Burned by Fire by Danielle Annette!!

Burned by Fire

Blood and Magic #3

Genres: New Adult, Urban Fantasy, Magic, Vampires

Publication date: September 30th 2016

Aria's pyrokinetic ability has always been hard to control, and being pulled in so many directions, isn't making it any easier.

Now she has to help Inarus, a foe turned friend who is being targeted by the Human Alliance Corporation-the very organization he once worked for.



But the HAC has more than just Inarus in their sights. Aria finds herself going deep into enemy territory to save a witchling child with never before seen powers, that the HAC has kidnapped to further their own ends.



Aria has been hired to save a child once before, and she failed. That failure has haunted her even to this day and she wonnt let herself fail again. With the HAC closing in, and complications between herself and the Pack rising, Aria has no choice but to succeed. A child's life is on the line and Aria will risk everything to save that life.

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Author Biography
Danielle Annett is a reader, writer, photographer, and blogger. Born in the SF Bay area, she now resides in Spokane, WA, the primary location for her Blood & Magic series.

Addicted to coffee at an early age, she spends her restless nights putting pen to paper as she tries to get all of the stories out of her head before the dogs wake up the rest of the house and vye for her attention



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Witch’s Cursed Cabin Coon Hollow Coven Tales Book Two Marsha A. Moore

Witch’s Cursed Cabin
Coon Hollow Coven Tales
Book Two
Marsha A. Moore

Genre: Paranormal romance

Date of Publication: 4-27-16

Number of pages: 380
Word Count: 111,000

Cover Artist: Marsha A. Moore

Book Description:

Eager to be on her own away from home, twenty-year-old Aggie Anders accepts a relative’s invitation to live in Coon Hollow Coven. Although she’s a witch from a different coven, what locals say about the Hollow confuses her. How can witchcraft there live and breathe through souls of the dead?

Aggie’s new residence in this strange southern Indiana world is a deserted homestead cabin. The property’s carriage house serves as the coven’s haunted Halloween fundraiser. It’s a great opportunity for her to make new friends, especially with the coven’s sexy new High Priest Logan.

But living in the homestead also brings Aggie enemies. Outsiders aren’t welcome. A cantankerous, old neighbor tries to frighten her off by warning her that the homestead is cursed. Local witches who practice black magic attempt to use their evil to drive Aggie away and rid their coven of her unusual powers as a sun witch.
Determined to stay and fit in, Aggie discovers not only that the cabin is cursed, but she alone is destined to break the curse before moonrise on Samhain. If she fails, neither the living nor the dead will be safe.

Amazon    Goodreads

A note to readers: the books in the Coon Hollow Coven Tales series are written to be read in any order. The series is about one community, and its residents may pass in and out of various books, but each book has its own unique and special story to be told.

About the Coon Hollow Coven Tales Series

The series is about a coven of witches in a fictitious southern Indiana community, south of Bloomington, the neck of the woods where I spent my favorite childhood years surrounded by the love of a big family. The books are rich with a warm Hoosier down-home feel. There are interesting interactions between coven members and locals from the nearby small town of Bentbone. If magic wasn’t enough of a difference between the two groups, the coven folk adhere to the 1930s lifestyle that existed when the coven formed.

Book One

Excerpt from Chapter One: The Homestead

A shove of my shoulder pried the rusty hinges on the heavy log cabin door loose. I flung my blond braid to my back and peered inside. Beings and critters, alive and furry as well as undead and translucent, flew, crawled, or slithered across dark recesses of the hallway, sitting room, and stairwell.

“You weren’t kidding. This place is haunted.” I shuddered and looked over my shoulder at Cerise. She looked perky as always with her dark bobbed hair and lively brown eyes beneath horn-rimmed eyeglasses. “Were those things relations or varmints?” I took a cautious step over the threshold to escape the blustery weather and unbuttoned my corduroy jacket.
“Oh, both, Aggie. Ghosts of witch kin and their talking animal familiars,” she said and moved past me to lift sheets off the sitting room furniture.

I raised a brow, curious about what talking familiars were but was too afraid to ask. She didn’t seem to think they were bad, and I needed a place to stay.

Cerise dropped the sheets in a pile and wiped her dusty hands on her skirt. “Those sorts of ghosts are in all the homes here in Coon Hollow Coven. Maybe some animal spirits, too, from the surrounding woods. This property has at least fifty acres of forest. The ghosts are harmless, part of the family. At least no neighbors have complained, that I’ve heard.”

Eyeing corners of the parlor and the length of the hall, I wondered if I could ever get used to living with ghosts of people who’d lived here before. In New Wish, Indiana, where I’d spent my entire twenty years, we only had an occasional ghost. Usually lost souls who, for some reason, hadn’t found their peace before death took them. Most times, those folks had been tormented by darkness and experimented with black magic while they’d lived. Or so Mom told me, but I always thought that was just her way of keeping me in line.

I pushed those thoughts out of my head. I wanted a place of my own more than anything else, and not in the tiny town of New Wish where everyone knew me…or thought they did. They all said I was the spitting image of my Aunt Faye, with the same light blond straight hair, deep blue eyes, dark brows, and quiet personality. Everyone thought I’d grow up to be like her with a houseful of kids, seven or more. Fact was, they didn’t know me. I wasn’t sure I even knew myself. There was so much I wanted to learn and do that wouldn’t happen if I stayed at my parents’ home.

