Paranormal and Horror Lovers discussion

Ok I was thinking about it and after seeing it on some of the paranormal facebook groups I thought we could give it a go here. So comment with a teaser for your work. Give a little info about what book, anthology it has come from, whether it is published or still a WIP and where people can find it. Think of it as a try before you buy method. If you like someones teaser please let them know, it is the only way we, as writers, can gauge our work :)

I'll go first if you like lol. Here is a teaser from a novella length story I have just submitted to my publisher. It is based around a witch, werewolf and Faery love story...kinda. I am hoping it will get picked up as a series. Anyway here is the teaser :)

"We seem to have the ability to find each other, don’t we little witch?” Alcott said with a slightly mocking tone.
“Maybe if you would stop stalking me, it wouldn’t happen as often.”
“I am not stalking you!”
“And yet you find me more than I find you?” Gwendolyn teased. And yet the words came out flirty instead of sarcastic. Alcott gave her that sexy smile, the one that made his amber eyes glow. Gwendolyn felt the heat of desire stir. No matter how hard she tried he always seemed to have that effect on her.
“Are you thinking about me naked, little witch… I can assure you that I am just as impressive unclothed, as I am dressed.”
~Premonition By Rebecca Nolan ~

Love this!! It makes me want to read more:)

Thanks for provided a forum like this. The first three chapters are available for free download here at Good Reads.

Solstice Night

Enjoy!

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As he slid the straw down into her glass, she gently touched his long fingers. He went rigid, everywhere. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself, a relic habit from his mortal life. That, he soon realized, was a huge mistake. Her scent enveloped him. She was sweet and soothing. Like honey and forest after the rain, simple and wholesome, yet indefinable. Luckily, her voice interrupted his thoughts about springing across the bar.

“Umm...hi, my name is Beo...I know you don’t speak...”

His eyes flashed open.

“... I need to get a message to Michael...He needs to know, Maryssa is tainted...Can you get the message to him or can you get me to him?” She spoke slowly and evenly, not in a condescending way, but how you would approach a wild animal.

He studied her hard. Was it a trap?

Probably.

He stared as her small hand still resting on his fingers.

He turned away to find Michael.

Teaser from Black Legacy. Published date TBD.

Across the gymnasium, Katz’s eyes glazed over into a non-blinking distant haze. It meant one thing—my sister entered someone else’s thoughts.

On my right, Margaret, our mother and Master, instructed four and five year olds on the next karate move. I didn’t think she saw the change in Katz. If Mom had, Katz would be reprimanded. Entering one’s mind and speaking to them was strictly forbidden but often an ability Katz couldn’t control.

Strong unexpected emotions like lust, hatred, fright or excitement from someone pulled Katz’s mind into theirs. Being Katz’s identical twin sister, I once thought I had these same abilities but whereas Katz could enter anyone’s mind, I could only enter one person’s mind—Katz’s.

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Want a little more check out my blog dated March 26, 2012 http://lisagoldman.weebly.com/1/post/...

Wow, these are awesome!!! I am so thrilled we have some amazing talent in this group! Thank you for sharing.

These are amazing I want to read more. I'll add something when I get back in front of a computer. iPhone doesn't work all to week for this type of thing.

LOL Pandora I was at swimming lessons early trying to read things from my phone.

Lisa wrote: "LOL Pandora I was at swimming lessons early trying to read things from my phone."

LOL, I'm getting addicted to the group! I'm on my Mac now, but only for a moment. So here goes nothing:

This is from my current release kind of a spoiler if you plan to read the entire thing:

“You're mesmerizing, enchanting… you're… irresistible…” he said as though from miles away, and then kissed me.
I felt as if blue flame engulfed my body. My body tensed as I leaned forward into his kiss. Electricity flowed through the entanglement of our lips, and my body went along for the ride.
His lips were every bit as juicy as I had imagined. They were soft and delicious. His tongue parted my lips and began flicking my tongue. He pulled me closer into him. I could feel his rock-hard body pressing against mine. I felt dizzy, giddy, panicked. I could think of nothing but the intensity of his kiss. He lowered his hands to my waist and held me tighter as he nibbled and sucked on my lips. My entire body was trembling. I was out of control and loved every moment of it.
I tried several times to remind myself who and what I was. My body ignored my attempts and plunged deeper. The passion, hunger, need, and the thrill of the experience had a carnal, bestial, and ethereal feel to it, I couldn’t get enough.
What had I been denying myself all these years? I thought as I wrapped my arms around his muscular neck.
He responded by holding me tighter.
He moaned and released the kiss and began working his way down my neck. I could feel his excitement as he pressed against me. The feel of his hardness against my body startled me, but not enough to make me pull away. I moaned in response, excited by the unfamiliar feeling, and instinctively began grinding against him. I kissed him harder with a ferocity that became more intense with each press of my lips.
“I want you, Tina,” he whispered, each word brushing against my skin. He began to unbutton my blouse, and I leaned my head back and let him. The situation was oh so wrong and oh so right all at the same time. I felt and largely ignored the subtle changes in my body. I was so caught up in the moment that when I felt my body temperature rise, nails start to lengthen, and moans began to resemble a growl more and more, I continued caressing, kissing, and pressing my body against Matthew as if this was perfectly normal.
Yes, this was a dangerous move on my part, but I was enjoying every second. The threat of danger intensified the moment. It was as if I were someone else. Nothing mattered except being with Matthew. He made me moan with each kiss as he moved down toward my breasts, causing me to writhe in lustful anticipation of the next touch of his lips. I panted as his hands caressed me and his tongue played against the contours of my bra. He picked me up and placed me on his desk, and I instinctively wrapped my legs around him.
Oh my God, The gravity of my action and what it implied was strong enough to penetrate the fog.
Was I prepared to give myself to him? Was I ready for this? The answer was both yes and no.
My body wrestled with pleas from what remained of my sanity.
“I’m a virgin,” is what I tried to say, but “I’m a...” was all that managed to come out of my mouth as his hands moved up my skirt, inching ever so close to the lace boundary of my panties. The feel of his strong hands gripping my thighs caused me to bite down on my lip. The faint iron taste of my own blood made me open my eyes.
Matthew was still at work. His hands were around my waist and his head buried in my bosom. My back bowed in response to his continued perusal of my flesh, and it was almost enough to make me forget my sharpened teeth. I opened my eyes slowly. My eyelids felt heavy, weighed down with lust. I looked down at Matthew as his tongue tickled and teased my breasts. I gripped the edge of the desk and barely registered the faint crunching sound it made as it gave way in my hand. I looked lazily around the room, and my gaze eventually rested in a spot across the office directly behind Matthew. My body tensed and eyes grew wide with horror as they focused on a smiling portrait of Mrs. Elizabeth Harold.
“No, Mr. Harold!” I shrieked, struggling in his arms. “I can’t… We can’t…” I continued, sobered by the image of my client. My body caught up with the rest of mind, slowly joining the revolt as if it was emerging from a medically induced slumber. I felt like I had just broken the surface of the water and taken my first breath as the gravity of the situation became clearer. The sudden change in my disposition highlighted by the stiffening of my body in his embrace seemed to snap Matthew Harold out of similar trance-like state.
The sight of his hands emerging from beneath my skirt caused me to panic. I pushed him away from me. The force sent him flying backwards. There was a loud crash as Matthew collided with a bookcase. He sat up, dishevelment and amazement etched on his face, amid a heap of books, plaques, and pictures and parts of the splintered bookcase.

This is a Teaser from my first novel Crimes Against Magic, which is available now from Amazon.


"If I answer, will you let me go?"

I shook my head. "You will die here, today. The only question is how. Thomas there is a good man. Your death will be quick and painless." The werewolf looked up at the rage-filled Englishman. I motioned for Thomas to walk off as I made my way to the crippled werewolf. "I am not a good man," I whispered into his ear when we were alone. "I will strip the flesh from your bones and scatter your ashes to the wind. I will ensure that for the next thousand years, the merest mention of what I did to you in this city will evoke fear into anyone foolish enough to think they can cross a sorcerer."

W-o-w I am loving this folder!!!! Look at all these amazing teasers! Thanks guys for sharing I am loving them so keep them coming :-)

Whew, I was getting worried for a second. After my teaser post, things seemed to get quite, so I assumed, I went too far and was waiting for the scold response. Glad to see, two people finally responded to this thread, now I can let my fingernails grow back! This is a great thread and I love reading teasers! Can't wait to read everyone's books.

Pandora wrote: "Whew, I was getting worried for a second. After my teaser post, things seemed to get quite, so I assumed, I went too far and was waiting for the scold response. Glad to see, two people finally resp..."

No Scolding responses in this group lol...well as long as people behave that is hehe. I loved your teaser! I have been out stalking peoples work and adding things to my kindle hehe. I really hope more people add a teaser of their work as it helps me decide whether or not to buy a story if i happen to not like the cover or the blurb written...plus I love reading something from the actual story as well hehe :D

I had gotten a little carried away. It's one of my interesting chapters that most readers enjoyed so I thought I'd share :)

Pandora wrote: "I had gotten a little carried away. It's one of my interesting chapters that most readers enjoyed so I thought I'd share :)"

Share away Pandora hehe! I am thinking of sharing another fave part from the same book hehe...but first i must pick up kids from school lol

Just found this thread while on my iPad, I know just the teaser(s) to share from each of my books but it will have to wait until tomorrow when I'm back at my desktop. I loved reading these.

What about books that aren't finished yet? Just curious. :)

Pandora wrote: "What about books that aren't finished yet? Just curious. :)"
I am totally fine with people posting teasers from WIP just let us know that it is still in the creative process :-)
L.M. wrote: "Just found this thread while on my iPad, I know just the teaser(s) to share from each of my books but it will have to wait until tomorrow when I'm back at my desktop. I loved reading these."
L.M. I can't wait to read them!

The jet’s cabin was appointed with leather couches, oversized
leather reclining chairs, coffee and side tables, and even a desk with a computer. The room was executive office meets luxurious living
room. I felt like I could take off my shoes and relax under a blanket
on one of the sofas.
One accessory in the cabin stood out in particular and made me
freeze in place and narrow my eyes: the eerily pale, red-haired woman who stood up and stared at me with piercing green eyes. She made all the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. I clenched my teeth when I realized that Rhonda—the harpy I “met” in Matthew Harold’s reception room on the day of the interview—was Ms. Morris.
“Ms. Morris, you have company—another beauty to add to the
collection,” Jackie teased.
“Oh stop it, Jackie, you flirt,” she responded with a devilish grin.
She looked at me with fire in her eyes. The smell of burnt rubber
filled the cabin.
“Ms. Morris, this is Ms. Jackson,” Jackie said cordially.
“We’ve met,” the redhead said in a steely voice, but managed to
hide her animosity behind a broad smile she aimed at Jackie. She
straightened her tight, god-awful hot pink V-neck sweater dress—her oversized breasts almost fell out as she leaned forward. She caught Jackie’s eye as she looked up through her long red hair and smiled.
He cleared his throat. I suddenly had the urge to throw up. “Well,
okay then. I guess there is no need for introductions. I’ll just head on back to the cockpit so we can get this show on the road.” He smiled, put his cap on his head, and tipped it at us.
“Ladies,” he said and walked out the cabin. “Gentlemen,” he said
mockingly as he brushed past Pierce and Jim, who entered the cabin
and headed to the rear. Their hulking frames filled the space,
reminding me that we were still on a plane.
The redhead stared into my face and parted her lips into a sneer.
“How did you get invited on this trip?”
“Matthew invited me,” I said with a wide, smug grin that made
her face turn red. The burnt rubber smell intensified. I began to enjoy that smell. I needed another emotion to take my mind off this trip, and Rhonda had unwittingly volunteered. Nervousness and
apprehension gave way to gratification. Knowing my mere presence
had ruined her day made me feel better. I felt in control of myself,
even confident. It was an epiphany. Instead of dwelling on a
potentially destabilizing emotion, I could focus on another. Maybe I
didn’t have to fear emotional overload anymore. For now at least, I
had disdain and disgust to balance me out.
Rhonda’s tactless behavior and questioning irritated me. Instead
of allowing myself to respond in kind, I imagined ripping her head
off as if she were a redheaded Barbie in an ugly, slutty dress. This
made me laugh. I was really going to enjoy the shifting emotion
game. I walked around her, ignoring her glare, slowly sat down in one of the plush leather seats, leaned back, and lowered my sunglasses.
Pierce or Jim, I couldn’t tell which, sat across from me, smirking at
what must have looked like round one of a girl flight.

