Blog Tour & Excerpt: Absinthe by Winter Renshaw

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The name on the screen was “Absinthe.”

I knew her as the sultry voice blowing up my phone for late night chats about Proust and Hemingway interspersed between the best phone sex I never knew I could have.

We’d never met.

Until the day she walked into my office, her cherry lips wrapped around a candy apple sucker and an all too familiar voice that said, “They said you wanted to see me, Principal Hawthorne?

The last block of the day is taking for-ev-er, so I ask for a hall pass and make my way around the school, loitering at every drinking fountain and bulletin board. The teacher’s probably wondering where the hell I am, but I’m not afraid to tell him I got my period. That usually shuts them up.

Rounding the corner by the front office, I’m making a beeline for drinking fountain number six when the door swings open and out walks Kerouac.

Or rather, Principal Hawthorne.

We both stop so as not to bump into each other, though he’d be so lucky.

I saw the way he looked at me in his office this morning, the way his body responded to my voice. I knew the instant he started talking that it was him, though it took all the strength I had to ignore his chiseled jaw, dimpled chin, thick, dark hair, and hooded, honey-brown eyes.

Principals are supposed to be old with gray hair, glasses, and dad bods.

They’re not supposed to look like fucking supermodels.

Our eyes lock, and I smirk. To think, all those times I was talking to this.

This is what was on the other end. That stock photo doesn’t even hold a candle to the striking Adonis standing before me. No wonder he doesn’t want to commit. For a man like that, the world is one giant, all-you-can-eat buffet of beautiful women.

“Excuse me,” he says, stepping out of my way like a gentleman.

God, that voice. That gentle, low rasp of a voice. I about creamed my pants when he did the overhead announcements earlier. Almost had to excuse myself from class so I could finish the job in an empty bathroom stall.

It doesn’t help that all anyone can talk about lately is how fucking hot the new principal is. I overheard a group of senior girls earlier making a wager to see who could sleep with him before they went off to college. The winner was to get a thousand bucks.

Ha. Stupid girls.

If they only knew who they were dealing with.

But I’m no better than they are. I know the man that lies beyond the carefully crafted exterior, behind those dark, hooded eyes and that confident stride. The man on the inside is a million times sexier than any of them could begin to imagine.

“You’re excused.” I make my way to the fountain, press the button, and lower my mouth to the jet stream of fresh water. His stare is heavy, weighted, and I’d give anything to know what he thinks when he looks at me.

The halls are empty and quiet. It’s just the two of us.

Across the way a male teacher drones on about World War I and the Lusitania, and when I glance into the classroom, I spot Bree sitting in the front row, gnawing on the tip of her pen as her eyes wander in our direction.

I move out of her line of sight. Ford follows.

“I’d like to talk to you sometime,” he says. “About—”

I rise, turning to him. “About what? Nothing happened.”

He squints, studying me. He must think I’m planning to blackmail him, but he’d be mistaken. While his rejection stung at the time, I’m over it and I’ve got bigger fish to fry—specifically a bottom-feeder by the name of Bree.

“I tried to reach out to you after we last spoke,” he says, keeping his voice down. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. Couldn’t find you on the app.”

“I deleted it.”

His lips press, and he nods. All those long phone calls and messaging sessions this summer, and the man can’t find more than a handful of things to say to me now. He must still be in shock. I can’t say that I blame him. He’d have a hell of a lot more to lose than I would. The stakes are higher for him. I might be legal and an adult, but there isn’t a single red-blooded soul in this entire school district who’d be okay with a principal striking up a sexual relationship with one of his students.

On paper, it would seem atrocious. Scandalous. Disgusting.

But it doesn’t keep me from wishing we could’ve made it work, as insane as that is.

“You know, we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other around here, so let’s do ourselves a favor and get the fuck over what happened,” I say, arms folded as I maintain my icy demeanor. My ego may be bruised, my heart may be longing for him, but I’ll be damned if I run away with my tail tucked like some rejected schoolgirl. “If you’re going to look at me like that every time you see me—”

“I’m sorry.” He won’t stop staring. “I just … I can’t believe it’s you.”

“Believe it.” I begin to walk backwards, distancing myself from him.

He may have closed the door a few weeks ago, but I’m the one who locked it.

Wall Street Journal and #1 Amazon bestselling author Winter Renshaw is a bona fide daydream believer. She lives somewhere in the middle of the USA and can rarely be seen without her trusty Mead notebook and ultra portable laptop. When she’s not writing, she’s living the American dream with her husband, three kids, and the laziest puggle this side of the Mississippi.

And if you'd like to be the first to know when a new book is coming out, please sign up for her private mailing list here ---> http://eepurl.com/bfQU2j

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Blog Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway: Rising Tide: Dark Innocence by Claudette Melanson

Young Adult/Paranormal Romance/Mystery

Date Published: Feb 18, 2014

Publisher: Ingramspark

2015 Readers' Favorite Gold Medal Winner for YA Mystery

2015 RONE Award Finalist for YA Paranormal

2015 New Apple Top Medalist for Young Adult Ebook

Chosen as one of 400 for the second round of the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award for 2014!!!

Rising Tide will sink its fangs into you, keeping you awake into the wee hours of the night

Could Maura's life get any worse? ...turns out it most certainly can.

