Book Blog Tour: Last Wish of Summer by Phillip Overton (Review + Giveaway)

Today I have for you an excerpt, a review and a giveaway to Phillip Overton’s contemporary YA novel, Last Wish of Summer. Ain’t it apt because I think summer has ended for those on the Northern Hemisphere. Anyway, sit tight and enjoy!

Last Wish of Summer

Title: Last Wish of Summer
Author: Phillip Overton

Genre: contemporary YA
Date Published: January 18, 2012

As the sun prepares to rise on the last day of summer, three friends find themselves totally unprepared for the events that are about to take place around them. For Tanya it is a chance to find peace three years after losing her parents in an auto accident. Deciding she simply can’t continue blaming God for her loss, she places a heartfelt poem in a bottle and throws it into the sea on the eve of her birthday, granting her birthday wish to whoever finds it.

Early the next morning, her best friend Anton and his buddy Johnno find the bottle washed
up on the shore and set about putting it to the test. When Johnno falls for the new waitress at the café where Tanya works, it stirs up feelings of jealousy in Tanya. Surely Johnno couldn’t be the man that God had in mind for her? Suddenly, strange wishes are beginning to come true, but is it all a coincidence? Or is God about to change people’s lives for the better?

Welcome to Kings Beach, where the forecast for the last day of summer promises to be hot,
hot, hot, with a definite change in the air.

Purchase from Amazon | B&N

Excerpt

Johnno grabbed the bottle and turned it upside down. The letter caught in its neck. Then with a bit of prying using his car key, he was able to gently pull the letter from the bottle and let it fall onto the table. It lay there wrapped only with a small hair ribbon tied in the centre. Anton reached across to untie it as Johnno stood the now empty bottle back in the centre of the table.

“Well here goes.” Anton said as he uncurled the two pages and held them up for his friend to see.

The pages were cream in color, decorated with a border of flowers entwined along the edge of each page in black ink. At the top of the first page before the letter began, was a small turquoise colored love heart someone had painted, again in what appeared to be nail polish. It left a slightly oily stain around the edges which only added to the letter’s charm. Around them, the air filled with the scent of women’s perfume that wafted up from the page. With their curiosity now firmly aroused, Anton and Johnno huddled in closely and began to read.

To whoever finds this,
If I’ve washed up on your distant shore,
From a land far over the sea.
Please tread carefully on the morning sand,
And know you’ve set me free.
Wrapped in my mother’s ribbon,
This letter is but a token.
A plead to let her see the world,
From a young heart torn and broken.
A turquoise heart that was my Aunt,
Left footprints in the sand.
Her magic just a memory,
You now hold in your hand.
So I light a candle for my Dad,
But this gift I give to you.
He always told me to make a wish,
So today may all yours come true.
It’s time to live, to find true love.
Before the winter’s scorn.
Somewhere it’s always summer,
May my true love’s arms be warm.

P.S. Please return me to the sea at sunset.

My Review

This is not like your usual contemporary YA. It’s clean, no profanity or even sex scenes, and it is a Christian romance through and through. Well, it’s a pretty spiritual novel in my opinion as Tanya, the main character, is a Christian who prays. This novel tackles loss and faith and it is refreshing to read something like this, especially with the landscape full of hormonal, act-before-you-think teenagers. Okay, I’m not judging American culture but it’s just really different here in the Philippines. I think that’s why I related to Savannah in the show Hellcats because she’s a Christian and I am. I am not overly devoted and I don’t really like the Church or religion for that matter, but I do believe in God and I think that’s what’s important. And I’m getting preachy here so let’s get on with the review!

So the romance is kinda sappy but I like it. Maybe because I’m pretty saturated with all the jumping-on-your-bones love I’ve read lately so it’s kinda cute (even though it’s corny) right now. Any other day I might barf. Hahaha!

All of the characters here developed by the end of the novel and I am actually impressed by that. Usually, side characters just tend to be that, side characters, but here, everyone gets the resolution they need and grows up a bit. Like I said, how refreshing. I enjoyed reading this and I think it’s a quick read for a lazy afternoon by the sofa. So I suggest you try it out because I don’t think you’d get put off by the mini Christian themes here and there if you’re not a Christian. It’s still a feel-good book and that’s what’s important with this types, isn’t it?

Thank you to Reading Addiction Blog Tours and to Phillip Overton for the chance to be part of this book’s blog tour! :D

*Disclosure of Material Connection: I am a member of Reading Addiction Blog Tours and a copy of this book was provided to me by the author. Although payment may have been received by Reading Addiction Blog Tours, no payment was received by me in exchange for this review. There was no obligation to write a positive review. All opinions expressed are entirely my own and may not necessarily agree with those of the author, publisher, publicist, or readers of this review. This disclosure is in accordance with the Federal Trade Commision’s 16 CFR, Part 255, Guides Concerning Use of Endorcements and Testimonials in Advertising*

About Phillip Overton

Phillip Overton’s writing has been compared to none other than Nicholas Sparks, and his latest novel Last Wish of Summer offers readers the perfect book to spend a summer’s day reading at the beach. In a book that reminds us to be careful what we wish for, it manages to weave the wholesome, virginal qualities of the main character Tanya with her band of misfit friends in their pursuit of being able to reason why a washed up message in a bottle is somehow granting their every wish come true. Often in a manner that is both coincidental and strangely bizarre.

Just as a movie adaptation of a Nicholas Sparks novel will appeal to people of all ages, so too will this story that follows the adventures of a group of twenty-something’s on the last day of summer. The book not only manages to cut through any pre-conceived ideas we hold on morals, body-image and social status, but delights in helping us discover what may already be right under our nose to begin with.

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Book Blog Tour: Midnight’s Cloak by Justin Geary (Guest Blog + Giveaway)

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Today, the Midnight’s Cloak blog tour is stopping by for a guest post by Justin Geary, the author, himself and an excerpt and an ebook giveaway. So come one and join in on the fun here at the Midnight’s Cloak blog tour. Commence!

About Midnight’s Cloak

Dark blood of the evil ten; drank by a son of the same brood. Possessed by the taint, he marches to different sections of the world, conquering and destroying everything in his path as a cloak of midnight pulls itself over all things. The great foretelling of LaStaudd the Wise, the age of the Rising Flame.

Genre – Epic Fantasy
Publisher – Outskirts Press
Release Date – May 30, 2012

Purchase at Outskirts Press or Amazon

Midnight’s Cloak is the first part of a ten book epic fantasy series. The series takes place within the timeframe of a decade. Midnight’s Cloak is world building Epic fantasy and contains maps an appendix and a glossary. As far as the type of fiction I write, i would say it’s similar to Robert Jordan, David Farland and Terry Goodkind. Midnight’s Cloak is 361 pages. There is a lot of charicter development early on in the story. Also there is romance and I write a lot of battle sequences. My map is rather small on the paperback so i always recommend a pdf ebook because you can zoom in on the map to see places. It is also cheaper and I earn a larger royalty for it. Midnight’s Cloak is edited and proofread. Outskirts Press E-book 5 dollars amazon search inside the book available soon.

Excerpt

After a half hour of travel Aramina woke up.

“You okay sweetheart?” Lot asked.

“I think so,” Aramina said. “I take it the Cael are dead.”

“Yes. Why didn’t you use your magic?” Lot asked.

“I started to, then one of them jumped me from behind. After that everything became hazy,” Aramina said.

“You’re not dizzy or anything?”

“I feel fine,” Aramina said softly. She looked to the right where Clophues rode the gelding and had Snowflake’s reins.

“His name is Clophues. I don’t think he would have shot you. He was just scared.”

“The Cael were chasing him?” Aramina asked.

“Yes.”

“Could you let me down so I can ride Snowflake. This saddle is a bit uncomfortable.” Lot stopped Tracker and Aramina climbed down. Clophues stopped his horse as well. She went to Clophues.

“May I have my horse back, please?” Aramina asked.