Decided to share from the same book again. What I've written so far in book 2 tells too much and my other stuff hasn't been touched in a long time. Who's next?

“Hey, what do you think of werewolves?” Gwendolyn asked, studying Dawns reaction carefully. Dawn stopped polishing, looking up at her sister with a look of bewilderment. Her eyes narrowed as they focused on Gwendolyn. Even her threadlike lips became thinner as Dawn fought to suppress a frown. Gwendolyn tensed just as much as her sister had, wishing she hadn’t said anything.
“They are unruly beasts. They have no manners and smell and are dirty, filthy creatures. That! Is what I think of Werewolves!” Dawn paused, a slight turn up of the lips as she thought a little longer before asking, “Why?”
 

“Just wondering…” Gwendolyn replied somewhat confused by her sister’s outburst, “with the big meeting of all the preternatural creatures in only a few days, I was wondering what it might be like to meet some of the other creatures. Don’t you ever wonder about them?”
“They’re all stupid… the other ones. Only we are smart enough to be able to protect ourselves. The only ones that can truly live among the humans without fear. ” Dawn spoke as if ignoring Gwendolyn. “That is what will always matter Gwen, we are simply better humans but we are still human. The others never will be. Not even the vampires can live among humans without suspicion. Maybe the Fae are smart enough and have enough glamour, but then again, they lack a certain humanity to live completely among us.”
“Yes… but the men are very good looking and I have been told that they are extremely good lovers.” Gwendolyn added with a cheeky grin. She had only ever seen a faery once, when she was very young, yet she could still remember him as though it had been only yesterday. Everything about him had been beautiful, so much so that it had actually hurt her when he suddenly disappeared into thin air. Gwendolyn remembered the raven like silkiness of his hair that sat just above his shoulders. The man had a long, well-toned figure that was visible even through his black leather pants and long flowing top that was a rich burgundy.
 

“Looks aren’t everything, Gwendolyn. Sometimes it is the depth of character that a person shows in which you should be attracted to, not their looks.” Dawn rolled her eyes frustrated at the teasing look Gwendolyn was giving her before she walked away. Gwendolyn wasn’t about to go running after her. She knew Dawn had seen the man as well and had been as effected as her; however, Dawn still hated them... Maybe because of their mother who everyone believed had abandoned the girls to be with the faeries.
Premonition by me...it is currently sitting on my publishers 'desk'lol hopefully she will pick it up :D

Ok, back at my desktop. Here is the promised teaser from The Citizens: A Jazz Nemesis novel:

Inside the tent a small bouquet of the random wild flowers and dry grass lay, bound at their stems by a piece of string, on the center of the pillow pile. Smiling, Jazz picked them up as she sat cross-legged on one side of the make-shift bed to wait for Beck.

“You coming in?” She asked, after a moment.

His head appeared through the opening within seconds and she knew, by the worried look on his face, that things weren’t going as he had planned.

“Are you sure we should? … I mean, they’re watching us.” He said.

“They’re always watching us. That’s what the tent was for right?”

He looked around the interior of the privacy shelter nervously. “Well yeah but...”

She placed the flowers in her lap and motioned toward the low canvas ceiling with one hand. “Look, no bubble cameras in here.” She said.

Still wearing an expression of uncertainty he climbed through the opening and sat beside her. An extremely uncomfortable silence ensued before Jazz finally broke it.

“How did you pull this off anyway?” She asked, hoping to lighten the mood by getting him talking.

“The tent and sleeping bag are from the sporting goods store. The pillows came from the extra rooms in the hotel. I just figured, you know, since no one else is going to be using them...” He allowed his sentence to hang unfinished once more and Jazz resisted the urge to sigh.

‘This is not going well at all.’ She thought to herself, now staring at the flowers in her lap.

A quick glance at Beck revealed that he was staring at the ground, both of them behaving like virgin teenagers instead of the adults that they were.

'This is crazy! It’s not like either one of us has never done this before.’

Her mind was racing and her heart was pounding. Her palms had started to sweat and she was wishing, not for the first time, that she could have shaved her legs this morning. She was trying, desperately, to think of a way to break the ice and get the ball rolling but her mind just wouldn’t work properly. Her thoughts kept bouncing around inside of her head like a frightened squirrel caught in a glass box. She had a strong desire to wipe her palms on her jeans and fold her arms over her chest but she’d watched a show on television about reading body language and knew that folded arms were a sign of either aggression or insecurity. Uncertain of what else to do with them, she left them hanging limply in her lap. She could feel Beck watching her in his peripheral vision but when she looked back at him he looked away quickly. That was when, with a sudden burst of resolve, she attacked him.

In one swift motion she’d swung around to face him on her knees, wrapping her arms around his neck, and pressing her lips to his. He gave a startled grunt but recovered quickly, sliding his arms around her waist and kissing back. Opening her mouth slightly she flicked her tongue against his lips as a request and he granted it, welcoming her in. It wasn’t their first passionate kiss but it had certainly been the most unexpected.

The tension and uncertainty that they’d shared just moments before seemed to melt away, replaced by a rush of intense desire. His arms tightened around her waist as he tried to pull her closer and she shifted her knees to either side of his lap to accommodate him. Ripples ran up her core as she felt his fingertips brush against the skin at the base of her spine. When she didn’t object he moved both hands under her shirt and slid them slowly up her back, pulling her even more tightly against him. She responded in kind, gripping the base of his shirt and pulling it upward, separating them briefly as she pulled it over his head and threw it against the wall of the tent.

The expression of desire in his eyes sent a wave of heat to her groin as he pulled her shirt off and discarded it near his own. They came together again, their kisses even more intense than before. He moved his fingers to the base of her skull, combing them into her hair as he gently cradled her head, his other hand sliding down to cup her bum and give it a firm squeeze.

She raked her fingernails lightly up his back, instantly knowing that he enjoyed it by the increased hunger in his kisses. He moved his lips to the side of her neck, nibbling and sucking as he made a soft trail down her collar bone. She sat up straighter and rubbed her fingers through the short, curly stubble on the back of his neck. His kisses continued on her chest, moving lower in such slow and tiny increments that it created a sensation of pleasure and longing that was both delicious and painful at the same time. A particularly enjoyable nibble at the top of her right breast sent a wave of crazed intensity through her and she placed her palms on his shoulders, shoving him onto his back and falling on top of him.

“Ow!” He said.

She froze, too uncertain whether she’d heard him correctly to move – or even breathe. That was not the word that she had been going for. It wasn’t the word anyone wanted to hear at that kind of moment in that kind of situation.

And here is a teaser from Dhampiri:


“Anciiira.” I called out in the opposite direction. “Come out, come out wherever you are.” I pretended to scan the foliage in front of me and Gloria smiled knowingly from around a short, fat willow tree trunk.

“Well I just don't know where she could have wandered off to.” I added.

I heard a giggle behind me and turned to inspect the conspicuous fern. She poked her head out to look at me as I turned and I quickly diverted my eyes so as not to look right at her.

“Did this fern just laugh?” I poked casually through the fronds, seeing her clearly but still pretending that I couldn't. Turning away once more I placed my hands on my hips and tilted my head to the side. “I suppose not, how silly of me. Fern's don't giggle.”

Then there was the snapping of a twig in the forest over my right shoulder, much too far away to have been Ancira. I froze, staring hard into the dim trails between the trees beyond her hiding place, pushing my hearing out as far as I could manage, straining to identify the cause. A quick glance at Gloria told me that she was on alert as well, immobile on the other side of the Willow, staring in the same direction.

“A deer perhaps?” She said quietly.

Immediately I raised my hand to silence her. If it were a deer we should have been able to smell it. The sound had come from up-wind and my sense of smell was far more powerful than my already impressive hearing.

“BAH!” Ancira jumped out from behind the fern, loudly demanding the return of my attention to our game. My stomach leaped into my throat and I felt Gloria start as well, from across the clearing.

“Shhhhh.” I hissed at the poor small child, who then started to weep as I rushed forward to pick her up.

Snap, snap, crunch, pop, swish. Suddenly whatever had made the original noise in the forest was on the move and clearly headed in our direction. My entire body felt numb with fear and I clutched Ancira in a tight hug, swinging her up quickly into my arms.

“Run!” I shouted at Gloria who had already started moving.

We came together as we ran toward the caves but a loud screeching in front of us forced us to make a last second dash to the right. We hadn't seen what was after us yet but we could hear them, everywhere, and the strong scent of flaming sulfur was making my eyes burn.

“What is it?” Gloria shouted as we ran.

“I don't know, we need to get back to the cave!” I shouted back.

Like frightened wild animals we moved in unison through our headlong flight, turning at the same moment, dodging and leaping and ducking through fallen logs and low hanging branches. Each time I thought that we might have found a way through, a new sound or smell would present itself in front of us and we would be forced to turn and dodge once more. We were being herded like wild horses as our attackers frightened us into running ourselves in large, uneven circles, gradually tightening the trap around us and wearing us down to exhaustion.

“Stop!” I shouted, planting my feet and skidding to a halt. Gloria obeyed immediately, stopping only a few steps in front of me.

“They're trying to make us tired.” I announced.

“It's working.” She breathed.

Ancira had been screaming through our entire plight and I knew that there would be no chance of getting her to stop so I quickly eliminated hiding as an escape option.

“We're going to have to fight.”

Gloria's eyes widened. “How?” She motioned at Ancira and I knew what she was thinking. How could the two of us possibly fight anything fast enough to herd us through the forest without putting Ancira at risk; something neither of us could ever consider.

I shook my head. “I don't know but it's our only option.”

Even as I spoke our window of opportunity closed in on top of us. My nostrils flared as the sulfurous scent exploded all around us and I stifled first one cough, and then another. A rustle started in the tops of the trees and grew louder as it worked its way down toward us. I looked up to see dark shapes descending upon us through the canopy and closing in from all sides.

“Get down!” I screamed, wrapping my arm protectively over the top of Ancira, hugging her into my chest and doing my best to curl my body around her. Gloria threw herself at us, completing a protective circle around the little girl as we both fell to our knees, tucking our heads in beside one another.

I didn't know what could possibly be happening. It seemed as though the gates of hell had broken loose upon us and, for the first time in a very long time, old familiar words began tumbling past my lips in a hurried whisper.

“Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven...”

My words were overpowered by a loud screeching sound, like metal grating on metal, rising over our heads from multiple sources and I felt a slight tremor in the ground beneath us as our attackers came down from the sky and landed upon the forest floor all around our position. I began to pray faster, Ancira's crying grew louder and somewhere, among the circle of beings closing in on us, someone laughed.

Oh my, I'm truly enjoying this. Time to buy some books.....

Pandora wrote: "Whew, I was getting worried for a second. After my teaser post, things seemed to get quite, so I assumed, I went too far and was waiting for the scold response. Glad to see, two people finally resp..."

Rebecca wrote: "W-o-w I am loving this folder!!!! Look at all these amazing teasers! Thanks guys for sharing I am loving them so keep them coming :-)"

Can someone pass me a cigarette please :) Loved it.

OK... this is an EXTREME rough draft, haven't even really had a chance to go back over it and it has a LOT of fleshing out and rewriting. So... be kind! LOL I'm beyond a fledgling here.



~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*





Arms full of technical manuals, a large black laptop bag, a saddlebag style purse, jacket and Chinese takeout, Caitlyn couldn’t stop the string of curse words that spilled from her mouth when her keys stuck in the lock to her front door as her cell phone began its tinny tune of impatient announcement that she had a call. Frantically trying to yank the keys from the deadbolt where they were currently comfortably inhabiting the lock and having no intention of relocating, she could hear the phone reaching the third ring and glared at the offending keys. Realizing that she wasn’t getting through the door before the phone stopped ringing, she threw all of her items on the entry way to her apartment, spewing another string of curses when her Kung Pao Chicken spilled all over the floor, she dropped to her knees and began digging through the endless black hole that her purse had suddenly become. Hearing the chime of a missed call echo through her bag, she sat back on her heels and surveyed the chaos in front of her door in defeat.

Yes, once again, the keys and purse had won a victory in the never ending battle.

Sighing, she began scooping up the items she had flung around in her search for her cell phone and began dumping it all back into the various bags that she had with her. She didn’t really care which bag they went in to at this point, as long as she could get it all into her apartment with as little damage to her dignity as possible. Spying the cell phone lying amongst the papers and manuals that had been dropped and spilled, Caitlyn snatched it up and gave it glare, knowing that it hadn’t been there a moment before and just reaffirmed her belief that the electronic devices of the world continually conspired against her. Ironic, since she was an electrical engineer.

Stumbling into her apartment, she tossed her keys and purse on the stand next to her door and proceeded to dump everything else on the floor. At this point, she wasn’t going to be eating Chinese and her mauals could wait. Unlocking the keypad on her phone, she saw where a number that she didn’t recognize had called her and left a voicemail message. Hitting the button to connect her to the message, she waited to hear what was said.

“Hello, Ms. McNeal.” an older female voice said, “This is Marjorie Adams. I am calling to speak with you regarding an interview that you had with our company several weeks ago. If you could please return my call at your earliest convenience, I will be able to complete the paperwork necessary to bring you on board.” The woman paused for a moment. “This is a very time-sensitive offer; it would be in your best interest to return my call as soon as possible. Good evening.”

Caitlyn removed the phone from her ear and stared at it as if it were a live snake about to strike. It was as if time slowed to a crawl and yet her heart pounded so loudly she could hear the blood rushing through her ears. The call had come. She didn’t think it would.

Turning, Caitlyn looked at the pictures on her entryway walls. Her parents and younger brother standing with her at her graduation from M.I.T., her robes bearing the tassels and ribbons of someone graduating with highest honors; her father had been so proud of her. There were pictures of her brother making goofy faces while she practiced her photography for an elective class that she took in college. That had been an epic failure and he had never let her live it down. She brought her gaze over to the picture of her mother and father, smiling and obviously in love, standing beside a waterfall in Hawaii where they went for their honeymoon, thirty years late.

Phone still in hand, she breathed deeply and walked into her small living room and stopped t gaze at the shelf on her bookcase that held four items only. Swallowing, she forced herself to walk over to the bookcase and had to fight back the tears as she read the framed words once again.

‘On Saturday, May 17, 2008, a tragedy that shook the very core of Rhode Island’s small town Little Compton. In a town of less than 5,500 people, the loss of five citizens in one day can only come as a shock of unimaginable proportions. Roy and Moira McNeal (61 and 59 respectively) along with their 17 year old son Connor were involved in the multi-car accident on Massachusetts state road 24 south. An as yet unnamed underage driver fell asleep at the wheel at approximately 9:30PM, which resulted in his swerving into the opposite lane and into oncoming traffic. Due to the storm that had recently passed over the area, the road conditions were poor and drivers were unable to avoid the vehicle as it approached them.

At final count, 19 vehicles were involved in the accident and 14 injured; 3 are still in critical condition and 5 were pronounced dead upon arrival at the local hospital.

The McNeal family and several friends from Little Compton were returning home after having attended Mr. and Mrs. McNeal’ daughter’s graduation from M.I.T. where she had recently achieved her doctorate degree in Electrical Engineering…”

As usual, Caitlyn could never make it past that one line. Guilt, sorrow, anger… it always hit her when she reached that paragraph. She could feel the tightness in her chest as she looked at the three urns she had on her shelf with the framed newspaper clipping; her mother, father and little brother were all there. She stood there, deep in thought for several moments before she turned and allowed her gaze to travel around her surroundings, taking it all in. Glancing down at the phone that was still clutched tightly in her hand, she began to shake.

She didn’t even realize she had dialed the number until she heard the woman on the other end answer the phone.

“Ms. Adams?” she said shakily, “This is Caitlyn McNeal.”

“Yes, Ms. McNeal. What can I do for you?” as always, Marjorie sounded calm and in control.

Caitlyn took a deep breath and jumped in feet first. “Ms. Adams? When do you need me to sign your papers? I’d like to accept your offer.”

There was a slight pause on the other end and then Marjorie spoke with a satisfied tone to her voice. “Welcome to the Phoenix Project, Ms. McNeal."

Here is a part of Goddess of the Moon: Mayan World of Vampires, an ebook at Amazon that I wrote:

Chak inhaled deeply and realized that Tez didn’t smell like a human. On the contrary, he smelled very much like a vampire.
“I wasn’t aware that Melanna associated herself with vampires.”
“Oh, I’m not just any vampire. I’ve known her for a very long time. And I’m here to see that no harm comes to her.”
“Well, you know, that doesn’t exactly fit into my plans today.”
“I know all about your scheme to kill Melanna and to put an end to the resistance. But I’m here to put an end to you instead.” Chaks gaze became stony at hearing these words. “I happen to love her very much. I would give my life for her if needed.”
“Something tells me that you may end up doing just that! Why don’t you join the winning side instead of wasting your existence with the humans? I would rather fight with you, not against you,” Chak said as his eyes roamed over Tez’s form.
Tez cringed inwardly at the thought.
“Get use to disappointment. I’m here to see that you never take another victim from this city. You can count on that.”
The two vampires started to circle each other, sizing up the other and waiting for the other to strike. Chak made the first move by pushing Tez in the chest with such force that it sent him careening towards a large tree. Tez used the momentum to ricochet off the tree and fly into Chak head first with his hands around Chak’s neck. Tez sank his fangs into his neck on impact. Chak pulled him off but not without great effort. Tez somersaulted in the air and landed on his feet in a crouched position, waiting for the next move. Blood steamed from his lips and down his neck. He spit some of the blood from his mouth as if it had a foul taste to it. Chak began picking up large bolders and tree trunks to hurl at Tez. These were easily deflected. Tez raised his arms and summoned the thick green vines that covered the ground to entangle Chak to immobilize him. These were not thick enough to hold him, but it bought Tez some time to grab a sharp branch and plunge it into Chak, missing the heart by inches. Chak let out an angry cry and freed himself from the natural confines. He slashed his long nails across Tez’s face. The slash marks healed within seconds but left trails of blood. He backhanded Tez, sending him sailing through the air to land with a thud on his back. Chak summoned a swarm of rats to devour Tez where he laid. The furry creatures came suddenly out of nowhere with red glowing eyes and a hunger for his flesh. Tez jumped to his feet and raised his cuff bracelet towards the sky as he entreated the Great Spirit to aid him in his fight. The cuff bracelet glowed with Power. Suddenly flocks of Harpy eagles, small falcons, owls, and other birds of prey swooped onto the scene to shred the vermin with their talons and sharp beaks.
The two vampires ignored the scene as they ran towards each other, leaping into the air. Their bodies slammed into each other as fists flew and fangs missed their mark...

Hope you all enjoy this teaser from my paranormal-occult romance novel, "The Kure"


Lucius Harwell leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. He stared intently at John, the same way he might appraise a horse at auction, trying to judge his stamina and strength. “There would be . . . conditions.” Harwell set his fingers on his temples. “Very. Specific. Conditions.”

John nodded, hoping the subtle gesture would convey the appropriate reservations, and if necessary, warrant later forgiveness.

The doctor looked to the very back of his office, scanning the entire space from corner to corner, as if wanting to make certain no one else could hear. “First, you’ll have to promise me you won’t delay the bleeding because of what I tell you, or hold out false hope based on some old witches’ tale.”

“I promise.”

Harwell’s expression grew even more solemn. It was evident John’s answer was not what he hoped to hear. Realizing his patient was not going to relent, he rose from his chair and, shaking his head, walked to the front window. As he looked out over the eerily deserted street, the sun caught half his face, splitting his features into light and dark.

“Second, you must understand the old cures often required the one in need to cast away their good name and to denounce all things holy and pure.”

This time Harwell didn’t look directly at John, but simply paused, offering him an opportunity to speak. But John remained silent, hoping his passive consent would be enough.

“And third,” the doctor continued, “you would have to promise on your very life never to disclose the existence of these books or to speak of what is contained on their pages.”

John cleared his throat. “I agree.”

Lucius Harwell straightened, crossed his arms, and then looked down. John wondered if the doctor was reconsidering, preparing to change his mind. But Harwell said nothing as he reached out and slowly lowered the window shade. Seemingly oblivious to the unmistakable tremble in his hand, he secured the privacy bolt on the office door. Then with slow, determined steps, he walked to the back of the room and paused in front of a wide, ornately carved bookcase. Sinking to one knee, he scanned the umber leather bindings on the bottom shelf, finally resting his hand on one of the larger volumes. Swiping his thumb back and forth across the spine, he wiped away the dust, as if to be certain of his choice.

Untouched for years, the natural oils in the book’s cover had formed a bond with the adjacent bindings. Bringing both hands to the task, the doctor finally forced the covers to separate with a loud crack. John waited, expecting him to rise and return to his desk, but Harwell remained on the floor, continuing to remove additional books until the shelf was nearly empty.

As the doctor’s arm disappeared into the vacant space, John could see Harwell was reaching beyond the back of the bookcase and into the wall itself. He heard him muttering, cursing under his breath as he fumbled with something inside the hidden cavity, trying to maneuver it out through the narrow opening.

“I’ve got it,” the doctor grumbled as he slowly held up a tattered cloth pouch. Brushing away the dirt and cobwebs, he set to work on the knotted drawstrings. But as large portions of the bag began to separate, he simply pulled the material apart, releasing a bound manuscript from the rotting fibers.

Carrying it with outstretched arms, the doctor moved to the single window at the back of the office, pushed open the glass, and raised the book above the ledge. Taking a quick breath, he blew hard, shooting a mixture of cobwebs and rat droppings into the rear alley. Leaving a swirling haze in his wake, he returned to his desk, where he pushed the loose papers off to the side and carefully set the crimson-cased volume in the very center of the space.

Although still covered with a layer of dust, John could see the book’s blood-red binding was ornately stamped with strange markings, the front cover finely tooled with a border of scrolls and flourishes. In the very center, a single word served as its title:

KURE

While the main part of the cover appeared to be bound with the familiar cowhide common to the rest of the doctor’s library, the outer trim was thinner and nearly transparent. John wondered if the material had been taken not from an animal, but from a different kind of donor.

The doctor scooted his chair back and sat, his full attention seemingly captured by the elaborately detailed cover.

“Are you sure, John?” Harwell asked without looking up. “Are you absolutely sure you want to know this?”

He could hear it in the doctor’s voice—a final chance to turn back, to reconsider his decision to ignore the possible penalties of both law and Church. John answered without hesitation. “Yes. Please.”

Lucius Harwell raised his glazed eyes. “Come over here and lay your hand on the book.”

It seemed like a strange request. John could only assume the doctor wanted him to make some kind of symbolic gesture, acknowledging that his demand to learn from the forbidden script had made him a willing accomplice in breaking the sacred bond of secrecy.

As he placed his palm on the leather—if that’s what it was—John took a closer look at the extravagant design now framing his hand. What he had originally assumed to be symbols were actually bizarre and grotesque figures—creatures clearly not human. Some were portrayed in agony and suffering, while others were shown coupled with naked female forms. Even more sinister was the feel of the book—icy cold, like a solid block of frozen stone.

* * * *


Here’s a brief synopsis of "The Kure":

John Tyler, a young man in his early twenties, awakens to find a ghastly affliction taking over his body. When the village doctor offers the conventional, and potentially disfiguring, treatment as the only cure, John tenaciously convinces the doctor to reveal an alternative remedy—a forbidden ritual contained within an ancient manuscript called the Kure.

Although initially rejecting the vile and sinister rite, John realizes, too late, that the ritual is more than a faded promise scrawled on a page of crumbling paper. And as cure quickly becomes curse, the demonic text unleashes a dark power that drives him to consider the unthinkable—a depraved and wicked act requiring the corruption of an innocent soul.

Ultimately, John must choose between his desperate need to arrest the plague that is destroying his body, and the virtue of the woman he loves, knowing the wrong decision could cost him his life.

"The Kure" is available on Amazon in paperback and ebook. The kindle version is only 99 cents on Amazon until the end of May.

Here's the link:

http://www.amazon.com/The-Kure-ebook/...

If you don't have a kindle, you can download one of Amazon's FREE reading apps for your cloud reader, computer, Smartphone, or tablet. Here's the link:

http://www.amazon.com/gp/feature.html...

I hope you'll consider adding it to your to-read list. Thanks much for the opportunity and support!

Jaye Frances
www.jayefrances.com
http://blog.jayefrances.com
http://www.facebook.com/jayefrancesau...

Jaye Frances

The Kure

Such great teasers, everyone! Thanx for sharing!

Excerpt - From Prologue of Sanctum Angels: Shadow Havens Book 1

Ilea picked up the skirting of her gown and rushed through the richly carpeted halls of the elaborate underground Demesne haven she’d shared with her Mate for centuries. By the time she reached Sebastien’s study, her flaming hair had come undone from its tight chignon and her face had grown hot. Saan was dying and a tiny thought she’d kept buried for the past two nights would find Sebastien’s ear whether he wished to hear or not. Drawing breath, Ilea whipped the black double doors nearly from their hinges to stride to the dark, massive desk in front of her Mate. A small group of the Demesne’s vampire warriors were with him but they stepped swiftly from her path.

“Leave us,” she ordered.

The warriors of the Demesne were unused to taking orders from their leader’s Mate, whom they rarely saw, but left after Sebastien gave them a fast nod. Hearing his Mate’s pounding heart, Sebastien sat quickly, as if the air had been knocked from his lungs. “Has our son passed?” he asked quietly.

“He lives but he may well pass before the morning unless something is done,” Ilea gripped the edge of the desk and leaned over it, into her husband’s perfectly sculpted face.

“Call your brother at the Sanctum and seek his advice,” she commanded. “Ask him to send one of the angelic healers. It is the only thing that can save our son.”

Sebastien had thought this might be requested of him, but he had also expected Saan to recover, having his mother’s daemon blood and his own vampiric blood.
“Andrieu is not my brother. I cannot contact anyone at the Sanctum,” he said.

Ilea pulled her hand back and brought it forward in a mind-numbingly fast arc to connect with Sebastien’s jaw. Her Mate’s head bounced backward against the high back of his carved chair, yet he didn’t lift a hand. “You could not have heard what I asked,” Ilea said. “Call Andrieu and ask…no, Sebastien …beg him to send an angelic healer. Tonight.” Ilea’s eyes were changing to the silver swirls associated with strong emotion among daemons. “Do it,” she hissed.

Sanctum Angels

This is my serial killer/horror/paranormal WIP. I am enjoying tapping into the dark side! Be warned it is still in rough draft mode, so I expect there may be a few mistakes :)

I had made my bargain with the shadow man only a few months ago and now I had to pay. He wanted the souls of those condemned and tonight I would give him my second. The stench of earth bound monsters plagued me, driving me insane sometimes. A rancid smell similar to that of rotting flesh flooded my senses on the streets of where I lived. Never could I have imagined the monsters that walked our streets, feeding on the innocent as we ignored them. I was resurrected with a mission, one born out of my need for vengeance and hatred.

It had been hard at first; the thought of taking another humans life but these creatures that I killed weren’t human, they weren’t even worthy of being creatures they were all monsters. Things so evil, that one would deem them a poison to society. They were the monsters that abused those lesser them, feeding on the fear and pain they created. I knew this because I used to be a victim, right up until I died but now that I am back, I am going to make sure nothing like this ever happens again. No more will I stand in the shadows and watch as monsters prey on others. Tonight I would take my first soul since my boyfriends. The monster looked like any normal well-to-do man in his mid-thirties, his hair just beginning to thin on top, well-groomed, enjoyed living above his means. I had watched this Casanova work his game over and over again these last few month. Always it was the same; he would find the shy, sweet, insecure girl who often sat alone at the back of the bar. Then he would offer to buy her drink, building up her ego before asking her to go home with him. There he would lure her in, praising her asking her to come back even though no one was to know what was going on. On the fifth ‘date’ he would strike, the monster lurking within emerged, a rage so intense that the girl fate was sealed from the moment she entered the house. I never knew what really happened inside, I only ever saw the remains or what was left of them once he disposed of them. It was disgusting; only bones and some liquid soupy mess was left of them. I cried over the remains of the first girl. Watching as her friends searched in vain. There was nothing the authorities would find that would link her remains to that monster.

I hated what he was doing. Rage simmered just underneath the surface of my skin, as I formulated my act of revenge. I wanted to hurt him, peel away his flesh with my own hands. I wanted to see the look of horror upon his face once he realized that things were not going to end slowly for him. Most of all I wanted to give those girls justice and peace. Hell, maybe deep down, I also wanted that for myself.

As I watched him, the monster prowling for his next prey, ignorant sheep moving around, dancing, waiting for their turn to be slaughtered, there was a small little smile that crept up onto my lips. Tonight he would know the pain that he had caused. I was fond of the sheep but no longer one myself. It was a weird sensation, being reborn as they say. To live among humans though after a little while they stopped becoming human. How many times in those first few days, where I tried to help, to show them the truth and they didn’t listen. I had warned his victims, everyone but none of them listen to me. Not one of the girls every thought to free themselves from his spell.

It didn’t anger me, I had been like that, a sheep slowly being lead to my own slaughter. Somewhere I had known it was wrong, dangerous and yet I stayed, lured by the false promise of love. Lured by the feeling that I belonged to someone. It was a pathetic existence to live.

Thanks for the opportunity to share a snippet from my supernatural suspense novel, PASKAGANKEE!



—SNAP!

Mike whipped his head around at the sound, loud as a gunshot in the empty forest, and saw the form of the spirit—impossibly—rising off the ground and starting for him again. The thick branch that plunged into the thing’s side as it fell had broken off against a tree as it began levitating, giving Mike a second or two of warning.

He scrambled to his feet, again raising his weapon. He remembered Professor Dye’s statement that bullets were useless against the spirit; that they would simply embed themselves inside the host’s body. The apparition would be unaffected and would keep coming. How do you stop an ethereal presence that wasn’t meant to exist in this world to begin with?

Mike fired, not knowing what else to do. Maybe if he could put the thing down again, he could use the few seconds he would gain to come up with some other option. It wasn’t much of a plan—hell, it wasn’t a plan at all—but it was all he had. The shot missed everything and Mike realized his hands were shaking so badly he was unlikely to even hit the damned thing if he couldn’t get himself under control.

By now it was almost upon him. He fired again and hit pay dirt as the body slammed back against another tree trunk. This time the tree held it up, preventing it from being thrown to the forest floor by the force of the projectile. Mike fired again and again, emptying his weapon into the thing, and the body tumbled face-first onto the ground, a slick, wet squishing sound emanating from it as it crashed down onto the wet leaves and pine needles.

Mike spotted a good-sized branch that had been knocked from a nearby tree during the recent ice storm and lifted it off the ground. It was heavy and shaped like a club; although if it was a club it would be more suited to the Jolly Green Giant than a normal sized man because Mike could barely heft it. The branch/club was maybe five feet long and six inches wide at its thickest point, tapering down to about an inch-and-a-half at one end. It felt solid and brutal in Mike’s hands.

The Court–thing again rose silently off the ground and Mike approached it, wielding the wooden weapon like Ted Williams turning on a fastball. He swung from the heels and connected solidly with the human host’s ribcage. He was rewarded with a sharp cracking sound and the thing went down again, before almost immediately beginning to rise.

Mike’s arms were already tiring and he knew he could not continue beating the thing like a piñata much longer. Once he lost the strength to keep knocking the entity to the ground, it would be all over him. He smacked the makeshift club into the dead body and the thing fell again with a hollow thud. It had still not made a sound during the entire confrontation. The only noise came from Mike, his labored breathing sounding loud and harsh in his ears. He knew he was just about spent.

Again the thing started to rise and again Mike clubbed it and again it went down. His arms burned and felt heavy and rubbery. Tears streamed from his eyes as the stench of death assaulted him. He felt sick. He clubbed the thing again, and again he heard/felt ribs break, not that it made any damned difference. He tried to catch his breath and was unable to do so. His lungs burned.

The thing began to levitate again and Mike swung again and this time he missed. He immediately tried to reverse course with the big club, but it was now too heavy to control. He made contact with the thing’s body but because he had been unable to get any torque behind the swing, it didn’t fall over. It didn’t react at all.

He was out of time; it was over. His arms felt as wooden as the club. He desperately reached back to swing again and the thing was upon him, pulling him high into the air with a cold, dead hand on his neck and flinging him against a tree, the same tree that had impaled the monster just a few short moments ago. The death-smell was so much worse when the thing actually touched him that Mike gagged, he couldn’t breathe, and then he was flying through the air on a short but violent trip, crashing into the tree and falling in a heap on the ground.

Paskagankee

Here is a teaser from my first horror novel, WHEN DARKNESS FALLS.

Her eyes raked left and right, looking for her tormentor, searching for something she might have missed. The hallway was vacant, except for her. At least, that's what it wanted her to think. She had learned quickly that nothing was as it seemed in this place. In the distance she heard a growl, the same sound that had hunted her for the last twenty-four hours. Every time she looked for the source she found nothing. Now, in the distance, she sensed movement that hadn’t been there before. Shadows began to crouch closer but never more than that.

"Go away," she whispered. “Let me go home.”

Silence was her only reply. She was beginning to hate the quiet creek of the old place. She had come with her traveling companions, now they were missing. The screams she had heard over the last few hours had been more than enough to make her want to get out. Getting out had proved to be much more difficult than she had first expected. This place was determined to keep her put.

Another growl made her turn. She felt a cold wind rush across her and shuddered at the touch.

"It's not real," Lisa called out. "It can’t be."
Many doors led from the hall but none had helped her. Her body pressed against one after another. None budged.

"Come on, please," she begged, every part of her body feeling weak. "You can't all be locked." One of them had to be unlocked. Still each one held fast, the thick wood rebuffing her. As she came to the end of the hall, a window faced her with one door on either side. It was like a mirror image of the rest of place. She peered through the dusty glass only to find the same view as all the rest. As with the other windows, shutters were secured against the window pane. From the small slits, she caught sight of faint grey fog outside. It was all she could see through the tiny cracks.

"Dammit." It was the same thing she had seen since coming to this place. "I swear I never want to see fog again."

Another stomp and she turned to find something approaching from the far end of the hallway. Darkness and shadows cowered in the corners. She tried to focus on what was approaching but found she couldn’t. Her stomach knotted at the small glimpses she caught. It wasn't possible, it couldn't be real.

Deep growls filled the air, louder than before. If she screamed she wasn't certain. Her heart pounded in time with the knocking of the wind outside. She had to find somewhere to hide and quickly. The thing that faced her wasn’t something she could fight and win. Given the chance, it would rip the flesh from her skin if she remained; that was a death she didn't want.

Wow! So many great teasers! I have added almost all of the books to my "to-read" list. :) I still have to read a few more!

I am very new to this group, so please don't judge me too harshly! Ha ha. Here is an excerpt from my book, "Who is Audrey Wickersham?":

There was suddenly a sharp knock on the front door and we both shouted out simultaneously.

“Wow! Talk about being on edge,” Bruce said. “I’ll go get that, it’s probably Agnes.” He got up and walked away to get the door, and I started thinking about Kirk again. I was wondering if there really was anything else behind the kiss, or if it had just been an “of the moment” type of thing, when I heard Bruce call out, “Audrey…maybe you should go get your dad.”

I jumped up from the couch, becoming concerned at the tone of his voice, and went over to the front door to see what had caused him to sound that way.

What I saw startled me. It was a wizened old man, holding a large wooden staff, wearing a tattered blue cloak. He was hunched over and this made him look incredibly frail, but when he met my eyes suddenly with his sharp blue ones, I could see there was nothing frail about him mentally. He seemed to flinch though when he made eye contact with me, and then he said, “It’s you, isn’t it?”

“What’s me? Who are you?” I stepped sideways so that I was behind Bruce and grabbed his shoulders, and then peeked out around him so I could still see the little old man. He had a full head of wild silver hair, and those eyes were electric.

“You are infected with the Zomorwai, and you must be eliminated.”

After a brief moment of shocked silence, Bruce and I both said, “Shit.”

I do not have a link on goodreads for my book yet, but if you want to read more you can look on Amazon! Here is the link: http://www.amazon.com/Who-is-Audrey-W...

Or you can look at my site! www.whoisaudrey.net

Thanks for reading. :)

This excerpt is from CRIMSON, a dark urban fantasy (vampire) with romance.

Alex stumbled up the two flights of stairs to his apartment, managed to unlock the door, and staggered into cool darkness.

Without bothering to flip on the lights, he shed his sodden, leather jacket and dropped it on the floor.

Confused and sick to his stomach, he reeled to the sofa and collapsed. What the hell had happened to him? His mind was a terrifying blank from the point where he’d left his car up to when the woman found him. What had happened during that void?

Shaking in his filthy, wet clothes, he curled onto his side. He wanted to crawl to his bed and pile on the blankets, but he’d been lucky to make it this far.

With numb fingers, he fumbled the Beretta from the waistband of his jeans and let it drop to the carpet.

Laughter, malicious and taunting, rang inside his head. A voice behind his forehead whispered, “You little whore, the fun has just begun.”

Alex’s heart torpedoed into his throat and lodged tight. What the hell?

“Bet you never expected to hear from me, did you, Alex?”

“Who are you?”

“You know who I am.”

Cold dread liquefied his guts. “Daniel?” Impossible. Daniel was dead. And he would know because he’d accidentally killed him.

Laughter bounced around in his skull.

“Damn right, bitch. And guess what- I’m gonna fuck you hard, Alex, and not in a good way.”

Sweet Jesus, he’d been threatened by a dead man.

Unless... Had he imagined it? Maybe he’d parted company with sanity. Was that it? Had schizophrenia taken up residence in his brain? Insanity seemed more acceptable than mental visitation from a dead rival.

Laughter invaded his mind again.

His skin prickled.

“You’ll wish you imagined it. I’m going to make you pay for what you did to me. You fucked with something way out of your league, little boy.”

Daniel withdrew from his mind, leaving a sensation that twisted his guts into knots.

Holy shit. Daniel Lameier was back from the dead.


Crimson At Amazon

Crimson At Barnes And Noble

Being Mrs. Dracula

Prologue

Letter to Jonathan Harker from Abraham Van Helsing
(Delivered in accordance to his directions upon his death on December 4, 1899)


March 15, 1897

Friend Jonathan,

If you are reading this, then it would be that I have passed into the sweet hereafter. I apologize for the shock I am sure this must cause you, and to poor Madam Mina. Forgive me, friend Jonathan and dearest Mina, but there is something that I must confess, lest I be denied entry by Saint Peter. I reveal this with great shame, the burden of which I have felt heavy in my heart every day and I must confess it, not to a priest but no less a man of God.

Friend Jonathan, I implore you to forgive the weakness of this old man but that night in Transylvania I faltered. Yes, I hunted down those foul women that appeared to Madam Mina and myself the night before, and to you so terribly months earlier, and threw back the lids to their graves and found them to be sleeping the sleep of death. At once my mind and heart was unexplainably taken with pity for these poor creatures against my better judgment. I held my stake and hammer above the dark one, placing it to her cold bosom, her voluptuousness enthralling, and drove it deep. The scream she imparted was most terrifying and until the day I die I will not be able to banish it from my mind and only after I had severed her foully beautiful head did it cease. I went next to the similar sarcophagus at its left and found again another beauty, both dark and sad. My heart grieved for this poor soul, so long banished from the love of God. I laid another blessed stake against her chest and with gritted teeth, hammered the top as hard as my strength would allow. Her eyes suddenly grew wide but instead of a scream, she let loose only a long sorrowful sigh. Heartache that I am unable to describe was released upon that death as her sigh filled the room and with it the deepest gray despair that I had ever known. I prayed for their souls for a moment before continuing in my butchery, removing the head of this one as well and like the one before she simply faded into dust. The fair one that remained in the revered resting place was the most beautiful creature my eyes had ever laid upon, despite her wanton dress and sensuality. I was entranced so deeply that for a time I could only stand and stare. I was a fool to think that I could attempt such a feat alone, and a greater one still that I could not reveal this to anyone before now. All these years later when I think of the vision I beheld inside that case of death, the flaxen curls, full red lips and fair skin smooth as oriental silk, my heart does yet skip a beat. I remember feeling myself falling into the waking sleep of a hypnotism, her eyes binding me a surely as any chain.

Then, as though the trumpets of resurrection, I was woken from my thrall by the remembrance of the horrible ring of dear Madam Mina’s scream. It cut through the fog of my muddled mind and I did not hesitate further. I placed the lid back on this unholy beauty and placed a portion of Sacred Wafer on the lid as I had already done inside the tomb of their master, marked by his family name. I know not what transpired after this, since I hurried away to Madam Mina before the siren’s call could grasp me once more. The entrapment of the Sacred Wafer held until we made good our escape since we did not encounter her wrath for killing her unholy mate and her wicked sisters.

When we returned to that most accursed place in seven years, I crept back into the lair of these temptresses and was determined, despite my shame, if I discovered she still dwelled there I would call upon the courage of my dear friends and we would end her miserable life, but alas she was gone, so long that the foul smell no longer lingered in the room. In the stead of the devilish beauty in the tomb was an unassuming small book and upon opening it, I discovered it to be a journal...(Section omitted here to fit Goodreads alloted size)
...Pray pity upon the soul of a weak old man, as I have prayed for a blessed life for you both and young Quincey every day of my earthly life and will, if it does please our good Lord, look upon you protectively from Heaven until it is that we should be reunited there.

“Your friend”
Van Helsing



Part One: The First Wife
Chapter One


Diary of Countess Valeria Karajan- Dracula

21 May 1460- What a wonderful treasure I did discover in this diary, tucked inside my dress trunk by my dear Mother. I think I shall write the events of the last few days to keep them forever fresh in my mind. To forget them would be a sin. When this beautifully bound book was purchased for me I was the daughter of a lord, but now as I write, I am the wife of Count Dracula of Transylvania. Countess Dracula, the name seems so strange and yet I wear it with such pride. The Count has brought so much change to the country, done so much good for his people. His ways do sometimes terrify me, but I cannot forget he works for the greater good though his ways may be wicked. Father was wise to align our family with him so soon into his reign, to be my husband’s enemy is to be a fool.

But what a sinful wife I am for writing such gossip of my husband. Though he may meet his enemy with an iron fist, he certainly wears a silk glove where I am concerned. He was ever so patient at our wedding, despite the long road that waited ahead of us to return to his castle the next day. And it was such a beautiful wedding! The chapel was bedecked in all manner of spring flower and Father had spared no expense in my beautiful dress. Vlad said that I looked like a gilded flower. We danced, ate and drank ourselves merry.

I must admit that my nerves were beginning to get the better of me by the evening, knowing that soon we would be alone together for the first time as husband and wife. I am so thankful that this was not an altogether arranged marriage. I had grown quite fond of Vlad by the time we were to be married, and though our courtship was brief, he spoke with me sincerely and put my mind at ease. My husband proved himself to be a gentleman once more when he chose to sleep in the guest quarters instead of in my chambers on our wedding night, in respect to my Father’s house. I was relieved for this gesture, for I was ever so tired from our celebrations and it allowed me one last night to simply be a daughter in my Father’s house, to say goodbye to childish things and to prepare myself to be the Countess of my own house. We left for Castle Dracula early yesterday morning and arrived that evening. The countryside was beautiful, as is to be expected of Transylvania in the spring, and the air was filled with the sounds and scents of a region foreign to me, but that is now my home.

The servants had been hard at the work while the master of the house was away, leaving nothing undone upon our arrival. An enormous feast that rivaled that at our wedding celebration was prepared and kept warm. My dear husband said that he wanted to be certain that I had anything that I could desire for supper on my first night as the Countess of his castle. As we dined, the Count informed me of many things concerning the goings on of the castle and its staff, many of which had served the Dracula family for generations. The nervous quiver in my stomach returned as the maid led me through the winding hallways of the castle to the bedchamber I was to share with my husband, but Vlad stopped us halfway there and instead took me up the staircase that led up to the battlement. The mountain night air was cool and crisp and a light breeze blew through the dense forest that surrounds the castle. The full moon shed her light across the landscape and with the swaying trees; it looked as though our home was a great ship afloat in the middle of a dark ocean. My husband stood by my side and quietly took my hand as we looked across our land. His chest was full with pride, no doubt because his heart is so full of love for this wilderness and its people. He is their guardian, the protector of their ways against the world beyond these trees. After a few minutes of silence, he turned to me and brushed my cheek with his hand and told me that he hoped I would be happy here, that all I could see was mine and that I was to want for nothing.

It is not for a lady to speak of what happened after this tender moment, though glorious it may have been, but to record my memories here for my own sake would not be considered crass. My husband pulled me close to him and kissed me passionately, much to my relief for I had been waiting for it since we arrived. He looked ever so handsome in the moonlight, his dark hair and eyes reflected the silvery beams beautifully. I was not sure how to behave or how eager I was to allow myself to appear and the nerves began to dance in my stomach once more. He seemed to notice this and somehow put my mind to ease, reminding me that here, within this castle, we are free to do whatever we wish. It is our domain and the rules within its walls are ours alone to make. I fell into his strong arms then with abandon, my anticipation of things to come outweighing my nerves, and held him tightly against me. After several minutes more of passionate embrace, he took my hand and led me back through the castle, smiling and giggling as we went like sneaking children. When we did arrive at our bed chamber, I quickly saw that he had given instructions to the servants and the room had been prepared wonderfully! I paused a moment to take in all the luxurious things that filled the room. Silk adorned the bed and walls, hanging like loose curtains from the ceilings and gathering in the floor like small lakes below thin waterfalls around the bed. Candles and incense burned, filling the air with smoky exotic scents of a land I have only heard of far to the east. He asked me if I approved, if I was pleased, and I could only smile because I could not find the words to express my feelings. Such time had been dedicated so far in advance for my comfort and happiness that I was flushed with emotion and could only rush into his arms and hold him close as we had done outside beneath the moon. Again he kissed me, but now I responded with passion that equaled his instead of nervous timidity. The formal attire of a lady of my stature does not make for quick or simple disrobing and the time it took us both to unfasten the layers of my garments seemed agonizingly long. Only days before, when Vlad had visited me at my Father’s house before our wedding did we share our first kiss, a simple pressing of tightly pursed lips that then seemed almost scandalous. Now, just days later, we were husband and wife, intertwined in a passionate naked embrace. Soon after this, I was relieved that my husband had chosen to sleep apart from me while we were at my Father’s house, for the sounds of our unbridled lovemaking would have been heard throughout. My mind was completely given over to sensuality, and I did moan despite my efforts to be quiet as parts of my body that had never been seen by any eyes other than my own were touched and kissed. Afterwards when we were spent and breathless, I laid my head upon my husband’s chest and listened to his heartbeat as the sounds of the river below us lulled me to sleep. I did not want sleep to come, as I did not want the night to end, but I could hardly resist after our long journey home and all our physical excitement. The last thing I remember was my husband tucking the silken bedcovers around my shoulders and a thin blanket being drawn over the top to shield me against the cool night air. I awoke the next morning to find upon my neck, on each side, the purplish marks that my husband’s kisses had left behind. I styled my hair drawn up that morning and I felt no shame.

“Being Mrs. Dracula” is available for $0.99 at major Ebook retailers, such as Amazon.

S.J. Drum

Quotes:
"Haven’t you ever heard of a damsel in distress?”
"Remove your hand from my shoulder before I remove it from your body.”


SURPRISINGLY SUPERNATURAL Excerpt:

“Ants in your pants...or…skirt?” She eyed the kilt swaying about Emile’s muscular, bare legs, wondering if the rest of the world had gone crazy or if it was only her small portion.

“It’s a kilt. Not a skirt, woman.” Emile peered past her, into the house. His focus bounced around with distraction to the point Elaina couldn’t help herself. She knew it was a kilt. She also knew calling it a skirt would aggravate the piss out of him.

