Crymsyn Hart's Blog, page 3

Title:  The Coven

Series: Gargoyles’ Song #1

Author: Stephanie Burke

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC

Release Date: May 7, 2021

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 302 pages

Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Mystery, Science Fiction, paranormal romance, pansexual & multisexual, multiple partners, murder mystery, alien encounters, action adventure

Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/57945966-the-coven

Book Description

Cyprus Reid is an enigma who courts the spotlight while carefully maintaining her mystique, intriguing legions of fans with her stylistic lyrics and a voice that brings many to tears. Even more intriguing than her all-male entourage is the fact that people are dying to get to her… literally.

To ex-Navy SEAL-turned-government intelligence operative Jason Giles, Cyprus is either a victim of an elaborate conspiracy, or the most fiendish killer since Jack the Ripper. Sure, the victims had shady pasts and shared a connection to a strange incident at Mount McKinley some fifty years ago, but that doesn’t mean they deserved to die, seemingly drained of life while engaged in acts of wanton carnality.

Jason is sent to discover the truth, but what he finds is more seductive, more intriguing, more enticing than a mere boy in a dress. What Jason finds is the existence of The Coven. And once they discover you, there is no going back.

Excerpt

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2021 Stephanie Burke

“Ms. Reid? Over here!”

“Ms. Reid, you are looking perfect tonight. Look this way, please!”

“Ms. Reid! You are an inspiration! I love you!”

“Ms. Reid! Ms. Reid! You are a goddess!”

“You are a dirty tramp, and you seduce men into worshiping you, you nasty slut!”

“You stole my husband, you bitch!”

“I hope you rot in hell!”

And Cyprus, as usual, ignored it all.

The flashing bulbs temporarily blinded her, but she ignored the minor inconvenience as well, as she moved with her customary style and grace down the wrinkled red carpet that had been rolled out for her visit.

She turned and flashed one last mysterious smile at the gathered crowd, both the hateful and the adoring fans, and silently made her way into the safety of the hotel.

“Ms. Reid?” She looked up at the oh-so-proper, British-accented voice, realizing absently that it was the hotel manager.

She paused, giving the short, balding man her full attention, noting how he flushed a little at her scrutiny.

The doors behind them closed with a whoosh, muting the noise and shouts of the crowd, though bulbs continued to flash as paparazzi desperately tried to get that winning shot of one of the world’s most beautiful and renowned vocalists.

“Um.” He cleared his throat, tugging at his collar as he shifted from foot to foot, more like an adolescent than a grown man. “Security has been tightened on your floor as you requested. Also, you are the only occupant of the twenty-seventh floor, though we can easily accommodate you and your entourage in the penthouse suite.”

“Thank you and that will be all,” a tall, long-haired man spoke, towering over both the manager and Cyprus. “Though we appreciate the hospitality you and your staff have provided thus far, Ms. Reid does not prefer the penthouse or any of the presidential suites. The twenty-seventh floor is perfect for our needs.”

The manager froze, staring at the man as if suddenly noticing his presence and that the sheer aura surrounding Cyprus had rendered the world blind to anyone else around her.

But then, that was part of her mystery.

Cyprus Reid never traveled with fewer than five men, five painfully handsome, dominating men.

How anyone could ever not notice them was a complete mystery, but usually they managed the neat theatrical trick of fading into the background. Once they decided to be seen, however, a blind man couldn’t miss them.

Each stood over six feet tall — five perfectly formed men, each unique and differently beautiful in his own way, who made it a point to surround and protect Ms. Reid from any and all activities that could be considered dangerous, especially keeping any unsavory fanatics at bay.

The one who spoke to him — Unus, he had discovered — the one with long, dark hair, appeared to be the spokesman for the rest of the group. If there was anything to be settled, this one was the one to do it.

He stood before the manager, his perfectly cut Savile Row suit doing nothing to hide the raw masculinity and barely leashed savagery that seemed to glow from his eyes.

The other four, all mystery men of different ethnic backgrounds and styles, moved in closer, alert to any trouble that might develop.

“V-v-very g-good, s-sir,” the manager stuttered, growing nervous now that all that male power was directed toward him. He reached into his pocket, then took a quick step back as all the men moved forward, hiding Cyprus behind a wall of muscle.

“It’s just the electronic key card,” he quickly explained, sweating under his collar as if suddenly fearing for his very life. “Just the key. No one else besides our head of security has a copy.”

“Your head of security?” the man asked, leaning forward, getting closer so that the manager could make out small, very fine tribal tattooing along his hairline, down in front of his ears, and down into the collar of his shirt.

“Jason Giles,” the manager explained. “Very good, comes highly recommended. He is securing the twenty-seventh floor as we speak. Ms. Reid’s safety is our chief concern.”

A slim, dusky hand reached between the two of them, halting any movement the tall man might have made and pulling him back into line.

“Very good.”

He conceded to the smaller female whose hand now rested on his arm, nodding once. “Ms. Reid is exhausted…”

“Oh, excuse me!” The manager snapped back into host mode and hastily directed the small party to the private elevators. “These only stop at executive floors, like the twenty-seventh,” he explained, while placing the card against a small scanner.

The doors immediately opened, and he quickly ushered them inside. The men immediately surrounded Cyprus protectively. Within seconds, they were whisked to the proper floor, and all exited into the plushly carpeted, brightly lit hall.

“As requested, Ms. Reid’s room is in the center. The rooms on either side of her are prepared for occupancy and can be accessed only though the interior doors that are in Ms. Reid’s main suite. All others are closed off and locked, both electronically and by physical means. This floor is as safe as Fort Knox.”

That said, he led them to a door where another man, one with nearly white-blond hair, stood at attention.

Instantly, the men were once again on high alert, their bodies tensing as they formed a barrier between Cyprus and the unknown man.

“This is Jason Giles,” the manager introduced. “He is head of security, hired exclusively for your safety during this visit.”

“An honor.” Jason spoke softly, his eyes going to the odd collection of men who surrounded the artist.

“We thank you.” The long-haired spokesman for the group eyed the strange male carefully. “But your services, though appreciated, are not needed.”

There was steel in that voice only a dead man could miss. The undercurrents flowed strongly and were rife with testosterone.

“Be that as it may,” Jason replied, “I remain your first line of defense. If something gets out of hand, I will do my best to quell it before it even makes it this far. And if you have any issues, no matter how minor, be sure to let me know. Any extra security is a must. We all have to protect the beauteous Ms. Reid,” he added, with barely veiled sarcasm.

“If you think –” the now disgruntled leader of apparent party-toy men began, but a slim hand pressing against his arm stopped him again.

Huffing and visibly fighting to control himself, the man nodded and stepped aside.

And Jason got his first glimpse of the real-life Cyprus Reid.

Purchase Links

Changeling Press: https://www.changelingpress.com/the-coven-gargoyles-song-1-b-3180

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B092ZY7YRQ

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/1017477951

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-coven-26

Meet the Author

Stephanie is a USA Today Best Selling, multi published, multi award-winning author, Master Costumer, handicapped, wife and mother of two.

From sex-shifting, shape-shifting dragons to undersea worlds, sexually confused elemental Fey and homo-erotic mysteries, all the way to pastel-challenged urban sprites, Stephanie has done it all, and hopes to do more.

Stephanie is an orator on her favorite subjects of writing and world-building, a sometime teacher when you feed her enough tea and donuts, an anime nut, a costumer, and a frequent guest of various sci-fi and writing cons where she can be found leading panel discussions or researching varied legends and theories to improve her writing skills.

Stephanie is known for her love of the outrageous, strong female characters, believable worlds, male characters filled with depth, and multi-cultural stories that make the reader sit up and take notice.

Author Links

Website: https://theflashcat.wordpress.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/stephanie.burke.1048

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Flashycat

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/127876.Stephanie_Burke

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/stephanie.flashycat.burke/

Bookbub:  https://www.bookbub.com/authors/stephanie-burke

Giveaway

One lucky winner will receive a $10.00 Changeling Press Gift Code!

Direct Link:

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/555033ec911/?widget_template=589504cd4f3bedde0b6e64c2

About the Book

Hell-bent on revenge for the death of her husband, Elizabeth takes the initiative and sets a daring trap for Vladimir, the Russian spy she suspects of the deed. Meanwhile, Peter Smythe, a handsome and dedicated correspondent, is investigating the disappearances of street people in the docklands of London.

The discovery of a horribly mutilated body of one of the victims reminds Elizabeth of the horrendous acts perpetrated by the Whitechapel murderer known as the Collector. Elizabeth slew that monster, itself a creature of Vladimir, and she fears this is a new apprentice.

Sparks fly when Peter and Elizabeth come together, and they set off on a roller-coaster adventure in a fogbound steam-driven world. When the hunted becomes the hunter, Elizabeth is the bait!

Buy Link: https://books2read.com/TetheredGoat

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Mikala Ash

Alone at last.

I was sitting unaccompanied in a Cumberland steam-cab. By myself, without anyone to protect me.

It was a strange sensation after the intensity of the last few months. A return to normal, as it were, to a time before I began my Investigation Bureau, and before I became an Agent of the Queen.

A time when I had been just an ordinary widow.

“Ha!”

I pardoned myself for what was a small, but understandable, expression of conceit, for I’d given my protector, the ever-reliable Bisby, the slip. I forgave myself the sin of self-congratulation, so enamored I was on the audacity of my cunning subterfuge. Sin or not, it had been a nice piece of work, using guile, disguise, and a certain boldness. I was still panting, and my heart still pounded with the excitement of it. Perspiration was running cold beneath my shift, and inside my button boots my feet ached appallingly. Despite these reminders of physical effort, the exclamation of conceit turned into a slightly manic chuckle, then into a full-blown belly laugh. Goodness knows what the cabbie perched above the cabin thought.

Today had been intended to be more practice of the techniques taught to me by Oxley, himself an Agent of the Queen, and assessed by the aforesaid Bisby, another agent. The two, posing as footmen, had been assigned to protect my household from the attentions of the Russian agent, Vladimir, a diabolical monster who I’d bested only a few months ago, when I’d killed his murderous slave, The Collector, who had terrorized Whitechapel with a series of brutal mutilation murders. Oxley could, I am certain, gain renown as a teacher, for I’d learned a great deal over the last few weeks. Tomorrow my skills in evasion were to be formally put to the test. The challenge being to evade Bisby for the period of one hour.

“Do you think I’ll be ready for tomorrow’s test?” I’d asked Oxley in a suitably tremulous voice, when he saw Bisby and me off after breakfast.

“We must crawl before we can walk,” he replied sagely. “Just remember what we’ve been practicing, and you will do well.”

“I’ll try,” I said with a dash of uncertainty.

Of course, that was nonsense. I’d been ready for over week, so I took the opportunity of taking the test today instead, and not just for an hour. Bisby or Oxley had only themselves to blame, for I had given them fair warning with my dreadful overacting. I mean to say, pinched cheeks, fluttering eyelashes, trembling lips and a voice hesitant and pitched slightly higher than usual? I gave it everything. Proof that even the best Agents of the Queen can be the victims of feminine wiles.

Naughty of me, I know, but necessary, for it was integral to my grand plan.

To be strictly honest, I hadn’t thought it possible to evade the suffocating twenty-four-hour protection the general had erected about me. It seemed impenetrable, a forbidding brick wall a hundred feet high and a mile thick. As silly as that sounds, that’s the way I felt. Of course, a lady was never alone in public. She was either accompanied by her lady’s maid, a burly footman, a relative or mature female friend or companion, or, of course, by her husband. Such was the condition of women of quality, as we are termed in the year of our Lord 1860. Our virtue, and by that, I mean our reputation, was never safe if we were out in public alone.

Yet here I was.

Alone.

Admittedly the protection I suffered went even beyond what would be considered normal for the upper middle echelon of society. Whenever I left the house either Bisby or Oxley would be with me, disguised as footmen, a decadent luxury for a widow like me. At least they were not dressed in ostentatious livery as those working for the gentry. If those two professionals were not with me, I was with Archie, my late husband’s young batman during the Crimean War, who I considered the son we never had, and who now managed my Investigation Bureau, or with Felix, my former teacher of the erotic arts, a former prostitute and now assistant to Archie. If not with them then I would be in the company of Baudry, a doctor who had been intimately involved in my cases and had also graced my bed.