Isolated and sheltered by her lonely mother, Maura's never been able to make friends. She seems to drive her classmates away—except for the odd times they pay enough attention to torture her—but she doesn’t understand why. Maura considers herself to be a freak of nature, with her unusually pale skin and an aversion to the sun that renders her violently nauseous. Her belief is only worsened by the fact that almost everyone around her keeps their distance.

Even her own father deserted her before she was born, leaving Maura alone with her emotionally distant mother, Caelyn. Even though Maura is desperate for answers about her unknown parent, Caelyn remains heartbroken and her daughter can’t bring herself to reopen her mother’s wounds. Or is there a more sinister reason Caelyn refuses to utter a word about her long-lost love?

When a cruel prank nearly claims Maura’s life, one of her classmates, Ron, rushes to her rescue. Darkly handsome & mysteriously accepting, Ron doesn’t seem to want to stay away, but Maura is reluctant to get too close, since her mother has announced she’s moving the two of them to Vancouver…nearly 3,000 miles away from their hometown of Indiana, Pennsylvania.

If life wasn’t already challenging enough, Maura begins to experience bizarre, physical changes her mother seems hell bent on ignoring, compelling Maura to fear for her own life. Vicious nightmares, blood cravings, failing health and the heart-shattering loss of Ron—as well as the discovery of a tangled web of her own mother's lies—become obstacles in Maura's desperate quest for the unfathomable truth she was never prepared to uncover.

Book Review

Maura (Maura) is a girl made to grow up faster than she should.  Her fairly strict mother keeps a close eye on her, especially after the “loss” of her father.  Maura never quite fits in, so she is excited when the popular kids begin to pay attention to her.  As it turns out, their attention was part of a cruel joke that leads to a head injury and a broken spirit.  Which lasts a short while, as she soon meets Ron: he is older, attractive, sweet, plays in a band, and instantly dotes on her.  Their romance is hard and fast, almost like an addiction.  The only regret Maura has is that she is moving at the end of the school year, relocating to Canada.  That is going to hamper the romance she has with Ron.  Yet that is the least of Maura’s worries.  She is going through changes that leave her scared and lost.  Always sensitive to the sun, she starts to crave meat and experiences a few physical changes that leave her an emerging beauty.  And to her alarm, she developed a set of canines that can do some serious damage.  Her mom tries everything to protect her from what is happening, hoping to convince Maura that she should stop worrying so much about what is happening.  But how can she not?

Maura was an instantly likable character—she was no victim, but still betrayed a vulnerability.  A high school outcast, but with spirit about her.  The development of Maura’s change is evenly paced, even though as a reader it is obvious what is happening to her.  I don’t understand how Maura, familiar with horror movies, didn’t at least think or consider, no matter how silly she thought it was, that she might be turning into a preternatural creature.  But who would?  I don’t think I would have thought I was changing into a monster if it were happening to me.  The whirlwind romance she was a part of was so cute, and I wanted so much for them to work out.  I was scared something would happen to take away the only thing that made her happy.  Since this book is part of a series, there is something to look forward to.  Maura’s story is, by no means, finished.  There was some resolution, enough to satisfy the reader at the end of the novel, but there are unanswered questions to compel a reader to further delve into the books.


Rising Tide was a good and excelling read.  It was dark, but not so much to be too much for a young adult reader.  Even an adult myself enjoyed the dark quality.  I would recommend it to people who like supernatural themed novels, definitely.

About the Author

Claudette Melanson writes dark fantasy in Kitchener, Ontario with four bun babies: Tegan, Pepper, Butters & Beckett. She graduated from Indiana University of Pennsylvania with a BA in English, BS in English Education and an MA in Literature. Harboring a deep admiration of vampires since the age of five left her with the desire to eventually become one, and now fuels the creation of her favorite paranormal characters. She hopes to one day work full time as an author, since there are many, many stories playing out inside her head.

In her very scant spare time, she enjoys watching Japanese Anime and reading vampire stories...along with other genres of great fiction, as well as riding every roller coaster she encounters in both her hometown and away at signings. An advocate for good health and ketogenic eating, her favorite foods are bulletproof coffee, cashew-flour crust pizza and treats made with xylitol and almond, coconut or cashew flours.

Future dreams include a cabin boasting a roaring fire, isolated inside a snow-filled wood in the Yukon—the perfect writing spot—and the completion of dozens of future novels and stories. A Rabbit Rescue fanatic and loving bunmom, she also hopes to help rescues all over the world save many innocent lives.

