Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Friday, October 25, 2013

TRS Spookapalooza is underway! #RomFantasy @DenyseBridger


As you may already know, the annual Spookapalooza is underway at The Romance Studio. I've participated in this event every year since it began, and it's a total blast. Apart from a lot of promotional exposure for books, it's a fabulous and fun way to chat with readers, run impromptu contests, and discover all kinds of great new reads. So, if you have some time on your hands drop in and see what's happening because it's a busy and happening party!



Drop by, it's gonna be a blast again this year!



Thursday, October 24, 2013

Weak at the Knees @jo_kessel #RomFantasy


About the Author:

Jo Kessel is a journalist in the UK, working for the BBC and reporting and presenting for ITV on holiday, consumer and current affairs programs. She writes for several national newspapers including the Daily Mail, the Telegraph, the Guardian and the Express and was the anonymous author of the Independent’s hit column: Diary of a Primary School Mum.


When Jo was ten years old she wrote a short story about losing a loved one. Her mother and big sister were so moved by the tale that it made them cry. Having reduced them to tears she vowed that the next time she wrote a story it would make them smile instead. Happily she succeeded and with this success grew an addiction for wanting to reach out and touch people with words.

P.S Jo’s pretty certain one of her daughters has inherited this gene.


Other books by Jo Kessel include Lover in Law.

Her latest book is the new adult contemporary romance novel, Weak at the Knees


Visit her website at www.jokessel.com


Connect & Socialize with Jo!


About the Book:

Title: Weak at the Knees
Genre: New Adult Contemporary Romance
Author: Jo Kessel
Publisher: CreateSpace
Pages: 292
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1490397604
ISBN-13: 978-1490397603

Purchase at AMAZON (US) & AMAZON (UK)

We got so busy living life that we forgot to live our dreams.”

Danni Lewis has been playing it safe for twenty-six years, but her sheltered existence is making her feel old ahead of time. When a sudden death plunges her into a spiral of grief, she throws caution to the wind and runs away to France in search of a new beginning.

The moment ski instructor Olivier du Pape enters her shattered world she falls hard, in more ways than one. 

Their mutual desire is as powerful and seductive as the mountains around them. His dark gypsy looks and piercing blue eyes are irresistible.

Only she must resist, because he has a wife - and she’d made a pact to never get involved with a married man. 

But how do you choose between keeping your word and being true to your soul? 

Weak at the Knees is Jo’s debut novel in the new adult, contemporary romance genre – a story of love and loss set between London and the heart of the French Alps.


First Chapter:

I don’t like being English. I never have. It’s always felt like such an un-sexy nationality. Let’s face it, if any foreigner were asked to conjure up a vision of the typical male Brit, most likely they’d be thinking of someone slightly overweight, over-boozed and over sunburned. Most other Europeans fare better. The Italians are all considered hot-blooded Romeos whilst the Scandinavians are a blonde bunch of Adonis’s. As for the French, granted they have a reputation for being curt and unfaithful, but deep down the rest of the world respects their infidelity, crediting the lot with being expert lovers even though most of them probably aren’t. The most flattering of British descriptions is that of an English Rose, but that wouldn’t fit someone like me. Far from being a sinewy blonde with a porcelain complexion, I’m more a pint-sized pre-Raphaelite – short, with waist-length brown curly hair and far too many curves. Not that being an English rose is a particularly flattering description anyway. Yes, it might be a beauteous flower, but it’s also got prickly stems which snare. No, in my opinion, whichever way you look at it, on a global, sexual scale, being English isn’t often an asset.

Hugo’s English. He’s as stiff upper lip Hooray Henry as they come. He’s tall and good-looking in that pretty, public schoolboy, foppish kind of way and he’s a charmer to boot. Think Hugh Grant and you’re not far off the mark - although if it was a toss up between Hugh (particularly the Four Weddings Hugh) and Hugo, there’d be no competition. It would be Grant all the way. I’ve always had a bit of a crush on him. Ironically, many women from all over the world would probably jump at the chance to jump on my Hugo because he’s English. Not because he’s the typical Brit though, but because he’s got the Hugh Grant factor and foreign females fall for that kind of thing. It’s the look, the manners and the self-deprecation. For me, however, nothing beats your language being spoken by somebody who’s not from your country. It’s undeniably sexy. It’s why I like foreigners.

Hugo is what you’d call a catch. My mother definitely thinks so. I’m sure she’s secretly hoping we’ll end up together. Son-in-law material doesn’t come any better. She could show him off and brag away till the cows came home. “My Danni’s Hugo” she’d boast to all her friends, with an air of smug superiority, “He’s a Barrister. He’s ever so clever.”