Cerise struggled to open the stuck window. “Aggie, can you help me here? Some fresh air might tempt a few spirits outside. This place has been vacant since my mother passed in 2009. We might find just about anything in here after five years.”

Are you brave enough to visit Coon Hollow Coven’s haunted carriage house?
Guest Blog by Marsha A. Moore

Coon Hollow is the setting for Witch’s Cursed Cabin, the second of my series, Coon Hollow Coven Tales, and there are a lot of strange happenings going on down in the Hollow as Samhain approaches.
The Hollow is a fictitious small valley in southern Indiana, south of Bloomington. Somewhere in Brown County near Nashville and Bean Blossom, if you’re from around those parts. It’s Hoosier hill-country at its finest.
The coven was founded on strict rules of adherence to lifestyle and customs that existed at the time of the coven’s conception, in the mid-1930s. The rationale: to keep the transmission of witchcraft from one generation to the next as pure as possible. Members dress in styles of that period and drive long sleek Packards, Studebakers, and Nashes.
Several times during the year, the coven puts on magical events open to the public as charity fundraisers for their schools and eldercare. Witch’s Cursed Cabin opens with the coven preparing for their annual Halloween haunted carriage house.
Here’s an excerpt of the night when the attraction is open only to coven members. Aggie Anders has just moved to the coven and is joining Cerise’s family at the event.
*~*~*

Dusk was changing to night, the gloaming time as I called it, with the sky ribboned in bands of blue-grays and inky purples. As we ascended the small hill that separated the two cabins, I pulled my hood over my head.
On the other side, a group of black forms mingled outside, perhaps fifty, but the dim light made counting difficult. I glanced down at my jeans, happy the blue color wasn’t too noticeable. A chilling scream that seemed to come from the cabin’s roof made me gawk, wide-eyed.
A hush spread over the crowd, and hoods turned upward toward the tall gable above the front door. Another scream pierced the air, this one more like the chilling, long wail of a banshee, which I knew signaled approaching death. And another shriek, as two dark shapes emerged from behind the chimney. One began the dreadful cry once again, while the other leered at those on the ground.
Little Bud tugged on his dad’s arm and whimpered.
“What is this I see?” A deep male voice growled down at us. “Intruders! You’ve broken the peaceful rest of the carriage house spirits.” He gave a guttural laugh, then shinnied down a trellis at one end of the small porch. From there, he rubbed his hands together while shuffling side to side as he scanned the crowd. His ragged cape hung in shreds around his hunched shape, and his death-white face reflected what little light the twilight offered. “Since you’ve awakened the spirits, why don’t you come in and pay them a friendly visit? I’m sure they’ll be glad to welcome you.” With a menacing laugh, he turned and opened the door. “We have guests of the best kind—willing.”
A chorus of howls and yelps responded from inside, and the banshee on the roof gave a higher pitched cry.
A small girl, no more than four years old, begged for her father to carry her.
The ragged spirit pointed to a sign posted high on the porch support post. “Heed this sign well before you go inside.” It warned pregnant women and people with heart conditions to not enter. With the wave of his arm, he spun on his heel, and the crowd moved toward the entrance.
“Looks like this year’s show will be good. Every year they try to top the last,” Cerise said and pulled me behind her, while Toby herded their boys.
Inside, ghouls lurched near, guiding us up the front staircase. Real enchanted spiders dropped onto our faces, bringing plenty of squeals and some momentary lost footing on steps. While clinging to the railings to keep my balance, oozy slime gushed between my fingers. Faced with the safe scares, screams that escaped my lips immediately turned to giggles.
Live rats ran the length of the upper hall, scampering across our feet. I was glad for my stiff-toed boots, but many of the ladies wearing dress pumps jumped a couple feet. One woman landed against me, and we both fell against the wall where arms extending from paintings held us captive until we pleaded loud enough for release.
The wall hazards kept people close to the middle, regardless of the rats. At the doorway to the first bedroom, the floorboards gave way. Five or more in the line ahead dropped down a black hole, their screams reverberating after them. Bats flew up the open shoot and corralled us into the bedroom and the outstretched arms of a red-eyed goblin. His touch sent a sudden disorienting delirium through me, and I fumbled behind Cerise through a connecting hall that led into the next bedroom.

*~*~*
What happens to Aggie? You’ll only know if you’re brave enough to enter the coven’s haunted carriage house!

Flash Fiction by Marsha A Moore
Hello! I’m Marsha A. Moore and it’s great to be here and share some Samhain fun! I’d like to share with you one of my very popular mini-stories from my collection of fantasy flash fiction Tea Leaf Tales.
Tea Leaf Tales: The Necessary Practice Halloween Growl
 “Oh, come on, Grindor,” I pleaded for the third time.

“Not until Halloween,” he replied with a terse snap, his face stoic, his body frozen.
“Just one pre-Halloween scare.” I climbed beside him and peeked over the fence.

“There’s a teenage boy walking this way toward your gate who’d make a great practice target.”

“Nope,” he said, trying unsuccessfully to knock me off balance with his left wing.

“It’ll feel good to do just one little growl.”

A whiz of loud pops sailed inches above my head, and I jumped behind my griffin guardian who spread his protective wings wide.

The teen burst through the open gate, gun in hand, and Grindor let out a horrific roar, so loud that my teeth rattled.