Excerpt #1

There was no shock strong enough to stop me then. Just a greedy, driving impulse pounding through every cell. I was hungry, and I wanted beyond all wants, to eat. A red film pervaded my eyes, turning the world crimson. My pulse screamed inside my head, exiling all other sound. And the boy’s blood called to me, drawing me down to my knees on the ground beside him.
“Maura!” From somewhere very far away, part of me acknowledged Ron’s voice. The reverberation was enough to draw me up, up, up from where I was, at present, drowning in gluttony at the taste of blood. Not quite enough though; I continued to lap at the side of the nameless boy’s head.
“MAURA!!” Ron’s voice was much more forceful then—a force to be reckoned with—and rife with shock. But he didn’t settle for shouting at me. I felt him behind me, hooking his hands under my shoulders and jerking me to my feet in an instant.
He whirled me around, roughly, and I found myself staring blankly into his face, trying to focus. “My god! What are you doing?!!” He was shouting at me, his face not an inch from mine, but I still couldn’t come around from my bloodhaze completely. I wanted to shove him away…violently…and reattach my mouth to the bloody wound at my feet.
“Stop! Leave me alone!” I fought against him until I saw Shane coming through the door after us. He stopped short and stared at me, his mouth gaping open with shock, fear in his eyes. Ron pushed him back inside, slamming the door in his face.
He turned his attention back to me and shook me forcefully. “Maura.” My name came out a rough whisper. “What’s wrong with you?!!”
He wiped the back of his right hand across my mouth. The left came up after to cover my mouth and nose, attempting to sweep away the bloody mess with his fingers. I heard from that small, not-in-control part of my mind again. A tiny voice wondering exactly what was happening. The part in control didn’t care about anything except his exquisite scent. He smelled better than the pizza, better than the boy’s blood… I struck at him, precipitously, like a viper. He narrowly avoided the sink of my teeth into his skin.
I had to give Ron credit; he only looked frightened for a moment. In the slice of an instant, he composed the look on his face, bravely took another spit-laden swipe at the corner of my mouth and jerked the door back open.
He hauled Shane out by the front of his shirt and then slammed the door shut—that time in Merina’s astonished face—once again.
Shane’s eyes slid toward me, then flicked quickly back to Ron’s face. They stayed there.
“Shane.” Ron said his name with calm and quiet. “This guy fell and hit his head.” He inclined his own toward the figure sprawling before us. “Maura was trying to help him by cleaning up the wound.” He said those words with such weight, as if he were burning them into Shane’s head with a branding iron. “You got that? She was helping him.” When Shane didn’t respond he shook him firmly, as he had me before. “Do you understand?”
Shane snapped out of the trance he’d seemed trapped in. He looked from Ron’s face to my own, blinked a couple of times and then nodded his head. He licked his lips before he spoke. “Yeah. Yeah, I‘ve got it.” He shook his head to clear it, and Ron released his grip on Shane’s shirtfront.
At that moment, my head snapped around to the left corner of the house at the sound of approaching footsteps. Caelyn glided into my view, as smooth as silk in her tight black-leather jacket. The expression on her face was enough to render my knees incapable of supporting my weight. I slid toward the ground, but Ron hauled me back up immediately. I tried to form words, but my vocal cords didn’t seem to be working. My head was starting to clear to the fact that Caelyn was going to kill me, slowly, painfully… I looked up to Ron, fully mindful he had no power to save me.

Excerpt #2

It was too late then… He was ringing the doorbell. He looked so much braver than I felt. I could see the anger that had crept back into him in the hard set of his lips, the flash in his dark eyes.
Caelyn had torn the door open immediately, anxiety all over her face. She looked at Ron, dumbfounded. She must have then caught sight of some part of me, because she instantly peered around his shoulder to find me standing meekly behind him, clad only in a boy’s shirt that just barely cleared my hips.
“Maura?! What the…” Her eyes fairly popped with dismayed astonishment.
“Hi, Mom.” What an asinine thing to say. I should have at least started with “I’m okay.”
Caelyn just stood there with her mouth hanging open. I felt the fear turn over, like a living thing in my stomach. How was I going to survive our confrontation? How could I even begin to explain everything that had happened that night?
Luckily, I had Ron. “Hi, um, Ms. DeLuca.” He started out sounding very shy, but as my mother’s brows furrowed closer together, he put a stronger edge to his voice. “I came to bring Maura home.” She was still scowling.
“Um…I’m Ron by the way.” He put his hand out to her. She ignored that entirely.
My mother’s glare was venomous. “Maura! Get in the house this instant!”
Oh boy… She thought Ron was at fault for whatever imagined atrocities were going through her brain right at the moment.
“Mom!” I was desperate to put everything right, despite how much trouble I knew I’d be in. “You have it all wrong!”
“I said GET IN THE HOUSE!” she screamed at me, absolute fury flying from her eyes. I’d never seen her so angry before, and I was terrified. “Do I need to ask you again?”
“N-n-no ma’am,” I stuttered. I hurried past Ron, but not without looking up at him with apology in my eyes. I felt horrible for his being put in the middle, just because he’d happened to save my life.
Once inside, I steeled myself for another attempt at speaking to my mother. “Mom, will you please just let me…”
“Don’t say anything, Maura.” Her voice shook. “Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through tonight?”
I was confused then. Did she want me to stay quiet or answer her question?
Ron saved me again. “I think I can explain.” He took a tentative step onto the living room carpet.
I didn’t like the way Caelyn’s head snapped around when she looked at him. “What was your name again?” she asked viciously.
I saw him swallow hard as he answered, “Ron.”
She turned on him then. “Well, Ron!” It sounded like she’d chewed on his name before spitting the one syllable out. “Do you mind telling me why it is you’re out with my daughter when she’s supposed to be with Katie Parker? And after you’ve answered that, I’d really love to know why you would bring her home wearing only that!!” She pointed the index finger of her shaking hand at me, standing on the plush blue carpet next to our couch, holding onto its arm for support, my knees knocking together.
Ron went a little pale… I couldn’t stand to see my hero wrongly accused.
“Mom! Listen to me! If-if it weren’t for him, for Ron…Mom, I’d be dead right now!” I shouted all the words out quickly before she had a chance to silence me again.

