Friday, October 30, 2015

Book Blast: Halloween: Henry, Saddara and the Neighborhood by Juli Draney

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book blast


clip_image002Halloween: Henry, Saddara and the Neighborhood

Juli Draney

Genre: Fiction, Fantasy, Paranormal, Halloween

Date of Publication: October 2012

Word Count: 9,868

Cover Artist: Mark Garcia

Book Description:

Looking for another fun Halloween story to add to your repertoire? "Halloween: Henry, Saddara and the Neighborhood" is a fictional chapter book for children of all ages! The story depicts the colorful scenes of a legendary Halloween night through the eyes of Henry, a rugged, but sophisticated black cat. The story takes the reader to the quaint town of Greenwood. Henry enjoys his human family and the sights in the town on Halloween, but ventures out into the foothills to his favorite place, the haunted Hostetler mansion.

Henry experiences many supernatural events on his adventure to the old mansion near the woods, including interactions with and sightings of witches, werewolves, musical vampires, ghosts, goblins, and zombies. Henry has a dear friend who inhabits the Hostetler mansion, the ghost of a little girl named Saddara. Saddara's touching story is told in this tale and receives a powerful resolution. Henry somehow escapes this incredible adventure with his life, a scarred ear and wise lessons to impart.

“Halloween: Henry, Saddara and the Neighborhood” is Halloween fun with beauty and wisdom brewed in!

This book is also a Rock Opera Dance Musical!

Available at Amazon

Excerpt from “Meet Henry”

“Do you take one lump of sugar or two? Or seven?” asked little Saddara. Then she erupted into a high pitched giggle.

“I’ll take seven sugars and I would like a mouse on the side,” I answered as we both laughed and sighed. Our pretend tea parties in the rose garden of the old mansion were delightful!

“Well, I guess it’s time for me to go now,” said Saddara. “I don’t know when mother and father and the boys will be here, but I will wait. I am sure they are coming!” With a pet on my head, she would fade away back into her bedroom. I would then make my way home through the lovely, wooded foothills. Those were fun times I had with Saddara. I’ll tell you all about her later on.

I’m Henry, the beloved cat of the Rodriguez-Haskell family. I’m a black cat and a Tom. That and my scruffy, torn ear add to my irresistible charm. I live in the quaint town of Greenwood, named for its beautiful, green foothills. I’m a mix of ruffian and spoiled house cat (though I hate to admit the latter). I’ve garnered quite a bit of street smarts from my nightly cat adventures. I know every back alley and criminal joint in Greenwood, as well as the swanky, uptown parts. My family allows me to roam at night wherever I please, thanks to the cat door they installed. It’s nice to have my true nature recognized. We cats are complex characters, just like humans. I can enjoy a Shakespearean sonnet as well as dumpster diving for a delicious, discarded meal. By the way, you humans should try scavenging more. You’re missing out on all the fun!

I certainly didn’t receive my scruffy, torn ear from a human. I got it from a zombie in an epic battle on a legendary Halloween night. Halloween is my very favorite night of the year as it’s a night when my irresistible charms seem to frighten people out of their mind. If you have more time, I’ll share with you the story of one of the most incredible nights of my life - a night when my fierce scrappiness and sharp intellect were fully used. I must say, I’ve had many such nights. After all, I’m a cat.

Excerpt from “Vampires”

I saw something black lift up from the ground in the cemetery, like a hinged door. Then another one just like it opened a small distance away, still in the cemetery, then several more. They all seemed to open and close in unison. Open-slam-open-slam-open-slam-open-slam! They looked like coffins! I saw a cloaked, human-looking figure emerge from one, then another. These figures all seemed to be men in black cloaks, rising and moving rather calmly and gracefully in the moonlit fog of the night. Vampires.

The total count was eight. They were quietly walking and walking, slowly, without expression around the beautiful garden veranda near the cemetery and the front lawn of the mansion. They had shiny, groomed black hair that glistened in the moonlight, and a pale hue to their skin in cool tones. Some had white streaks blazing through their black hair. Their garments were impeccably beautiful. They wore woolen, pin-striped suits, with the finest tailoring I had ever seen. Long black capes draped from their necks around suit vests and slacks. They wore red roses on their lapels. Their shoes shone in the night like their hair.

After a bit of their calm pacing, I saw one go back to his coffin and produce a chair, then of all things, a beautiful cello and bow.

Excerpt from “The Return”

Exhausted, I walked over right in front of the guitar god zombie, still playing his guitar ferociously. I could still hear the howls of the werewolves and the cackle of the witches in the forest. Catrina and the vampires had fused their music with the zombies forming a type of Halloween heavy metal, funk tango dirge which was truly exhilarating. This was musical fusion as I had never heard before! It was like a rock concert in heaven and hell at the same time. The haunting yet extremely alive music, the cackling, the howling…it all climaxed into a great musical sound that seemed to summon the very sky and enter beyond time. It was totally overwhelming and reached an almost unbearable level of exhilaration. Then, suddenly it all stopped - dead silent. The vampires ceased their playing and dancing. Catrina and her partner stopped mid-turn.

About the author

Juli is a freelance musician, piano teacher and author living in Boise, Idaho. She has accompanied professional dance for many years. She was inspired to write her book in order to compose a Halloween ballet, which turned into a “Rock Opera Dance Musical”. She enjoys teaching, performing, writing, composing, and hanging with her daughter and two dachshunds.

Book blast, Giveaway & Interview: Idol of Glass by Jane Kindred @JaneKindred

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book blast


clip_image002Idol of Glass

Looking Glass Gods

Book 3

Jane Kindred

Genre: Dark fantasy with erotic

and romantic elements/LGBTQ

Publisher: Samhain Publishing

Date of Publication: October 27, 2015

ISBN: 978-161922-373-8


Number of pages: 268

Word Count: 91,000

Cover Artist: Kanaxa

Book Description:

Madness didn't destroy her; atoning for it might.

Ra has ruined everything. Returning to life through “renaissance” was her first mistake. Magical excess was her second. Now she must face the consequences of her reckless conjuring. Her beloved Ahr is dead by her hand, and the comfort she’d found in gender-rebel Jak seems lost to her forever.

Ra takes solace in punishment—and in communion with her punisher, the mysterious and merciless MeerShiva. But Shiva has spun a skein of secrecy over centuries—secrets about Ra’s origins and the origins of the Meer themselves. And as the secrets begin to unravel, someone else’s magic is at work from the hidden realm. Someone with the ability to redraw the fabric of the world itself.

As the picture becomes clearer, Ra must face some harsh realities: not everything is about her, and punishment isn’t enough. She must stand before Jak and try to atone for what she’s done. But seeing Jak will reveal one more secret Ra never saw coming—and one that may mean her own undoing.

Product Warnings: Contains scenes of intense BDSM, non-binary genders, and a preponderance of kick-ass women.

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Even spattered in dried blood and pieces of the dead man’s flesh, they cut a striking pair of figures on the dunes of the falend. Jet and dark poppy, their hair hung down their backs in the colors of atrocity. Light caressed them, knowing they were more than human, rippling iridescent over their tresses like quicksilver in the presence of the divine.

As in the youth of her former life, Ra was attired in the manner of a Meeric prince, the plain kaftan of black silk muting much of the violence that covered her.

MeerShiva was less subtle, the pearl-embroidered train of her sheer citrine gown, from the same ancient era, dragging behind her, caked in mud from the heath they’d left behind. They were two livid strokes of pigment on the canvas of sun-blanched sand.

Satisfied with the decimation of the remains they’d dumped in the marsh outside the small trading post beyond Mole Downs, they had simply walked away, and continued walking until they’d left the high country altogether. Coming down out of the mound-riddled moors and across the lowland heath, they followed the Filial River toward the east, past the falls that plunged beneath the bluff at the wasteland’s edge, and into the high desert north of the Anamnesis delta, until at last even Meeric sensibility demanded rest.

The palette of the sky behind the scattered stars held the deep lack of pigment that came with the hours after midnight, and they were in the center of nothing, a vast stretch of arid land that separated mound country from the Deltan lowlands. With a few murmured words, Shiva raised a single tower around them, round and made of stone, with windowless walls that stretched up over them into immeasurable heights. Meeric conjuring was often merely out of whim, influenced by the current state of mind and body. They lay on a floor of heather, an anomalous afterthought, with barely a pause between waking and sleep.


Jak lay at Geffn’s side, staring at the ceiling. They shared a bed for comfort, though nothing more. The question of their long estrangement had been settled once and for all in the formal dissolution of their bond after Ahr’s body had been consigned to the elements in the Bone Fire. During all that ceremony—the harvest rites marking the turn of the year, the final parting with Ahr, the unbinding rite in which Jak and Geffn had cut the red braided strings they’d worn around their wrists to symbolize their union and set each other free—Jak had been in a state of stasis. Unable to feel anything, unable to fully comprehend the loss of Ahr, despite the grand Deltan memorial.

In mound culture, funeral rites were less dramatic. Haethfalters didn’t believe in the necessity of the destruction of the body by fire to free the spirit for its next life. Hadn’t, at least, until Ra had come, having effected her own cremation from the grave in order to hasten her return, “renaissanced” as a fully formed adult in an instant on a cold winter night. But that was an exception to the rule. Ra’s renaissance was devilry and madness, and Jak should have recognized it from the start.

Haethfalters practiced a form of sky burial, building a platform for the deceased and laying the body out in the elements to be excarnated by carrion birds. Burying bodies below ground was impractical in a place where the ground was frozen half the year and where underground real estate was at a premium for their souterrain dwellings. When the bones were picked clean, they were taken and placed in the family’s burial cairn—a place that didn’t require such deep digging, and which they had to dig only once, during the warmer months.

They’d used the sky burial platform as Ahr’s crematory, and Jak had watched his elements spiral up into the warm autumn wind. Smoke and embers and ash. It hadn’t seemed real. It hadn’t seemed like Ahr’s body wrapped in fragrant oils and spices and covered in flower garlands. It hadn’t seemed like anyone’s body at all as the platform was consumed in bright flames against the dusk sky. It had all been too surreal.

But there’d been no denying the reality once the urn was placed in Jak’s hands. Within the unassuming clay vessel was all that was left of Jak’s dearest friend.

Jak had led that final ceremony, the procession to the family cairn, the slow march alone down the dank steps beneath the circle of stones, accompanied by Oldman Rem’s mournful highland fiddle from above, to place Ahr’s vessel in the narrow vault that normally held the bones of the dead. By custom, and not belief, Jak murmured prayers to the ancestors—Jak’s mother, Fyn, and Fyn’s parents, whom Jak had never known—and then tried to say good-bye to Ahr somehow. The finality made it impossible, and Jak dropped onto wobbly knees before the vault and wept.

Ahr was family to Jak, and no one had questioned his interment under the cairn. Family, after all, was a broad term in mound society, having little to do with blood. In the niche beside Ahr’s were the bones of Fyn, the last person Jak had said good-bye to here. And on Fyn’s other side lay the remains of Geffn’s brother, Pim, who’d died before Geffn was born. They were all connected to Jak in one way or another. But kneeling there among the sputter of tallow candles as the sobs receded into sighs, Jak had felt the wrongness of it. Ahr was a Deltan. His ashes didn’t belong below the highland moor.

Jak sighed, still staring up at the stone ceiling. There was still so much damage in Haethfalt from the rains. It was a terrible time to leave. But Jak couldn’t let this wait until spring.

“I have to take him home.” Jak spoke in the darkness beside Geffn. “I know I’m needed here to help rebuild, but Merit deserves to know. They were lovers. He should have the ashes.”

“You do what you need to.” Geffn squeezed Jak’s hand atop the blanket. “The moundhold will be here for you. Whatever you decide to do will be all right.”

But it wasn’t true. It would not be all right. Nothing could ever be all right with so much gone wrong.


Character Name: MeerShiva

Character Bio: 6’1” ageless goddess with long, blood-red hair, porcelain skin, and nails as sharp as shards of glass. Not to be trifled with.


Describe yourself what is your worst and best quality?

I have no worst quality, unless you count my tendency to rip the entrails out of evil men. Personally, I consider that quality one of my best.

What is the one thing you wish other people knew about you?

That the divine blood everyone is so fond of leaching out of me for their precious blessings has to come from somewhere, and I do not, as legend would have it, have ice water in my veins. Prick me and I bleed. (And then you bleed, because seriously, did you actually just touch me?)

What is your biggest secret, something no one knows about?

Pardon me, but I can’t breathe at the moment because I’m laughing so hard I may actually faint for the first time in my eternal existence. As if I would share that with mortals.

What are you most afraid of?


What do you want more than anything?

To be delightfully surprised.

What is your relationship status?

Ha! It’s complicated. The poor dear was so traumatized he’s forgotten the one night we spent together 400 years ago, and yet he seeks me out continually without knowing it. Then there’s his daughter, who, technically, is my daughter, but I gave birth to a son, and he’s dead, so it doesn’t count. Stop judging me. Nothing happened. It’s just that she’s rather extraordinary. You try living for over a thousand years in a world where no one is your equal.

How would you describe your sense of fashion?

Exquisite. I fashion the elements around me according to my mood. Designers base their gowns on me.

How much of a rebel are you?

What an odd question. There is no higher authority than myself. What on earth would I have to rebel against?

What do you consider to be your greatest achievement?

Not killing everyone on sight.

What is your idea of happiness?

An uninhabited planet.

What is your current state of mind?

Madness. Care to make something of it?

What is your most treasured possession?

Do people count? No? Then I’ll just say my hair. People would kill for it. And a few have.

What is your most marked characteristic?

Well it certainly isn’t mercy. Let’s say intolerance for stupidity and leave it at that.

What is it that you most dislike?

Abusive men. Followed by stupidity. Abusive stupid men are the absolute worst.

Which living person do you most despise?

Living? Those I despise don’t tend to live very long. So I suppose I would have to say myself.

What is your greatest regret?

One night 400 years ago.

What is the quality you most like in a man?


What is the quality you most like in a woman?


Who is your favorite hero in fiction?

Lady Macbeth.

Which living person do you most admire?

Oddly enough, a mortal named Jak. I know. I’m surprised at myself.

If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?

Since I have no flaws, this question is preposterous. ~sharpens nails~

What is your motto?

If I be waspish, best beware my sting.



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About the author



Jane Kindred is the author of epic fantasy series The House of Arkhangel’sk, Demons of Elysium, and Looking Glass Gods. She spent her formative years ruining her eyes reading romance novels in the Tucson sun and watching Star Trek marathons in the dark. She now writes to the sound of San Francisco foghorns while two cats slowly but surely edge her off the side of the bed.

Cover Reveal: Mortality by Ava O’Shay @AvaOShay

mortality banner (1)

Title: Mortality, Book Three of the Serenity Series
Series: The Serenity Series    mortality gif
Vol or Book #: 3
Author: Ava O’Shay
Audience: New Adult/ Adult +18
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Format: ebook and paperback
Publisher: Raven Books and Design
Cover by: Raven Books and Design, photograph
Editor: Eden Plantz
Pages: 250
Date to be Published: January 2016

blurb (5)
Leaving his rocky past behind Quill heads out with the band Pick-Six. Quickly thrust into the lime light of a rock and roll super star he finds his past isn’t so easy to leave behind. Alcohol, drugs, and an endless stream of available and willing woman push Quill to his limits of restraint. But he has more at stake than his sobriety, Quill will do almost anything to win Assad back even if it means baring his soul on stage. Just when things seem to be going his way Quill’s mother comes back into his life. A force he has never been able to overcome. Soon Quill’s feeling of responsibility for his family threatens to take him and the band down. Struggling against his demons Quill must learn to take what he wants before it’s too late.
excerpt (2)
Sweat trailed down Quill’s back, his hair matted to his forehead, the rays of the overhead lights were hotter than the face of the sun but the screams from the row of girls, five deep in front of the stage were making it all worth it.
He pulled the microphone out of its stand. His band, Pick-Six was on the last songs of the set. The rush adrenaline laced with anxiety was the high Quill used to get him through the nerves threatening to destroy each performance.
“It will get easier,” Simon, their manager said before each gig.
It hadn’t.
Each night Quill tried to figure out how he’d ended up the lead singer of a band he’d watched at the local rave bar. Each night he fought his inner demons so he could get through another performance without allowing himself a hit, a drink, or a hard screw. He’d sworn off any type of crutch to get him through. However he’d done it before the band hit it big and he was thrust in front of an overflowing bar full of people every night. He was going to face his fears and God only knew—his feelings—head on even if it killed him.
No more burying.
No more hiding.
And if people didn’t like it they could go fuck themselves.
author (1)
After many years trudging through the social awkwardness of high school and the whirl wind of college romances I finally landed in the Seattle area writing about the hell, horror, and don't forget the hot romance of youth. I love all things outdoors and can be found hiking, kayaking, mountain biking or doing anything active. I am a former Mrs. Washington United States but hung up my crown to focus on family and career. I love to learn and possess many degrees. I am a Christy McCullough Excellence in Education Award winner and I am Nationally Board Certified. I love to interact with my readers and meet them at signings so never be shy to come up and give me a hug and ask me anything.
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Thursday, October 29, 2015

Book Blast & Interview: Season Of The Witch by L.J.K. Oliva @writermama

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book blast


clip_image002Season Of The Witch

Shades Below

Book 1.5

L.J.K. Oliva

Genre: urban fantasy/paranormal romance

Date of Publication: Oct. 1, 2015

Word Count: 99,733

Cover Artist: Amy Mateyka

Book Description:

Something wicked this way comes...well, more wicked than usual.

Georgia Clare needs help, and fast. As the lone survivor of—and witness to—her coven's brutal massacre, she's felt the killer hunting her. There's just one problem: the rest of San Francisco's witching community wants nothing to do with her, and the one man she can turn to doesn't do witches.

Darius deCompostela has done his best to steer clear of subversive affairs. A private investigator and reluctant medium, the last thing he wants is to advertise his existence to the things that go bump in the night. But then Georgia knocks on his door, and try as he might, he can't turn her away.

It's just one case, after all. It's not like it's going to change his life…

Add it on Goodreads


It was her third night in a row of frozen pasta for dinner. Not that she was counting.

Georgia popped the top off yet another bottle of Corona and took a long draw. She leaned back against the counter. The microwave hummed behind her. She glanced over her shoulder at the digital clock on the unused stove. Sighed.

Nearly six o'clock, and still no sign of deCompostela. The pang of disappointment in her chest chafed at her pride. She should have known better than to believe he would stop by. He'd already made it abundantly clear he thought she was out of her mind.

Truth be told, the possibility had occurred to her. It had been a week since the new moon, and she hadn't seen hide nor hair Whatever it was. If not for the lingering scent of blood in her nostrils, she could almost believe she'd hallucinated the whole thing.

The microwave beeped. Georgia took one last drag of beer, then set her bottle down next to the two that had preceded it and opened the door. Fragrant steam rushed out; a heady blend of tomato, basil, and MSG.

Georgia reached in and grabbed the microwaveable plastic bowl, hissed and yanked her hand back again. She scanned the kitchen for something she could use as a potholder. Finally, she settled on a bunched-up paper towel.

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled as she pulled out the pasta bowl. Georgia tensed, turned...

...Just in time to see her living room window explode inward in a hail of glass. She let out a startled shriek. A massive, dark creature suddenly occupied the space where her coffee table used to sit.

Everything else seemed to happen in slow-motion. The creature straightened, shaking shards of glass off its dull black fur. Its ears twitched towards her. Its lips peeled back from its razor-sharp teeth.

Georgia's chest seized. Recognition slammed through her. The creature snarled. Any lingering doubts she'd been harboring instantly evaporated.

It was here.

Georgia blindly hurled her steaming pasta bowl in the direction of the living room and bolted from the kitchen. She looked over in time to see it connect with a loud splat squarely between the intruder's eyes. The creature howled and clawed desperately at its face.

Georgia didn't wait for it to recover. Her altar. If she could just get to her altar, she could banish the ugly fucker and buy herself some time.

The creature was planted in the dead center of the straightest path across the living room. Georgia veered wide. She had almost cleared the front door when it flew open in a barrage of splinters. Someone barreled into her. They both sprawled to the ground.

The new intruder landed on top. Georgia hissed, bucked, clawed at anything she could reach. Her mystery assailant scrambled off her.

"Jesus Christ, would you calm down, you crazy—what the f*ck?"

deCompostela. Georgia didn't let herself pause to feel relief. She rolled to her feet, grabbed his hand and dragged him after her. They dove behind her sagging couch just as the creature regained its bearings. It threw back its head and let out a roar that shook her remaining windows.

Darius sniffed. "Is that tomato sauce?"

Georgia didn't answer. Her focus was squarely on her altar again. It was still too far away. "Wait here."


She leaped to her feet. The creature's eyes locked on her. Georgia swallowed the terror that welled in her chest and sprinted for the altar. She skidded to the floor in front of it like a baseball player sliding into home, yanked open one of the drawers and fumbled for the first items that came to mind.

The creature roared again. A blast of superheated air hit the back of her neck. Georgia braced for the feel of teeth around her throat.

"Right here, ugly!"

She turned in time to see Darius' massive fist catch the creature square in the nose. The creature yelped, then retaliated with a swipe of an even-more-massive paw. The blow swept Darius clear off his feet. He flew backwards and hit the wall with a dull crunch, then sagged to the ground with a wheeze. Flecks of paint and drywall fluttered to the floor around him.

But he'd bought her the time she needed. Georgia held up her black candle and flicked her Bic lighter to life. She touched the flame to the wick. The creature's eyes widened.

"Black, the color of protection. Black, the color of night."

The creature snarled. Darius heaved himself to his feet and surged forward. He wrapped his arms around the creature's hind legs and held tight.

"Black, the color of silence. Black, the color of stillness."

The creature swiped at Darius again. Its paw caught empty air where his head had been just seconds earlier. It tried to move. Darius' arms visibly tightened. Muscles bunched under his suit jacket.

"With black I banish thee. With will I banish thee." Georgia poured intent into her words. Her voice grew heavier, fuller. "Return to the night. Return to the silence. Return to the stillness. Be gone from this place."

The creature let out a strange yelp-hiss as invisible forces compelled it to obey. Darius released it and scrambled backwards.

Georgia lifted her chin. Magic crackled through her veins, tinged her vision black. "Be gone from this place," she repeated. "With black and with will, by my power and by the power of the Lady, I banish thee. So mote it be." She blew out the candle.

The creature vanished in a swirl of acrid black smoke. Its final, infuriated roar echoed through the small apartment.

Georgia finally allowed herself to breathe again. For the first time, she realized she was coated in a fine film of glass and wood slivers. She reached up to dust herself off, at the last minute thought better of it.

Instead, she turned to Darius. He had hauled himself onto her sad excuse of a sofa. His hands were planted on his knees. He stared at the spot where the creature had last stood.

Georgia crossed her arms and cleared her throat. She waited until he looked up at her, then arched an eyebrow. "So. Do you believe me now?"


Character Name: Georgia Clare

Character Bio: Lena Alan’s best friend. Bookkeeper at Cross Your Teas. Badass Biker Witch and overall occult superhero.

Normally for character interviews, I like to sit my characters down at their favorite restaurant and have a nice, long chat. Sadly, neither my nor Georgia's schedules could accommodate a meeting like that right now. I did the next best thing, sent her the questions, and let her fill them out at her leisure.

Without further ado, meet Georgia Clare.


Describe yourself what is your worst and best quality?

Well, I'm a witch. I think that's pretty f*cking cool. Best quality: I'm persistent (some people would say stubborn, but they're just haters). Worst quality: I used to have a bit of a death magic addiction.

What is the one thing you wish other people knew about you?

I'm really not so bad, once you get past the whole death magic thing. I'm fun at a party, I have an awesome motorcycle, and I'm as loyal as they come.

What is your biggest secret something no one knows about?

I put on a tough face, but it stings like hell when people ice me out because of my past.

What are you most afraid of?


What do you want more than anything?


What is your relationship status?

Dating. Want more? Read the book. ;-)

How would you describe your sense of fashion?

Badass. I like leather and metal and denim and more leather. Oh, and did I mention leather?

How much of a rebel are you?

How much of a rebel is it possible to be?

What do you considered to be your greatest achievement?

I banished a goddess once (long story; again, read the book).

What is your idea of happiness?

Darius deCompostela.

What is your current state of mind?

Groovy, man.

What is your most treasured possession?

My 2001 Honda Valkyrie. I call her Dolores. She's a total bitch.

What is your most marked characteristic?

Physically? I have these violet (not purple, VIOLET) lowlights that are pretty awesome. Non-physically? Hell if I know. My sparkling personality, I guess.

What is it that you most dislike?

Judgmental bitches - er, witches.

Which living person do you most despise?

Supreme Overlord Oliva threatened me with a Jersey Shore marathon if I gave away any spoilers. the book!

What is your greatest regret?

I did a lot of things when I was young and stupid that I'm not proud of.

What is the quality you most like in a man?


What is the quality you most like in a woman?


Who is your favorite hero in fiction?

That guy who played Thor. What's his name? The blond one with the muscles. Delicious.

Which living person do you most admire?

Pope Francis. For a Catholic, he's all right.

If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?

I wouldn't mind being taller.

What is your motto?

Ride on.



About the author



L.J.K. Oliva is the devil-may-care alter-ego of noir romance novelist Laura Oliva. She likes her whiskey strong, her chocolate dark, and her steak bloody. L.J.K. likes monsters… and knows the darkest ones don’t live in closets.








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Book Blast: With Every Breath by Niecey Roy

with every banner

Title: With Every Breath        with every gif
Series: River Bend
Vol or Book #:  1
Author: Niecey Roy                              
Audience: Adult 18+
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Format:  e-Book
Publisher:  River Mist Media
Cover by:  RBA Designs
Pages:  Appox. 200 pgs
Date Published:  October 28, 2015


Jaden Miller had one plan when she left her hometown, and it was simple—never return. She has her dream job, her freedom, and miles separating her from a past she needed to outrun. Only one thing could make her return to River Bend, and that’s her best friend on the verge of a breakdown.
From the moment Cole Brooks realized he married the wrong woman, he’d done his best to not let fantasies of the one who got away haunt him. Now that his marriage is over, and Jaden’s back in town, is the universe giving him a second chance?
Jaden isn’t about to let her guard down around the man who broke her heart, but Cole won’t give up until she admits how perfect they would be together.
book links
about the author
Once upon a time, there was a young girl who wrote sappy poetry about every relationship gone wrong. She had her heart broken many times before the man of her dreams stepped off a big Navy ship and swept her off her feet, promising to never hold her shoe obsession against her.
From that day forward, she swore she’d never again write sappy poetry of unrequited love. Instead, a sucker for smooches and happily-ever-afters, Niecey Roy now writes contemporary romance inspired by her sailor’s sexy brown eyes and charming sense of humor.
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Wednesday, October 28, 2015

Series Blast & Giveaway: What Happens In Venice Trilogy by Diana Cachey @dianacachey

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What Happens In Venice Trilogy

Diana Cachey

Genre: Paranormal Romance

TAGLINE: Among the romantic canals of Venice—and oh so many Italian distractions—can a stunning American lawyer, her psychic sister and a free-spirited best friend, help the Ghosts of Venice solve a hushed up crime?

About the Series:

Louisa Mangotti, an American lawyer working as an Interpol expert for the international crime unit in Venice, receives a mysterious postcard from the Venetian ghosts, ancient protectors of the Republic. She scoffs at the ghosts, who plant clues for her to help them solve a hushed up crime that threatens Venice, because she suspects her bad boy ex-lover, Matteo, has crafted a plan to distract her from his own involvement in the crime. Nonetheless she’s forced to depend on him to decipher clues, including diving with him on a haunted shipwreck in the lagoon and venturing to far out hidden islands. Her sister, who communes with ghosts, arrives to rescue Louisa but is lured away from the chase into a steamy affair with a possible phantom. Another feisty foreigner, Louisa’s best friend Rebecca, further spices up the action and adds to the antics when she visits for Carnival and samples the Venetian charm and romance. More sexy men, as well as ghosts, distract the women as they follow a maze of cryptic clues, baffling signs and cunning messengers.

As the three women fall deeper into the whirlpool of the mysterious lagoon town, its wonderful sights, and alluring men, they continue to navigate a stormy course. With time running out, can the beauties solve a crime that threatens the future of Venice itself?

On top of being sexy, gorgeous and classy, Louisa Mangotti is a respected attorney and Interpol expert who is puzzled by the odd postcard that arrives in her mailbox signed mysteriously… "Venetian Ghosts". She assumes it's a quixotic attempt by her bad-boy ex, Matteo, to re-ignite their relationship. Louisa may have dismissed the ghosts, but the ghosts aren’t quite done with her.

Ghosts take over Venice video, Part One

Ghosts take over Venice video Part Two

Available at Amazon

Halloween Day of the Dead Sale .99 cents!!

Keywords: 1. Chick lit mystery 2. Venice fiction 3. Ghosts 4. Paranormal mystery 5. Contemporary women novels 6. Travel Italy



clip_image002_thumb[1]Love Spirits

What Happens In Venice

Book One

Diana Cachey

About the Love Spirits:

When the bodies of two glass makers wash up on Murano Island, the cryptic messages persist. Louisa is drawn to the story of the Venetian ghosts and initiates a personal investigation. Reluctantly, Louisa calls upon her bad boy ex, Matteo, to help decipher the clues. Before she knows it, a flame that was never fully extinguished is unexpectedly rekindled.

Sensing that her sister is in over her head, Barbara Mangotti rushes to the rescue, only to be lured away by two hard-to-resist good-looking Venetian men.

With time running out, can these two beauties solve a crime that could threaten the city of Venice itself?

This book is like a magic carpet ride that takes you to Venice, capturing in a most wonderful way its unique allure and mystery. Part travelogue, part mystery, part romance novel, it will warm your heart, send goosebumps up your spine, and leave you breathless.

Available at Amazon


From the Top of Our Great Bell Tower

Saint Mark Square

Venice, Italy

Dear wide-eyed tourist,

Don’t go to Venice.

But if you do, don’t fall in -- in a canal, in love or into Venice itself. As if you have a choice. Hear us cackling?

Listen. We came to warn you about La Serenissima, the Most Serene One, as Venice has been called since before the Middle Ages. You will not heed our warning and you will come looking for us. How do we know? It happens every time a Venetian ghost story is told.

As ancient protectors of the Venetian republic, we ghosts guard her virtues of which she has many. One reason we love her, and you will too, is that she is stuck in time. Did you know Venice functions without motorcars or trucks? We don’t like motorcars or trucks. Hundreds of tiny islands sewn together by foot bridges leaves no need for noisy, fume-spewing vehicles, thankfully.

We prefer floating.

Our classic transport is the gondola. Mostly reserved for you tourists now, gondolas are and always have been helmed by the most prestigious oarsmen in the world -- highly trained gondoliers who stand while rowing through the labyrinth of canals. They don’t mind when we ride with or without you while they serenade us with opera, Frank Sinatra songs and romantic favorites.

Ah yes, romance. As one visitor put it, “It’s their schtick, a Venetian ploy, an act to get sexy with you.” It is true. Venice equals romance equals sex.

If the shadows of Venice frighten you or you feel like you’re in a dream, have fun with it, float with us. We are watching over you. We want to further your journey to a more magical life because we think a person is charmed by a trip to La Serenissima.

It could change your soul forever. Just ignore this cautionary tale.

We remain in your service,

The Venetian Ghosts


clip_image004_thumb[1]Lagoon Lure

What Happens in Venice

Book Two

Diana Cachey

About the Lagoon Lure:

Sexy sleuth Louisa is back! She captivated romance novel readers and mystery lovers in Love Spirits, the first book of the intriguing international mystery and crime series, What Happens in Venice. Book Two, Lagoon Lure, continues this seductive ghost story and resumes the carnal pleasures, conspiracy and corruption.

American in Venice, Louisa, resumes her Venetian exploits, steamy love affairs and paranormal assisted murder investigation she began in Love Spirits. The mystery and romance further ensnares her in the second book of the What Happens in Venice mystery series.

Still unnerved by the notion that Venice ghost stories are real, Louisa delves further into the mystery of the deaths of two glassmakers while juggling the lustful manipulations of her ex-lover, Matteo, whose role in the double murder grows murkier.

Meanwhile Louisa's usually shy sister, Barbara, explores her new-found sexuality with Venice's willing men, sharing her adventures with her sister but keeping one particularly mysterious man a secret. Romance novel readers will love the changes in her and the tension created by the affairs of the heart that Venice leads her into before she realizes that she's fallen hard despite the haunted happenings around her.

When Louisa's best friend, "Rouge," arrives for Carnival to sample its masked men and create her own romance novel subplots and complicates the situation further by encouraging the sisters to embrace the pleasures of secret Venice. Rouge not only steams up the landscape but she is lured into her own complicated romances and supernatural events, if not a reluctant ghost story or two.

With Venice as the lush backdrop for double murder and a web of passionate intrigue, Louisa deciphers clues planted by ghosts and struggles to resist the wicked charms of the very tempter she suspected in the crimes. Her unfinished romance and ghost story compete against her love affair with Venice and its secrets. While she tries to enjoy her days of Venice travel, food and fashion, as well as her new admirer’s own brand of magic, the mystery of the dead glass makers still looms in the lagoon.

Lively supporting characters add sex, chuckles and suspense to the already twisted plots and turned phrases when they too must navigate Venice mystery, romantic liaisons and the ghost story encounters. The gothic setting, the romance laden environment, the mysterious corners and shadowy lagoon lead everyone astray. Haunted Venice gives everyone plenty to puzzle over right until the end.

Venice cafés, restaurants, and other haunts play a prominent role in this sexy supernatural romance and international crime series about a beautiful American in Venice guided by ghosts to solve the mystery of a hushed-up crime. Paranormal clues and ghost apparitions lead Louisa deeper into the lagoon, and she is forced to reluctantly enlist Matteo's support. Can she trust him, or will this ghostly lagoon lure prove deadly?

Available at Amazon


Venice always delivered. For thousands of years she spread out her bounty for swarms of people who feasted upon her beauty. They stayed in ornate palaces or luxury hotels and paraded in stylish fashions. They admired diverse art, listened to sweet music, sampled delicious food.

They also enjoyed plentiful romantic opportunities.

Ah, the romantic allure of Venice. It continues to this day. Indeed, soon after Barbara’s arrival, Venice offered her no less than three handsome men. Now there stood her sister, Louisa, who begged to hear the dirt on two of them but knew nothing of the third man, the one Barbara wanted most.

She planned to keep him a secret.

Barbara looked around and tried to take it all in, all that Venice had to offer. She saw in front of her a small island, which sat placidly in the lagoon and proudly displayed its huge monastic bell tower. Although a massive presence, this tower was easily dwarfed by the one it faced -- the more famous one -- the one that housed the bells of San Marco. She gazed across the water, let the reflecting sun’s rays warm her face and both Venetian towers began to toll their bells behind her and before her. They echoed across the lagoon, reverberated throughout the tranquil setting. Barbara took note of the bells. She’d been trained by her Italian friends to pay particular attention to what she’d been the thinking in that precise moment these bells began to chime.

She’d been thinking about secrets. That third man. He must remain her secret.

Thus began her diversion, a long philosophical theory about her twin orange cats.

“Back home in Seattle,” she said, “my cats confuse and distract me during morning meditation, just like those two Venetian men did my first night in Venice. The two inquisitive cats circle my cushion then jump on the table where I offer blessings of flowers and candy. They sniff and inspect as if they’ve never seen the ritual before.” 

Louisa yawned.

“Those cats seem to see me anew each day, as a thing they need to supervise, approve or inspect. Eventually, they settle nearby to meditate on their own. They observe my struggle to quiet my mind while they remain perfect little meditators. Those two Venetian men were the same. While I was nervous and disquieted, they just purred.”

Louisa frowned.


clip_image006_thumb[1]Magic Island

What Happens In Venice

Book Three

Diana Cachey

About Magic Island:

Sexy sleuth Louisa is back — with Venice as the lush backdrop for double murder and a web of passionate intrigue. In this final installment of the Trinity, Louisa captivates readers by deciphering clues planted by ghosts & struggling to resist the wicked charms of the very tempter she suspects. Her unfinished love story continues to compete against her love affair with Venice and its secrets. She tries to enjoy her days of Venice travel, food and fashion and new admirer’s own brand of magic but the mystery of the dead glass makers still looms in the lagoon.

Lively supporting characters add more sex, chuckles and suspense to the already twisted plots and turned phrases as they too must navigate their own romantic liaisons and thought provoking ghost encounters. Magic Island gives everyone plenty to puzzle over right up to its surprising finish!

Available at Amazon



At the landing point, halfway to the upper level, she felt it. A cold wind blew.

Why would the thrift shop women leave the window open during one of the coldest days of the year? Venetians, and Italians generally, were obsessed with energy conservation, not out of duty or political bent, but out of necessity or greed. Why would the darling elf-man allow it? Why hadn’t he gone up to close it?

She blinked.

In the second floor attic room, a man stood by the open window and fanned himself. He’d removed his coat, hat, scarf and shirt. Bare-chested, he was about to try on what looked to be the next best deal in the shop, a cashmere sweater with Armani label.

The room wasn’t suffering from the dreaded “they heat the place like people don’t always come in dressed for the outdoors.” It was not an unbearable oven. It was chilly. Yet sweat poured down the man’s face.

Louisa couldn’t help but stare for he stood half naked with perfect abdomen and a peek of what was below the belt. His pants hung low on his tan, tempting, tapered waist.

The man jumped and gave an unnecessary apology in thick Buranese dialect.

“My name is Antonin. Your friend, Marco, sent me,” he whispered. He made no attempt to cover up for which Louisa gave another silent nod of gratitude.

She stepped closer then remembered she was supposed to seek guidance before acting. She started to speak but he gestured for her to be quiet and pulled her to the window. He pointed to the canal.

Not exactly the answer to my prayers, but go with it, she reckoned.

She leaned squarely up against him then wrapped an arm around his waist, that tempting, tapered waist.

He felt her desire rising so he moved them both away from the window where he pulled his pants a little further down to reveal those, those whatever those lines are, those muscle things that go diagonally from the hips to the important region.

“Spetta mattimo,” he whispered, “wait a minute,” or something like that, and he pressed his hips against hers.

“Prima, guarda la,” (First, look at this) he said and nodded towards the window.



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About the author_thumb[1]


Diana Cachey is a licensed attorney, published academic, and former adjunct law professor. She also holds a BA in English, and while in law school, she was the first female editor in chief of her university’s law review.

The author of the novel Love Spirits, she has trained with several New York Times best-selling writers, including Robert Allen, with more than seventy-two million books sold.

For more than a decade, Cachey has been traveling to Venice, the setting of her novel, on extended trips several times a year. The cafés, restaurants, and many other haunts of Venice play a prominent role in her sexy paranormal mystery-romance about a beautiful American lawyer guided by the Ghosts of Venice in the investigation of a hushed-up crime.