From behind, I winked at the boy with the bb gun, my five-dollar bill showing in his jeans pocket.
Tea Leaf Tales is a series of original ten-sentence short stories by Marsha A. Moore, relating to photos/scenes that resonate with her.
Visit Marsha’s website www.MarshaAMoore.com to read more archived episodes of the Mercantile of Tea Leaf Tales and watch her blog for new episodes.

About the Author:

Marsha A. Moore loves to write fantasy and paranormal romance. Much of her life feeds the creative flow she uses to weave highly imaginative tales.

The magic of art and nature spark life into her writing, as well as other pursuits of watercolor painting and drawing. She’s been a yoga enthusiast for over a decade and is a registered yoga teacher. Her practice helps weave the mystical into her writing. After a move from Toledo to Tampa in 2008, she’s happily transformed into a Floridian, in love with the outdoors where she’s always on the lookout for portals to other worlds. Marsha is crazy about cycling. She lives with her husband on a large saltwater lagoon, where taking her kayak out is a real treat. She never has enough days spent at the beach, usually scribbling away at stories with toes wiggling in the sand. Every day at the beach is magical!

Mailing list: http://bit.ly/MarshaAMooreList

Website: http://MarshaAMoore.com

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Pinterest:  http://pinterest.com/marshaamoore/

Amazon author page: www.amazon.com/author/marshaamoore

Goodreads author page  http://www.goodreads.com/marshaamoore

Happy Book Birthday~The Tides of Bara by Jeffe Kennedy!!

The Tides of Bára

A Narrow Escape

With her secrets uncovered and her power-mad brother bent on her execution, Princess Oria has no sanctuary left. Her bid to make herself and her new barbarian husband rulers of walled Bára has failed. She and Lonen have no choice but to flee through the leagues of brutal desert between her home and his—certain death for a sorceress, and only a bit slower than the blade.

A Race Against Time

At the mercy of a husband barely more than a stranger, Oria must war with her fears and her desires. Wild desert magic buffets her; her husband’s touch allures and burns. Lonen is pushed to the brink, sure he’s doomed his proud bride and all too aware of the restless, ruthless pursuit that follows…

A Danger Beyond Death…

Can Oria trust a savage warrior, now that her strength has vanished? Can Lonen choose her against the future of his people? Alone together in the wastes, Lonen and Oria must forge a bond based on more than lust and power, or neither will survive the test…

buy links:

https://books2read.com/u/mV7aaA

Excerpt 

Oria held the barrier against her raging brother.

At least, she did the best she could with her magic draining by the moment, its potency attenuating with distance and diminishing with the lack of opportunity to replenish her sgath—or to even take a full breath. Of course, her upside-down position, bouncing over Lonen’s shoulder as he ran headlong through the palace, did nothing to make any of it easier.

“We may be in luck,” Chuffta, her Familiar, reported. “Yar’s magic is running low also. He’s sent for more priestesses to feed him sgath, as Gallia can’t.” He paused to mentally cough at that. Oria’s Familiar had also telepathically received Gallia’s urgent message for them to run. As Yar’s wife—particularly a newlywed in a temple-blessed marriage—only Gallia should be feeding Yar sgath to fight the magical barrier Oria had erected to save herself from execution, and Lonen from retribution. But Gallia had only recently arrived in Bára and, unused to the city’s native magic, so different from her home at Lousá, she had not reached her full power.

But Gallia was stronger than she’d claimed. As a sister in magic, Oria could judge quite precisely how much Gallia had been capable of channeling. Oria’s new sister had exaggerated her weakness—in a move shockingly disloyal to her new husband and against all expectation—to allow Oria to escape. If all went well, Yar would never discover the deception. Between his unstable temper and Gallia’s status in Bára, that could turn out badly for her sister sorceress. Hopefully, she’d take Oria’s advice and appeal to her and Yar’s mother, the former Queen Rhianna, for assistance.

“I can’t imagine Priest Vico will allow other priestesses to feed sgath to Yar. It’s against temple law if his ideal wife is alive and well,” she replied to Chuffta.

“Yes, but it depends on what Vico considers to be ‘well.’”

She framed a reply—speaking mentally took concentration—then grunted in pain as Lonen ducked around a corner, the sudden shift in direction making his shoulder dig into her belly. It looked so much more romantic in the illustrations. In reality, being carried off over a barbarian’s shoulder left much to be desired.

“Sorry,” Lonen shot the word out between panting breaths. “Unavoidable.”

She didn’t reply. Couldn’t. It would be handy if she and Lonen could speak mind-to-mind the way she could with Chuffta—and unexpectedly with Gallia—particularly under circumstances like this. He might not like it, though. At the moment, all of his considerable personal energy was focused away from her, no doubt on fighting them free of Bára. At least that saved her having to screen out his emotions along with everyone else’s.

“You are correct,” Chuffta reported from his vantage, flying well above Yar’s group. Her Familiar seemed to be enjoying his spy activities. “They are arguing about it. Yar is most put out. He’s losing focus and less able to fight your barrier. Vico is gently suggesting he check his hwil, which has not gone over well.” No, Yar would not do well with the suggestion that he might be showing any loss of the crucial equanimity that allowed the priests and priestesses of Bára to handle their dangerously powerful magic. Loss of hwil could be grounds for the temple taking back the mask that was their badge of office. With no mask, Yar could not be king. Could she somehow use that to her advantage—push Yar into losing hwil entirely?