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Blog Tour & Excerpt: The Sanguinarian Id by L.M. Labat

About the Book

About the Book

Title: The Sanguinarian Id

Author: L.M. Labat

Artist: L.M. Labat

Genre: Horror, Historical Fiction, Paranormal, Occult, Gothic Horror

Publisher: Night to Dawn Magazine & Books

She’s been beaten, stabbed, poisoned, and shot, but Hael refuses to die. In her pursuit for vengeance and her origin, the Dhampir Hael hunts down the madman responsible for her fateful transformation. As this half-vampire juggernauts her way through a world at war, Hael battles hordes of Nazi soldiers as she struggles to maintain her sanity. However, while Hael gathers knowledge on how to trap and kill her target, her adversary’s network is expanding at an exponential rate, as his sick obsession with Hael grows deeper. Will she have her revenge? Will she find her origin? Or, will she crumble beneath her own insidious bloodlust?

About the Author

Born in 1993, L. M. Labat stems from New Orleans, Louisiana. From the struggles of a broken family and surviving life-threatening events, Labat found refuge within the arts while delving into the fields of medicine, psychology, and the occult. While combining illustration and literature, L. M. Labat was able to cope with endless nightmares as well as hone in on artistic techniques. From confronting the past to facing new shadows, this author gladly invites audiences into the horror of The Sanguinarian Id.

Links

The Sanguinarian Id Website

Website Creator: L. M. Labat

https://thesanguinarianid.com/

Night to Dawn Magazine & Books Website:

http://bloodredshadow.com/night-to-dawn-magazine-and-books/l-m-labat/

The Sanguinarian Id on Amazon.com:

https://www.amazon.com/Sanguinarian-Id-L-M-Labat/dp/1937769445

The Sanguinarian Id on Barnes & Noble:

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-sanguinarian-id-l-m-labat/1123257469

Book Excerpts

Book Excerpt 1:

Within Europe’s late nineteenth century, marvelous medical miracles came into existence that augmented the intellectual to new horizons. Doctors of all fields were admired for their dedication to health and humanity. However, as their accolades increased, these professionals grew fat with entitlement while their patients starved for love. With speedy developments, the human brain, in its entire splendor, spiraled dangerously into the new era of indulgences that forked the path between masterpiece and monstrosity. **** A group of young women sat on the cold floor. In dirty hospital gowns, they picked and ingested lead paint chips from the wall. Persistently, they crammed more debris into their hungry mouths. Drool covered their cracked fingernails. With muted expressions, the nurses smoked like locomotives at their corridor stations. They watched the self-poisoning, but did nothing to help. The nurses reacted solely when the clock struck seven. The chimes notified them to administer the medication. In the joining corridor, more patients wandered aimlessly. Whimpering like beaten dogs, most patients wore restraints over their mouths and arms. Others fiddled with their gowns as they stumbled from side to side. No matter what they were doing, the inhabitants complemented each other with the same dead-eyed stare against the barred windows. The doctors were devils. They prodded, scraped, and teased the flesh with their instruments. Like foxes, the doctors lured people into their examination rooms with wide-toothed grins and false promises. None of them were in harmony with their patients. These mechanized madmen were fluent with their hands and calculations. Their utensils were never bare. These men constantly wrapped their fingers around their equipment’s silvery curves. They comforted the metal exteriors like newborn children. The wives of these doctors had sullen lives, wishing their husbands would caress their thighs the way they did their clipboards. The patients knew no humanity. The kind gazes they saw reflected off foggy spectacles before the serum blacked out their minds. That was if they were lucky enough to have the straps off their foreheads. This was Halcyon Asylum.

Book Excerpt 2:

The leader of the group yelled and charged at Hael with a dagger. He stabbed her in the back. She fell to the ground. Over and over again, he stabbed his blade deep into her torso. Hael roared in fury. She grabbed the severed limb and brained the leader. When the severed arm gave way, Hael buried her claws into his skull, and gouged his head wide open. Brain matter and blood splattered across her face. Her entire body became a walking nightmare of black and red. She heard the horses go wild in the distance. The coach-man desperately tried to mount one of the horses, but the beast was too frightened to stand still. Hael walked over to the coachman. The front horse saw Hael from the corner of its eye, and reared its back legs frantically. The horse’s hoof clocked the coachman in the chest and sent him plummeting to the ground. His flask flew out of his pocket. The coachman held his beaten torso and coughed violently. A twig snapped in front of him. He looked up. Hael looked down upon him. Her body was still, but the red of her iris swirled like hellfire. The coachman sobbed and pleaded for his life. Hael looked at the carriage. “Where were you going to bring me?” she asked him. “Please, don’t kill me,” he cried.