Indeed he is. Apparently you need to be fluent in Ancient Greek and Latin to get a first in Classics at Oxford like Hugo. Now, that might seem a useless skill to the less educated of us – after all there are no more ancient Greeks or Romans with whom to converse – but you’ve still got to be bloody brilliant to master it. You try making head or tail of a page of Homer’s Iliad! You’d soon understand why they coined the phrase ‘It’s all Greek to me’.

We met when I was fifteen. He was a couple of years older. “Danni Lewis” he’d remarked, at the end of our first proper conversation at some run-of-the mill teen party we’d gone to. “I think you’re great. You’re so original. You’re so enigmatic.”

“Well, thanks very much,” I’d replied. “You’re pretty nice too.” What I’d really wanted to ask was ‘what the hell does ‘enigmatic’ mean?’ I didn’t dare though because I didn’t want to come across as intellectually inferior. He’d clearly assumed that I was as clever as he was, which meant knowing a word like enigmatic even at the age of fifteen. These days I work hard at not making assumptions, although most of the time I fail dismally. I suspect we all do.

Anyway, as soon as I got back home I’d fired up my computer and checked the meaning of the word ‘enigmatic’ on an on-line dictionary. ‘Deliberately mysterious’ or ‘puzzling’ were the definitions I got. I’d liked that. It conjured up a vision of someone beautiful but unobtainable, a woman over whom you could obsess but not possess; a woman about whom one could never assume. 

It took us ages to get together. We indulged in hours of what we called phone sex. In truth there was nothing remotely sexual about it. A typical late night, tucked up in bed conversation would go as follows:

HUGO: “Watch you doin?”

ME: “Mmmmmm, I’m just lying here, thinking about you lying there. Where are you, watch YOU doin?”

HUGO: “I’m just lying here on my bed, thinking about you lying there.”

ME: “U ON your bed or IN your bed?”

HUGO: “I’m on it.”

ME: “Well, why don’t you get in it?”

HUGO: “Why?”

And so the scintillating dialogue would continue – although you’d have thought that a bloke who was destined to get a first from Oxford might be able to make slightly more dynamic conversation. I think the reason it took me six months to secure a date was because I kept being too enigmatic. The deliberately mysterious and puzzling me was quite clearly sending out the wrong signals. Hugo assumed I wasn’t interested.

Eventually one day, we were both sitting on my box room bed at my parents’ house in Hendon, north London, playing this stupid truth yes or no game when he came clean and I came clean and it was all very sweet and a date was put in the diary.

---------------------------------------------------------------

I was ten years old and having lunch with my grandmother. I think I’d just dared to ask (even though she was eighty-two) if she was still having sex with my grandfather. She never answered the question, but decided it was time to offer some useful advice. She must have got this from a Mills and Boon novel, because she sure as hell didn’t get it from her marriage. She was a Polish immigrant and married the first man she’d met on British soil. She spent the rest of her life trying to make the best of it. The conversation was remarkably one-sided and as usual, she kept getting her V’s and W’s mixed up. It’s a common Eastern-European linguistic affliction apparently. Anyway, the mentor-like chat went a bit like this.

“Danni darling.”

“Yes grandma?”

“Now I vant to tell you something and I vant you to try to remember it ven you get older.”

“Ok Grandma”.

“If a man ewwer makes you wery dizzy ven you kiss him, make sure you newwer let him go. You vant to make sure you marry him.”

“Why? Does Grandpa make you wery dizzy?”

“Eat your lunch Danni”.

I was on the brink of repeating my original ‘are you and grandpa still having sex’ question, but thought against it, gagging myself with a forkful of lamb and mushy peas. With hindsight, I wish I hadn’t held back. I mean, do most octogenarians still have sex? If so, what are the chances of cardiac arrest mid-orgasm?
-------------------------------------------
Anyway, Hugo didn’t make me wery dizzy when he kissed me, but it was still very nice and he did make me happy. Phone sex progressed to pillow talk and we had a really good, solid relationship. He knew me inside out and always had an uncanny knack of knowing exactly what I was thinking, which often got me in a lot of trouble.

I loved his company. He made me laugh and he stimulated me intellectually. I mean, how many other seventeen-year olds do you know who are nicknamed Ariadne? That’s what he’s always called me. It took a while for me to pluck up the courage to ask who Ariadne actually was. It turned out she was this Princess from Greek mythology who fell in love with a bloke called Theseus who was due to be offered as a sacrificial victim to the Minotaur, a half-man, half-bull monster. But in order to save her loved one from his horrible fate she’d stuffed a ball of thread into his pocket as he was led into this prison of a labyrinth, meant to be impossible to escape from. But thanks to her (and the thread) he did escape and was never sacrificed and they lived happily ever after.

Hugo said he hoped an imaginary trail of string would always lead him to me, which is why he’d called me Ariadne. I think he was secretly hoping that I’d embrace this story with a bit more enthusiasm by calling him Theseus. But I couldn’t. It all felt a bit too un-cool. I preferred calling him Achilles, which really pissed him off because it didn’t demonstrate the same level of love and commitment. He hated the thought that he might be my Achilles heel. “Lighten up”, I’d said. “Don’t take everything so bloody literally.”