“No, Oria.” Chuffta’s mind-voice was both sorrowful and deadly earnest. “Without your mask, you cannot be queen either. And now that they know you can use grien, your life would be forfeit, regardless. It’s not worth the risk.”

It might be, though. If only to save Bára and Dru both from the devastation that would be Yar’s rule.

“I won’t let you sacrifice yourself. Neither will Lonen,”Chuffta added.

“I’m already regretting that I encouraged you two to become friends,” she grumbled.

Lonen's War

http://www.jeffekennedy.com/lonens-war/

Lonen's War

Sorcerous Moons – Book 1

By Jeffe Kennedy

An Unquiet Heart

Alone in her tower, Princess Oria has spent too long studying her people’s barbarian enemies, the Destrye—and neglected the search for calm that will control her magic and release her to society. Her restlessness makes meditation hopeless and her fragility renders human companionship unbearable. Oria is near giving up. Then the Destrye attack, and her people’s lives depend on her handling of their prince…

A Fight Without Hope

When the cornered Destrye decided to strike back, Lonen never thought he’d live through the battle, let alone demand justice as a conqueror. And yet he must keep up his guard against the sorceress who speaks for the city. Oria’s people are devious, her claims of ignorance absurd. The frank honesty her eyes promise could be just one more layer of deception.

A Savage Bargain

Fighting for time and trust, Oria and Lonen have one final sacrifice to choose… before an even greater threat consumes them all.

Oria's Gambit:

http://www.jeffekennedy.com/orias-gambit/

Oria's Gambit

Sorcerous Moons – Book 2

By Jeffe Kennedy

A Play For Power

Princess Oria has one chance to keep her word and stop her brother’s reign of terror: She must become queen. All she has to do is marry first. And marry Lonen, the barbarian king who defeated her city bare weeks ago, who can never join her in a marriage of minds, who can never even touch her—no matter how badly she wants him to.

A Fragile Bond

To rule is to suffer, but Lonen never thought his marriage would become a torment. Still, he’s a resourceful man. He can play the brute conqueror for Oria’s faceless officials and bide his time with his wife. And as he coaxes secrets from Oria, he may yet change their fate…

An Impossible Demand

With deception layering on deception, Lonen and Oria must claim the throne and brazen out the doubters. Failure means death— for them and their people. 

But success might mean an alliance powerful beyond imagining...

About Jeffe Kennedy

 

Jeffe Kennedy is an award-winning author whose works include novels, non-fiction, poetry, and short fiction. She has been a Ucross Foundation Fellow, received the Wyoming Arts Council Fellowship for Poetry, and was awarded a Frank Nelson Doubleday Memorial Award. 

Her most recent works include a number of fiction series: the fantasy romance novels of A Covenant of Thorns; the contemporary BDSM novellas of the Facets of Passion; an erotic contemporary serial novel, Master of the Opera; and the erotic romance trilogy, Falling Under, which includes Going Under, Under His Touch and Under Contract. 

 

Her award-winning fantasy romance trilogy The Twelve Kingdoms hit the shelves starting in May 2014. Book 1, The Mark of the Tala, received a starred Library Journal review and was nominated for the RT Book of the Year while the sequel, The Tears of the Rose received a Top Pick Gold and was nominated for the RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Fantasy Romance of 2014. The third book, The Talon of the Hawk, won the RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Fantasy Romance of 2015. Two more books followed in this world, beginning the spin-off series The Uncharted Realms, with The Pages of the Mind in May 2016 and The Edge of the Blade in December 2016. 

 

She lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico, with two Maine coon cats, plentiful free-range lizards and a very handsome Doctor of Oriental Medicine.

 

Jeffe can be found online at her website: JeffeKennedy.com, every Sunday at the popular SFF Seven blog, on Facebook, on Goodreads and pretty much constantly on Twitter @jeffekennedy. She is represented by Connor Goldsmith of Fuse Literary.

 

http://jeffekennedy.com

https://www.facebook.com/Author.Jeffe.Kennedy

https://twitter.com/jeffekennedy

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1014374.Jeffe_Kennedy   

 

 

 

DAWN OF THE VIE IMMORTAL ALIENS BOOK ONE By Laura Diamond

DAWN OF THE VIE
IMMORTAL ALIENS
BOOK ONE
Laura Diamond

Genre: Young Adult scifi/dystopian

Publisher: Curiosity Quills Press

Date of Publication:  October 3, 2016

Number of pages: 320 approx
Word Count:  80,000

Cover Artist: Curiosity Quills

Book Description:

Since their Arrival less than 30 years ago, immortal Vie rule the planet like the super-predators they are. Enslaved humans are their servants…their entertainment…and their food. Anemies—humans with various types of anemia—are simply exterminated. Their nutritionally deficient blood is useless to the Vie.

Or so it’s thought…

Alex, an Elite Vie, is a bit of a Renaissance Alien. Part scientist, part Raid Specialist, part drug addict, he knows Anemie blood is valuable. Rather than blindly carrying out his boss’s kill order, he convinces some colleagues to spare a few Anemies, not only for study, but also to reserve a secret stock.

The more Anemie blood Alex drinks, the more he slips into delusion, and the more his double life threatens to crumble. But quitting Anemie blood is not an option. Every Anemie has their own personal flavor. Each gives a unique high.