“Maybe I’ll give her back to you, but I’d like a kiss first,” Clophues said, simpering. Aramina stuck her hand out, expecting it to be filled with Snowflake’s reins. “I’d prefer a kiss on the lips,” the West woodsman said, perking up.

“I’d be careful with her?” Lot warned. Aramina dropped her hand and looked back at the samurai. Her look told him to shut up. Lot watched the two of them intently. She turned back to Clophues. “I can’t kiss you from up there,” Aramina said. Clophues bent sideways to get closer to her. When he got close Aramina grabbed his ear hard and yanked him from his gelding. The West woodsman hit the ground, grunting. Lot chuckled.

“Would you like another?” Aramina asked angrily.

Clophues stood up and brushed off his coat. “You’re mad,” he said.

Guest Blog

My Favorite Books and Why by Justin E. Geary

   This is a difficult topic for me to write about because I like a wide variety of genres, so I’ll only pick some of my favorites. Let’s start with Stephen King’s the Long Walk. This was an excellent novel about a competition held every year or so. The title gives you a good idea of what the book’s about. Every year a hundred children are drawn randomly to compete in a walk that does not stop until there is only one walker left. I will not give you any more information about this book because I think you should read it. It may be Stephen King’s very best and that’s saying a lot because he has written many good novels.

Harper Lee’s To Kill A Mockingbird is another one of my favorite novels. I liked the two duel stories of Boo Radley and Tom Robinson and the subtle comparisons made about them. The characters were interesting and it gave you a feeling of what it was like when they were a kid.

Robert Jordan’s The Eye Of The World was the novel that had the most influence on me as a novelist.

Mainly because I write Epic Fantasy myself and I was totally enchanted by the world that he’d created, practically from scratch, which most Epic Fantasy authors are unable to do.

Ayn Rand’s The Fountain Head was another novel I enjoyed. Its focus was more on being unique or different and what makes a person beautiful. The fact that they are unique and different is beautiful.

The Princess Bride without a doubt is what epic fantasy is all about. Not only was the book outstanding having adventure, romance and battles, it had a child like sense of wonder to it. The Lord of the Flies was a very dark book about what happens when children are left without supervision. It also delves deep into the psychology of the human mind. This was a very dark book, one of the darkest I’ve ever read.

The only novel that made me laugh and cry in one book was John Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men. This  is a novel I read many times. This represents some of Steinbeck’s best work and he’s the best literary writer I’ve personally ever read. He was not hard to read and his characters were truly captivating.

James A. Michener’s Centennial is a very different book compared to the others I’ve read. It breaks a lot of the rules of what I was taught about writing, but I have to admit I loved it. It’s about the geographical location of Centennial Colorado and goes through many characters. This novel is not character based but based on what happened since the beginning of time in Centennial and there is a good message to it. To readers curious about Centennial: it’s a long novel but it’s a smooth read.

About Justin Geary

Justin E. Geary lives in western Maryland where he spends his time reading various authors and exploring different subjects. In addition to fiction he enjoys history and some science. He is the nephew of 1942 Pulitzer Prize winner Laurence Edmond Allen. Justin’s hobbies are chess, pool and writing epic fantasy. He started reading Edgar Allen Poe with interest at the age of sixteen and started writing screenplays at the age of nineteen. Screenplays were unfulfilling for Justin because they lacked depth. Later on he wrote his first novel at twenty-one and Midnight’s Cloak his second at twenty-four. After finishing the rough draft Justin decided that Fantasy was his escape from the world. Without a college education Justin decided to seek editorial help sinking twenty-one hundred dollars of his own money into the editing and proofing of his manuscript. Justin calls the expense a small price for something he loves so dearly.

Author Links: https://twitter.com/#!/JustinEGeary

Giveaway

You can win an ebook copy of Midnight’s Cloak here and it’s so easy!

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That’s it! You can win with just a comment! Do indicate your Twitter and Goodreads username if you did some extra tasks. Good luck!

Book Blog Tour: Devil’s Mountain by Bernadette Walsh (Review)

Today, we have here Bernadette Walsh’s Devil’s Mountain, the first book in The Devlin Legacy. I have for you a glowing review so you might want to read it and talk about it with me. Heehee. Let’s get this tour stop started!

Devil's Mountain -- Book One of The Devlin Legacy

Devil’s Mountain
by Bernadette Walsh

Book One of the Devlin Legacy

Genre: Paranormal Romance/Horror

Publisher: Lyrical Press
ISBN: 9781616503697
Number of pages: 122
Word Count: 39,000

You will hate Him for all that he’s taken, but you will love Him. God help you, you will love Him.

Mary Devlin accepted her fate years ago, to serve Slanaitheoir, the mountain spirit who saved her ancestors from the Irish Famine. The hauntingly beautiful woman submitted to His every caress, His every humiliation, but He’s gone too far by threatening her family.

Mary’s daughter-in-law is now an unwitting pawn in the fickle spirit’s game. Mary must challenge her fate and that of all future Devlin women, but Slanaitheoir is the most powerful being in the land. And when part of her still yearns for His touch and love, how can she fight him and win?

Excerpt

Marcie, one of the Wanna-Be Manhattan Moms who had also experienced success, lived a few blocks away on East 85th Street. A group of successful Wanna-Be Manhattan Moms had formed a little Upper East Side sorority. We would go to Mommy-and-Me classes, play dates and at times babysat for each other. I’m not sure exactly what happened to the not-so-successful Wanna-Be Manhattan Moms. None of us mentioned them.

Marcie agreed to babysit Aidan while I went to my acupuncture appointment at the Yorktown Natural Fertility Clinic. Bobby refused to go back to the New York Infertility Institute. In fact, it was all I could do to convince him not to use condoms. “I’ve got my beautiful wife and my beautiful son,” he said in a sing-song voice whenever I raised the topic of another child. “That’s all I want. That’s all I need.”

Why wasn’t that all I needed?

The first few months of Aidan’s life, I was completely satisfied. I’d never been so happy or imagined I could be so happy.

But then, the old familiar niggling started. I’d take Aidan in his stroller through CentralPark and see a woman pushing twins in a stroller. Or a mother holding the hands of a small boy and a girl. And I would get that sour taste in my mouth, the same one I had tasted for years whenever I saw a pregnant woman.

And so it began.

I              couldn’t very well steal a vial of Bobby’s sperm and take it with me back to Dr. Feinberg’s office. But we had, somehow, managed to conceive Aidan on our own. Perhaps with some Chinese herbs and acupuncture we could conceive again. Marcie swore by acupuncture, and after she had been thrown out of two Manhattan IVF clinics she tried traditional Chinese medicine and conceived her own miracle baby. Why couldn’t I too, conceive a little miracle baby with the help of magic teas and shiny needles?

Just one more, I thought to myself as I opened the heavy glass doors of the Yorktown Natural Fertility Clinic. “Just one more miracle. And then. Then I’ll be happy and content.”

I promise, I silently swore to God, the universe or whoever else might be listening to my thoughts.

*** *

A row of needles lined my bare stomach. They were in my ears, on my wrists and even

between my toes. The acupuncturist, a hippy-looking woman in her mid-fifties with frizzy red hair, twisted the needles between my toes once more before she lowered the lights and left the room.

The first five minutes were always the hardest. Inevitably at least one of the needles would burn. Dr. Hippy-Dippy said that meant it was working. It was all I could do not to rip the offending thing out.

I breathed in and out slowly, and tried to focus on my breathing, on anything rather than the needles. As I lay in the darkened room, with only the sound of a small fan to block out the traffic from Second Avenue, my shoulders, which had felt like they were jacked up below my ears, relaxed. I continued my purposeful breathing and closed my eyes.

Someone took my hand. I opened my eyes and was no longer on the table, but clothed in a long red robe and standing in a forest. And the most beautiful man held my hand.

“My love,” He said, His voice harsh and guttural. And somehow familiar.