I’ve got to hand it to him though. He’s the only person who’s ever got me into a bath under the auspices of scientific experimentation. One day he’d told me to bring my bikini with when I went round. I’d hoped that meant we were going to his parents’ posh health club, and was frankly a bit miffed when I got there and he said we were staying put. “Why did I bring my bikini then?” I’d protested. “My fault” he apologised. “You probably don’t need it. But we are doing something with water.”

He led me into his parents’ bathroom. The tub had been filled to the brim. Curiously there were a whole load of plastic measuring jugs strewn across the floor. He explained that he’d been learning all about this Greek mathematician, Archimedes, the first person to work out that the volume of an object placed in a fluid was equal to the volume of the amount of fluid displaced by that object when submerged.

For some bizarre reason, Hugo wanted to work out my body mass Archimedes style. He’d drilled a small hole just above the water line. The plan was that when I got in the bath, my body mass would trickle out the hole and Hugo would be waiting to collect it in the measuring jugs.

“I don’t give a toss what my body mass is Hugo. I don’t even understand what you’re going on about.”

“Don’t be such a killjoy Danni. It’ll take five minutes.”

So off I went to put on my swimsuit and came back to stand hovering by the bath.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” I was no scientist, but felt pretty certain all would not go according to plan.

“Of course it will” snapped Hugo.

I stepped gingerly into the tub. A little bit of water trickled into a jug Hugo was holding up to the hole. “OK, you can sit down now Danni. Don’t worry, you don’t have to do it so slowly, it’s all under control.” So I plonked myself down and Hugo looked on in horror as the volume of my body mass cascaded over the edge of the bath onto his parents’ cream shag pile, bypassing his too small hole entirely.

“Achilles, I think you should stick to the Arts,” I laughed.

“Oh shut up Ariadne. You never wanted it to work in the first place!”

See, told you he always knew exactly what I was thinking. Anyway, never one to miss out on a golden opportunity, and seeing as I was already in the bath, he told me to shove up and let some of the water out. He took off his clothes and sloshed himself beside me. Secretly I think the whole thing had been about getting me half-naked in the bath with him. Christ knows why he hadn’t just suggested that in the first place.

---------------------------

Even by the age of eighteen Hugo and I had spoken loads of times about marriage. “Do you think we’ll end up together” he’d ask.

I’d pondered and then joked about a possible scenario. “I don’t know. If you ever asked me I’m sure I should say yes, but probably wouldn’t. I reckon I’ll be more intent on screwing up my life. Maybe I’ll come crying to you when I’m mid-thirties and divorced, by which time you’ll probably be blissfully married to somebody else and I’ll have to live with the fact that I had the chance of happiness but turned it down.

I don’t know what it is about Hugo. Many people would dream of having what we have. It’s just sometimes I find myself in the kitchen of our Highgate flat (technically his flat, but we both live in it) sticking lemon sole under the grill when I should be out being wild and reckless.

Rafflecopter Code for $100 Amazon Gift Card & Gift Basket Giveaway:

Pump Up Your Book and Jo Kessel are giving away a $100 Amazon Gift Card & a French Gift Basket of French gift basket that includes a whole lot of goodies associated with the book, including a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape, a famous wine from the Rhône wine region of southeastern France!
Terms & Conditions:
  • By entering the giveaway, you are confirming you are at least 18 years old.
  • One winner will be chosen via Rafflecopter to receive one $100 Amazon Gift Card and one winner will be chosen to win the gift basket.
  • This giveaway begins October 7 and ends January 18.
  • Winners will be contacted via email on Monday, January 20, 2014.
  • Winner has 48 hours to reply.
Good luck everyone!

ENTER TO WIN!

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Meet Valia's Villain @JocelynDex #RomFantasy

Title: Valia’s Villain
Series: Sempire Seductions, Book 2
Author: Jocelyn Dex
            
Publisher: Ellora’s Cave                  
Cover Artist: Syneca Featherstone             
Genre: Erotic Paranormal Romance
Length: 36,000 words
ISBN: 9781419948275          

Valia’s Villain Blurb
When Valia approaches the Ferox demon, hoping for scorching sex and a feed, she doesn’t expect to be handcuffed, transported to the demon realm, accused of dirty deeds she has no memory of committing and held captive for three days.  Even though she believes her captor to be crazy, she feels a connection to him she’s felt with no one else.

When Rydin senses the Sempire who locked him up, fed on him and used him as a sex slave many years ago, he knows his wait for revenge is finally over. Burning with the need to punish her, he imprisons her in the demon realm, where she is at his mercy, but as much as he tries to ignore it, a connection sparks between them every time they touch.