When Alex takes a hit of Justin’s blood, his hallucinations bleed into reality…

Anemie Justin knows his little sister, Sammie, and he are living past their expiration dates. It becomes a guarantee when they’re bitten by a Vie named Alex during a raid. (The bite is fatal, thanks to a toxin carried in Vie saliva.) Alex adds insult to injury by promising Justin a second chance—an antidote in exchange for agreeing to be a lab rat.

And a mule…of his own blood.
When Justin says no, Alex takes off with Sammie.

All Justin has to do is find them, beat Alex, and cure himself and Sammie. All he has is a stake and serious lack of self-preservation.
No problem.

Alex wants Justin’s blood.
Justin wants his sister back.
GAME ON.


Excerpt:

New City, Year 75 A.L. (After Landing), Month 5, Day 17, late afternoon

I hated afternoons the most. Soon after came darkness—the time when a raiding squad could snatch you out of bed and drain all the blood from your body. It was amazing that any Anemies survived with the extermination campaign ridding the world of us red blood cell-deficient freaks.
I gently squeezed my sister’s hand to make sure she kept up. Dirt caked under her fingernails like it caked under mine. The cuff of her torn sleeve had stains like mine. Her pant cuffs were rolled up six times… also like mine. A younger version of me—mouthiness and all—in girl form. Unlike me, Sammie tended to dawdle, and since we held onto the last rung of the society ladder by the tips of our fingers, giving in to distraction could get us hurt—or killed.
My gaze jumped to the pale, indifferent sky then jittered to the partially constructed biodome edge as I walked. Large, clear panels filled the metal framework in a beehive of hexagons. Eventually, the damn thing would cover the entire city, including the river surrounding the island and part of the ocean capping the south side. The project had been progressing since before I was born.
Once the construction workers completed the biodome, Vie wouldn’t have to fear the destructive UV rays of our sun and could wander freely during the day. We’d have no safe period whatsoever. Vie could get us any time.
As soon as that thought entered my mind, I snapped my attention to the cracked sidewalk. More Anemies than usual filled the streets today, and I needed to be on high alert. At noon, we’d compete for the rations served by tranced human slaves. Most Vie wanted Anemies extinct, but the New City Association for Anemie Rights—NCAAR—fought for us. And by fighting for us, I meant they gave us nearly rotten leftovers, lab-made food, and water pellets. Vie members of the NCAAR—who somehow remained anonymous in spite of everyone knowing what the organization did—knew we Anemies kept on the move and we didn’t carry much with us, so they designed food and water pellets to fit in our pockets. The pellets also lasted a week or more, depending on how strictly you rationed them.
I snorted. Vie had no idea what it was like to look up, down, left, right, ahead, behind, sideways all the time and all at once. They couldn’t comprehend fearing the vulnerability of sleep (yes, I’ve fallen asleep with my eyes open; Sammie screeched, thinking I’d died). The sensation of constant hunger never tortured them. As advanced beings, they’d evolved past such things.
“What’s so funny, Justin?” Sammie’s little voice barely carried over the growing crowd. She tugged my arm, the force of it little more than the peck of a baby pigeon’s beak.
“Nothing, just something stuck in my throat.” I craned my neck, searching for a safe place for Sammie to wait.
She’d be trampled if I dragged her along with me into the mess of emaciated, dirty bodies.
About half a block away stood a three-story row house with wide, concrete stairs. The bricks had crumbled in sections, and large cracks fissured along the mortar. Vie construction efforts would move north at some point to smash this and other buildings down and replace them with gleaming skyscrapers. For now, the northern section of New City slowly yielded to ruin.
Soon after their Arrival, Vie had destroyed the outer boroughs, torching houses, buildings—whatever humans had constructed. They called it part of their Cleansing. Forests had grown up in those once-urban areas. I longed to return there. To be free of terror. To be free of Vie. Then I reminded myself it would never be true. They’d moved in and taken over, reshaping the world into their vision of perfection.
Sammie and I didn’t fit in their world. But we had to live in it.

The Multimedia Angle—The Use of Journals, Videos, and Book Quotes In Books by Laura Diamond

Part of what made IMMORTAL ALIENS: DAWN OF THE VIE a blast to write was the multimedia aspect I developed for the story. The book takes place in a dystopian future where immortal alien vampires called Vie have taken over the planet. They’re slowly restructuring what was once New York City, dubbing it New City. They’re building a UV blocking biodome, because, despite their immortality gifted by a DNA-altering vaccine called Vitalus Sustennus, Earth’s sun does irreparable damage to them.

They’ve also enslaved humans, using them not only as a food source, but as test subjects, errand runners, and even concubines.

A certain population of humans—those with various forms of anemia—are useless to Vie because their blood does not provide the same nutritional value as those with normal blood. As a result, Anemies are being hunted and exterminated.

A majority of the book is from the perspective of a teen Anemie, Justin, who finds out his blood does something that no one else’s so far has done—it ages Vie! He carries the potential of a lethal, biological weapon that humans can use against Vie to win back the planet.

In order to fully paint the picture of this sci-fi/dystopian landscape, I’ve included excerpts of The Book of Vie, a book that contains prophetical information about the Bringer of Death, the harbinger of Vie downfall.