A lone ray of sunlight made its way through the heavy woods and shone on His black hair. His pale skin glowed and His jade eyes glittered in the low light. They drew me in.

Without another word He led me to a roaring fire outside of a cave. The fire was hot, and a small bead of sweat formed on my upper lip. The man unbuttoned the red robe and took it from my shoulders. Underneath I wore only a thin sheath of white silk that hid nothing from His probing gaze.

I should have been embarrassed, but the hungry look in His hypnotic eyes stirred a fire within me. With a finger, he gently followed the lines of my plump, full breast.

“So ripe,” He whispered in a harsh rasp. “So fertile.”

That word hit me like a hard slap. I turned away. “No,” I choked out, “I’m not.”

He pulled me to Him, His lips mere inches from my own. His musky breath filled my

nose. “You could be.” His lips covered mine. At first soft, like the finest silk, but then more forceful, moreurgent. My passion soon met His and I couldn’t help but run my fingers through His magical hair as he devoured my lips.

He tore the sheath in two and it fell away from me, leaving me naked. His green gaze bore through me, and it was almost as if I could feel the very cells of my body change. My breasts felt heavier and skin softer, my lips fuller. It was as if He transferred His own beauty to me. I ran my hands across my face first, and then my breasts, my nipples, taut and tender. Instead of being embarrassed, I reveled in my newfound beauty.

My skin was hot but His hands were hotter and they almost burned my flesh as they explored every inch of me. Every touch brought both pleasure and pain.

I pulled at His golden shirt, eager to see all of Him and He seemed surprised by my daring, my need for Him. He smiled, like a wolf about to catch His prey, and ripped the silk from His body as well.

This nameless man pushed me onto the soft grass beside the fire. Starting at my toes, His scalding tongue sucked and bit me. As He traveled up my calf and along my thighs, I trembled, not with fear, but with a hunger I’d never felt before. A ravenous, ancient hunger.

He spread my legs and His rough, scalding tongue explored me, possessed me. Before I could climax, He stopped.

“Don’t,” I begged. “Don’t stop.” His animal gaze bored into me. “Are you mine?” I threw my head back and arched my back, inviting Him to enter me. “Yes, yes. Go on!”

“Are you mine? Will you give me what I want?”

My skin was on fire, dying for His touch. “Anything,” I moaned.

A terrible smile contorted His beautiful face. “Don’t you want to know what I want?”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I rubbed myself against Him. “Anything. You can have

anything.”

“I want you to have my child. I want to share the blood with you.”

I don’t know where I got the strength, but I pushed Him off me. He lay on his back, more

surprised than hurt. His eyes darkened, but before He could get up I pounced on him, lowering my swollen sex onto Him, allowing Him to fill me. I ground into Him and felt Him grow even larger within me. I rocked back and forth, overcome with ripples of orgasms as I fucked Him, as hard as I could. Like a woman possessed.

Like an animal.

My Review

When I saw that this book had only 122 pages, I thought that “whew, I can finish a book in a short time” because it only has 122 pages! You’d be done flipping in a while. But that was not the case with this book. Sure, I finished it fast but my mind was still reeling from what I’ve read. At sometimes confusing since it is told from both Caroline and Mary’s POV, each page had a lot of information and backstory I never expected. I was angling for a paranormal romance but with the creeps this novel gave me, I think it’s very much a horror story, thank you very much.

For a short novel, it sure had a lot of history and world building in it. Mary tells us of their family’s history and the curse while you just read Caroline doing just that thing that will put the curse into motion. Wanting her to get what she wants but not wanting her to trigger this curse was very emotionally taxing. Walsh’s storytelling was tight and her writing has an air of spooky. It also felt like I rode a rollercoaster of emotions when I read this. It makes you scared but in the end, it will make you sad. But mostly reeling and looking back at everything that happened.

Do read the excerpt if you have a see for yourself. See for yourself and you’ll like it as much as I do. I recommend this for paranormal romance/horror fans.

This still gives me the eeries: You will hate Him for all that he’s taken, but you will love Him. God help you, you will love Him.

About Bernadette Walsh

Bernadette Walsh has been writing contemporary and paranormal romance for four years. She has published three novels to date (The House on Prospect (Echelon Press) and Gold Coast Wives (Lyrical Press)) and the first book of her paranormal trilogy, Devil’s Mountain — Book One of the Devlin Legacy. While Bernadette has hopped around genres, all of her books to date have a common theme: strong women handling what life throws at them the best way they can.

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Book Blog Tour: Dark Genesis by A.D. Koboah

Today, I’m promoting the first book to to A.D. Koboah’s The Darkling Trilogy, Dark Genesis. I have for you the WHOLE first chapter of the book. Amazeballs, isn’t it? Dark Genesis is a paranormal romance and I’m sure you’re all excited now. So hop on and enjoy the first chapter!

About Dark Genesis

Dark Genesis (The Darkling Trilogy, Book 1).

Life for a female slave is one of hardship and unspeakable sorrow, something Luna knows only too well. But not even she could have foreseen the terror that would befall her one sultry Mississippi evening in the summer of 1807.

On her way back from a visit to see the African woman, a witch who has the herbs Luna needs to rid her of her abusive master’s child, she attracts the attention of a deadly being that lusts for blood. Forcibly removed from everything she knows by this tormented otherworldly creature, she is sure she will be dead by sunrise.

Dark Genesis is a love story set against the savage world of slavery in which a young woman who has been dehumanised by its horrors finds the courage to love, and in doing so, reclaims her humanity.

Buy from: Amazon | Amazon.co.uk | Smashwords

Excerpt: Chapter One

My name is Luna and my tale begins on a dry summer evening in 1807.

I was walking quickly along a dusty country road, my shoes stirring up a small cloud of dust that turned the hem of my faded violet dress a muddy brown. The trail of dust I left in my wake soon settled. But the pressing need that had me make this two-hour journey in beaten shoes and a broken spirit, in the midst of a particularly merciless Mississippi summer, would not be settled as easily. Wiping the sweat from my brow and waving away the flying insects that droned lazily near my face, I wished for some respite from the relentless heat but found none. Although the sun hung low in the topaz blue sky, it felt as if I were walking through warm soup and it was likely to stay like this long after the sun went down.

I would have found some relief from the pitiless sun if I had chosen to walk through the woods that rose up on either side of the road like a green and brown wall. But green woody spaces such as those have been a deep source of fear for me since I was a child and I imagined that they would continue to be so long past what I guessed was my twenty-second or twenty-third year on this earth. So I clutched my lantern and small cloth bundle and walked on in the heat, listening to the birdcalls punctuate the otherwise still air.

I was lucky to be able to make this journey during the summer months as the previous two trips had been made in the dead of winter when night gathered up the day long before I could finish serving the family’s supper and slip away, leaving the other house slaves to do my share of work and conceal my absence. That small mercy meant that I didn’t have to walk alone in the dark, afraid to light my lamp in case the solitary glow brought unwanted attention my way, or have to dive into the trees every time the sound of a horse’s hooves disturbed the sweet melody of the crickets. It also meant that when I turned the corner and saw the woodland give way to cotton fields, marking the beginning of the Marshall plantation, there was still roughly two hours of daylight left, which meant I would be able to finish my business and be back before dark, hopefully before I was missed by my hawk-eyed mistress.

I stopped for a second to gaze at the rows of cotton up ahead. I have always thought that there was something heavenly about cotton fields, which looked like row upon row of fleecy white clouds caught up in brown nets. But I’m sure that the brown-skinned figures bent double between those rows would have disagreed. For them, there was nothing even remotely celestial about the cotton fields in which they had been toiling since sunrise. And they were likely to still be working in them when the sun set. Even from this distance I could see that most of them were wretchedly thin, their few flimsy items of clothing in tatters. And although I wasn’t close enough to see their faces, I was sure that they all wore uniform expressions of misery and fatigue.