Author Bio

Jocelyn was born in Iowa and currently resides in hot-as-hell Texas. She shares her home with her very own 6'4" alpha male and varying numbers of spoiled cats and dogs. Teaching one of her dogs to file his nails is one of her all-time favorite accomplishments.

She thinks dragonflies are awesome, spiders are creepy and it’s rumored that she sleeps with a machete by her bed in case zombies attack in the middle of the night. Jocelyn loves to paint, loves to read, and loves to write sizzling erotic romance about yummy demons that would make your momma blush.

Here’s where you can find Jocelyn on the web

Here’s where you can buy Valia’s Villain



Giveaway - Runs from 10/23 to 10/31:

1 Ebook Copy of Araya’s Addiction, Book 1 of the Sempire Seductions Series
1 Swag Pack - Various Stuff
1 $15 Bitch Face Cosmetics Gift Card



Monday, October 21, 2013

A sexy thriller for Halloween! #RomFantasy @DenyseBridger

RECKLESS ASSIGNATION


Read the Reviews:


Blurb: A haunted and abandoned hotel on Halloween is the setting for a very private party between two lovers, one of them a world-class, sophisticated intelligence operative who’s trying to teach his young and innocent lady that curiosity can sometimes take you places you’d be better not to go. Amid elaborate trappings meant to scare and entice, Rick’s seduction takes some unexpected but wickedly wonderful twists. But, Rick also has a lesson to learn, when his past collides with his present, and almost destroys everything he cherishes most.

Reckless Assignation A Romantica® erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave



Find it HERE: 


Read the Reviews:



Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Dracula in the Flesh - an Interview with @TraceyHKitts

An Interview with Dracula
By Tracey H. Kitts

As he walks into the room, I feel my heart flutter and my breath catches in my throat. For a moment I am unable to speak. I simply stare at him, taking in his beauty. He is everything I always imagined he would be. He fills both the room and my senses. As he sits in the chair facing me, I take a deep breath and try to steady my nerves.

“Good evening, Vlad. I’ve waited a long time to meet you, face to face.”

“Good evening, Tracey.”

My name sounds strange falling from his lips. His accent gives it an exotic sound.

“Are you ready for our interview?” I ask.

“Please, proceed.”

I clear my throat, unsure of how exactly I should go about this. Finally, I decide to just go for it.

“What is it like to be immortal?” I ask.

He sighs, as if he carries the weight of the world. “I once thought it was a curse. To be immortal is to watch all that you love fade away while you remain, unchanged.” He pauses. “No, that is not true. You are changed, you only look the same.”

“You mentioned looking the same. Do you have a reflection?”

His smile is sad. “Until I am reunited with the other half of my soul, I shall have to take your word for how I look.”

He looks magnificent, but I don’t say that. “Do you have any vulnerabilities?” I ask.

“Sunlight weakens me, but it does not kill me. All of my kind can be harmed by silver in particular.” He moves forward in his chair. “Does it surprise you to know that I can be injured by most any weapon?”

“Actually, yes. So, you can be killed then?”

“Not easily, but yes. It is possible.”

“How did you become … what you are?”

He looks at the floor and for a moment I regret my question.

“My love was stolen from me. I became cursed while trying to bring her back from the dead.”

“I’m sorry. If you had known the consequences of your actions, would you have made the same choice?”

Once again his smile is bittersweet. “There was never any other choice,” he says softly.

“There are so many rumors and legends about you. Do you have any special powers or abilities?”

“I have power over the storm and the beasts of the field. I can run with the wolves, float on the mists, and soar into the night sky.”

“That’s amazing. Why do you drink blood?”

“Because I gave every last drop of mine in a ritual designed to bring my love back to me.”

“You mean Mina? You gave all your blood for her?”

“Yes. There is nothing I would not give for her. I seek in death that which was taken from me in life.”

 “Have you ever considered walking away and letting Mina have a normal life?” I ask, wondering if my final question is too personal.

He runs a hand through his dark hair and sits back. “I have. I have wondered if I am being selfish, if she would be better off not knowing. But then I remember what it felt like to hold her and I cannot accept that this is true. I gave my blood and part of my immortal soul so that she might live again. I plan to see this through, no matter the cost.”

Before I can apologize (because I’m afraid I hurt him somehow) a shadow passes over the room. The candles flicker and in an instant, he is gone.


Book Info:

Jonathan Harker, a young English lawyer, is traveling to Castle Dracula in order to finalize a real estate transaction. He has been personally requested by Count Dracula. What Jonathan doesn’t realize is that Dracula’s interests do not lie with him, but with his beautiful fiancée, Mina.

As soon as he saw her face, Dracula knew the ritual was a success. After all these long years, his love has returned to him. However, many things (such as Van Helsing and Jonathan Harker) stand in the way of their happiness. Sure, he could kill them all and take what he wants. However, his greatest desire is not to possess Mina, but to love her and have her return his love.