Excerpt from The Book of Vie:

With their glorious Arrival, immortal Vie inherited the earth to rule with absolute power. Enslaved mortals, tormented by their bloodthirsty masters, abandoned hope and bore the yoke of submission without protest. The lowest of the low, the outcasts among outcasts, begged for mercy, but the immortals denied them. Then one day a mortal was born among them with the power to break the curse, free all mortals, and bring the gift of death.
—The Book of Vie, Author Anonymous


I’ve also included journal excerpts of Justin’s nemesis, Alex (Alejandro Reyes), an Elite Vie scientist who leads extermination raids to weed out the lingering Anemie population, who performs experiments on humans and Anemies alike, and who uses Anemie blood as a drug (because of its lack of healthy red blood cells, it makes any Vie who drinks it high, similar to any illicit drug), while also trying to atone for his sins by leading a group whose mission is to protect Anemies. Yep, the quintessential “bad guy” is trying to do some good.

Excerpt of Alejandro Reyes Journal:

Journal of Alejandro Reyes
Date: Year 75, Month 5, Day 18

I found him.
Then I lost him.
Had we not been interrupted, I could have snuck him away, using his sister as a carrot. He seemed so motivated to assist her, even at his own peril.
Perhaps I can still use her to get to him. He will no doubt be searching for her, as I will be searching for him. At some point, we’ll find each other. We have to.
Everything I built depends on it.

And, considering the technological advances the aliens brought, I’ve included video transcripts of their version of reality TV, hosted by gregarious and charming Vincent Marks.

Excerpt of Vidscreen Transcript:

VIDSCREEN TRANSCRIPT FOR VINCENT MARKS
Year 75, Month 5, Day 21, 12:00 PM
* * * * * * * * * *
Good afternoon, fellow New City citizens. Vincent Marks here. Welcome to Action News 7 Twelfth Hour Broadcast. Today, we bring you breaking news of three Anemies who trespassed into the Commercial Laundry Service earlier this morning…

As a reader, I find excerpts of journals, transcripts, emails, newspaper clippings, even sketches or drawings lend a tangible piece not otherwise included in the regular chapter format. It allows a glimpse into the world the protagonist and antagonist is living in, outside of the viewpoint of the main character. It’s also a lot of fun, both to write and to read, and fun is such an integral component of entertainment, something I strive for in all of my stories. If you choose to buy and read IMMORTAL ALIENS: DAWN OF THE VIE, I hope you enjoy what I’ve created!

If you’d like to chat more with me about this or any other bookish topic, don’t hesitate to connect with me on my blog , Facebook , and Twitter.







About the Author:

Laura Diamond is a board certified psychiatrist currently specializing in emergency psychiatry. She is also an author of all things young adult—both contemporary and paranormal. An avid fan of sci-fi, fantasy, and anything magical, she thrives on quirk, her lucid dreams, and coffee. When she’s not working or writing, she can be found sniffing books and drinking a latte at the bookstore or at home pondering renovations on her 225 year old fixer upper, all while obeying her feline overlords, of course.

Twitter: https://twitter.com/DiamondLB

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorLauraDiamond

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5815639.Laura_Diamond

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Laura-Diamond/e/B009Y7L432/

Blog: http://lbdiamond.wordpress.com/

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/diamondlb/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/laurabdiamond/


Tour giveaway

3 ebook copies of Dawn of the Vie

Black And Blue Quentin Black Mystery By JC Andrijeski!!

Black And Blue
Quentin Black Mystery
Book Five
JC Andrijeski

Genre: Paranormal Mystery / Romance/ UF

Publisher: White Sun Press

Date of Publication: 7/27/16

ISBN: 9781370573745
ASIN: B01J4AXZ8U

Number of pages: 336
Word Count: 101,005

Cover Artist: Jennifer Munswami
at J.M. Rising Horse Creations

Book Description:

“He’d be fresh meat here. And he didn’t have his sight...”

Black takes a new consulting gig with the LAPD, helping them find a contract killer who left a dead body behind the Los Angeles Theater. Despite Miri’s lingering fears after what happened to him during the last murder case he worked, he assures her it’s routine, that he won’t be doing fieldwork, that nothing could possibly go wrong.

Then, during his first night on the job at the Port of Los Angeles, all hell breaks loose and all bets are off.

Black wakes up in a nightmare he couldn’t have foreseen, with no way out and no idea how he got there. Robbed of his psychic sight, he can’t even call to Miriam for help, or use his abilities to figure out where he is, who took him, or what they want from him.

On the outside, Miri is frantic, working with the police and Black’s team to find him. She has even less information than Black… until a confession from her Uncle Charles brings her face to face with a much older enemy, the same enemy that may have killed her entire family.

BLACK AND BLUE is book five in the paranormal mystery romance starring brilliant but dangerous psychic detective, Quentin Black, and his partner, forensic psychologist Miri Fox.

Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/OWlwoa8lOBY

Amazon     Amazon UK    Amazon CA     Amazon AU

iBooks     Google Play     BN     Kobo    Omnilit     Smashwords

Excerpt: Prologue
HISTORY REPEATS
ALARMS EXPLODED OVERHEAD, bells clanging. The sounds slammed into his skull like a rock wielded by a psychopath. Grimacing, he raised a hand to his eyes, though it wasn’t bright. Blood pressed against the bone of his skull, harder with each throb, like a beating heart.
Even past the pain, he was groggy. He felt nauseous––that specific kind of sick feeling he associated with a head injury. But he might have been drugged.
He couldn’t clear his head enough to decide.
Either way, the specifics likely weren’t important. He got the gist. Someone clocked him good. He’d been out cold, at least a few hours.
He tried to retrace his mental footsteps.
The port. That asshole, Mozar, dragged him out to the port with his SWAT guys and Hawking and a few other detectives. It was supposed to be a simple job, advisory only. He was there as a goddamned consultant, which was humorous in and of itself.
Then it all went wrong. Seriously crazy shit went down.
Hawking... it all started with Hawking.
He fought to think, but everything kept fuzzing in and out. He got details, fragments, but it wasn’t enough to piece together. He knew that might be the head injury too. He also knew––unfortunately, from previous experience––that he might have gone into ungrat, the seer stasis, if they’d hit him hard enough. If so, his memories should start filtering back if he didn’t get himself too banged up again in the next twenty-four hours or so.
Unfortunately, he suspected he was in danger of banging himself up again right now.
The knowledge came without words, without additional information.
It didn’t come from reading anyone with his “psychic” ability, either––a term his wife, Miriam, still insisted on using, no matter how much he bitched at her at the inadequacy and fuzziness of the lame, New-Agey (and human) meanings of the word “psychic.”
This was pure instinct. That same instinct told him, unequivocally, that he had only a few minutes to get his head on straight or he was in serious fucking trouble.
Opening his eyes reluctantly, he looked around at where he was. That sense of danger started vibrating his skin, making it hard to focus at first. A different clanking sound came from a lot closer, ratcheting up that feeling of concern. He was definitely in danger.
He reached out with his sight, trying to pinpoint the source...
...And pain ripped through his spine.
It was so intense, so completely unexpected, he let out a broken gasp.
Then he lay back on the mattress, panting.
Understanding filtered into his mind, then disbelief.
He sat up in a near panic that time––but had to stop, panting and hanging his head when nausea overwhelmed him a second time. He lay on a thin mattress pad over what looked like concrete. He recognized the institutional gray, even before his eyes shifted to the bars and wire mesh that made up one wall of the cell.
His hand went to his throat, a reflex he hadn’t had in years, one he’d broken in himself deliberately. When he first got to this version of Earth, he used to reach reflexively for his throat every time he woke up. He would feel around the full circumference of his neck, making sure, reassuring himself that he really had left that behind, that he wasn’t there anymore, in that world where his people lived like animals.
As his fingers closed over the cold metal now...
His mind fuzzed out.
Then he was breathing too much, panting, half-groaning as his hands followed the thing around his neck, using both hands now, feeling around to where it hooked into the base of his skull. He winced at the pain where the prongs sank into the back of his neck.
It was the same.
Exactly. Fucking. The Same.
He reached out with his sight––carefully, that time––and the collar shocked him again. It was a lot less intense that time, but it still gritted his teeth. And it hurt like hell.
He let out a furious growl, then tried again.
That time, the collar shocked him harder––hard enough to blur his vision.
He sat on the edge of the cement bench, panting, so filled with rage he couldn’t think straight for what felt like several minutes.
Disbelief flooded his mind a second time; denial blotted out everything else. He knew he had to focus on the danger he could still feel coming, but he didn’t give a shit. Rage and denial and disbelief erased the pain he felt in his body, the wounds he hadn’t yet catalogued but knew were there. He forgot his pounding head, reaching out with his light a third time, trying to see, to use his seer’s sight.
The brushed metal collar shocked him for a full minute that time. That pain in his head exploded, getting so bad he couldn’t make a sound at first.
He barely noticed.
He tried to use his sight again.
The shock that time nearly blacked him out.
“No.” He spoke aloud without knowing he meant to, his voice a low, deep mantra after that first whisper. “No, no, no, no... fuck no, this isn’t happening... this isn’t fucking happening...”
He yanked on the collar, pure instinct again, no reason.
The pain that rippled up through the back of his skull that time did knock him out.
He came to seconds later, groaning.
Pulling himself off the mattress a second time, he lurched to his feet, slamming his head into a shelving unit above him, which forced him to sink back to the bed, letting out another low cry of pain. He gripped the thin mattress below and the shelf above, breathing through the blinding throbs at the base of his skull, fighting to calm down, to clear his mind. His shoulder hurt too, bad enough to reach his awareness beyond the deeper pain coming from his head.
Once he could see again, he heard another loud clanking and looked up. He watched in disbelief as the heavy metal door set in the far wall slid open in front of him.
Then, the rest of it finally fell utterly into place.
He was in fucking prison.
He looked around, taking in the scratched, metal-plate mirror, the metal sink and toilet combination, the table and shelf bolted to the opposite wall. A plastic television with a clear-plastic body stood on that shelf. Otherwise, the room was empty, stripped of life.
Someone knocked him out, put a sight-restraint collar on him, and stuck him in a fucking prison cell.
Looking down, he saw he wore royal blue formless pants, a white tank top. He had a bandage on his shoulder and one around his arm.
He touched the collar again, tentatively that time.
His fingers followed it to the back of his neck, where the prongs of metal burrowed into his skin, wrapping coldly around his spine. He touched the whole thing with both hands, still feeling that as the biggest point of unreality.
It was definitely a sight-restraint collar.
Was he back in that goddamned shit-hole where he was born? Did he fall through another goddamned door? He struggled against the idea, the rising panic that came with it.
Then another realization hit him. Miri.
Gods. Miri.
If he wasn’t on that Earth anymore...
But his mind couldn’t finish the thought.
For a few minutes he could only sit there, breathing too hard, fighting to think. He looked at his body, at his clothes. As he did, the panic that briefly paralyzed his mind began slowly to recede. This was fucking-A real, all right.
But he was still on the right Earth.
None of this was right for his home world. None of it. He was wearing prison fatigues, but they were human. If he was back in that other world, they wouldn’t have left his hands and feet free. No way. Not at his sight rank.
He’d be wearing organic or semi-organic binders, not just the collar. They’d have him chained to the wall. And no way in hell would they open the door with him un-cuffed inside. The door was all wrong, anyway. Back home, that door would be pure organic metal, possibly with a sliding view hole. Or organic glass.
The cell would be dark.
He would also probably be drugged, or hooked up to wires. He definitely would have been beat up more, not just groggy from a head injury.
And yeah, the clothes were all wrong.
Black’s rational mind slowly began to take over as he looked around the small cell. This was definitely what he thought of as his Earth. Back home, they didn’t house seers like this, even during Black’s time. Now they probably had even more sadistic tech toys to control people like him. They’d definitely have surveillance in the room.
Taking another deep breath, he flipped over his arm, looking at his old race-cat tattoo. He found himself relaxing even more when he saw the skin unbroken.
If they’d picked him up in the old world, they would have re-chipped him immediately. He’d had the old one removed as soon as he possibly could, about ten years after he first reached this world. Running his fingers over the smooth skin, he forced himself to take another breath.
So he was still on the right Earth. The Earth where his life was.
The Earth where Miri was.
But how the fuck would anyone know to collar him here? And if they knew that much, why would they put him in with a general population at all?
Well, unless they were trying to disappear him.
Or kill him.
At the thought, he rose shakily to his feet––more cautiously that time. He gripped the cement shelf as he got up, using it for balance. Turning his head slowly, mostly because of the pain, he looked over both sides of the room, reassuring himself it was empty. He knew he wouldn’t be alone in here for long, though.
His eyes returned to the open door.
He could already hear the sounds.
Prisoners leaving their cages, joking, laughing, talking loudly, starting to walk the catwalks. Heading in his direction.
New guy. He’d be the new guy.
He again fought to pull his head together, knowing he didn’t have a lot of time. He couldn’t be found in here like this, half-blind with pain, clutching the collar and whining like a wounded dog. He’d been in prisons before. That had been in a different world, a different time and place, but some things wouldn’t have changed.
Some things never changed.
He’d be fresh meat here, just like he had been back then. And he didn’t have his sight.
Welcome to the jungle, motherfucker.
Welcome home.