I left that unhappy sight and ducked into the trees on my left, a necessary shortcut to the slave quarters. Although many slaves have used this shortcut on their way to see the African woman, I’m sure I’m the only one who ran all the way through the trees looking back over my shoulder even though I knew I wasn’t being followed. Only when I saw a flash of white through the trees did I slow down so my breathing could return to normal by the time I exited the screen of trees.

The slave quarters were little white cabins made of wood, which lay in two long rows some distance from the Master’s mansion. Only a few children were around at this hour, some of whom recognised me and stopped what they were doing to stare with a quiet reverence that made me uncomfortable. It was the same reverence I had received from the grownups the last two times I had come here under the cover of darkness and they had not only stopped what they were doing to watch me pass by, but nodded or offered some sort of greeting, which I returned before hurrying on by. I didn’t have to endure that kind of scrutiny today, but I still hurried down to the lone cabin at the back of the clearing, which was nestled under the shadow of the trees some distance away from the rest of the slave quarters.

Many slaves came to visit Mama Akosua for her medicines, and her skills were known far and wide. It was also rumoured that she dealt in more than just herbs and was actually a witch. Whether that was true or not, she was feared by many, even some of the whites, and few dared incur her wrath.

As I got nearer to the cabin, I saw that the door had been left open and a light was burning inside even though the sun had yet to go down. I approached gingerly. Already feeling the unease that always possessed me in the presence of the African woman, I walked up to the door, and stopped.

“Mama Akosua.”

There was a short spell of silence and then her voice floated out to me.

“I have been expecting you.” The voice was low and dry like the sound of rustling leaves.

She probably said that every time someone came to her door, no doubt to help foster the belief that she was a powerful all-seeing, all-knowing witch. But the words still sent icy fingers trailing down my spine and I swallowed before taking her words as permission to enter.

The cabin, which consisted of only one room, was rich with the slightly bitter, but not unpleasant, smell of dried herbs. Most of the room was taken up by a long wooden table, which held bottles, bowls and an assortment of other instruments that were used to prepare her concoctions. Every wall in the room was lined with shelves holding bottles, jars and baskets of fresh and dried herbs. The only evidence that someone lived in the cabin was the pallet in the corner. This was the most furniture I had seen in any slave cabin, but as her Master profited from the sale of her herbs, it was in his interest to make sure she had everything she needed. There was another smaller table in the centre of the room and that is where she sat, peering at me by the light of an oil lamp.

She was a small lithe woman with delicate features like mine. Her head was cleanly shaven and she would have been considered beautiful were it not for the scars, rows of lines about an inch long, marking her forehead and cheeks. It was rumoured that those scars had been self-inflicted when she was first brought to America as a slave. Some people whispered that she had done it to honour the customs of her people, others, that the journey, the horrors of the middle passage, had driven her to scar her face in madness and despair. Although I would never dare to ask her, I didn’t believe she had been driven insane. The shrewd dark eyes that met mine belonged to a strong, sharp mind and I doubted that anything could, or ever would, be able to break it.

“Evening, Mama Akosua,” I said as I walked into the circle of light.

There was still daylight outside but it didn’t seem to reach the small window in Mama Akosua’s cabin and so it was always dark in here no matter what the time of day.

She gestured to the chair opposite hers, her eyes never leaving my face. I moved to the chair and when I sat down, she pushed a small cup toward me.

“Drink,” she said.

I picked up the cup and sipped the cool concoction, which tasted vaguely of mint leaves. Whatever it was, it seemed to have an immediate effect because I no longer felt as hot and the fatigue, which had been pulling on me like lead weights, seemed to evaporate.

Feeling slightly better, I was able to meet the force of her gaze fully. She seemed to have aged a great deal since I last saw her, nearly four years ago. The lines around her eyes and the ones running from her nose to the corners of her mouth had deepened and although she was not yet forty years old, she looked much older.

She studied me for a few moments and a soft sigh escaped her when she finally shifted her gaze away from my face.

“It is as I feared,” she said and stood up, wincing from the small movement.

“You hurt?”

“It is a small price to pay,” she mumbled, more to herself it seemed.

She reached into a basket on one of the shelves and pulled out a small black cloth bundle. Moving back to the table she placed the bundle before her and when she sat down again she closed her eyes for a few seconds. She was clearly in a lot of pain.

“I have prepared what you need,” she said pulling open the cloth bundle to reveal six paper sachets of herbs.

There was no need for her to ask me why I was here. I would only risk making this dangerous journey for one reason.

“Take this tonight.” She pointed to the larger of the bundles. “The rest is to be taken for five nights after, to stop the bleeding.”

She tied up the bundle and pushed it across the table toward me.

“Thank you, Mama Akosua.”

“Is it the son this time?”

I looked up and met her intimidating gaze, but on this occasion, I couldn’t hold it. She knew how much these things shamed me yet it didn’t stop her from asking about them. When I answered, my voice was barely a whisper.

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“He… he be at my cabin near about three times a week now since Easter.”

“He is worse than his father, no?” It wasn’t a question; it was a statement.

“Yes.”

I fought back tears as an image came to me from a few weeks before. I was standing in my tiny cabin and Master John was behind me gazing at our reflections in a small handheld mirror. I don’t know if making me look at myself was one of the many ways he had of tormenting me or if he really was oblivious to the fact that I despised my face. Either way, he would make me stare at my piercing dark brown eyes framed by long sooty eyelashes, deep mahogany skin, small delicate features and large sensuous lips. My springy, unruly hair was pulled away from my face, something he insisted on, as my hair was the one thing a man like him could find no beauty in. It was always the same ordeal with the mirror whenever he came to my cabin. And I honestly don’t know which face I hated more, that of the blond-haired, blue-eyed man I had come to despise even more than his old, decrepit father, or my own. The face he was enamoured with. He eventually pulled the mirror out of my hand, and placing it on the bed, held his arms out.

“Dance with me,” he had said in a soft, silky voice.

I remained where I was, my face a blank mask but rage no doubt burning behind my eyes. I may not have had a say over his nocturnal visits, but I would not play these little games or pretend that I wanted him in my wretched little cabin.

Fast, so fast that I didn’t have time to protect myself, he raised his hand and slapped me, sending me crashing to the floor. Pain bloomed along my temple and the left side of my face. I had also bitten my lip when I hit my head. His foot came down on my neck and I felt the dirt on the sole of his boot rubbing into my skin as he pressed down, cutting off my air supply. I struggled in vain to breathe and was close to losing consciousness when he slowly removed his foot and hauled me back onto my feet as if he were picking up a sack of potatoes. Then he held out his arms again, that smile, which never seemed to leave his face, swimming before my eyes as I struggled to clear my vision.

I was bristling with anger and yet fear won out because he could do anything he wanted to me and there was nothing I would be able to do to stop him. No one I could go to for protection. I had been born and bred purely for men like him, not only to do with as they pleased, but to increase their riches by breeding more slaves for them to own.

“Dance with me,” he said again.

Tasting blood in my mouth, I did as I was ordered to do.

“Massa Henry used to please hisself and leave,” I told Mama Akosua. “But Massa John… he like to play.”

I sensed rather than saw her rage.

I had led a relatively painless existence, for a slave, up until around the age of eight or nine when Master Henry had sent me on an errand to one of the neighbouring farms, an errand which would take me through the woods. I had run eagerly out of the house, hardly believing the good fortune that meant I could spend most of the morning walking through the woods instead of working. And it was the perfect day for a long walk, a beautiful spring day. The air was crisp and cool and the sun filtering through the fresh green leaves created patches of golden haze for me to walk through. I skipped along carefree and untouched at that time by the burdens of a female slave, deviating from my path only once to chase a squirrel, losing it moments later when it darted up a tree and out of sight.

It wasn’t long before I came to a stream winding its way through the trees directly in my path and saw Master Henry on his horse. I froze straight away but wasn’t immediately frightened as it seemed his face lit up with the kind of excitement you would expect to see on the face of a man on a long quest for buried treasure at the moment he finally finds it.