Hael rammed her heel down onto his hand. His bones broke through his skin upon impact. She repeated herself. “Where were you going to bring me?” Her voice was calm and authoritative. “To the docks,” he answered. “Why the docks?” she asked. “We were supposed to bring you and some others to the docks, and place you all on a boat bound for France.” “Why France?” “I don’t know,” he answered. “That’s all Mendelson wrote to us. I swear it!” “Do you have the instructions?” she asked. The coach-man nodded. He reached into his back pocket and handed her an envelope. She read postage marks. The letter came from Germany. “What others?” she asked. The coachman said that there were other women that they collected during the week to bring to the docks. Hael was a surprise adjustment to the original list. He stated that after the delivery was made, they were instructed to burn the letter. She gave the letter back to him. “Thank you.” She walked over to the flask and unscrewed the top. The coachman shuddered. “What are you doing?” “Following instructions.” She poured the liquor over his body. “Stop! I told you what you wanted to know.” “Yes, you did.” Hael picked up a stone from the grass. She held it firmly in her hand. “And, I said, ‘Thank you.’” She struck her nails against the stone. Sparks flew off her claws and ignited the liquor. The coachman screamed as his body writhed within the flames.

Book Excerpt 3:

The majority of the women held captive by Mendelson were between the ages of eighteen to thirty-nine years old, and labeled missing to the general public. The victims’ bodies were found during scattered times of the year. The bodies were either discreetly hidden, or placed directly in the center of the stadt from where they came. All of the women were reported to be sexually assaulted, battered, or starved. The numbers of men who were taken from their families by Mendelson were never seen or heard from again. Hael turned the page. “Abducted children and infants were brought back at separate times, unharmed, to either their families or the nearest local officials. As a whole, the children neither recall where they were held captive, nor can they give details about Mendelson’s appearance. None of the children were sexually assaulted in any matter or form. However, all of the returned children experienced seizures and night terrors at random.” Mendelson’s family once held a highly decorated position in the German military during the early 1800s. After the fire of their family mansion in Frankfurt, the residence was converted to the orphanage Das Männlein Waisenhaus in 1823. Das Männlein Waisenhaus was currently shut down. No photographs or sketches of Mendelson were documented. A few traces of fingerprints, semen, saliva, and skin particles were found on the corpses of eighteen-year-old women and older. The total numbers of people kidnapped by Mendel-son over a seventeen year period were: one hundred and seven women between the ages of eighteen to thirty-nine years old, fifty-eight men above the age of eighteen, twenty-nine female children, and twelve male children.

Hael dropped her lighter. The flame extinguished on the rocky floor. The horrendous sights Hael witnessed were inexhaustible, but the photographs and descriptions of Mendelson’s victims made her vomit. Their bodies were bruised and broken. The women found in the woods had their pelvic bones crushed, and their legs permanently bent. Their necks and wrists were badly discolored from rope burn, and their breasts were purpled with bruises. Their backs were either concaved or arched with their stomachs split open. Hael turned her face to the ground, and retched every-where. From the pictures, she heard the groaning victims. Their bloodshot eyes, broken bones, and gray skin were nothing com-pared to the way their bodies lay open like stockpots holding their mangled organs.

Book Excerpt 4:

The area was a deluge. Hael watched the pond swell as the water engulfed more and more of the bank. “If you keep stalling, you’re going to drown!” she shouted. “Let me pull you up!” Air bubbles popped alongside the boulder’s surface. The man shuddered at the sound. He looked behind him. “Did you hear that?” he asked. She shrugged her shoulders. “An air pocket must’ve ruptured below the mud.” She looked at the surface of the water. The mud continued to bubble. The water level rose rapidly. “Please, let me pull you up!” His eyes bulged like soup plates at the sight of the bub-bling mud. The mud stopped moving. He turned towards her. “Leave.” “What about your legs?” “Forget about my legs!” he shouted. “Just get the fuck out of here!” She ignored his statement and waded towards him. He unsheathed his Bowie knife and swung it wildly in the air. “Go away! Damn it. Go away!” he threatened. “Are you crazy?” she shouted. He began to cry. “Please! Just leave!” A gurgling sound erupted from beneath the water. It was deep and loud. The man gaped in fear. With his face paled to a paper white, his mouth opened and closed in horror like a dying guppy. The noise increased in volume, morphing into a horrid watery groan. He tossed his knife at her feet. She grabbed onto his arms to pull him out. The man made no effort to move. She sank her feet into the mud and pulled. “Please! Help me help you!” He lifted his head up to her. His eyes were drenched in tears and wide with anguish. His mouth quivered sorely. “If you want to help me, heed the words of this old fool. Leave this place. Forget about me. Forget you ever came here. Forget your reason why, and get to the closest source of concrete.” He grabbed her hand. “Take the knife! Stay away from the water banks!” Those were his last words. His body was yanked underneath the boulder. The pull’s tension and the sharpness of her claws severed the man’s hand from his body. She flew backward. The severed hand fell into her lap. The air thickened with danger. She flung the hand back into the water. Something swallowed it from beneath the sur-face. Screaming, she grabbed the knife and ran from the boulders. The hard rain loosened the soil around the trees. Roots were exposed over the ground. She bounded over them to avoid getting caught. A lightning bolt crashed in the distance. She tripped and plummeted to the banks. An exposed tree root slammed against her head when she

hit the ground. Half her face sank into mud. She nearly stumbled back into the water as she hoisted herself out of the sludge. She searched for the knife. It was lodged underneath a tree root. The mud bubbled around her feet. The ground swallowed the knife. She jumped back and ran.