Therefore, Dracula’s fate and the fate of those closest to her lie in Mina’s hands. She has dreamed of him all her life. But what will she do when she learns her dark prince is real? What will happen when she knows him, not as a dream, but in the flesh?

WARNING: This book contains graphic violence, and graphic sex. This is NOT a romance novel, although there is a romance involved. This is Erotic Horror and might offend some readers.



Website  |  Twitter  |  Blog  |  Facebook


Monday, October 07, 2013

WRAGE @JosephSpencer00 #RomFantasy


About the Author:


As a boy, Joseph Spencer immersed himself in the deductive logic of Sherlock Holmes, the heroic crime fighting of Batman and Spider-Man, and a taste for the tragic with dramas from poets like Shakespeare and Homer.

Before Joseph took to spinning his own tales, he pursued a career in print sports journalism, graduating summa cum laude from Southern Illinois University-Carbondale. He covered such events as NASCAR’s Subway 500 race in Martinsville, the NBA Draft Camp in Chicago, the Junior College World Series, and Minor League Baseball’s Midwest League All-Star Game during a ten-year career throughout the Midwest. Now, he works as an emergency telecommunications specialist with an Illinois police department. The combination of years of writing experience with a background working with law enforcement professionals gave rise to his writing aspirations.

Joseph was married to Dr. Amy (Waggoner) Spencer, an accomplished veterinary doctor, on March 14, 2012. He received word his debut novel was accepted by his publisher, Damnation Books, the next day. Joseph is hard at work on the rest of the series. Book 2 – Wrage – was released June 1, 2013. The Spencer family enjoys reading Charlaine Harris, George R.R. Martin, Mary Janice Davidson, and most paranormal stories. The Spencers also enjoy quoting movie lines from “The Princess Bride”, “Rain Man”, “Bridesmaids”, and “Office Space.”

Visit his website at www.JosephBSpencer.com

Connect & Socialize with Joe!





Interview with the Author:

How long have you been writing?

I worked for ten years as a print journalist in large regional daily newspapers in Peoria, Il., Decatur, Il., Burlington, Iowa, and Grand Junction, Colo. I covered such events as NASCAR’s Subway 500 race in Martinsville, Va., the NBA Draft Camp in Chicago, the Junior College World Series, and Minor League Baseball’s Midwest League All-Star Game. I also won an award for outstanding writer of the year by the Colorado Tennis Association.

How long have you been a published author?

My first book, Grim, came out in the fall of 2012, so I’m still relatively new to fiction writing. I’m trying to learn and entertain at the same time. I’ve had some great feedback from reviewers.

What titles do you have available?

I’ve only written the two books in the Sons of Darkness series – Grim and Wrage.

What made you choose the subject of this book?

Wrage explores the Faustian theme of wanting something different for your life. Several characters strike deals they may end up regretting to see their schemes and obsessions realized. This novel also expands its universe of supernatural characters which were inspired in part by mythology and one of my favorite TV shows, Supernatural. Critics of my first novel in The Sons of Darkness series Grim expressed some dissatisfaction that there wasn’t more redemption for the characters involved, and I think they will find this story a little more to their liking.

Do you have any new titles coming soon?

I’m working on the third book of my Sons of Darkness series, Malice. It will follow a bad boy rocker, Malice Madsen, who is loosely patterned after Marilyn Manson.  Each son represents one of the seven deadly sins so Malice will represent pride. I’m also working on a side project outside of the series in which a small town girl with big city dreams gets conned into a human trafficking ring. I don’t think people realize how large of a problem this is inside the United States.

What is your favourite genre and why?

Crime fiction is my favorite because I enjoyed stories about Sherlock Holmes as a child and I’ve always found it exciting to try to figure out a crime with the detective since that time.

What, to you, is the most exciting part of the writing process?

I enjoy letting my characters dictate to me how certain scenes play out. I’m more of a pantser than an intricate plotter. I’ve got a definite plan of starting and ending points for scenes, but sometimes the characters take the middle and run with them in a different place than where I originally thought.

If you could co-author a book with anyone, who would you choose and why?

I’d choose James Rollins. I met him in Chicago at a book convention without being a reader of his. I gave his books a chance because he was a great guy and I enjoyed the synopsis on the book jacket. I’m glad I did because he’s become one of my favorite writers. He blends science with action and teaches you so much.

Where can readers find you on the web?

My site is www.josephbspencer.com
I’m also on Twitter at @josephspencer00
Here is a link to me on my publisher’s site:
http://damnationbooks.com/book.php?isbn=9781615729777

Here is my Amazon link:
http://www.amazon.com/Wrage-Joseph-Spencer/dp/161572978X/

Here are links to my video trailers on YouTube:

Grim - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wJMdOhL-Qrg

Wrage - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j3Z-ECZw3AE


About the Book:


Sometimes the toughest fight lies within yourself.