“Massa Henry!” I cried, dropping the parcel he had given me to deliver. I stooped to pick it up and when I straightened, he had already dismounted and was walking quickly toward me.

Master Henry, who was in his fifties, was tall and thin, had brown hair that was peppered with grey, a beak of a nose and thin, pink lips. I felt immediately uneasy about being on my own with him so far from the house, especially since it seemed as if he had gone to the trouble of saddling up his horse and riding out of the plantation with the sole intention of overtaking me.

But I tried to allay my fears by telling myself that he had never actually given me reason to fear him. The only unnerving thing about him was that he had a habit of turning up wherever I was working and would watch me intently for far too long as if he were looking to find fault with my work. He had never actually reprimanded me for anything, but something about his manner, his long wrinkled neck, bony elbows and knees, reminded me of a vulture waiting patiently. Mary, the cook, seemed uneasy about his apparent interest in my work. Perhaps she was worried that if he found fault with anything I did it would be blamed on her. So whenever Master Henry was at home she was always beside me, helping me with my chores even though I was more than capable of doing them on my own, a light sheen of anger marking her every action, the quick furtive glances she cast in Master Henry’s direction always fearful. Sometimes she would find an excuse to call me away if Master Henry made his way into whatever room I was in. I noticed that the other house slaves did the same.

I was too young at that time to know why his greedy eyes had become my shadow or why he showed such an overt interest in everything I did. I was also too young to understand the acid rage I saw in his young wife Mistress Emily’s eyes whenever she saw him watching me, or why she had tried on more than one occasion to send me to work in the fields. And the other slaves obviously thought it was kinder not to explain it to me.

So when I saw him waiting for me that day, I knew I was in a lot of trouble but I didn’t know what I had done.

When he got to me I saw a feverish light in his eyes as they moved over my tiny body. It was as if he couldn’t see or hear anything but me. Then his hand shot out abruptly and he pushed me to the ground. When he began to wrestle with his belt I tried to crawl away, knowing now that something awful was about to happen. But he was already on top of me, ripping my dress off whilst he moaned and reached for my chest to paw at what had not yet begun to form there. The pain had been horrific and my screams seemed to heighten his pleasure as he rode me as if I were the stallion he had obviously ridden furiously in order to catch me here alone in the woods. I lost consciousness at some point, and when I came to it was to the sight of him pulling up his trousers. He had mounted his horse and then turned to look at me with what I now know to be lust and it was clear that he was considering getting off his horse to repeat what he had done. Thankfully he gently urged his horse on through the trees to make his way back to the road.

Once he was gone I rolled onto my side and sobbed. I didn’t fully understand what had happened, but I knew it was something to be ashamed of and that I couldn’t go back to the house and face Mary. There was a faintly metallic smell mingling with that of the cold dry earth and I realised that it was the smell of my own blood, which was seeping through my legs. I tried to cover myself but my dress was torn in two so I wrapped my arms around what was left of the garment and lay there crying.

After a while, when the sun had reached the highest point in the sky, the sound of a twig snapping under the weight of a person’s foot told me I was no longer alone.

I sat up with a start to see one of the slaves, Jupiter, standing about three metres away from me. He was a tall, handsome African of around eighteen years old and had coal black skin and big beautiful brown eyes.

About A.D. Koboah

A.D. Koboah was born in London and completed an English Literature degree in 2000. Her first novel, Dark Genesis, was inspired by the concept of dehumanisation and the impact it can have on the psyche. She is currently working on a screenplay and will begin the sequel to Dark Genesis shortly.

Website | Goodreads

Book Blog Tour: Phobia by C.A. Shives (Review + Giveaway)

Here it is! The Phobia blog tour stops by dear ol’ whoopeeyoo for a review and a little book excerpt to entice you guys. But I’m sure if you’re mystery/suspense/thriller buff, you’re gonna love this. So without further ado, here’s Phobia!

About Phobia

Phobia

Ex-cop Artemis Herne thought he left the grit and crime of the city in the past when he moved to a small town in Pennsylvania. But the discovery of a woman’s dead body, bound and covered with snakes, sends panic through his community and ignites his investigative instincts.

As the serial killer continues to target his prey, Herne must confront his haunted past to uncover the pattern in the deaths. He soon discovers that every victim suffers from a phobia. And every murder transforms the victim’s worst fear into reality.

Tormented by his personal demons, Herne is forced to face his own fears as he hunts for a murderer who uses terror for a weapon.

Purchase at Amazon

Excerpt

They stared at each other as memories flooded Herne’s mind like a scattering of photographs faded by sunlight. On summer break their freshmen year of college, they shared a bottle of illicit whiskey in Tucker’s basement. Best buddies having a little fun on a typical Saturday night. Walking a street in Hurricane, on their way to meet Tucker’s girlfriend—who would later become his wife—they saw the unmistakable glow of flames a few blocks away. The old brick bakery was on fire. They ran to it, knowing that the building was really a shelter for battered women. Once there they found a thin, long-haired man in the parking lot, holding a lit Molotov cocktail while screaming the name of his wife. Two more unlit homemade frags sat on the asphalt.

When the man saw them, he threw the bomb against the building and charged at Herne.

Herne pounded at the man’s face until his fist pulverized bone into tiny shards. Through a red haze of fury, Herne only saw the face of his sister—his sweet, young sister—beaten to death in her teenage years by a jealous boyfriend.

Tucker pulled him away into the night as sirens sounded in the distance. The man spent years in reconstructive surgery, and he never looked anything less than a monster. The brain damage he suffered made it impossible for him to identify his attackers.

My Review

By the number of mystery/thriller/suspense book blog tours I join, I guess you already know that I heart mystery and it’s actually my first love. Nancy Drew is a hero of mine. Haha! Moreover, I am in love with psychological thriller films so it was a sure thing that I’d sign up for this tour. And I was glad I did!

Surely, I figured out who’s the killer immediately but that’s my thing. Which is weird because how come I love mysteries when I always foresee who’s the killer? Whatever, still I love ’em mysteries.

The novel was told from multiple point of views but it was never confusing. I applaud Shives for making each character unique. The premise of the story was SO FREAKY. Imagine being killed by your greatest fear. Okay, I’m going to stop because I’m not sure which is my greatest fear, frogs or open waters. The plot had twists and turns as that’s characteristic of a mystery so it was a nice thriller ride but as I said, having guessed who the killer was resulted to no surprise factor at the end. Still, it was an enjoyable read and a page-turner. It started out a bit slow, building it up and once everything is in its place, there was no turning back. You’ll end up reading it page after page. So I enjoyed this one and I commend C.A. Shives as this is her debut novel. Can’t believe it! Such a strong novel this early.

About C.A. Shives

C.A. Shives is the author of PHOBIA, a suspense novel based in a small Pennsylvania town.

When not reading, writing, editing, or publishing, C.A. enjoys watching a good action movie. The author also spends time target shooting on the range and raising backyard chickens.

C.A. loves cheesy poofs, Bruce Willis movies, and wine (often simultaneously). The author is also a fan of Professional Competitive Eating.

A second book in the Artemis Herne series is scheduled for a winter 2012 release. C.A.’s upcoming novel weaves a dark tale of horrific vigilante justice tainted by the bitter taste of revenge.

Website | Twitter | Facebook

Giveaway

Click HERE to get to the Rafflecopter where you can win a $50 Amazon Gift Card! Woo!

You can also win an ebook copy of Phobia from me! Here’s how.

Mandatory Entry: Leave a comment. Very easy!

Extra Entries: (Indicate what you did in your comment!)

+1 Follow me on Twitter (@whoopeeyoo). Please tell me your username.
+1 Follow C.A. Shives on Twitter and tell me your username.
+1 Add as a friend or follow C.A. Shives on Goodreads and tell me your username.
+1 Add Phobia to your Goodreads and tell me your username.
+1 Add me on Goodreads (whoopeeyoo) and tell me your username.
+1 Follow or subscribe to my blog.

Easy peasy! Good luck!