“What do you have on under that skirt?” she asked, hoping to get a solid reaction from him, or at least his full attention. Then maybe he’d remember why the hell he’d come to her house. Assuming he had not, in fact, come over only to show off his skirt.

“Why? You wanna see?” The grin he gave her was all male devilry and sex appeal. The wagging of his eyebrows was the last straw.

Elaina threw her hands up in exasperation and marched into the kitchen, not bothering to see if he followed. The cat raced across her path, nearly causing a pileup in the doorway of the kitchen. Two pixie toddlers, about the size of Elaina’s pinky finger, sat astride the fearsome furry beast, their fists clinging to her multi-colored scruff. The twins’ parents flew behind the mounted duo, swooping in to right them when one started to list to the side.

Forcefully rubbing her temples, she attempted to rewind her life to a point before it’d gotten so insane. Emile strode into the kitchen and propped a lean hip on the table. Unfortunately or strategically, he’d chosen to prop his hip on the square inch of table space closest to her face. When she’d finished massaging her temples and opened her eyes, her nose nearly touched whatever was or wasn’t under his fine kilt.

She sighed, leaning back to look up at his face.

“I need your help.”

This is from my book Apocalypse Z that is currently available on Amazon and Barnes & Noble. It is a fast-paced zombie action novel.

WARNING: The excerpt contains strong language.

There was a brief silence, as the men looked her way. One yelled out, “Get her!” She knelt down and moved to the front of the car, hoping the engine block would provide better cover. She held the pistol up over the hood and blindly shot toward them. Returning fire, they cautiously advanced on her position.

When she emptied the first magazine, she quickly swapped it out with another and started firing again. One of the men was hit and thrown to the ground as the bullet ripped through his chest, but the other three continued to advance. Hot brass fell all around her like rain, making hollow pings as they hit the sidewalk. The smell of gunpowder filled the air.

When she dropped the second magazine to insert the third, one of the men came around the front of the car and pointed a large-caliber revolver in her face. She heard the double click as he pulled the hammer back and said, “You move and I’ll blow your fuckin’ head off.”

She slowly raised her hands and stared into the large bore at end of the barrel. Another man came up from behind her and took the pistol from her hand. Given a choice, a bullet tearing through her head was far better than being cut open and eaten alive by zombies, but she wasn’t ready to give up and die.

She felt someone from behind grab her hair and pull her flat onto her back. The man kept his gun pointed at her face as he straddled her and squatted down. “I see we have a pretty one here. I think we should have a little fun with her before we feed the zombies.”

She was disgusted by his dirty, sweaty face. His smell was foul and she almost gagged. His eyes were cold and she swore he had no soul. Thoughts raced through her mind and she wondered how she was going to get out of this mess. Mark was dead and everyone else was too far away to help. There was no way around it. She was all alone and about to meet a grizzly death.

One of the men grabbed her hands and held them on the ground over her head. The man on top of her set his gun to the side and unfastened her belt and holster. She struggled, but he was too heavy to throw off. He unbuttoned her pants and started to unzip them.

Gritting her teeth, she said, “Over my dead body, asshole.”

He put his hand over her mouth and reached behind his back. When he brought his hand around he had a large hunting knife in it. “That can be arranged. It doesn’t matter to us if you’re breathing or not.”

Her eyes were fixed upon the large blade as it drew closer. She struggled and let out a muffed scream as he held it in front of her face, taunting her with it. She closed her eyes and felt the sharp steel against her throat. Knowing she was about to draw her last breath, she let out one last muffed scream....

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Here is a teaser from my book, Deadly Road, that is available on Amazon as an eBook. Hope you enjoy!


Lizzie’s face flushed, and she fidgeted in her seat, wanting for the first time since she got here to run out the door. She couldn’t talk to anyone about this, it was too risky, and she caught Estel looking at her cautiously. Getting more nervous, she said, “What?” before realizing how rude it sounded to an older lady she barely knew.
“Let me tell you something, Lizzie, everything that happens, happens for a reason. Just like how the spider’s web is intertwined and connected, everything in your life is connected. Nothing in life is coincidental; there’s a purpose for everything. You just don’t know what it is yet, but my feeling is that you will find out soon.” Estel sat back deeper in her bed, showing her exhaustion for the first time.
“I’m sorry I got snappy with you, it’s just that I’ve been a little stressed lately. It’s no excuse though.” Lizzie started to get up and Estel waved for her to come over to her. Lizzie did and felt the air shift around her, as if something was alive in the room with them. It was cool in the room and Estel shivered slightly. Lizzie got close to her and Estel held out her hand. She took the dying woman’s hand in hers, feeling its papery-thin skin, the bones protruding profoundly, and squeezed it gently.
“You don’t have to be sorry for anything. I want you to know you did the right thing,” she said wearily, as if already half asleep. She closed her eyes and for a moment Lizzie was afraid she was dying, but then she heard the old woman softly snoring and her heart eased. What did I do that was the right thing? Lizzie stood there wondering what this old woman was talking about. She pulled her covers up to her chin and then slid out the door.

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Here's a teaser from my debut novelette, THE UNNAMED, that's available in ebook format at Smashwords and Amazon.
It is a prequel and teaser for the upcoming novel, Haedyn, which is due out in early 2013.


Azazel stormed into the dank, underground room. “Why was I summoned?”

The servants and guards looked at him and then each other. He could taste their anxiety on the air. Something was wrong.

He squinted his eyes and looked around. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. At least nothing he could see. He sniffed a few times. No brimstone or sulfur lingered, which meant no other demon had entered his domain. But the servants were obviously frightened by something.

Lenore appeared beside him. “What is the meaning of this? What is going on?”

A woman stepped forward. Azazel recognized her as one of the nursemaids that had helped with the birth the day before. “It’s the child. We don’t know what to do with it.” She pointed to the cell in the back corner of the room.

“Is it sick? Dying?” He followed as Lenore led the way to the chamber. They each peaked through the small, barred window.

A child, of maybe four or five years of age, sat in the middle of the floor playing with wooden blocks. It turned and faced them. Her pale, white skin and silver white hair contrasted with the deep, red of her eyes.

Lenore stepped slowly away from the door and raised her hand to her mouth. Azazel rolled his eyes and inhaled deeply. He looked to the nursemaid for an explanation.

“We found her like that. When we came into feed her and change her,” the nursemaid said.

“And?” Azazel asked. “Did she do something or say something that would warrant my presence?” He was beginning to lose his patience with these humans.

“No, sir.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“That’s her,” Lenore said and stepped back again. “The child that was born yesterday.”

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This teaser is from Liturgy

The full moon reflected on the shimmering water of the lake. An owl hooted in the distance breaking the quiet of the evening and startled the young woman. Momentarily, she was yanked back into an awareness of her surroundings.
A single coherent thought flashed through her mind; what in the hell are you doing out here Angel?
Her vision was pulled once more into darkened oblivion. The thin night gown swayed against her lithe, supple body as she walked in the pale moon light. Goose bumps raised on her arms as each step carried her closer to the red glow in the grass. Something she couldn't understand or break the hold of was drew her closer.
Kneeling down she reached into the dew laden tuft of grass. Tendrils of red light reached out and wrapped around her hand. Levitating out of the grass the crystal floated to just above her hand. There it hovered for a few moments before dropping into her open palm. Standing up she turned and headed back to her warm bed in the little bungalow. The hem of her wet gown clung to her knees as she walked.
Entering the house she left the back door open. Oblivious to everything surrounding her, she headed to the bedroom. Pulling the covers over herself she became still, the sounds of her breathing becoming deeper. Both hands were cupping the now warm crystal against her chest as she lay curled up in fetal position. The entity within was becoming intricately linked with her as she slept. Bathing the room in the red glow it began to pulsate in time with her beating heart.

Released as a stand alone short and in Horror Bent.
http://www.amazon.com/Liturgy-ebook/d...
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This teaser is from by yours truly! Enjoy!

One moment Vicente was in the middle of talking to Dori. Then the next, he stood now at the window watching her talk to another man.

He tried to orient himself. The house's shadow lay across on the ground. If he remembered correctly, the house faced west so it was now morning. Had an entire night or a week passed since he talked to her in the kitchen?

Dori looked up at the house, but she didn't see him. He smiled, feeling himself take form. Even though his body was long dead and probably nothing more than dust, he sometimes felt the sensations of being inside it. He could see and hear. He could feel emotions, especially the ache of having been lost to those he had loved so many decades ago.

He used to wonder if they'd found his body somewhere and buried it proper. He doubted it but still, it would be nice if someone had placed flowers on his grave.

Dori's voice rose in anger. Vicente leaned closer to the window, sensing the exchange between Dori and this strange man intensify. She walked away, the man calling after her. She flung up her hand in dismissal and something clenched where Vicente's heart had once been. The gesture was so reminiscent of what he done to Anna.

The man stared after Dori, shook his head and then walked away, fading from Vicente's view.

Curious, Vicente turned from the window and then he was in the downstairs hallway. He stayed put, waiting for Dori to walk through the door. She was tough and he admired that. When he got in her face, she barked at him like a man. No crying and screaming and hand-wringing like most women.

But he needed to play this carefully. If he scared her off, who knew how much damn longer he'd be stuck in this bullshit purgatory.

He looked down the hallway, remembering what this house had looked like on that last morning of his life. The once pristine marble fireplace now sagged into the floor of the dingy hallway. The mirror he looked into was long gone.

Then, as if it he went back to that morning, Vicente saw himself as he had once been: hair disheveled and face rough from having missed his barber's appointment. But his body still carried the languid heat from the night before. When he stood before the mirror that morning, he had been thinking of Anna and her ferocity when he pushed her out the back door.

He blinked and the memory vanished when Dori slammed the door. She stomped through the kitchen. "Doll? Who the hell does he think he is calling me doll?" she muttered to herself.

"I wouldn't and I'm already dead," Vicente said, appearing behind her.

Both her feet came off the ground. Dori turned to see him standing in the butler's pantry, arms crossed with his shoulder leaning on the door jamb.

"You handled him pretty good. You made him feel about this big." Vicente pinched his thumb and finger together to illustrate.
She looked him up and down. At least this time she wasn't climbing up the stove to get away from him. "Is that how I make you feel?" she asked.

Vicente laughed and shook his head. "Nope. And you can put down your dukes. It won't do you much good."

She looked down at her fists and then opened her hands. "Oh, right."

"What did he want?"

"Who?"

"The man you were talking to."

"You saw us?"

"I wouldn't ask otherwise."

They stood there a moment, not quite sure how to proceed. "I called him to come look at the house. He said I should level it and then work with him to subdivide it."

Vicente tensed. "And?"

"I told him no thanks."

"And he wouldn't give up."

Her eyes narrowed. "He told me I was making a stupid decision."

"See now, I know how to respect a strong woman." Vicente deliberately drifted his gaze down the length of her body and then back up, hiding the fear of what would happen if she'd leveled the house. Where would that leave him?

Dori crossed her arms as she lifting a skeptical eyebrow. "I've had bigger and better than you," she said.

"But nothing like me." He then crossed the room in the blink of an eye, standing close enough that he could make out the freckles sprinkled over her cheeks.

Dori flinched but she stood her ground, meeting the challenge in his eyes. She even lifted her chin.

Lost in the Light is available for $4.99 as an ebook for Kindle, Nook, iBooks, etc.

Also in print for $9.99 at
Amazon

Creepy! Of course I had to buy it!

Thanks so much for sharing.

Jennifer wrote: "Here's a teaser from my debut novelette, THE UNNAMED, that's available in ebook format at Smashwords and Amazon.
It is a prequel and teaser for the upcoming novel, Haedyn, which is due out in earl..."

Mary wrote: "Creepy! Of course I had to buy it!
Thanks so much for sharing.

Thank you, Mary! I hope you enjoy it. :)

Hi, my name is Curran Geist and I am first time novelist. Below is a teaser from my novel The Sity. Hope you enjoy.

The ground felt soft against her bare feet. The bright sun warmed her skin. The soft breeze caused ripples to flow across her white dress. Carina was standing in a vast field of lush grass. The sky above her was a crystal clear blue with large, whimsical clouds. She could smell the sweet and salty aroma of the ocean and hear the gentle lapping of waves against a cliff.

She skipped happily across the stretching plains toward the sounds of the coastline. Her brisk steps followed a narrow trail of daisy flowers. As Carina climbed eagerly over the last plateau of grass, she could now see the edge of the cliffs. Below the coastline was the sprawling, endless ocean. Floating at the top of the water was a massive city of Victorian- style houses. The homes rocked gently back and forth and she could see people standing from their balconies, smiling and waving back at her. Carina waved back eagerly at them. “I’m over here…” she yelled to them.

“Come home, Carina. It’s time to come home to your family,” they replied back from their swaying perches.

As Carina searched for a way down to the water, she could see the sky suddenly grow dark. Massive storm clouds were rolling in. Lightning struck down from the heavens and toward the city of human homes. She stood helpless from the cliffs as the city was now engulfed in fire. The people were burning before her. The wooden frames of the Victorian buildings collapsed into the orange water. The ceilings were caving in and crushing people before her. “It’s time to come home to your family…” beckoned the ghostly shrieking voice from behind her.

Carina turned around and could see a massive army of alien soldiers now approaching. They were running toward her across the field of grass. Their green bodies now merged together into one. They became just a solid wall full of demon eyes, razor teeth, and arms stretching and slashing toward her. As the wall of Kuljik forms converged around her, Carina knew there was nowhere she could go. She stood precariously by the edge of the cliff and looked down into the furious waves and burning buildings. The Kuljiks were now on her.

She felt her entire body being consumed in the blob of green alien flesh. Her body was blending into the writhing wall and becoming one with the aliens. Carina struggled furiously against the pulsating mass of green trying to suck her in. She punched and kicked as the alien wall took hold over her body and was now forcing her over the cliff.
Carina screamed as she began to descend. As she screamed, the Kuljik arms all around her were now shattering. The gangly claws became a shimmering green cloud of tiny sharp glass chards. But Carina was still falling, rapidly.

There was no ground beneath her. Just the dark sprawling ocean of charred bodies and crumbling, burning buildings. She felt herself smashing against the water. Everything was dark around her. She could barely see in the murky depths as she continued to sink further and further below. There was no light. No hope. Just a black hole squeezing the life from her cold body.

Carina felt a hand now gripping onto her wrists. The hand was pulling her up through a trail of little water bubbles –back to the surface. It was a boy’s hand connected to a thin figure. The boy had light brown hair, dimpled cheeks and sparkling green eyes behind his glasses. He swam swiftly through the maze of dead human bodies that were sinking down around them in the dark water. He navigated their path through the drowning frames of the Victorian buildings… continuing to follow the trail of glowing bubbles to the fiery surface. They finally reached the surface of the ocean. As they broke through the icy sheet of frozen waves that had now formed, Carina could feel the boy’s fingers digging into her wrists.

She looked at him again. The young man was now wearing a mime mask. He had short black hair spiking out from behind it. His jacket, striped shirt, and dark trousers were soaked with purple blood. It was Victor.

Carina reached forward toward him. Her hands went to his face and pulled up his mime mask. Beneath the mask was just his fleshless skull. His eye sockets empty and vacant. She looked down to her wrists and could see his skeleton fingers clamped around her skin. The icy ground, where they stood, now lifted up. They were rising higher and higher above the frozen ocean and even above the cliffs. Carina could feel Victor’s bony hand now reaching around to her back and pulling her in closer to his skeleton form. They balanced together now on the small slick platform - rising through the clouds.

Carina could see that Victor’s other hand was now gripping a long sword. As he held her firmly, he slowly brought it up to her neck. And then Victor plunged the sword through her chest and into her rapidly throbbing heart.


available at amazon as an ebook for $.99 or paperback for $15.00: http://www.amazon.com/The-Sity-ebook/...

"I know who you are," the demon continued, "and what you are supposedly capable of. But we are seven against you and one other. And, there are more on their way, as I'm sure you have already guessed. Your time is over."
"You seem so sure of yourself. I'm surprised . . . if you really do know who I am."
"You're Gabrielle. The Reaper, as we like to call you," the demon said with more than a little venom pricking into his tone.
That name made her skin crawl, and the Fallen knew it. The Reaper. She didn't cause death, but people and those who crossed her sometimes wished for it by the time she was done with them.
"The Angel of Karma," the demon continued, "I believe is what you like to call yourself.”

The Reaping Chronicles ~ Inception by Teal Haviland
Coming spring 2013

http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/16...

http://www.facebook.com/thereapingchr...

More than a young woman. More than a warrior. And more like those she wants revenge on than she cares to face.

Unedited sneak-peek:

I feel my fingers quiver as I hold the arrow that’s pulled back in my bow. The string of the bow is pulling back, insistently, wanting me to set free the arrow onto my target. It isn’t the tension that I am struggling with, though. I have grown strong in the years since Tassus wreaked havoc on my world, so I am not too weak to hold its place . . .

. . . it’s his eyes.

The eyes of the man who thinks I am about to take his life. They are young eyes — grey, unimpressive. They aren’t pleading with me to spare his life, as I think they should.

He wants to die.

The anger and disgust over the realization about his desire to die is why I am shaking. I want to kill him just as much as I have wanted to kill all the others, but I won’t take this man’s life.

The only things moving around us, other than my fingers and the string I am holding, seems to be the red and yellow leaves being taken from the trees by the wind, and our chests from our laboring lungs. But . . . I can never be sure something else isn’t lurking — hunting — in the thick of the woods.

The thought makes me shift my eyes briefly to the area around us, though I know I won’t be able to see the Rift until they are ready to be seen, so I give the thief my attention once again.

I chased him up this hill and half way back down the other side before I was close enough to tackle him. I thought it had been too easy to catch him, and I was now sure the reason why was because he wanted me to close the distance between us.

I relax my arms and the bow at the same moment I release a frustrated sigh. His eyes suddenly turn questioning, but I give him no words. Instead, I stare at him for a moment and consider that, although his eyes are not noteworthy, he is a strong man — at least in body.

Shame . . .

It doesn’t matter how strong his body is, though, especially if his mind can’t bear the weight of the mental and emotional burden this world puts on any who live in it. I lean down and pick up the brown pouch of dried deer meat he had taken from my camp, tying its strap to the leather belt that sat loose on my hips. The next part of my journey — the part I am most concerned about and looking forward to — is about to begin, and I need the meat if I am going to survive. Unlike him, I want to survive. Not because I love what my life has become since Tassus unleashed misery on my lands, but because I want to see his blood spill from his heart after I pull my knife from his chest — shifting his silver robe to crimson.

As I turn to leave I hear a huff escape him. The sound is almost pleasing, but I shake off the desire for company. I haven’t encountered another human in weeks, as I am purposely staying off the paths most take, and it reminds me for a moment that I am still human, too. But most don’t care if they are seen by other people, and would rather face one of their own kind than any of the Rift.

Most aren’t me, though, and I’ll take my chances with the Rift over a human any day.

“Wait!” he calls to me.

I’m moving swiftly away. I have my mother’s long legs that I inherited to thank for the ground I can cover with each stride.

And . . . that’s not all I inherited. I think with a worried brow.

I hear him moving his body to stand as his cloth pants disturb the dirt and rock of the parched ground, and then quick footfalls approaching me. The next thing I hear is the sound of my knife leaving its sheath strapped to my thigh, as forged steel scrapes leather, then a quick inhale of breath as its cold edge touches the place on his skin where head meets neck. His eyes are more scared this time, making me wonder how much he really does want his life to end —and why — but then they harden, again.

“Do it,” he says in a sharp, desperate whisper of words.

Several moments pass before I move away from him, once again.

“Why won’t you do it?” he asks.

I take several more long strides before I begin to answer without turning around.

“Because you want me to . . . and for whatever reason you want to die,” I respond as I stop and turn toward him, “and I am not going to make it that easy for you.”

As I return to the path back to my camp, I hear him begin to laugh humorlessly and mumble. I can make out none of it, except for the word, ‘Great,’ which is spoken in an exasperated huff.

I laugh humorlessly, myself, before responding. Knowing that what I suspected before about this man is truth, now — he’s too weak minded to live or kill himself.

“You want to die,” I yell over my shoulder as disgust for him seeps into my tone, “do it yourself.”

© 2013 Teal Haviland

The Silver Rift by Teal Haviland
Coming late 2013

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I'm offering free ebooks to anyone who is willing to read and leave me a review on Amazon. I will also post my teaser here:

http://www.amazon.com/Thorns-Glass-Ke...






Prologue



Her body was heavier than he thought, almost as heavy as the other had been. He grunted, tossing her dead weight over his shoulder where it settled like a soft bag of cement.

The stairwell was narrow and when he swayed to the side her head hit the wall once, twice…until he righted himself. The sound of it meant nothing to him. She meant nothing to him.

Crying from upstairs…he would deal with it later. For now, he had to move. This was his second trip down the steps. His arms were sore and his back ached with fiery knots, but he ignored his muscle’s protests, he was almost done.

He dropped her to the floor on top of the green quilt from her bed and grabbed her feet. The fabric of the soft blanket swished against the worn wooden floor with each tug on her legs. The sound was soothing in his ears, calming his thumping chest and dulling the headache in his temples. The sound was right. It spoke to him, She did this. She did this…she made you do this…

All the lights in the house were off, except the light outside the back door. He flicked the switch before lifting her body again. He moved through the doorway and dropped her on the ground outside.

This time when he pulled on her feet there was resistance. She didn’t slide through the grass as easily as she had on the hardwood floor. He yanked harder, but she barely moved. He dug into the wet lawn with his boots. Each step with his foot was matched with a yank on her legs, but the progress was slow. He gave up, and lifted her once more. His arms and back screamed again but he told them, Just a little more. He carried her across the yard to where the grass ended in an expanse of dark soil.

The lawn was sparse here, choked out by spiny vines that shot from the ground and curled toward the sky. Some of the tendrils came to his waist, others to his knees. They left the ground alone, meeting atop the earth and twining together in a green weaving dance.

They were young, but their thorns had already acquired their sharp bite. Their arms glowed in the moonlight and their leaves waved hello as he entered among them.

But he wasn’t in the mood to talk; he had work to do. A path had already been made but there were stragglers among the briars. He stomped on the stems closest to his legs, making more room for him and his load.

He stopped next to a hole in the ground when he reached the center of the growing patch. It was big enough for what he needed to do. More than enough, he saw. In his fervor he had dug much deeper and wider than he needed to. But that was alright. That was just fine.

He dropped her flat on her back beside her freshly dug grave. Her head lolled to the side, but her eyes looked up at the moon. Leaves and dirt decorated her long white dress.

He wiped his forehead. It was chilly out, but he was hot and sweaty beneath his flannel shirt. He didn’t let her finish gazing at the moon. There was no more time for that. He pushed with his heavy boot, prodding her side until she rolled over. He pushed her again, leaning down this time and giving her a final shove with his hands.

She landed face down. Fine black sprinkles fell about her head from the sides of the hole. He waited a moment, seeing her with his back to him…always with her back to him. It made him angry and he kicked dirt over the side.

The shovel was on the ground behind him. He quickly grabbed it and thrust the blade into the pile of loose, wet soil by his feet. He threw the dirt on her head first, scoop after scoop, until all that was visible was the white of her dress. He patted the soil down hard and tight and threw in more. He beat it down with the shovel until his anger was satisfied and he could cover the rest of her.

When she was buried and gone, he went back to the dark house. The crying was coming from downstairs now, in the living room, but he didn’t give it his attention. He wasn’t done yet. He took his keys from his pocket, went back down the hall, and out the front door.

He didn’t look in the bed of his truck. He didn’t need to, he knew what was there. But he wasn’t going to let them be together. He wasn’t going to give them that. They were never going to be together again…she should have listened.

He looked around the street, only briefly worried about prying eyes, before he opened the driver door. He started the motor and pulled onto the street, leaving his headlights off until he hit the end of it.

He glanced in the rearview mirror once and thought he saw the flutter of white cloth, like a sheet hung out in the breeze. But, no, he knew it couldn’t be true. It was his mind playing tricks-his nerves getting the best of him. He shook it off and turned the corner, leaving the house behind him and out of sight.

But she had seen him clearly as she stood in the shadows with her hands reaching toward the winking tail lights. She watched as he drove away. She screamed, but he didn’t hear her. She saw, but he only thought he saw her.

www.kellysamarah.com

Here's an excerpt from my UF book, The Dark Proposal

There was a pregnant pause with both waiting for the other to speak or make the first move. For a second, she wondered if this was going to be the moment he would make her like him or kill her instead.
“No, Claire,” he spoke suddenly. She jumped, startled. “It’s up to you to say yes. And remember I did tell you I can read your thoughts.”
“Then please stop, because you’re freaking me out,” she said.
He arched one eyebrow, and for a moment, she feared he would attack her. But instead, he crossed one arm across his chest and put the opposite hand under his chin, as though contemplating something.
“I see you’ve accepted somewhat of what I revealed to you,” he finally said.
“A little.” She felt like she preparing for war.
“What?” He sounded curious. “Is there something else you can’t comprehend?”
“Yeah,” she said in a shaky voice. Her eyes were downcast, and when she was ready, she lifted them to look right at him. “I did some research while in New Jersey. There’s a lot of websites about real vampires.”
“Yes?” Daniel raised his eyebrows.
Taking a deep breath, she said, “I think you killed Colin Willis.”
His face expressionless, he lowered his arms and closed his eyes, shaking his head. He ran one hand over his face as Claire continued.
“I read a blog about his murder. There are rumors going around that he had two holes on the side of his neck. There was no blood in his body.” She swallowed and asked, almost pleading, “Did you really do it? Honestly, Dan?”
Removing his hand, he looked right at her and said, “I think you know the answer to that question.”
She did, and whatever hope she had that he did not murder Willis quickly dissolved. She began to pant in horror at first, but then in anger.
“I mean, you knew as everyone else that there was no evidence of foul play,” he was saying, nonchalantly watching her. “Plus, there were no suspects -”
Claire suddenly pounced on Daniel, arms flailing as she hit him in the face and chest. She was screaming about him being a murderer and how evil he was.

The Dark Proposal is available now on Kindle and Smashwords. Better yet, it is on sale for 99 cents from now until Saturday March 16th!

Happy reading!

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view...

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B009AL4RKE

Wow! This IS a great thread. I've been missing out :-) Here's a bit about my most recent release, "Dark Sentinels Book Two: Torin" with a brief overview of the series so far and a short excerpt.

Meet the “Dark Sentinels.” Weary of shedding tears over the senseless murders of her children, thoughtless abuse of her resources, and blatant disrespect for her authority, she had to take drastic measures. Mother Nature created sentinels to protect and preserve nature, their first priority to stand vigil against those responsible for the destruction of wildlife.
Two sentinel wolf-shifters are born to each pack – male and female. Larger, stronger, and faster than other shifters, and able to shift at will, regardless of the moon’s phases, they risk their lives daily to restore balance between man and nature. Unfortunately, their very strengths have gained the attention of arrogant beings bent on exploiting their abilities for selfish gain.
Forced to leave their packs for a time to find mates, the sentinels are no longer able to avoid human contact. Dr. Sable Adler, of “Dark Sentinels Book One: Sable,” alpha of the Washington pack, one of the largest packs in the United States, was the first sentinel to fall in love with a human female. He’s a calm-natured Libra, while Torin DuMont, of “Dark Sentinels Book Two: Torin,” is a hot-headed, bad-tempered Scorpio alpha who resides in the Florida Everglades.
Like Sable before him, Torin is about to find himself in uncharted territory when he seeks the legal counsel of Stephanie Bates, an uppity human lawyer who needs his help more than he needs hers…

"Dark Sentinels Book Two: Torin"
Torin sensed the sun had gone down before he stepped over to the small window and looked out. Even in the complete darkness, his eyes did not fail him, and he saw the grounds as clearly as if daylight greeted him. Finally, one man remained in the waiting room with him, but it was well after six p.m.
He picked up the pleasant scent of mint, lemongrass, and lilies and turned just in time to see shapely legs, a voluptuous body full of promise. The warm, mocha-colored face wasn’t bad either. Clearly, it was the owner of the musical voice. His wolf bristled beneath his skin, forcing an internal battle just to remain civilized. Confusion increased his frustration. He’d never reacted to a female this way before, and certainly not a human.
She glanced at the other client and headed straight for Torin, arm extended to shake his hand as she called over her shoulder, “Go on home, Cindy. It’s already late. No need for both of us to stay.”
Cindy was out of the office in a flash, glancing back apprehensively as she closed the door.
“Mr. DuMont? I’m Ms. Bates, Stephanie Bates.”
Torin nodded and grasped her hand but did not return her smile. He was far too busy trying to resist the crippling effect her melodious voice seemed to have on him. His nerve endings sizzled as he attempted to manage the sensory overload. This isn’t supposed to happen, he secretly seethed. What in the hell is wrong with me? His sexual encounters had been quick, unemotional, and necessary for physical satisfaction only, and he’d never been overtaken so--completely. Her scent intensified, tinged with desire, as molten chocolate-colored eyes gazed at him confidently, only confusing him further. Desire?
Dariel RayeDark Sentinels Book Two: Torin

What do we do? Just post under "Comment"? here goes...

Coming Soon, from Class Act Books, The Clan Andriescu...

Marius, head of the Clan... Exiled for stealing one too many women from his prince...He can't understand why the woman he loved in 1968 doesn't want to renew their affair in 2013..

Valerius, the baby brother… ordered to marry, he selects the one girl who's off limits because she's human...all right to bite but not to wed...

Timon, the cousin… Being married to the most famous writer of vampire novels since Anne Rice can be fun, until she writes an expose proving vampires are real...

When the sun sets on Savannah Beach, they meet a smart ass adolesdcent named Tony-Paul de Vissage…they entrust their life story to him…

Twenty years later, it becomes a novel…

EXCERPT:

“Back, foul fiend!” TP crossed one forefinger over the other, holding his hands in front of him.
“What the Hell are you doing?” The one called Val demanded, jumping back with a hiss.
Timon reached out, knocking TP’s hands apart. “That won’t help you,” he snarled. “We’re Jewish!”
“Don’t believe him.” Val recovered, leaning forward to whisper rather earnestly, “We’re Russian Orthodox. Really.”
“Back foul fiend?” Marius started laughing when TP spoke and now got himself under control. “I haven’t heard that phrase in at least a century. Where’d you dig up that?”
“I-I heard it in a Dracula movie the other night.” TP looked a little disappointed at their reaction.
“Dracula.” Marius looked disgruntled. “The best example of bad press, if ever there was. He should’ve sued his publicist.”
“If you’re through dissing Dracula, would you tell me…W-where am I?” wavered TP. “What have you done to me?”
“Done to you?” They looked at each other and back at him. “Nothing.”
“Don’t lie. I know what you are. Exactly.”
“Okay.” Timon walked over to the fainting couch and slouched on it, legs crossed, hands behind his head. “I’ll bite.” He looked as if he’d like to do just that. “What are we? Exactly?”
“Y-You’re…vampires!”
“Vam…” He began to laugh, displaying those overlong eyeteeth. “You’ve got a sense of humor, kid, I’ll give you that.”

Here is a little teaser from my new paranormal werewolf thriller, Rational Animals, published by Mojocastle Press and available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, ARe, and Kobo

For the first time in nearly seventy years, wolf song can be heard throughout the great valley of Yellowstone. But as the chill December winds gather, something dark, powerful, and mystical stalks the valley, and Toren Crushing has become its prey.


Renee Faroque is a shaman’s granddaughter—a child of the great Crow Indians. She has learned great knowledge from her dream walks with her ancestors. But has she learned enough to save herself and the beautiful stranger from the ancient evil that abides within?

Kin to the wolf & brother to man,
Inside ~ Every man holds a darkness
~ Rational Animals ~

Published by Mojocastle Press

http://www.mojocastle.com/rational-an...

Synopsis:

Toren Crushing has spent his winters in the remote back country of Montana’s Yellowstone National Forest studying the predators known as canis lupus—the great gray wolves. And for the first time in nearly seventy years, their song echoes throughout the great valley.

As with any other winter, he follows the wolf trail deep into the timber—watching and recording their behavior as they hunt, play, and gather beneath the looming light of winter’s chill December moon. But this winter is different—this winter, something dark and powerful stalks the valley. A creature as old and mythical as time itself—and Toren Crushing has become its prey.

Renee Faroque knows what it is to be different—what it means to dream-walk with her ancestors. All her life, she has had this gift, but one vision will change her life forever. With only her skills as a shaman’s granddaughter to guide her, she will walk the dark forest with the great Gray Wolf. It is a journey that only she, a Metis, a Landless One, a half-breed and relic of the great Crow Indians, could possibly understand, or hope to survive. She can only pray that the handsome stranger she has rescued from the edges of death can hear her spirit guide the way—before the dark beast dwelling within the forest’s shadows returns and he no longer understands her call.

Excerpt:

When I was a little girl, my grandfather called me She-lish-ga or Chick-a-de for the morning chick that sings after a night of long dreams. He would always ask me of my journeys and tell me to sing for him. Sing of our ancestors and the Spirits in the Sky.


Tonight I smelled the lingering sweetness of honeysuckle and the rich pungent aroma of pine smoke clinging to every breath I inhaled as it swirled through my mind, loitering like a childhood secret that only my grandfather and I shared. I knew in the dusty wasteland between sleep and dreams that I’d left the warmth of my bed and the peace of my dreams far behind.


My sight was soon filled with the morning mist and the smoke of my grandfather’s pipe—peppermint and tobacco enveloped me as I opened my eyes to the world beyond. I waited for what he had to show me.


“Wake, child,” I heard him say in the voice that reminded me of water upon rocks and dark earth, rich like red clay.


“I am here, Grandfather,” I’d tell him. Then I’d take his proffered hand and we’d begin a journey deep into the forest. I’d have no idea where he was taking me, but then I was never afraid—for I’d been here before. Not to this place in the forest, but here to the spirit realm, on another journey, with the honor of having my grandfather as my guide.


Since the time I was but a small child, I had had these visions. I’d wake in the night at the hand of an ancestor, and we’d walk the great valley. Sometimes they’d tell me our history as the sun burned away the night and the earth came alive. Other times we simply walked through the foliage, the moon as our guide. Whatever the case, they always had something to show me, and I’d leave their realm much wiser than when I’d entered.


I’d learned many things on my journeys—the proper herbs for festering wounds, or the leaves for a sour stomach, what a person’s spirit animal was, and how to call a guardian. I learned the proper way to hunt a deer and how to track a bear. There was much my ancestors taught me and still so much I had to learn.
Unless the vision was of great importance, I had walked little in this realm with my grandfather. Tonight I was filled with uncertainty, unsure of what would follow.


“Here is where the Dark Spirit runs like a freed beast with devilry in his heart.” My grandfather spread his arm before him to show the white earth beyond. “He is old like the mountains and wise like the Great Mother Earth. But too long has his darkness ruled this valley. Too long has he fed on the innocence of man.”


“There was a time, long ago,” he stated as he brought me to a downed tree trunk overlooking the snow-covered valley below, “when he came and claimed our brother. Turned him, maddened him. Made him Yellow Wolf. Among the Crow he was called Hemene Moxmox, and he warred with the white man, and warred with himself—and still the Yellow Wolf died.”


“We thought that the Dark One died with him, but now, now we know it is the land that holds the Wyakin Powers and that the Dark Wolf has returned. He comes like a thief in the night—he is Heinmot Hihhih—White Lightning, and he seeks another to carry his pack. He seeks another to rule and bring suffering to the Nez Perce.”


“But I say no!” My grandfather fiercely pounded his fist in his hand. “No more will we be the Metis—the Landless Ones. No more will our lands bleed and our people suffer. To fight the beast and win you must first run with the beast. You Renee, my Chick-a-de, you have the power to stop this. You have the visions of your forefathers to guide you through this darkness. You hold the power to tame the Dark One. He was the first, and you have the power to make sure that he is the last.”