As more dark secrets come to light, the battle for souls pushes Prairieville to the brink of war in the living and supernatural realms.

Jeff Wrage swears a blood oath to Abaddon, the supernatural avenger of murder victims, to hunt the crooked cop who butchered his wife. Jeff wonders whether he can be the executioner Abaddon requires. Their pact throws the supernatural realm in chaos and threatens to trigger an apocalyptic fight for control of the afterlife between the Sons of Darkness and Sons of Light foretold in the Dead Sea Scrolls.

Orlando Marino sees the death of Cyrus Black as his opportunity to restore the Marino family's stronghold in Prairieville’s organized crime scene and become a mob kingpin. He unleashes a plague, turning its victims into mindless followers. Cyrus' heir is busy rooting out a traitor and is unable to stop the coming turf war in the realm of man.

The fate of all rests with Homicide Detective Anna Duke, who steps into the shoes of her mentor while coming to terms with unrequited love. As she tries to clear the fallen hero's name, she takes on a case where corpses go missing. Her new partner is reported dead. She learns the truth about her true identity and uncovers a trail of secrets questioning her tragic past. She journeys to avert the destruction of all creation.

Purchase your copy:

AMAZON | DAMNATION BOOKS


Title: Wrage
Author: Joseph Spencer

Publisher: Damnation Books LLC (June 1, 2013)

Genre: Occult Crime Thriller
Pages: 214
Language: English
ISBN-10: 161572978X
ISBN-13: 978-1615729784

Purchase at AMAZON

Sometimes the toughest fight lies within yourself.

As more dark secrets come to light, the battle for souls pushes Prairieville to the brink of war in the living and supernatural realms.

Jeff Wrage swears a blood oath to Abaddon, the supernatural avenger of murder victims, to hunt the crooked cop who butchered his wife. Jeff wonders whether he can be the executioner Abaddon requires. Their pact throws the supernatural realm in chaos and threatens to trigger an apocalyptic fight for control of the afterlife between the Sons of Darkness and Sons of Light foretold in the Dead Sea Scrolls.

Orlando Marino sees the death of Cyrus Black as his opportunity to restore the Marino family's stronghold in Prairieville’s organized crime scene and become a mob kingpin. He unleashes a plague, turning its victims into mindless followers. Cyrus' heir is busy rooting out a traitor and is unable to stop the coming turf war in the realm of man.

The fate of all rests with Homicide Detective Anna Duke, who steps into the shoes of her mentor while coming to terms with unrequited love. As she tries to clear the fallen hero's name, she takes on a case where corpses go missing. Her new partner is reported dead. She learns the truth about her true identity and uncovers a trail of secrets questioning her tragic past. She journeys to avert the destruction of all creation.

Book Excerpt:

“What do I have to do? I didn’t know rules before I did the ritual,” Jeff cowered into a ball, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. It was definitely the weirdest conversation he’d ever had, considering he was talking to himself or whatever was inside of him now.

“My terms are simple,” Abaddon rumbled, once again speaking to Jeff through his own lips. “You must avenge the lives of the wrongful dead by killing those who robbed them of their rightful place in the afterlife. After I’ve collected the souls you’ve punished, I’ll help you avenge your wife. I’ll help you kill Christopher Sinks.”

Jeff’s eyes searched his suddenly glowing skin looking for answers. “What if I can’t kill for you? I’ve never hurt anyone. I don’t know how I’d do something like that.”

The beastly laugh once again rattled his chest so hard his ribs hurt. “Don’t worry, boy. I’ll show you. Let me see if I can convince you. Hear the plea of the souls stuck in limbo, waiting for judgment against their murderers.” Jeff’s hands were forced toward each other. A thunderous clap echoed when they met together. The wound on his right palm reopened and drops of blood littered the ground.

Immediately, loud rustling noises surrounded Jeff on all sides. Clumps of dirt in front of graves everywhere shook and collapsed. Pale, glowing hands clawed out of their disturbed burial plots. The bony hands reached out toward the sky, fighting to be free of their earthly bonds. Gradually, heads, torsos and full bodies climbed out of the overturned soil. Some were only skeletons, while other corpses growled as they inched closer, sagging, rotting flesh dripped blood, dirt and worms to the ground with every step. Some were dismembered. Some were riddled with bullet holes. Others bled from gashes in their sides, stomachs and necks. All of them had a blinding light poking out of the cracks and crags of their rotting flesh. They reached out toward him. None of their mouths moved. Yet, an otherworldly buzz of whispers filled the air. The uncovered corpses seemed to be chanting.

“We’re the wrongful dead,” they whispered. “We’re robbed of our eternal bed. Our souls mark the evil deeds. Punish those with bloodthirsty needs. Kill the ones who took our eternity. Kill them and set us free.”