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Book Blog Tour: Bayou Myth by Mary Ann Loesch (Review + Giveaway)

Today is my first tour ever with Innovative Online Book Tours! Yey! So here’s Bayou Myth, one fantastic YA horror fantasy novel, which I got free for my honest opinion. And honestly, I really like it. Having read this and having a copy exclusively from the author is prize in itself. So let’s get this tour stop started!

About Bayou Myth

Bayou Myth

As a sixteen year old voodoo queen in the making, Joan Renault just wants to be like all the other girls in the small town of Monte Parish, Louisiana—obsessed with boys and swamped with social lives. If the other kids would quit calling her “hoodoo hag,” she might have a small shot at normality. It would also help if Joan’s weekend outings with her secret crush, Dave, weren’t always being interrupted by her dead Grandmere, the legendary Marie Laveau. After all, it’s hard to make out with your best friend when your grandmother is watching! But when you come from a long line of voodoo priestesses with dried gator heads decorating the wall of their huts, normal doesn’t come easily.

When Joan witnesses the brutal sacrifice of a child to a tree Druid, she learns her Grandmere’s scandalous past has come back to haunt those living in the present. Hera, a vengeful voodoo priestess is determined to use the residual energy of Pandora’s Box to revive a sleeping voodoo god and declare war on the descendants of Marie Laveau, especially Joan. Suddenly, Greek myths are being re-enacted all over town, and Joan has her hands full trying to sort it all out. With the approach of Samedi’s Day—the voodoo day of resurrection—Joan must learn to accept her destiny in order to stop the approaching threat to her family and friends.

Free on Amazon! Come on and grab it!

Excerpt

A teenage girl stood in the hazy glow. Unlike the other spirits, her form held solid. I got the sense that she drew energy from the surrounding spirits. Her lowered head made it so I couldn’t see her face, but the style of dress she wore dated back at least a century. Not surprising, really. Monte Parish could trash its roots to the late 1700’s.

The ghost lifted her head. Her eyes were empty sockets and rotted flesh hung from her face revealing bone. She watched me, and the hatred pumping from her aura sucked my breath away. Her head moved as if she were looking at Dave. A sly smile formed on what remained of her lips, and the hatred crawling in the air multiplied. She moved towards us with an unsteady gait. The closer she got, the sicker to my stomach I felt.

She meant to harm Dave. But not because he’d done anything to her. It was because he belonged to me. Though she never said a word, her intentions spilt off her and my psychic conduit picked it up.

“Let’s go. We need to leave right now.”

“What’s wrong?” Dave asked, but he complied with my request and closed up the tailgate.

The girl continued our direction. She raised a hand, and the sleeve of her dress slid back. Even from the distance we were at, the long white scar on her arm could be seen clearly in the moonlight. She pointed a finger at me.

You saw…the words hissed across the cemetery, raising goose bumps on my arms.

My Review

Greek mythology. Voodoo. Voodoo priestesses. Best friend. Crush on a best friend. Secret-keeping best friend. Young adult. Kickass heroine. Oh yeah, Bayou Myth has it all.

Don’t get scared about the author mixing Greek myths and voodoo. I got excited by the blurb but then I took a double-take when I read ‘Greek myths’. Because, how can you mash two entirely different realms? But that’s where Mary Ann kicks ass like her heroine. Because she did it. She oh so wonderfully weaved them that you won’t know what hit you until you’re addicted. I couldn’t keep away from the book and that proved to be difficult because school is getting busy again but I just had to read it and finish it asap. And by the end, I scold myself for reading so much and not studying. But still, time spent reading is time well-spent. Screw school, I’ll just review less. Hahaha! I’m not exactly being a role model here. Uh-oh. Anyway, so you get how addicting this book is because I even foregone studying just to read it. Bad girl.

The plot and the writing were tightly woven, intricate enough to get sucked in to this world, but not that confusing. I love YA horror novels because I don’t see much of them. It’s usually paranormal or contemporary or dystopian or some other more common genre. So I’m really happy to have read this and have it in my “bookshelf”.

So thank you Mary Ann for writing a wonderful novel. But it’s unfair that this book is apparently the first of a series and so I still have to wait and wait for the next book. But the waiting will be worth it, I’m sure. Read it guys and let’s talk about it once you’re done. I need someone to share with!

Thanks to Innovative Online Book Tours and Vickie for setting me up in this tour!

About Mary Ann Loesche

Mary Ann Loesch is the author of Nephilim, an urban fantasy published by Lyrical Press Inc, and Bayou Myth, a young adult horror novel. Her short stories have been published on line with various magazines and in the anthology All Things Dark and Dastardly.  All three books can be purchased at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Smashwords in both paperback and ebook form. An avid reader, Mary Ann finds herself a fan of many genres, including urban fantasy, mystery, horror, and even a bit of literary fiction.

Follow Mary Ann’s random thoughts at Twitter and Facebook, or check her weekly blog, Loesch’s Muse, for insights on life, writing, and dirty martinis.

Website | Goodreads

Giveaway!

Go HERE for the Rafflecopter!

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Book Blog Tour: Superheroes Wear Faded Denim by Law Reigns (Review)

What do we have here today? Yeah, just a kickass book. Superheroes Wear Faded Denim rubs on all the right places, tickles my reading bone and is just plain awesome. Ready to read how awesome yet? Hop on the tour and find out!

About Superheroes Wear Faded Denim

Superheroes Wear Faded Denim

Blissany Cherry is tired of sleeping around. Her neurologists’ sleep solutions have failed her. Now that her bizarre sleeping habits have begun to include week long dreams she has resorted to her own methods for a cure.

METHOD ONE: CONTROL DREAMS. All attempts to morph dreams about a gorgeous warrior into romantic fantasies are thwarted. He keeps on insisting she is destined to marry a great king and lead their armies into war. At the end of every dream he asks her: will you fight the war and save mankind?

She laughs in his face.

METHOD TWO: RESIST! Blissany has plans for her life. None include fighting an intergalactic war. When her dreams begin spilling over into reality, she is forced to make a decision that will forever redefine her life. Standing between destiny and desire, she is left with only one option.

METHOD THREE: SURVIVE.

This book is available for only $0.99! Click on the photo above to buy the Kindle edition from Amazon! :)

And we have two excerpts to get you itching to buy it already. HAHA!

Excerpt #1

Blissany’s heart skipped a beat. He was referring to her dreams. Am I in another? She could very well be. It wasn’t like her dreams gave her any warning. Coming sporadically, they were plane rides into other realms. Sometimes they caused her to sleep for a couple hours, sometimes several days. There a Roman boy with verdant eyes and curly hair black as fresh paint lived. Named Gabriel, he told her she was created to fight a grandiose war between good and evil. She ignored her dreams even though they caused her to oversleep for classes. What a mistake that had been. As soon as she awoke from this nightmare, she was seeking a neurologist. Such an endeavor took a lot of money and time. As a college senior, those were two things she didn’t have. Yet she was going to find it. She could not continue living with this mental disease.

“You don’t want to do this,” Wanikiya said. “If you did you wouldn’t have waited till the curse ate your heart.”

“I’ve contemplated my choices. I know what I’m to do.” Temeluchus asked Blissany the question again.

“Will you fight or not?”

“I don’t believe—”

“Wait until you have all the information, Fairest. You have two choices. If you say yes, even though you’ve shown selflessness, you have waged war. War means a fight to the death, and I will slay you right here. If you say no, I will slay this clerk behind the jewelry counter. So the question really becomes lucid. Who do you want to live more, yourself or others?”

“This demeans you,” Wanikiya said.

“Answer the question, Fair Cherry,” Temeluchus said, ignoring Wanikiya.

Blissany’s lips trembled. She looked at Kristie frozen in time. Out of all the dreams I could have. Kristie’s mouth was slightly agape. Her eyes still wide with excitement. They matched the emerald towel she held in her hands. She was so young she only had a few smile wrinkles around the corners of her mouth. Blissany wanted Kristie to live just as much as she wanted to live, but she knew this was all a dream. For it to end, she would have to give an answer.