That was not the full extent of it. The general, my mentor, a confidant to the Queen, and commander of the clandestine force of agents protecting the realm, took it one step further. In addition to assigning Oxley and Bisby to watch from within my household, he also posted watchers over my house and staff. Thus there were eyes focussed on me all the time, unrelenting, and though invisible, the knowledge of their existence was like a heavy shadow from that imaginary brick wall, enveloping me, pressing in on me from every side, suffocating the life out of me. The general feared the eyes of Russian agents were also set fast upon me, ordered by the indefatigable Vladimir, awaiting his signal to strike.

About the Author

Aussie Mikala Ash used to be a mild-mannered training & development consultant by day, and a wild sci-fi and paranormal adventure writer by night. Now she is a brazen full-time writer and nature photographer who is concentrating on having among other things, “… bags, and bags of fun!” Mikala can be found on Facebook and on Twitter.

Just when I thought my life could get back to normal, reapers start disappearing. Lucifer won’t leave me alone no matter how much I tell him, I’m not interested. But when Than disappears, I know something is wrong and have to report it to our boss.

Once the beasts attacking the reapers come after me, I know there is nothing I can do except find out where they have come from and why the spirits are coming to me for help. With my personal life going crazy and the beasts pouncing from the shadows, everything has been thrown upside down.

My only path is to follow my instincts and where the spirits are leading me. It’s either that or take Lucifer up on his offer. And no matter how many reapers are going missing, I’m not heading down that road because there would be hell to pay.

EXCERPT:

I stood in the solace of the graveyard, taking in the quiet of the world around me. The spirits who lingered in this forgotten place knew better than to interrupt me. The moon hung low. Opposite the pale orb, the pastels of dawn dimmed the stars. As the world shifted from darkness to dawn, life froze. I reached out with all my senses, taking in the beauty and harmony of the moment. Only a few precious minutes none of the burdens of my existence hung on me in this treasurable time.

The calmness within the boneyard renewed my spirit. Of late my nerves had been bristling. Existence seemed gritty, covered in fine sand I couldn’t brush off. A breeze rattled the leaves from the boughs. They drifted to the forest floor below, adding to the growing mounds of reds, oranges, and yellows. When I was a kid, I’d jump in the large piles my father would rake before he burned them. Now they gathered around the slate stones and tree trunks. Instead of bringing me peace, it added to the growing unease settling on my shoulders.

Something wasn’t right in the universe.

I couldn’t put my finger on it no matter the avenue I pursued. My psychic senses foretold nothing. I no longer felt the pull to collect souls. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed being a grim reaper, but I also missed being human. I took a calming breath. The past was in the past. Although I could tamper with time and fix my grievous errors, I didn’t mess with it no matter what the temptation.

“But there’s always temptation. It’s a basic human necessity.”

Damnit. The stench of sulfur permeated the air. Lucifer, The Devil, or Mastema as he was known to all the angels, enjoyed crashing in at the most inopportune moments. “What do you want?” Dawn crested, spreading its brilliance over the boneyard.

His fingers trailed down the side of my cheek. The caresses felt real enough that I could’ve sworn he was beside me. However, no one was there. The wispy reminders of souls who lingered in the cemetery retreated because of his presence. It didn’t matter where I went, he would find me, again and again. He had almost entered into our world to spread his evil to all of humanity. All dimensions were closed off to him once more, and he was locked away in Hell. No matter how tight the doorways were sealed, some places remained thin. This was one of those, at least for me, where the veil could be breached. What else was a graveyard for a grim reaper but a portal into purgatory and the world of the dead?

“You know what I want. Take me up on my offer and let me pleasure you one of these days. Kerstin, you may not realize it, but you stand much my equal. It’d only take a little bit to elevate you to stand by my side for all time.”

A tremor of desire ran down my spine at the thought of ever seeing him again. Many believed the Devil had horns. In the guise I saw, he was the most ravishing creature I had ever laid my eyes on. He was lust personified. “You already know my answer, Mastema. I’ll never allow you into this world. You may have gotten my blood and my death to open the doorway before, but you never claimed my soul.”

“It isn’t your soul that I’m after, Kerstin, merely your friendship. Even if you don’t wish to acknowledge it, I owe you a boon.”

“I’m not one of your devoted followers who blindly renounced their souls to gain some stripped down version of the power you supposedly offer. I have no need for such abilities or promises.”

He chuckled so softly longing rolled through my body. Damn. Even his very laugh turned me on and made me question my own sanity.

“I’m the Prince of Darkness. I invented every base yearning and debauchery you can imagine that lives within the human psyche. I have no need for your soul now. Our last meeting was something to cherish. I had no knowledge you were a grim reaper. The power of our soul would have added to the power to let me escape. All the other spirits who were pulled through my rift made a wonderful addition to hell. You really should see it sometime. You might find it more to your liking than that eternal purgatory you linger in.”

“Enough taunting, Lucifer. Leave me be. I’m not going to give in, and your incessant prattling is enough to drive me mad. I won’t turn from my course and slip into hell. I’m a reaper first and foremost.”

“Maybe you are, and maybe you’re not. Either way just remember that you’re the one who set events in motion.”

I rolled my eyes. I was still cleaning up my mess from my last lifetime as a grim reaper when I got Sariel trapped in Death’s Dance. The settlement had been a thriving frontier town formed by murderers, thieves, and every low life scum imaginable. Over time that lawlessness spread and innocent people were getting hurt. The women of the town were tired of all the violence and called upon one of their own to do something about it. The witch called down a curse upon the town. In my former incarnation as Lissandra, I had heard her call for death and went to her. Than and Sariel had followed. Because of my decision to collect the souls, we had been wrapped into the web of the plague the woman wrought upon the town. A giant tornado decimated Death’s Dance. Than and I escaped the blight, leaving Sariel behind. Because of that, ramifications rippled throughout the universe.

One such consequence was Death’s Dance had become something like the Bermuda Triangle and Gettysburg wrapped into one. It was an otherworldly beacon that could not be switched off. It was in this place that the Devils’ serial killer had brought me back, hoping to take my soul and use it as the final key to open the gateway to Hell.

“Yeah. Yeah. Tell me something I don’t know. Now go away.”

BUY LINK: AMAZON

Becoming a grim reaper was right up my alley. I enjoyed being dead. I helped souls crossover into either Heaven or Hell with my fellow reaper, Than. For two years, I enjoyed my life and then the killings started. Psychics were being murdered at haunted sites and souls disappearing.

Someone was tampering with the fabric of the universe, trying to draw something evil into this world.

To do that, the killer needed the souls of the psychics and the ghosts he could gather to open the doorway. I was charged with saving those souls and find out who the serial killer was. Yeah, being used as bait was definitely not my first choice, but who can kill a grim reaper?

I’m already dead. With Than’s help, I’ll stop the evil from penetrating this world so I can get back to my soul gathering.

I mean the dead stay dead, right?

EXCERPT:

Death is all around us. Death is with us. I can feel it.

The second piece remained tucked away for the very end.

 “You don’t want to do this. I helped you. I told you this was the place. I brought you here. Now, you can let me go. I’ll never tell a soul. I swear.”

Her pitiful cries broke me from my reverie, and I remembered why I was truly here. My mission. The blade might have truly been perfection and a celestial gift shown to me by his hand, but I had a singular purpose for being at this location. The wind picked up and caressed my face, whispering of the night and the power to come with my sacrifice. She would bring my master closer to me. Maybe close enough for when he pierced the veil I could touch him. He expected death. The stronger the death, the closer he could come.

“Please let me go!”

One good backhand across her cheek shut her up. A gash opened up on her cheekbone and seeped a few drops of crimson. I had to be more careful. Any drop of blood spilled not in his name would jeopardize the sacrifice. Anger could not rule here. “That’s enough, bitch. No one is going to hear your screams. No one cares for them, either.”

She whimpered once more but didn’t dare raise her voice again. Her hands were bound behind her back so she could scratch at me. I’d learned the hard way. Her blond hair was littered with leaves and debris from our venture through the woods. Her fear filled blue gaze darted back and forth as she tried to look for a way to escape. Mud clung to her jeans. Her black shirt was torn, letting me catch a glimpse of a tattoo on her left shoulder. A crescent moon joined together with something else. The same shape as the sickle ready to cut through her flesh. The night’s energy and the landscape heightened the anticipation of the kill. The specters in the boneyard were drawn to her as moths were to a bonfire. Broken tombstones littered the ground. Some had sunken back into the dirt being reclaimed by the earth. Others had fused with trunks as trees as had grown up around the stones. Each headstone had a story to tell. The place was the forgotten burial yard for a bloody battle fought in the Civil War. Many were interred here in unmarked graves. Their bones might have gone to dust, but their souls remained.

I lifted the blade and tested its light weight in my grip. The metal glinted in the moonlight. All my senses were alive. I wound my free hand through her hair to hold her head steady. The heel of my hand rested against her clammy forehead. I wanted to see her reaction when I claimed her life for my master. Her eyes widened and I saw my face reflected in her eyes. My lips were turned up in a wicked grin. My eyes shown with anticipation. Stubble dotted my jaw but needing to shave did not stop me from doing what had to be done. Her fear was ripe. The sickle sang as it sliced through the air. I removed my hand from her brow before the blade separated her flesh. When the sickle hit her neck, it severed her head clean off. It flew a few feet before landing, rolling and then settling on the ground with her dead eyes staring up in the night. Blood spattered grass shone in the night. Spray hit my face, bathing me in the warm fount. Her body spasmed before flopping to the ground and twitching like an electrified butterfly. I watched her until she quieted down, and I admired my handiwork.

Above her body, an orange zigzag appeared in the dark night. The tendrils of her soul drifted from her body. Blue tentacles like electric arms emerged from the crack in the dimensions and stretched it even wider. They latched onto the threads of her soul and yanked them back. As the power of her soul was used up, I glimpsed the other side where my master dwelled. Whirls of reds and oranges swirled and exploding together like oil and water separating, and that gave me hope. Around the edges of the portal was an aurora of amethyst and twilight blue with the gold and silver dots of stars in the distance as the rift showed a portion of the universe. Rapture infused my very being. I dropped to my knees before the window into the other reality, dipped my hands into the cooling blood and raised them to the sky.

“Lord, I have done what you commanded. I am your servant for now and always.”

BUY LINK: Amazon

Being a psychic, you would think talking to the dead was a walk in the park. However, it’s not always that simple. The hooded specter haunting me is one I’ve been dreaming about since I was a kid. One day, he appeared in my bedroom mirror. Good? Evil? I don’t know what his true intentions are.

Enter Jackson, ghost hunting show host extraordinaire – and my ex – to save me from the big bad ghost.

From there…well…it’s been a world wind of complications. My house burnt down. I’m being stalked by an ancient evil and gotten myself back into the world of being a ghost hunting psychic. Jackson dragged me, along with a few other psychics, to a ghost town wiped off the map called Death’s Dance.

From there things went from bad to worse.

EXCERPT

The mist blanketed the ground and clung to everything it touched. The vapor was cold to pass through but not suffocating. Shadows lingered within the fog, but their forms remained too distant for me to ever make out. I wandered further into the haze determined to discover where I was. As I walked toward the figures, they hovered never getting any closer. The path was solid under my feet. I strained to see through the gray until my foot bumped into something protruding out of the ground. I tripped. The world shifted as I landed half on a patch of wet grass and half on something hard enough it send shockwaves of pain through my knees. It took a moment to catch my breath and orient myself. Before me was a gravestone carved from flaking slate, the name and epitaph had worn away by time.

            I placed my hand on the stone only to find it tangible and sturdy beneath my fingertips. The air remained static as I stood, but the curtain of mist had drawn back, revealing where I had ended up. A cemetery. This dream had transported me back to the burial ground I had frequented for as long as I could remember. Its peaceful landscape soothed me. I took a deep breath, searching the overgrown boneyard for the one occupant that was always there, observing me.

            The brume swirled before me into indistinguishing shapes. Some coalesced into hands, reaching out to clutch whatever passed in their vaporous fingers. The roiling air churned into the defined form of a tunnel. Faces materialized along the edges of the corridor, pressing against the thin fabric the air had woven. One of them screamed until it filled my ears. It tried to terrorize me into turning away from the forming tunnel. But nothing would deter me from my path. It was one I had walked so many times before. Something darted to my left, hiding behind one of the stone sentinels. It tried to get my attention, but I knew better.

            Nature had taken back this place, reclaiming it for its own purposes. Ivy gripped the elaborate crypts holding the crumbling necropolises together. The stone footpaths between the gravestones had been repurposed by the grass with only glimpses of gravel peeking out from among the blades. Weeping willows overshadowed all and skimmed the top of my hair. One longer bough tickled the back of my neck. I brushed it away and walked toward the yawning mouth of the passageway. A cool blast of air rumbled down the way, trying to ward me off. Another shadow skittered between the markers. I ignored it and stepped into channel. Once I did, the mist cut me off so I had no way back. The road ahead cleared and at the end stood a cloaked figure, observing me. I ran my fingers over a marker and the slate flaked away into my hand. The silence helped to soothe my mind, but an uneasiness lingered in my thoughts.

            Something was a little different about this dream. I couldn’t put my finger on. Tonight was the first time in a long while I hoped to see what he looked like. The passageway began to shrink around me. I stepped forward and he remained at the end, watching me. Every frustration I’d ever had picked at my mind because I was so close. A gust billowed his black cloak around him, but his face remained concealed as always. Maybe there was hope this time. Maybe I could get close enough to actually see some of him after all this time.

            When I walked toward him, the haze whirled around me, obscuring my path. The smog grew thicker the more I tried to go to him. If that wasn’t a sign to stop, I didn’t know what was.

I chuckled and held up my hands. “I get it. You don’t want to reveal yourself right now. One of these years, you’re going to have to. You can’t keep pulling me here and not show yourself.”

            An echo of laughter filtered through my dream before the mist completely enshrouded me.

            The fog swallowed the boneyard and the tunnel collapsed around me. The heaviness of the air descended on my skin, leaving a blanket of dew all over me. When the grayness dissipated and the vapor evaporated, I stood in a field with a lone tree atop a knoll.

            The tree was hundreds of years old. Even the smallest branch had the thickness of both my wrists put together. The boughs spread out, casting shadows over the land below, snatching those in its wake into the looming darkness. The oak was once grand and provided shelter for many living creatures. I could imagine the lush greenery that adorned this landmark. Now it was a skeletal thing that presided over death. A few dried up leaves clutched onto it, leeching the last vestiges of life from the husk. Even on the hill, it still spread a certain eeriness across the field. Gray clouds obscured the sun. It remained bright enough it cast the tree in shadow from my vantage point at the bottom of the tor. The grass brushed my waist. The cool breeze shivered the blades causing it to sound like the hollow wails of the dead. The sound pierced my soul and sent a tremor of fear through me. The wind blew harder and I caught the stench of death wafting through the meadow.

            From the shadows, I knew something besides the limbs were moving. As I climbed the mound, the grass thinned. Fog wrapped around the bottom of the tree, reaching out its tentacles to lick at my feet. The breeze glided through the emaciated branches, swinging the frayed ropes that dangled from the boughs. Some nooses choked fresh occupants who the birds hadn’t picked clean. Below the swinging fruit were the bones and dust of those who had come before.

            These poor souls were stuck here forced to relive their deaths over and over again in my dream. I stared at the dangling feet, hearing the wind rasp the old branches. Why had I been summoned to these particular places? They seemed so real.

            In the graveyard, the cool stone was alive under my fingers. The whisper of the wind through the willows clattered the leaves as it tried to impart some forgotten message, but I never understood the meaning.

            The mist twined its vaporous fingers around the darkened trunk and slithered through the piles of bones. The dead littered the ground and the tree took its nourishment from the remains. The stench of the rotting dead evaporated this close to the tree. Instead, the air had a stale taste to it like a room that had been closed up after a funeral. The heaviness of it sat on my tongue and always came back with me when I woke up.

            A gust raked the branches and swung the corpses. A heavy clatter sounded on the other side of the oak. I jumped and turned. The breath caught in my throat. I tried to calm my racing heart, but this was out of the ordinary. Creeping slowly around the enormous trunk, I saw one of the ropes had broken, scattering bones along the roots. More sustenance for the ancient tree. The vapor slid over my shoes, and soon claimed the bones. The mist had a mind of its own. If there was someone controlling it, I had not seen his face yet.

            To soothe my nerves, I stood a second with my back against the trunk. The rough bark dug through my shirt and poked me in the back. I closed my eyes. This dreamscape was devoid of any life. All was quiet. When I opened my eyes once more, the column of smog had appeared once more. A smile crept up on my lips because at the end of the corridor was my dark figure.

            His face was covered by a long, black hood and his body hidden in a voluminous cloak. The haze whirled around him. This time he reached out to me. He never frightened me no matter how many times I saw him. I assumed many things about my nighttime visitor. Maybe he was a tacit watcher who took a particular penchant to me. Or maybe he was a demon come to claim me. Maybe he was something else altogether. Whatever he was, unquiet spirit or wraith, he had been with me through the years.

            At this moment, the silence between us was better than words. I walked toward him away from the tree. The death around us was part of the landscape either by the hanging tree or in the graveyard. As I got closer, this time he didn’t move further away. He offered me no disapproval or reproach. He just—was. My visitor would never accuse me of being a witch one moment and the next be banging on my door, begging for assistance in matters of the occult.

            The fog grew heavier on my skin. It roiled around my feet, shooting tentacles around my legs until I could no longer move. I glanced at the ground and then back at him. This was as far as I was going to get. A heavy moan rolled through me. I looked up at him once more. Tendrils of his cloak billowed around him, reaching outward.

            “Really? Twice in one night. Come on. I get trying to remain mysterious, but this is ridiculous,” I said to him.

            I swore I saw him nod, but if he did, it was only the slightest movement of his head, the shake of the fabric of his hood. I sighed. The fog wrapped around the both of us, fading away and the real world called. No matter how much I wished to remain and learn more about him, I was waking up. Maybe one day I would discover his name.

BUY LINKS: Amazon

Hello Everyone,

Hope you are doing well. March came and went bringing April with it rather too quickly. Day job has been keeping me busy these past few weeks so writing time has been cut down.

Damned and Confused has been turned into my editor at Changeling Press. I’m waiting to get edits back and the cover. It’s a short story about a woman who discovers a deck of cursed Tarot cards and the demon who comes along with them.

Been spending a lot of time with our Border Collie/Lab mix Cadence. She’s 13 so getting around is harder, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t get to play ball once a day at least or trying to pull me away from the computer for belly rubs.

The dogs may be furry and get on my nerves, but they’re special. Both are rescues and Briar was severely abused before we got her. It’s taken her a long time to be the dog she is. Lots of love and patience.

With Damned & Confused done. Spelled for Love is out. I’m working on plotting a new Dark Fantasy novel that ties into the Forest of Bones book I have out. After that, I’ll be working on another Alien Vampire novel just because they are fun.

Do you have any favorite characters you would like to see come back from any of my novels? Or any questions about what’s going on with others?

Let me know. I’m always happy to talk books or ghosts.

Take Care Everyone. Thanks for taking a moment to read my little note.

Crymsyn Hart
https://crymsynhart.com/

Spelled for Love: Accidental Fairy Tales 3 is out with Changeling Press.

Blurb:

When the magic book deposits Jasmine, Micha, and Leon at a villains’ convention, all she wants is some time to unwind before their next adventure. Getting to be alone with her two mates means the world. All the while, the magic within her starts to go out of control.

Meanwhile, the evil Dorothy enlists some of the villains at the convention to kidnap the trio. Jasmine finds only her magic can save the men she loves and all of Oz. The only thing standing in her way is herself. She needs to accept her fate or all could be lost.

EXCERPT

“There you are. I was beginning to wonder if you had received my invitation.”

Jasmine glanced up from the note. Somehow, she had been transported from the bathroom to a glassed-in patio from which she could see the dark landscape outside. The woman from the lobby gestured to the open seat across from her and sipped her champagne. The table was set with only two place settings. The queen wore a sleek dress made of black metallic scales. Her pale blue skin gleamed against the inky fabric. Light blonde hair rolled down her back in ringlets. A silver necklace with a yellow stone at the center hugged her throat.

“How did I get up here?”

The queen laughed. “Magic, darling. I felt you even before I came into the hotel. You’re one of the most powerful beings I’ve ever encountered, and that’s saying something with all these dark creatures under one roof. You shine like the emerald at your throat. Oz knows how to make them. Or at least it used to. Sit. Sit.”

Jasmine touched the jewel and felt it throb with a life of its own. “I think you have me confused with someone else. I’m not from Oz, but I did visit there. This magic thing is all new to me. I don’t even know how to use it. Why did you lock me in the bathroom?”

The queen gave her a sly smile. “I couldn’t have you running to your companions. I needed to get you alone. Forgive my antics — I meant no harm. Sit, please.”

Jasmine sighed. The woman wanted an audience with her. She had to endure this before she could go back to Micha and Leon. This meeting could be the whole reason the book brought her here. Jasmine had to see it to the end, so she sat across from the Erlqueen.

A butler popped out of nowhere with a tray. He set the dishes down and removed the domes. On the plates were steak and some green vegetable doused with sauce. Water and wine filled the glasses. Jasmine poked the food with her fork.

“Not hungry?”

“It’s not that. You think I’m from Oz, and say I’m the strongest person in this place. You’re a queen and I’m nothing. Surely, there are others in the hotel who deserve to be sitting here.”

The queen cut into her steak. Blood ran over the white plate. She took a bite and licked her fingers as the juice slid down her fork. Her tongue flicked along her sharp nails. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“No, Your Majesty, I don’t. I appreciate the dinner invitation and the dress. I’m clearly not who you think I am.” She started to get up, but the queen grabbed her wrist. A surge of purple energy wrapped around Jasmine’s hand and traveled up her arm. The warmth of the emerald zigzagged from her neck and flashed down her arm. The green tendrils wound around the purple threads until it choked them out. The threads of magic dissolved and the emerald tendrils faded until Jasmine could pull her hand away, leaving her breathless but not drained.

The evil queen removed her hand and sat back with a smug smile. “Girl, you might not know what you’re doing, but I’ve just proven my point. That should’ve turned you into one of my nightingales. You defended yourself. Just then you were all Oz and now you’re all human. Very clever. Whatever switch you turn on, it certainly works. Let me guess — it’s that damn book. She knows how to protect the things she wants.”

Jasmine felt the blood drain from her face. “What do you know about the book?”

“Dig into your steak and we’ll talk. It’s not poisoned. I don’t stoop as low as some other wicked queens. I have subtler ways, and I have no desire to add you to my menagerie. I wanted to speak with you is because we have a common foe. When I saw you with the Scarecrow and the Lion, I assumed you knew why you were here. And you arrived just in time, too.”

Buy & Pre-order Links: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Changeling Press, Kobo, Apple Books

You can check out more of my books on Kindle or if you want to get the rest of the Accidental Fairy Tale Series at Changeling Press.

Appearances:

June 4-6th- ConCarolinas Charlotte, NC
If you’re in the NC area and are up to hitting a Convention, come say hello. I’ll be there in person, braving the crowds.

Currently Reading

I’ve read this one before and enjoyed it very much. I love the idea of the whole novel. I won’t give any spoilers in case no one has read it. I like some of Stephen King’s stuff, but not all of it. This is one of the more recent ones of his I’d checked put. I’m due to head back to the bookstore to get more books in a couple of weeks so I needed to fill the time between now and then.

If you like conspiracy theories and time travel, I’d recommend 11/22/63.

Thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to dip into a little slice of my world.
I hope you enjoyed it.

Let me know what you guys would like to see in my next newsletter.

Crymsyn

Crymsynhart.com

When the magic book deposits Jasmine, Micha, and Leon at a villains’ convention, all she wants is some time to unwind before their next adventure. Getting to be alone with her two mates means the world. All the while, the magic within her starts to go out of control.

Meanwhile, the evil Dorothy enlists some of the villains at the convention to kidnap the trio. Jasmine finds only her magic can save the men she loves and all of Oz. The only thing standing in her way is herself. She needs to accept her fate or all could be lost.

EXCERPT:

Jasmine Thorne took in a long breath. The masseur found all the right spots on her back. Under the hands of this magical genius, she felt like putty as her cares melted away. All the thoughts of having to save Oz from the evil Dorothy faded. If she ruminated about her mission too long, it gave her a migraine. Wrapping her mind around the idea that she was in love with the Scarecrow and the Cowardly Lion seemed easier to fathom than taking on a storybook heroine who had turned into the villain. At least the Tinman was in the hotel jail, so she didn’t have to worry about him. They had brought him from Dracula’s castle through the magic book. He’d been turned into a vampire, but still hell-bent on getting back to Dorothy. She had no idea why she was the one Micha’s magic book picked to save Oz.

The massage therapist hit another place on her shoulders. Jasmine groaned and pushed her troubles from her mind.

“Ma’am, excuse me.”

A shake roused her enough that Jasmine realized she had fallen asleep during the rubdown. She yawned and looked up at the small woman who had made her forget her current situation for a little while. “Sorry. Must have drifted off.”

The woman gave her a warm smile. “It happens.”

“You are amazing. Thank you.” Jasmine sat up slowly and rolled her shoulders. She held the sheet to her chest as the woman exited the room. Jasmine hopped off the table and slipped her clothes back on.

She thought about her agenda for the rest of the day. Nothing except dinner with her two men and maybe a night of lovemaking. The convention they had free passes for would start tomorrow morning. The tickets came with the room for the inconvenience of only having one room when she’d wanted two. The manager had given them all-access passes. Jasmine didn’t really know what the convention was for, but Micha, her Scarecrow, and Leon wanted to check it out.

Jasmine left the spa and wove through the hotel lobby clutching the brass key to her room in her hand. The ornate lobby was decorated in gold and red with white and black marble columns. Bellhops dashed about pushing carts filled with parcels. Paintings of cherubs sitting on fluffy clouds floated across the ceiling. The blue in the ceiling faded into darkness. Lightning lit up the sky and the lights blinked in the atrium. Mist floated down and settled on her skin. She caught the hint of sulfur in the air. When Jasmine looked back up at the cherubs, they had turned into little devils. She stopped by a placard with arrows directing her every which way to get to restaurants, the casino, or the dozens of shops in the resort. A red marker on the screen showed where she was. Jasmine pressed it.

“Welcome to Hel, right where you’re supposed to be,” the high-pitched voice from the screen startled her. She touched the screen and the image enlarged so she could get a better look at her location inside the hotel. The whole complex was bigger than a Las Vegas casino. She had gotten turned around as some of the elevators didn’t go all the way up to the thirteenth floor where they had a room.

“It’s all a little confusing, don’t you think?”

A blast of cold air hit the back of Jasmine’s neck. She turned to see where the sudden chill emanated from. A woman in a white feathered cloak stood next to her. Another gust of frigid air came off the woman as she pushed on the touchscreen. It blinked and mapped the way to elevators Jasmine needed to get to.

“You’re on the thirteenth floor. This should do it.” She caught Jasmine’s gaze from under the fur-lined hood. All Jasmine could see were her piercing blue eyes and the turn of her smile.

“Thanks.”

“You’re most welcome. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around, Jasmine.”

She turned to address the woman, who had already been swallowed up by the crowd. Jasmine returned to the room, wondering how the woman knew her name. The idea of magic got on her nerves. It wasn’t like she knew how to use the power the book gave her. Jasmine got back to her suite and closed the door. An arm came around her waist and spun her around before she could get her bearings. She jumped. A blast of heat came out of her hands as she pushed away whoever had grabbed her.

“Hey, ouch! What was that for?” Leon’s voice brought her back to reality.

She glanced at her warm palms. Both hands glowed green from the magic within her. This wasn’t the first time the power had come out on instinct. Hopefully, the power will manifest when I need it the most. She rubbed her palms along her jeans until a tingle remained in her fingertips. Jasmine flashed him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to zap you.” She helped the lion shifter up. Everyone knew Leon as the Cowardly Lion from the Wizard of Oz books.

Leon pulled her into his arms and planted his lips on hers. The softness of his mouth made her melt against him, forgetting all about how he pounced on her when she entered the suite. Her fingers trailed down his naked torso, going over the raised scars on his flesh. Her thoughts suddenly turned to them being alone and her on top of him. He worked his way along her throat as his hand snaked under her shirt and cupped her breast. Jasmine moaned as though he were reading her mind.

“I could eat you up,” he murmured.

BUY LINKS: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Changeling Press, Kobo, Apple Books

Check out this great new cover for The Accidental Fairy Tale 3: Spelled for Love coming soon with Changeling Press

When the magic book deposits Jasmine, Micha, and Leon at a villains’ convention, all she wants is some time to unwind before their next adventure. Getting to be alone with her two mates means the world. All the while, the magic within her starts to go out of control.

Meanwhile, the evil Dorothy enlists some of the villains at the convention to kidnap the trio. Jasmine finds only her magic can save the men she loves and all of Oz. The only thing standing in her way is herself. She needs to accept her fate or all could be lost.

Life well what can you say. It’s the thing we do day in and day out. It can suck or it can be awesome. It all depends on what you want to do with it.

Most of my life, I’ve been overweight. I don’t deny it. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve gained more. Last Nov. I was at my heaviest at 266. Went in for a regular check up and the doc told me I was diabetic with an A1C of 8.4. I’d been sitting at 6.2 or 6.3- pre-diabetic for a few years and regulating it with going to the gym a few days a week. I felt fine. Didn’t notice anything really. And then the pandemic hit. I stopped going to the gym, and shit got real in November, right after my birthday and right before Thanksgiving. The doctor gave me until March to get my shit together before she wanted to put me on any medication.

So I started my journey to get to getting my A1C down. I changed my diet, following the Mediterranean diet and a couple of diabetic sheets the doctor gave me. My husband has been very supportive of the whole thing since he sacrificed some of the things he likes to eat, but I’ve been working on that. I bought a recumbent bike and started working out every day for an hour a day. On the weekends, when the weather is nice, we walk 5 or 6 miles. If you follow me on Facebook then you’ve seen my posts.

As I started all of this, I didn’t really tell many people except those in my family. I don’t really share much about my personal life on social media. The occasional dog picture and note about what books I have available. Writing has been one of the things which has gotten me through as it helps to keep me focused. However, I also noticed that it got harder and harder to write. Kinda of oxymoron right? Even while the words and ideas where there, I pushed them aside so I could focus more on me. Focusing on me and making sure I was healthy was a big deal for me. Writing has been my life for so long, I can’t give it up, but I’m the main focus of my life instead.

In January, I started doing some Pilates and even more yoga. It’s helped to make me a bit stronger even though I am not so good at either. Walking is what I prefer to exercise, but we all have what does it for us. I’ll eventually get some weights and try using those too. After agonizing to get where I am today, with encouragement from family, friends, and even my spirits guides that I got this. Yes, I’m also a psychic, but that has nothing to do with my weight loss. I went to the doctor hoping she would tell me the good news.

And she did.

I’ve lost 30 pounds so far and my A1C level is down to 5.3. I go back in 4 months to recheck and make sure I’m not screwing up where I’ve gotten to today. I don’t intend to stop, but keep on going while allowing myself an actual day off during the week so I can relax. I’m not really on a Keto diet and even the Mediterranean one I can’t eat all the food listed due to food allergies and sensitivities.

Anyway, that’s been my journey so far for the last few months. It’s been hard. And I now my path is not like others. I’m not saying it isn’t. This is just me sharing what I’ve been living. I really want cake, but I’m good without having it. We all live life in a different way and this is how I’m living mine. Writing as the voices in my head give me good ideas and sometimes even talking to the dead who pop in from time to time.

What is your journey?

Jasmine thought falling into a magic book and landing in Oz with the Scarecrow, Micha, and Leon the Cowardly Lion was odd. However, getting sent to Dracula’s castle where she finds herself and her two men falling prey to the undead count even stranger. There they discover an unlikely ally who will help them save Micha from Dracula’s clutches.

Even as they venture deeper into the count’s castle, her feelings for both Leon and Micha deepen. Magic is growing within her thanks to the strange book which tells their story. Even with saving Micha’s very soul, the one most important thing they have to remember is keeping the book away from the evil Dorothy at all cost.

Get it Now at Changeling Press

Preorder for March 12th at online booksellers

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Crymsyn Hart

Jasmine landed on top of both Micha and Leon, a much softer arrival than she had when she entered Oz. The plant monster remained in Munchkinville. She and Micha had gotten away after he pushed her through his magic book. She rolled off the men quickly and double-checked to make sure everything worked. Micha wiped the grime from his jeans and shoved the book back into the bag slung across his shoulder. It was his most precious possession and the reason they were on the run. They couldn’t let the tome fall into the wrong hands.

Jasmine went over to him, but tripped and planted her hands directly onto Leon’s chest. A zing went through her when she touched Leon. She blushed and caught the slight flash of green energy connecting them. Leon gave her a small smile as he stepped away. The bags Micha had conjured for her and for himself landed next to them. She put her pack on her back and handed Micha’s knapsack to him.

“Thanks. How did these get here? I left them in the room,” Micha asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine. You’re the one with the magic book that has a mind of its own and a wand,” Jasmine replied. She plucked a few small pieces of dirt from her shirt.

“It’s not a wand. It’s a pen,” Micha commented through gritted teeth.

She held up her hands in surrender. “Sorry. You wave the pen around and light comes out of the end. My mistake if I thought it was a wand.” Jasmine tried to joke away her fear of where they had landed. “Has your pen recharged yet so you can write us out of danger?”

“Afraid I won’t be able to handle what’s coming next?” Micha snapped.

She sighed. “No. That’s not what I meant. Good grief. Somewhere in all this, things have gotten all tangled up. I want to know if you’re okay.” Jasmine touched his shoulder. The image of him being lifeless and barely breathing hung in her mind. Micha was her way home, back to the real world, and if he died Jasmine would be stuck in Oz. “You were whiter than a sheet the other night. Now you’re jumping through magic books once more. I wanted to be sure you were okay. Using your magic pen won’t drain the life out of you again, will it?”

Micha’s firm expression faltered, and his lips turned up into a smile. The same one she first saw when he asked her if she was okay after they took shelter in Dorothy’s house — the one she’d dropped on the Wicked Witch of the East. He touched her hand and brushed his lips across hers. Her insides lit up and her stomach flip-flopped when she thought how she felt about him. “I’ll be okay. Everything’s changed in Oz. I had to channel my energy into the pen to get us to Glen-da’s. I used the last of what I had to heal your knee. I didn’t thank you for saving me, did I?”

“No, but how about saying we’re even? You saved me. I saved you. You finally figured out I’m not going to steal the book from you.”

“You still need to get home. You might decide to take it from me while I’m not looking.”

Jasmine crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes. “After what’s happened between us, do you really think I’d leave you high and dry?”

Micha ran his hand over the bag containing the book. “I’ve seen stranger things happen. She might have woven you into our story, but you’re a wild card no matter what’s happened between us.”

“I thought we’d be over this, or you’d be over the idea I’m going to screw you after our con –”

“Uh… guys… can you fight later?” Leon asked.

“We’re not fighting,” they both replied. Jasmine glanced at Micha and laughed. The whole conversation sounded ridiculous.

“Micha, I’m not going to run away with the book. I promise. I want to know what she’s doing to me and what role I play with you two.” Jasmine poked him and tried to feel more confident in what she said. Truthfully, the idea scared her to death to think she played any kind of role in the messed-up story she found herself in, getting thrown into a magic book Micha was trying to keep away from Dorothy Gale from Kansas. All Jasmine knew was that Micha and Leon had been friends. Somehow, Dorothy took the place of the witch she killed. After Dorothy found Jasmine and Micha in Oz, they had to flee from the Emerald City. Micha used the book for her and Leon to escape to the new world they arrived in.

Where is here? Jasmine wondered. The air felt gritty along her skin. She caught the undertone of death on the breeze and the smell turned her stomach. Deep down, she was scared. Night surrounded them. Being stranded in another strange reality, where the rules were probably different from those in the universe she left, made it all the weirder. The worst was their journey was being handled by a book that had a mind of its own.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Crymsyn Hart is a National Bestselling author of over eighty paranormal romance and horror novels. Her experiences as a psychic and ghostly encounters have given her a lot of material to use in her books. Vampires, grim reapers, shifters, and other paranormal creatures tend to end up in her books no matter how hard she tries to keep them away.

She currently resides in Charlotte, NC with her hubby and her three dogs. If she’s not writing, she’s curled up with the dogs watching a good horror movie or off with friends.

To find out more about Crymsyn, check out her website on: www.crymsynhart.com