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Saturday, October 05, 2013

PIRATES @DenyseBridger GIVEAWAY! #RomFantasy

The winners of the contest are: Pauline Sutch gets the Peacock Pendant, and Haven Malone wins the Octopus Pendant! CONGRATULATIONS, ladies - and thank you to everyone who entered.



PIRATES
Formerly called ROGUES, revised and re-edited

Available from:

Three stories, one kind of hero, pirates anyone? Includes the short stories Angel-Fire, Storm-Singer, and The Phantom’s Lair… Historical adventure, and the darker mystery of an ageless vampire who keeps a witch at his side, his protector and his lover through eternity...

So, Halloween is coming, and I have a cool re-release of a fun trilogy of stories with a common theme that we’re going to celebrate. PIRATES! I’ve bought some very cool jewellery for prizes, and I’m not going to use Rafflecopter to force you all into signing up for stuff you don’t really want, or make you follow me. The giveaway will mean you leave a comment here, and an email. Within 24 hours of the contest close, I’ll announce a winner and attempt to contact you. If I don’t get your confirmation within 48 hours, a new winner will be chosen.

These are the prizes:


I’m going to select three exclusive excerpts from the three stories in PIRATES. Answer them in your comment, and you’ll be entered to win one of the pendants. If you answer the bonus question, you’ll have a double entry. IF you want to add entries for the chances to win–tell me something about one of the stories that is NOT in the excerpts, and I’ll double your entries because that means you’ve bought the book! ;)

Good luck everyone! The contest is open internationally. The winner will be announced on October 21st, and the pendants shipped on the 22nd, so you can have them for Halloween!

(For the duration of the contest, comments are on moderation, and I’ll release them all the day the winner is announced, so don’t worry if it looks like your comment didn’t post.)

Angel-Fire:

“Relax, Jacques,” she purred softly as she rained kisses over his face and chest. “Let your mind accept the gift I have given you.”

Swept along on a tidal wave of sensuous excitement, Stanton struggled despite her pleas. He made a half-hearted grab for her when her soft lips trekked further downward, and she effortlessly slapped aside his attempt at restraint.

Jack’s hips rose from the bed, the reaction totally beyond his ability to control, if indeed he had truly wanted to stop the barrage of sexual delight pounding through his veins. He twisted, tried to pin her, but laughter met the awkward movement of his sluggish limbs.

Angelique pressed the expanse of his naked chest and pushing him onto his back as she straddled his hips and grinned down at him.

Stanton opened his mouth, but no coherent words passed his lips.

She lowered herself onto his straining erection and his body convulsed with new euphoria. When the surge of sensory pleasure threatened to suffocate him, his mind finally rose and found freedom.

Through a haze of smoke and mist, Jack’s beloved ship, The Scarlet Thorn, sailed away as he shouted obscenities and anything else his fertile imagination offered him. On Thorn’s quarterdeck, the newly appointed Captain DeBeaupre’s laughter rang out and taunted him. Gold, spinning wildly, glittering wickedly, always out of reach. Blood tinged the brilliance of the shining metal and Jack drew back from it. Engulfed in crimson, a skull grinned from the golden surface.
Was this part of the notorious curse that he’d been hearing about for years?

As quickly as the thought crystallized in his mind, it was lost to swirling mist again.

Slowly, the fog cleared and the Thorn, under attack and badly damaged, shrieked rage into his brain, echoing into a darkness that obscured everything.

“Breathe deeply, my love,” Angelique whispered, riding his bucking hips wildly as she held his wavering gaze. “Let my angel-fire bring forth your destiny,” she moaned, losing her hold on his gaze as her desire peaked and exploded.

The Phantom’s Lair:

Stanton stopped a few feet from the two people squared off against each other. The girl’s sword moved like a shimmering sliver of moonlight as she parried and feinted with careless grace, easily deflecting the less disciplined thrusts of her opponent’s blade. She was dressed like a buccaneer, but he sensed she was anything but what she appeared to be. She slipped on wet ground. The drunkard gained an advantage and made to deliver a fatal strike.

Cutlass drawn, Jack intercepted the other man’s sword on its downward arc. Sparks flew as the blades clashed, and Stanton circled until he stood between the woman and her attacker.

“Taking advantage of a lady when she’s down.” Jack shook his head in mock despair, while his mouth curved into a roguish smile. “That’s hardly fair play.”

“Stay outta this.” The sailor snarled in reckless fury. “It’s between me and the lady.” He tried to shove Stanton aside.

Jack pushed back and waited. The stumbling man to recovered and had a new target, as Jack had anticipated. He raised his weapon and edged closer to Stanton.

“Do you really think this wise, mate?” Jack smiled, enjoying himself now.

His opponent lunged.