Excerpt #2

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Blissany shivered. Wanikiya was serious. “You’re 18 years old. You can’t know that.”

“I’ve always been very apt at knowing what I want.”

“You’re three years younger—”

“Two years. I turn nineteen in two weeks.”

“What I’m saying is we’re both too young to want marriage. We haven’t even explored the dating world. There’s so many people, so many experiences, Demi would add so many sexual encounters to be had.”

“Since when have I cared—I didn’t just roll out of bed wanting to do this. I have thought about this for months. We know everything there is to know about each other.”

“We’re friends.”

“It’s rare we even go a day without talking.”

“That’s why you want to marry me. You don’t spend time with other women.”

“Don’t insult my intelligence, Blissany. You are my best friend. I have fallen in love with you over the last 4 years. I want us to be more than friends. I want you to be my own body, my own flesh.”

That was his odd way of saying he wanted to make her his little wife. She swallowed. She could just imagine it. At first he would give her the world, spending thousands of dollars to make her wedding everything that she wanted. Demi would be so jealous. Then when they finally married, she’d be expected to do nothing. Wanikiya would go off to work every day leaving her to achieve her dreams of becoming an artist. He’d buy her gifts like BMWs and trips to Maui, feed her steak dinners, and take her on weekend excursions to Europe. What about sex? She imagined they would have missionary sex which would inevitably become dull after several years of marriage. The allure of the money would wear off as well. Sooner or later Wanikiya would age beyond her level of human understanding. He already had the wisdom of a 70-year-old seer. What would he be like when he was 30? He’d probably start speaking to her in psalms, developing expectations she become a religious leader like him. She’d fail miserably. He would become disappointed with her. She’d want lots of sex. He would think she was a fiend. Soon enough she would be known as that little wife who failed to rise to her husband’s standards. Pictures of her straying off to have love affairs would become viral video blogs.

“Oh God no,” Blissany began in horror. The image was an ulcer festering in her mind. “It wouldn’t work out. I can’t.”

My Review

College. Multiple point of views. Romance. Love quadrangle. Angels. Saviors of mankind. Good versus evil. New adult. Or young adult. Kickass, awesome characters. “Dark and gritty”. Comedy. Friendship. SUPERHEROES.

If those words still did not sell the novel to you, I DON’T KNOW WHAT WILL. Haha! But since I can’t just give up on you guys, beware that I will be spazzing here. In five, four, three, two, one…

Law Reigns Supreme! The author has successfully written a complex and addicting novel that you won’t put down. Sure, it can get confusing at times with all the multiple POVs and hard, complicated names and the added difficulty of distinguishing reality from the dreams but that’s why I like it. I like getting confused because the author does not treat her readers as unintelligent. She expects them to get used to it and after a while, roll with it, thinking like how she likes us to think.

Moreover, I am a senior in university now and it just tickles me to read novels in the university setting because I can relate. I can definitely relate. Sometimes when reading YA, I find myself rolling my eyes at the teens because I think that’s not me anymore. I tend to prefer characters closer to my age (18) so the more mature YA and new adult are my thing now. Haha!

Additionally, this is not just about an average girl who turns out to be a superhero(ine). Nope, it’s a superhero team! Her friends are also in to save the world. How awesome is that? Usually, superheroes tend to get broody at some point because they have no one to turn to, to share the burden and responsibility they’re carrying. But here, you share classes, you share lunch, you share TASKS ON FIGHTING EVIL. Woohoo!

Yet with all the complexities it brings on the table, the author successfully ties it up cleanly and I do appreciate that. I may have to do a re-read if I’m asked to find loopholes because this is tight storytelling, you guys.

And angels. Angels will make any book better. (Or not, as with my experience with Hush, Hush.) But you get the point. Supernatural almost always elevates the stakes and makes it more compelling. Heehee.

Once again, go but the book! It’s only $0.99! What are YOU waiting for? :P

About Law Reigns

Law Reigns has an odd obsession with romance. At the advice of her friends, she gave up the plight of playing cupid in their lives. Developing her own characters to manipulate proved to be more rewarding. After having studied creative writing at the University of Florida, she decided to write Superheroes Wear Faded Denim. A proud Gator alumni, she based  her novel where blood runs orange and blue. She personally invites all adventure druggies and love fanatics to dive into the pages of Faded Denim, a story that transforms a swampy, southern town into a battlefield for life and love.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Pinterest

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Book Blog Tour: Marked & Changed by Jennifer Snyder (Playlist)

Today, I am pleased to host both books from the Marked Duology by Jennifer Snyder, Marked and Changed. Woo! I got myself some review copies so expect that in the near future, I will be reviewing these two lovelies! Anyway, below you will find book spotlights and excerpts for both books. And Jennifer Snyder has also provided us a playlist for the Marked Duology! And as if that wasn’t enough, she is also offering a signed set for US residents and an ebook set for international fans! So what are you waiting for? Dive in!

Marked (Marked Duology, #1)

Marked (Marked Duology Book 1)
by Jennifer Snyder

Genre: YA Paranormal Romance

A mysterious stranger she can’t stay away from.  A birthmark with a hidden meaning and one bite that changes seventeen-year-old Tessa Morganton’s destiny forever…

Life for Tessa had been steady and calm—with the exception of her overly jealous boyfriend—until the moment Jace Fowler walked into her life.

Jace—incredibly charming with boy band good looks—is someone whom Tessa can’t seem to stay away from… no matter how much she knows she should.

After surviving a strange animal attack, Tessa learns just how mysterious and secretive Jace really is and that his secrets not only involve himself…but her as well, making Tessa question everything she’s ever believed regarding her life and those around her.

Amazon Smashwords Barnes & Noble

Excerpt

I noticed him the first moment he stepped into the diner, along with every other female both young and old. There was something about him that made it hard to look away. Maybe it was the smooth confidence in his stride, or his boy band good looks. Whatever the reason, I found it nearly impossible to not stare, even in the presence of my boyfriend.

His eyes shifted to mine and lingered long enough to make my heart flutter. There was something in their glint that struck me as lonely, but it was overshadowed by something else swirling beneath the surface of the rich honey color, something intriguing I couldn’t name.

Changed (Marked Duology, #2)

Changed (Marked Duology Book 2)
by Jennifer Snyder

Genre: YA Paranormal Romance

Would you fight to the death to prove you are worthy to stand beside the one you loved?

Eighteen-year-old Tessa Morganton’s life has flipped upside down. After learning Jace’s secret and discovering the man she’d thought all her life was her father isn’t, she must also cope with the reality of what she’s now become—a werewolf.

Tessa tries to maintain her normal life while her body changes more and more each night as the full moon grows closer, but when Shelby comes back to pay her a visit, Tessa soon realizes turning into a wolf may not be the only dilemma she will have to overcome.

As the Wolf Moon draws near, Tessa uncovers some things about Jace and Shelby’s relationship and exactly what Pack Law entails in the untraditional situation Jace has created for them all.

Amazon Smashwords Barnes &Noble

Excerpt

An itch began to spread slowly from my bite mark and across my entire body. It never seemed to be satisfied, and I worried that if I continued to scratch it the way that I was, I might draw blood. My eyes flickered toward my bedroom window while I anxiously awaited Jace’s tapping. When was he going to be here? I didn’t want to change in my bedroom!

And then he was there—his smiling face filled with excitement, staring at me through the glass. I pushed the window open, but didn’t smile in return.

“Ready?” he asked, his amber eyes twinkling in my bedroom light as he removed the screen from my window.

I shook my head. “No, I’m not feeling so well.”

“You’ll be all right; it’ll go away shortly. Trust me, Tessa, come outside,” he whispered into the night, his gaze shifting toward the full moon.