Book Excerpt 5:

Another week passed. The stench of blood and dead flesh polluted the bunker. Her gash across her ribs was fully healed, but her bones and joints ached. Maddened with insomnia, her mouth salivated at the thought of rendering Mendelson’s flesh from the bone. Rotting fumes fogged her senses. As she gazed at the dried blood and pieces of flesh on her fingers, the memories of Josef pooled into her mind, and cooled her rage. “Josef,” she whispered. “Please, stay safe for me. I’m almost there.” In the morning, Alrich made an announcement over the intercom. “Attention to all remaining applicants. In a few moments, the locks on your bunkers will open. All applicants must report to the main building and enter the front doors. But, be aware. Herr Mendelson has informed me that due to new developments in his schedule, the space for applicant reviews has de-creased to six. The main doors have been programmed to open six times. No more. No less. Those who do not enter will be dis-qualified.” Alrich smiled holding the microphone. “You have five minutes.” The people who survived burst from their bunkers and ran in frenzy to the main building. Hael and Harold opened the door. They watched everyone tear each other to pieces. Harold took off his hat. “They’ve all gone mad. Gabriel, we have to go.” She wasn’t in the bunker. “Gabriel?” Hael ran outside. She picked up a flint stone from the ground and hummed it against the bunkers. Sparks flew off the metal. The stone ricocheted through the crowd and sliced the backs of the applicants’ legs. Four men fell. Grabbing Harold’s arm, she threw him in front of her. She rammed her way to the front. She grabbed Harold from off the ground, and pulled him along. Harold spat out gravel. “You could’ve told me you what you were going to do.” She panted, “Keep running!” They made their way into the building. Harold was the last one to enter the doors. Another man tried to pry his way through. The alarm sounded and the door slammed shut. The man’s hand was cut in half. His severed fingers fell to the floor. Hard footsteps sounded behind the men outside. Dressed in black uniforms, a firing squad mowed down the failed applicants.

Excerpt: The Invasion by T.H. Hernandez

Excerpt:

I open my eyes and immediately slam them shut. Something is beating on my skull with a hammer, and the smell of alcohol swamps me. With care, I pry my eyelids up, squinting against the harsh light. Confusion hits me hard, my brain is fuzzy as hell, and my mouth is as dry as the summer desert. My eyes regain focus, zeroing in on the lime green vinyl in front of me. I’m on a commuter train with no clue how I got here.

The reek of booze is evidently coming from my pores. I rub my hands over my face and slide out of my seat, heading for the doors. The floor slopes under me and my guts lurch, ready to expel their contents. I swallow and breathe through my nose until the urge passes. When we pull to a stop, I step out into a station and head for the closest map. I’m only a few stops away from the coast. Right, I was heading to the beach. Must’ve fallen asleep.

I could use a walk to clear my head, and opt for walking the rest of the way. The last thing I remember was going to a bar to get drunk. Apparently, I accomplished that.

In fact, I fucking nailed it.

A vision of a brunette comes into focus. Flirting, drinks, dancing, her body rubbing up and down mine before she led me back to her place. Before I ran from her like some emotional girl. I can’t even do a revenge fuck properly.

The pain that started in my head is now rampaging through my body. I exit the tunnel as the sun slips above the horizon, casting a pink glow. The briny air hits my lungs and some of the tension erodes. Not a lot, but enough that maybe I can figure out my next move. I walk over to the boardwalk and kick off my shoes before sinking my toes into the sand. The pounding in my head subsides with each deep breath I take and each step closer to the ocean. When I reach the water’s edge, I wade in and let the gentle surf lick my ankles. The cool water bites at my feet, allowing me to focus on something other than my hangover or the sight of a half-naked dickwad in my girlfriend’s hotel room.

I still don’t know what to do. Going back out to the Ruins and being back in that house without her might be too much. Maybe it’s time to settle someplace new, somewhere I’ve never been. First I owe it to everyone to let them know what I’m doing.

My shoulders drop with the weight of my decision, and with a slow pivot, I head back toward dry sand.

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Catch Up on the Series:

The Union: Goodreads | Amazon

The Ruins: Goodreads | Amazon

The Uprising: Goodreads | Amazon

About T.H. Hernandez:

When not visiting the imaginary worlds inside my head, I live in San Diego, California, with one husband, three children, two cats, and one dog. In addition to my day job as a technical writer and editor, I write young adult fiction. I love the intensity of teen emotions and the way they're still figuring out life. When I'm not writing, you can find me with my nose in a book, hanging out with family and friends, hiking, or knitting. I'm obsessed with Facebook, young adult novels, bad lip reading videos, pumpkin spice lattes, microbrewed beers, and the San Diego Chargers.

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Cover Reveal, Excerpt & Giveaway: Superhero Syndrome by Caryn Larrinaga

Today we have the cover reveal for Superhero Syndrome by Caryn Larrinaga! Check it out and be sure to grab your copy when it comes out September 12th!

Title: Superhero Syndrome

Author: Caryn Larrinaga

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Release Date: September 12^th

About Superhero Syndrome:

Tess McBray was dying. The Solstice Syndrome had no cure, and she resigned herself to an early grave. But just when she gave up on survival, all her symptoms mysteriously disappeared.

All but one symptom, anyway. Something is wrong with Tess’s hands. They absorb any material they touch, and her skin turns to wood, or steel, or concrete. It doesn’t take this comic-book obsessed 21-year-old long to figure out what’s going on: somehow, she’s developed super powers. And she’s not the only one; across the country, people are coming forward and sharing their gifts with the world. In her own city, where the police are battling a human trafficking operation, a masked vigilante called The Fox is saving lives and stopping criminals.

Tess doesn’t know where she fits into this new, super-powered world. But when people around her start disappearing, she can’t just sit on the sidelines. Teaming up with The Fox might be the only way to rid her city of evil and save the people she loves most.

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Exclusive Excerpt:

I wish I’d been with the people I loved on the day the world changed. Then again, if someone had said, “Hey Tess, reality as you know it is about to be turned upside-down. You should probably witness this moment with someone you care about. Anybody fit that bill?” I would’ve barked out a bitter laugh and told them I’d rather be alone. Which, as it turns out, I was.

The meteor shower was all over the news. CNN covered it nonstop in the hours before it was visible, bringing on astronomers and astrophysicists to explain why it was such a big deal for a meteor shower of this size to be happening in the middle of January. Apparently, our scientists were supposed to be able to predict this kind of thing. The fact that one had snuck up on our collective set of observatories and satellites was—to quote one NASA representative—“extraordinary.”

I didn’t care if it was unprecedented. I didn’t care if people around the world were calling it a sign or a portent of the Second Coming or whatever. I just knew it was beautiful, and I wanted to see one more beautiful thing before I died.

The trick was explaining that to the floor nurse.

“Miss McBray, please go back to your room.” Nurse Davies crossed her beefy arms over her chest and planted her white-sneakered feet to the floor. “We’ve been over this before. You’re in no condition to leave.”

“How do you know?” I growled. “Nobody here can even tell me what my condition is.”

I shifted the weight of my duffle bag on my shoulder and leaned to the left, craning my neck to gauge the distance between Davies and the elevators. Only a few dozen yards. Sure, she towered over me. Sure, in the month I’d been in the hospital my body had wasted away to little more than a skin-wrapped skeleton. But I might be able to make a run for it.

Davies shook her head. “Do you think you’re going to find the answers out there?”

“Maybe. I don’t really care.”

She glared at me, and I knew exactly what she was thinking. It was the same thing she’d spat at me every time I’d fought against the IV, or questioned the contents of the murky soup they forced me to eat, or requested—and then repeatedly demanded—to have my comic book collection brought into the hospital. And just when I began to worry she’d disappoint me by refusing to lean on her catchphrase, she said it.

“Stop being so melodramatic.”

About Caryn Larrinaga:

Caryn Larrinaga is a Basque-American mystery, horror, and urban fantasy writer living in Utah with her husband and cats. Her debut novel Donn’s Hill (March 2017, Immortal Works Press) garnered rave reviews from fans of the cozy mystery and paranormal genres, and her new urban fantasy Superhero Syndrome (September 2017, Twisted Tree Press) will be out this fall. Watching scary movies through split fingers terrified Caryn as a child, and those nightmares inspire her to write now. She lives in a 90-year-old house with a colorful history, and the creaking walls and narrow hallways send her running (never walking) up the stairs from her basement. Exploring her fears through writing makes Caryn feel a little less foolish for wanting a buddy to accompany her into the tool shed.

When her fingers aren't glued to her laptop keyboard, Caryn also enjoys binge-watching Netflix with her husband, reading, playing video games, and filling up her phone's flash memory with pictures of her cats. She loves music and plays the bass guitar. Caryn is an active member of the League of Utah Writers and the Utah Chapter of the Horror Writers Association.

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Book Review & Giveaway: Scent of the Past by Erin Marie Bernardo

About the Book

Title: Scent of the Past

Author: Erin Marie Bernardo

Genre: Historical Fiction

Scent of the Past by Erin Marie Bernardo

A secret diary. A forgotten past. Another time.

When people think of time travel, they think of the clichéd manufactured kind. Of giant electronic machines with flashing lights and buttons calibrated to shoot you into the past with one press. But it doesn’t work that way. You need a reason, a connection, and—most important—a link. But you can’t choose when and why you go. That would be too easy, and we’d all be snapping our fingers in hopes of seeing lost treasures of yesteryear. It must choose you.

Close cousins Addison and Elissa live in present day New York City and lead somewhat ordinary lives. When uncertain circumstances surrounding a set of antique perfume bottles sends them back to eighteenth-century France, they must uncover the truth behind their travel.

Disaster strikes when Addison finds herself in a nearly identical situation to a mishap she experienced in the present—the witnessing of a murder and release of a secret. Only this time the truth could destroy the entire French monarchy. With Addison’s head on the line, the young women search for answers before Addison suffers her unlucky fate twice. It is only when they discover the haunting connections to life in the present, that they understand why they both were sent, and why a repeating past...may not always be such a bad thing.

Review of Scent of the Past

History repeats itself, right?   That’s what people say.  And as a history teacher, I have to admit that I at least like the thought that it just might.

Scent of the Past is a story of romance and mystery, about two very different young women, who find themselves transported through time.  Elissa is a simple but sharp-nosed girl who loves antiques and a quiet life.  Addison is wild and adventurous, and likes to live a bit too dangerously.  Addison sees something she is not meant to see, putting her life in peril.  A series of unhappy accidents leads to the breakage of a few priceless perfume bottles and the release of gorgeous scent (from the past, get it?).  This very scent triggers something almost supernatural, and the two women find themselves waking in pre-revolution France, in the court of Louis XV.  Elissa and Addison have to find out how they got there in order to discover how to get back—and Elissa also has to try and corral Addison’s tendency to make poor choices with the wrong men.  And in this case, the wrong man is the very king of France himself, Louis XV.  The two women not only have to find out how to get home, but are also thrust into the middle of an all too familiar royal paternity scandal that could lead to Addison’s demise.

The book has it all.  There’s time travel, and a story rich with delicious historical detail, giving the story the golden hue of French Baroque, and some of the pastel whimsy of a Rococo frolick.   I really want to praise how well this book wove history with narrative, so that the story did not read, at times, like a few paragraphs hastily rearranged from a Wikipedia page.  Author Erin Marie Bernardo did her research, and did a wonderful job creating a believable historical backdrop.  

There’s also romance.  Addison loves dangerous men, and Elissa holds her heart close and closed.  So it stands to reason that Elissa will find love, but then how will that love manage to persist even when spread out over the course of a few centuries?  And how will the concept of past lives and rebirth play to Elissa’s favor?  And will Addison’s wild side end up hurting her beyond repair?

I also have to say that, though the author might not have intended it, I found a bit of feminist hurrah in Scent of the Past.  The story eventually unfolds an impressive truth: that the Elissa and Addison of the past, the ones whose bodies the modern girls have been pushed into, were artisans and entrepreneurs.  Not too easy for women in 18th century France.  Not only that, but they were closely connected to the Queen, a woman whose only real desire is to protect her son.

I was really happy with this book as I read further in.  Scent of the Past is the sort of book that compels you to finish because there is just enough twist and turn to keep the story new and interesting.  Enough that, as a reader, you can’t predict the end of Elissa and Addison’s story.  Even better, you want to see the story through to the end to find out how everything plays out.  It was a wonderfully clever novel that balanced fiction and truth, thrill and romance, toward a delightful and graceful end.

Excerpt from Scent of the Past

Elissa opened one eye. Slowly. Someone was talking to her. Her head hurt, and the room was blurry, so she shut it. The talking didn’t stop. It was annoying, like a pesky mosquito buzzing around your ear right before you fall asleep. She pulled the covers over her head and groaned. She felt horrible.

The woman’s voice was persistent. She spoke quickly: “Bon matin, mademoiselle. Temps de se réveiller.”

Elissa rolled over, hoping to block out the noise and instantly realized she was naked. Oh, my gosh, I’m naked! she thought in fright. Instantly in tune with her surroundings she peeked out from underneath her blanket and surveyed the situation.

First observation. She was in a bed.

Second observation. Already noted, she was naked.

Third observation. This was not her room, and the woman standing at the foot of her bed was clearly not speaking English. Nor was she familiar in any way.

Elissa’s panic meter raised a few notches, and she grasped frantically at her neck. She relaxed. The ruby key was still there. Naked or not, the necklace never came off.

But where am I? she wondered. Whose bed is this? And why can’t I remember anything?

She noted the headache that was descending lower over her forehead. Her eyes made a quick sweep past the bed and around the room. Wherever she was, it certainly was magnificent. Shrouded in a curtain-lined canopy bed, she felt small among the grandness of the space. Although the walls were white, they were heavily decorated in crown molding panels, with intricate cut-out designs cresting the length of each wall. A large stone fireplace faced the bed, and an unlit crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, which was at least ten feet high or more. A mirror, larger than any table, reflected her baffled face as it sat in triumph above the mantel. Noticing an open door leading to another bedroom, she realized the place only got larger.

Elissa groaned. This must have cost me a fortune. Why didn’t I pick a Holiday Inn?—thinking she might have checked into a hotel. The thought quickly passed before she had a chance to wonder further.

  The woman, who had awakened her earlier, stood scowling at Elissa. She wore some sort of period-style dress and looked like an old-fashioned chambermaid, with a cap and oversized smock. Elissa listened again. It was French. The woman was speaking French! Quite pleased with herself, Elissa smiled at the short lady who was frowning and waving her finger with a tsk, tsk. She hurried around the room picking up this, rearranging that.

“Vous avez dormi. Levez-vous avant qu'ils ne commencent à répandre des rumeurs à votre sujet.”

Elissa listened.  Ahh, French. What a beautiful language, she thought, smiling to herself. She lay there in a sleepy lull, listening on and off while dozing—still feeling a bit drugged. But it didn’t take her too long to think a little deeper. She paused. Wait, why is this woman speaking French?

“My lady, you’ve overslept. Get up before they start spreading rumors about you.”

She gasped. And why do I understand it?

About the Author

Erin Marie Bernardo is an American writer of historical fiction. She has a degree in Communication Studies from the University of Minnesota, and is the author of the time-travel novel, Scent of the Past. A lover of historic places, Erin's novels connect the past with the present.

Erin is currently at work on her second novel, Blackbird's Bounty, set in the bayou of Louisiana – and is actively seeking a home for her children’s collection, Beautiful and Extraordinary Barnyard Stories, based on true events from on her farm. 

Erin lives in Tennessee, but has roots in both Minnesota and Washington State. She is married with two young children. 

Links

Website: www.erinmariebernardo.com

Amazon:https://www.amazon.com/Scent-Past-Erin-Marie-Bernardo/dp/0692647333/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1498059633&sr=8-1&keywords=scent+of+the+past

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