Jack sidestepped and the other man hit the building and staggered. Jack tapped his shoulder with his sword. The man whirled, growling his fury, and attacked like a madman. Jack hadn’t calculated the ferocity of the other man’s anger, and he was nearly run through.

The swordplay began in earnest, and Stanton had no time to consider if he should have left this situation to the people involved. A few well-chosen steps gave him the advantage and he parried awkward thrusts with more ease as he drove the fellow backward. When he struck the man across the face with the hilt of his cutlass, he thought the contest over. Until a slash of fire tore up his arm and he had scant seconds to realize he’d been struck. Stanton’s annoyance went up another notch and he spun around, intent on ending the impromptu confrontation. The woman spared him further effort when she slammed the back of the sailor’s head with the butt of a pistol and he went down with a groan.

Jack looked at her, a quizzical tilt to his head.

“I didn’t think it necessary to kill a man simply for being stupid,” she explained with a flash of pearly-white teeth. “But I thank you for your assistance, sir.” She stepped closer and peered at her rescuer. He stepped back, sheathing his cutlass, with suspicion in his pale eyes.

“Do I know you?”

“I think not, m’lady.” Jack smiled.

Now that he could see her clearly in the torchlight, Jack knew they had never met. He wouldn’t have forgotten a woman as lovely as this one. The flicker of the torch flames found responding tongues of color in her long, tumbling mane, presently slipping from the leather thong she’d tied at her nape. The cloak she wore was open, and his sharp gaze took rapid stock of her clothes. His earlier opinion was confirmed in his sweeping appraisal as he inventoried silk shirt, close-fitting pants of heavy cotton, polished leather boots reaching her knees, and a wide belt from which hung the scabbard for her handcrafted sword.

“Jack Stanton.” She positioned the pistol at her hip. “You’re Captain Jack Stanton, aren’t you? The one they call The Phantom.”

Jack’s head tilted as he met her bold brown stare. What he saw there amused him. She was curious, and faintly excited by her discovery of his identity. “And you are?” 

Storm-Singer:

Magic thrummed in the icy pitch of the night air. Sorcery and song combined to create a powerful and potent spell, one that promised to be all Jaden had demanded.

Arrah contained her wrath, pushed it into the darkest corner of her soul, as she concentrated on the binding harmony she was weaving with the winds. Power surged within her, and she breathed in the sweet, pure essence of earth-force, captivated now by the mystical rapture that the music stirred and sent spiraling into the night.

Waves rose and battered the ebony shores of the Isle of Nyx, their crashing voice another rhythm of power in the enchantment. The winds coalesced, added their resonant wail to the sounds filling the air, and she shuddered, savage spirit attuned to the maelstrom of forces engulfing her. She shifted the tone of her song, weaving greater torrents of madness into the music, and the night darkened further.

With the blackness came vision.

And Jaden.

She caught his unique scent, heard the whisper of silk moving rhythmically with each step he took toward her. She felt the power of his very presence long before his graceful hand came to rest at her shoulder.

The Spectre is ready for launch.”

Jaden’s smooth, sensual voice caressed her, as silken and alluring as the power that vibrated within her body. His arms glided around her waist, and the soft, evocative stroke of his tongue on her neck made her tremble. His hands roamed freely over her, everywhere at once, lighting fire and hunger in her veins as he touched and explored familiar curves. She arched away from him, and he pulled her back against the solid steel of his body. When his mouth covered the throbbing pulse at her neck, her voice reached a new crescendo of furious power. She felt the sharp piercing of her skin then their thoughts merged and reached outward as he sought beyond the storm she’d conjured for him.

Long minutes later, he released his hold on her and turned her to face him, dark eyes glittering. He smiled, tenderness in the shift of his perfect features. She kissed his cheek, then bent her forehead to his chest, faintly aware of the stolen heartbeat that was hers, hearing the even cadence that was a flawless echo of each thump of life within her.

“How long will you need?” she asked, her earlier anger faded for the moment.

“We will return before dawn,” he replied with faint laughter in his rich tone.

“Is this treasure worth the risk you take, Jaden?” She wasn’t as certain as he appeared to be. An indefinable and worrisome element that remained out of her reach nagged at her.

“This treasure is far more than gold and jewels, Arrah,” he purred.

Startled, she met his gaze. “What did you see?”

“Betrayal.”

Her eyes grew huge as he smiled down at her.

“Have faith.” He kissed her lips, a slow, erotic caress tasting faintly of blood and magic. “Wait for me.” He winked then vanished in an inky swirl of mist and silken cloak.


Questions

Angel-Fire: What is the name of Jack’s ship?

The Phantom’s Lair: What name is Jack known as in pirate circles?

Storm-Singer: What did Arrah’s vision show her when she sang the spell of foresight?


BONUS: On what page of my website can you find the graphic that the PIRATES cover is based on?


PIRATES
Formerly called ROGUES, revised and reedited

Available from: