In any other place, the excited cries of the young would have been a cause for delight. Brief images of a giggling youngster ran through his mind: a chase through the servants’ quarters; a tiny hand engulfed by his own.
An abrupt crushing pain chased these thoughts from his mind as a heavy figure knelt on his stomach, driving the rim of his breastplate into his upper groin. The stench of fish and piss swept over him.
As any soldier experienced past his first battle knew, children on a battlefield usually meant one thing: looters. After any large conflict a field would be littered with the dead and the dying for days, perhaps weeks. As the ravens and the dogs gorged themselves on the brave, women and children would slink out from neighbouring settlements to take what they could. It was the way of the world. If they had not fallen, these men would only have been pillaging and raping in the surrounding villages anyway.
The Soldier went limp, his instinct urging caution over resistance. Any sign of life would likely earn him a slim knife slipped through his eye and into his brain.
“This ‘un’s sure to be wealthy,” a rasping voice, rattling with phlegm and disease. “Just look at ‘is fine plate!”
“Can’t we go ‘ome soon, Ma? It’ll be sundown ‘fore long an’ I was ‘opin’ I’d getta see some soldiers ‘fore they all leave.”
“Psssht, there be plenty of soldiers ‘ere for ganderin’.”
“Aye, but they’re all rebels!” he spat. “I wanna see proper fighters.” The venom in the boy’s voice was startling. The Soldier fought down panic. Did that make me a rebel? If he could afford expensive armour then he must be important. Was he a rebel leader?
“Shut yer whinin’ or I’ll take your hide. There’s plenty to see ‘ere an’ we’s got work to do.”
The Soldier felt cool air on his right hand as his gauntlet was tugged off and tossed aside with a clatter. The left one soon followed.
“Ahhh! Look at that.” She tugged his left arm across her lap, the coarse fabric of her apron tickling the fine hairs on the back of his hand. “Gimme the blade, boy.” The Soldier clenched his teeth and fought the urge to scream as he realised what was coming. He barely stifled a gasp as cold steel bit into his ring finger.
"What a luverly gold band,” grunted the fisherwoman as she bent to her task. “That’ll fetch two gold pieces at least.” The blunt edge swiftly parted the meagre flesh above his knuckle and cleaved awkwardly into the bone with an audible squeak. The Soldier swallowed rising bile and nausea with an immense effort of will as his torture continued. The knife was making hardly any impression at all on the thin but tough bone of his finger. Each jerk of the blade seemed as ineffective as the last, sending withering vibrations and bright pain down his arm, now sticky with hot blood.
Eventually the stinking hag must have grown bored with her work as she simply snapped the finger off at the joint. The dry cracking pop of breaking bone sent the Soldier back into welcoming oblivion. As he slipped into nothingness, he almost felt relief that the howling agony clawing at the back of his teeth could not betray him to such an ignoble end.
A more discerning observer would have noticed that dead men do not bleed so enthusiastically when cut. The Soldier’s arm was covered in bright red blood and the birds were already circling at the scent of warm gore. However the fisherwoman was far too pleased with her catch to notice such trifling matters. Beginning the long trek back to her cramped hovel, she paused briefly to hold the ring up to the fading light, admiring its deep, claret-glazed sheen before hiking up her filthy skirts and heading towards the dying sun.


Buy Exile via AMAZON - *Available on Kindle Unlimited*

About the Author:


I am from the wild lands of Essex, and have been all my life.
I've always been a student of history. My first history teacher at secondary school taught me that there are only five letters in the word history that matter: 'story.' Ever since then I've been hooked.
I'm somebody who loves to read. I love Bernard Cornwell's earlier works like the first Sharpe novels and the Warlord Chronicles. I've experienced the can't-put-down quality of Wilbur Smith's Courtney novels. I'm a big Conn Iggulden fan (Emperor and Conqueror series) and love A Song of Ice and Fire - who doesn't?
Arguably my favourite author is the late David Gemmell. His simple historical fantasies really struck a chord with me when I was younger, and encouraged me to write my own stories.
I like stories about heroes, or things that make you scared to turn the page, stories that leave you feeling empty or that you've left friends behind in the epilogue. A writer is someone who can reach out from a page of prose and grab your attention and not let go until your heart is beating faster or aching with loss.
If my own stories can make even one person feel something like that then I will consider myself a success. If they don't, I'm going to keep writing them anyway, so you might as well read one of them!


FOLLOW THE ENTIRE EXILE TOUR HERE
Brought to you by WORLDWIND VBT

Sunday, March 6, 2016

Historical fiction meets mystery in Sharlene Almond's Initiated to Kill - Book Review

Synopsis:

Two men, two different generations, both initiated into a powerful organisation that throughout history has sought control and use their power for destruction.
Two men leaving behind a wake of murder, revenge and vengeance. Two men that will stop at nothing, playing a game that only they know the rules.
One man roams the dark London streets for his victims, preying on women of the night. While the other stalks his victims in Seville, Spain; knowing that only he could uncover the true motives of one of the world’s most infamous serial killers – Jack the Ripper.

Book Review

Initiated to Kill by Sharlene Almond is a historical thriller and mystery alternating between modern day Spain and late 19th century Britain, the time of the notorious Jack the Ripper.

The book is good but not a light read; the reader has to be one that doesn't mind being confused at times.

There are two types of narration in the novel, third person for recounting events and sometimes the thoughts of certain characters, as well as the first person for who we later discover is Annabella, a student at Seville University. There are also letters written by Jack the Ripper.

Annabella has a scar on the back of her neck, while she doesn't have complete memory of how she got the scar; she knows that on that day she lost her ability to hear.

There are several mysteries in Initiated to Kill, some are major and some minor. Sharlene Almond constantly gives the reader bread crumbs of information, keeping the novel interesting at all times.

One of the things I enjoyed about the novel was Annabella's insights. Being deaf, she has to rely on her other instincts and observations of facial expressions, enabling her to decipher more than what people actually hear. She is able to decipher tiny gestures that can easily be invisible to the average person but not to her.

I also liked the short chapters in Initiated to Kill, which, along with pace, help the novel progress quickly especially since it's a long novel.

"But now, something was approaching. Something that felt like a train hurtling along the tracks, unable to stop or slow down. A train that would end in a wreck, lives ruined and lives lost."

The novel opens with a scene from the past related to masonic events and rituals. Shortly after, we are introduced to the mystery of a missing girl and the detectives Valero and Rivero, who despite trying hard to find the culprit(s), are always a step or two behind.
Until chapter 87, the perpetrator is a mystery, only referred to as "he" and "him". From one side, the investigators don't know who he is, and from the other, we as readers see him luring the girls, who see him as someone they trust but we don't get his name.

The novel has a lot of characters, but each of them has a role to play. At first, I thought there was no need to mention the names of the prostitutes from the Jack the Ripper scenes, but later I realised that these names were the actual names of the victims from that period, highlighting the historical aspect of the novel.

"A glass smashed, a door banged closed. Silence filled her ears. An unwanted tear ran down her cheek. She peered at the sun, wishing the magic that would turn the moon to the sun would take her away. But nothing would rescue her, and she could not leave."

Usually when the reader feels that an answer to one of the many questions has been revealed, several more arise.

One of the things that didn't go well with me in Initiated to Kill was the going to and back in the timeline. There is the time of Jack the Ripper, which is clear, but there are references to Annabella's childhood, other events in the past and events in the present. There is a lot of jumping between the present and the past, which in turn is divided into several periods, some are from the late 1800s and some are from the 20th and 21st centuries.
I would have preferred that the going in back in time parts were clearer, especially for Annabella and in order: 1999, 2000, 2001 and so on.

I also did not enjoy not knowing who was speaking or who the character in front of me was in several chapters. There was a lot of he/she that caused more confusion than suspense – for me at least.

There are parallel assassins across time; there is Jack the Ripper and a modern day psychopath with similar traits. I liked making a kind of compare and contrast, especially after delving deeper into the novel.

Once the reader feels they've got a grip on things, the author catapults us backwards or forwards in time and things become confusing once more.

"Another night of dreams left a nauseous feeling in my gut. That something was going to happen. I never believed in psychics, never believed I had any ability. But the overwhelming sense that something bad was going to happen intensified every night."

An interesting and new element in Initiated to Kill was the introduction of a new character towards the end of the novel, which added to the mystery and overgrowing list of suspicious characters.

The overall pace of the novel is quick, but it picks up significantly towards the end with a lot of action and chasing of the culprits or more victims. However, this rise in pace brings in additional confusion, especially when the police discover that there seems to be several perps.

My copy has several typos and spelling mistakes – that bothered me, a lot. There was also a lot of repetition in certain places like:
"Stepping back, he allowed them into his spacious office. Mahogany furniture dominated the spacious office."

Furthermore, two other mysteries arise at the end of the novel, namely: the identity of Annabella's father and the reason why the perpetrator wants her dead.

I both liked and disliked Almond's way of leading – or misleading – the reader in thinking who the perpetrator is and guessing at other events and character in the novel.

"Celestina's absence was like a hot coal refusing to extinguish."

A reader of Initiated to Kill would also need to be strong enough to handle some gritty and grotesque scenes, particularly those related to Jack the Ripper. The novel also requires a lot of patience and thinking. It's not a book you can read before you go to sleep (it's gritty in some parts) and it needs someone who is alert and ready to think.

Sharlene Almond, is applauded for the massive amounts of research carried out for Initiated to Kill, as well as the beautiful descriptions used with a variety of places, especially the University of Seville.

The confusion aspect in the novel was tiresome for me; hence, my overall rating is 3 stars.

Note: I received a free copy of Initiated to Kill from author Sharlene Almond in exchange for an honest review.


Note: Although I finished this novel a couple of months ago, it's taken me a while to write my review due to the complexity of the novel and the massive amount of bookmarks and notes I've put in and written. (My apologies for the delay)