Bangkok Halloween
Guest Blog by JC Andrijeski

I’m an Amreican living in Bangkok, which means every year around this time, I experience Bangkok Halloween. Holidays are always kind of a trip when you live abroad, anyway. They were weird when I lived in India and while they might be somewhat less weird here, they still have a distinctly different flavor than they do in the States.
I’m lucky living here though, in terms of American holidays –– Bangkokians love a good party. They’re also wide open to celebrating any event deemed interesting by the locals, whether Thai or not. It doesn’t hurt that there are a ton of Americans living here.
I learned this my first Halloween living here, when I decided to venture out and see if I could find some fellow ghouls and goblins for some (mostly) harmless Halloween fun. Even though there wasn’t the full range of kids trick-or-treating on the streets or decorations in all the stores... there were a TON of Halloween bashes. There was even a Halloween street fair for kids and families, along with haunted houses, a big horror film event, numerous costume parties and other themed events at bars and restaurants for the more “adult” take of Halloween.
Thailand has a big market for paranormal stuff in general, so I guess it shouldn’t be surprising. They have a yearly Comicon in Bangkok, and of course all the supernatural and romantic and action movies, as well as most of the television shows. My first Thai teacher was a HUGE Supernatural fan, (meaning the television show) and we’d often get totally sidetracked in lessons to talk about that, the Vampire Diaries and all else sexy and supernatural.
 Maybe that’s why I don’t feel too out of place here, despite the culture gaps. Still, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss Halloween in the States. It’s probably “the” holiday for a lot of my friends... and I really miss the kid side of things, and all the decorations and craziness.
Also, in a tropical climate, you just don’t get the colors from the leaves changing or the carved pumpkins or fireplaces... or the fall skies. The weather alone is a pretty stark reminder of being in a distant land.
Still, I have to say, I really love where I live. It works well for me as a writer too, so for now at least, I might just have to plan more visits to colder climes during the spooky time of the year...
Until then, Happy Halloween everyone!


About the Author:

JC Andrijeski is a USA TODAY bestselling author who writes paranormal mysteries and apocalyptic fiction, often with a sexy, romantic and metaphysical bent. JC has a background in journalism, history and politics, and loves martial arts, yoga, meditation, hiking, swimming, horseback riding, painting… and of course reading and writing. She grew up in the Bay Area of California, but travels extensively and has lived abroad in Europe, Australia and Asia, and from coast to coast in the continental United States. She currently lives and writes full-time in Bangkok, Thailand.

To learn more about JC and her writing, please visit

Website http://jcandrijeski.com

FB author page: https://www.facebook.com/JCAndrijeski/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/jcandrijeski  @jcandrijeski

Mailing List: http://hyperurl.co/JCA-Newsletter

Amazon Author page: http://amzn.to/1GqSJlq

Goodreads author page: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4470130.J_C_Andrijeski


Tour giveaway

2 full ebook sets of the first four Quentin Black Books

1 signed copy of Black In White (Quentin Black Mystery #1)

$25 Amazon Gift Card