Even though my legs were trembling beneath me, I still managed to climb out my window without falling on my face thanks to Jace. The cool night air gently swept across my skin, cooling my itch upon contact. Jace took my hand in his and slowly we began walking away from my house and out into my darkened backyard.

Marked Duology Playlist
by Jennifer Snyder

Music is something that is important in different ways—to some it is an important part of their culture, others say it’s a mood shifter, while some feel it’s the rhythm of life. To a writer…it can, more often than not, be their muse.

For me, music ignites the sparks of my imagination like nothing else. I listen to Pandora while I’m cleaning the house or cooking. The radio while I’m driving around town running errands. This is how I work out tough scenes in my head or find inspiration for certain scenes that I know will come later.

As I sat down to rewrite (for the millionth time, remember this duology was three years in the making) Marked and Changed there were a few songs that spurred scenes and dialogue more than others. These are the songs my family had to endure on repeat for I have no idea how long if I’m being perfectly honest. As to why these particular songs ignited something within me…I can’t say because I don’t know. You might look at this list and think to yourself “How in the world did she write a book like Marked or Changed listening to that music?” I have no better answer for this question than I don’t know…because I don’t know.

Without further ado, here is my short list of songs:

1) Not Strong Enough by Apocalyptica

This song was on mega repeat! I think my eight-year-old knows all the words by heart now!

2) I’d Come For You by Nickleback

This song was played a lot during the writing process of Changed.

3) Better Than Me by Hinder

This was another one that was on repeat during the writing of Changed.

4) I’m With You by Avril Lavigne

I heard this song on the radio one day and raced home to write the first “date” scene in Marked for Tessa and Jace. For some reason it triggered a lot of dialogue and such for that scene.

5) Hanging By A Moment by Lifehouse

I know, I know some people can’t stand this song…but I just love it!

6) Always by Saliva

The beginning to this song still gives me goose bumps every time!

And there you have it, my playlist for the Marked Duology! Thanks for having me!

About Jennifer Snyder

Jennifer Snyder lives in North Carolina were she spends most of her time writing young adult fiction, reading, and struggling to stay on top of housework. She is an instant coffee lover with an obsession for spiral bound notebooks and smooth writing pens. Jennifer lives with her husband and two children, who endure listening to songs that spur inspiration on repeat and tolerate her love for all paranormal, teenage-targeted TV shows.

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Book Blog Tour: Material Witness by L.A. Mondello (Review)

This blog tour ends today but the fun doesn’t stop! As one of the last stops of the tour, I am providing a review of the book, more like of how great this book is, and an excerpt which you can gobble up like it’s the last slice of pie. Heehee. So read along and enjoy!

Material Witness

Material Witness
by L.A. Mondello

Genre: Romantic Suspense
ISBN: 9780615653730
ASIN: B008JGFQ92
Number of pages: 220
Word Count: 70,000

Amazon | BN | Smashwords

Who does she trust when she’s living the real life horror of one of her crime novels…

Bestselling crime novelist, Cassie Alvarez, aka Cassie Lang, had murder on her mind when she walked into Rory’s Bar under dressed and under cover to research her latest crime novel. Researching the cool, blue-eyed and dashingly handsome man at the end of the bar stirred her senses more than she wanted to admit. But was this man of leather armor all he appeared to be?

Playing White Knight to an innocent wasn’t how Detective Jake Santos planned to spend his time under cover. But there was no way “CJ” was what she claimed to be and that nagging tightness in Jake’s chest told him he’d better take her home to safety and leave it at that. Then the barroom exploded with gunfire, leaving a trail of dead that includes a notorious Providence crime boss and an undercover FBI agent. When Cassie’s name is leaked to the media as the only witness to the grisly murders, Cassie insists she only trusts Jake to protect her.

The FBI wants their star witness happy and will do anything to make sure Cassie testifies. But it is clear to Jake that the shooter isn’t the only person who wants Cassie dead. Not knowing who to trust, he vows to protect Cassie at all cost despite the fact that guarding the beautiful novelist is a serious distraction.

Excerpt

Uneasiness skittered through her, settling in her stomach. It wasn’t the same stirring she felt just seconds ago. Cassie refused to believe it to be a premonition, so she passed it off as fatigue.

Jake’s presence in her home was too intimate. He’d been an enigmatic stranger at Rory’s, and a highly professional police officer at the police station last night. He was much the same now, except in her apartment, surrounded by her personal things, Cassie felt almost…naked in a way she hadn’t felt for some time.

“Colombian coffee on the refrigerator door. Filters in the cabinet above the coffee maker on the counter,” she said.

As Jake treaded to the kitchen, Cassie plopped down on her slipcovered sofa and draped the afghan over her legs. This man had been privileged to see more of her than any man had in three years, and she hadn’t even known him a full twenty-four hours.

It wasn’t only modesty. Scratches from the flying glass and bruises from hitting the floor were now surfacing on her skin. Cassie hadn’t felt them when she’d showered last night or before she went to bed, but now that the adrenaline rush had worn off, they were nagging at her.

She reached for the newspaper. “What am I reading?”

“Front page,” Jake called out from the kitchen.

Cassie slapped the newspaper on her lap, fingering the edge of the paper as she examined the headline. “The President vetoed—” she started to say before Jake came back into the room and cut in.

“Bottom of the page, big bold print.”

Her eyes grazed the page of the Providence Journal Bulletin until they settled on the article Jake was referring to. Her whole body collapsed as the newsprint screamed at her. Crime novelist Cassie Lang involved in deadly shoot-out.
Cassie’s heart stopped beating and her hands shook so violently, the newspaper slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor. When she finally found her voice, it was barely audible to her own ears as she spoke.

“You said you weren’t going to reveal my name.”

Jake was at the doorway, leaning his shoulder against the doorjamb.

“I didn’t.”

“Then how? Who?”

My Review

What a ride! I am still reeling from this novel. Such a fast-paced, gripping story, full of adventure and danger and twists and turns, one you will not be able to put down even if your bladder is about to explode. It is that good that you will bring it to the bathroom with you just not to stop reading. I know I did. I love mystery novels and reading them fills me with adrenaline and I love adrenaline rushes! Up until the end, you’re wound up thinking who is the good guy and the bad guy and the author will keep you guessing until the end.

You get to see the heroine grow in this story, becoming stronger and more like her novel’s heroine. Nothing gets to me like a heroine I idolize and would love to be. Cassie is a bit methodist in her writing, going to a bar dressed as a hooker to research for her crime novel. She is a true person, awesome yet vulnerable. It is so believable. What better combo to have than romance suspense? Sexual tension and chemistry are off-the-charts and you put these seemingly perfect for each other writer and cop in a dangerous and thrilling premise and you get one fantastic romantic thriller novel in your hands. Definitely a great read!

About L.A. Mondello

Lisa Mondello (a.k.a. LA Mondello) has held many jobs in her life but being a published authors is the last job she’ll ever have. She’s not retiring! She blames the creation of the personal computer for her leap into writing novels. Otherwise, she’d still be penning stories with paper and pen. Her first book, All I Want for Christmas is You, was the winner of the Golden Quill contest for Best First Book and to date has had over 350,000 downloads worldwide.

She is currently the author of 14 novels under the name Lisa Mondello and LA Mondello.

You can find more information about Lisa Mondello at http://www.lisamondello.blogspot.com  or chat on Twitter at @LisaMondello or on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/lisa.mondello.1

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Book Blog Tour: Faerie Cake Dead by J.M. Griffin (Review + Giveaway)

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My first ever tour for Innovative Online Book Tours is here! Vickie, very very nice Vickie, has set me up with this review after a blogger pulled out of the tour. And call it luck but good thing I was asked to do it because I enjoyed this novel! So scroll down and you will find the whole first chapter of the book, my review and a giveaway. Enjoy!

About Faerie Cake Dead

Faerie Cake Dead

Tea, trust and trouble collide at Faerie Cake Junction. When divorcee, Luna Devere, owner of Faerie Cake Junction, meets general contractor, Devin Radford, chaos reigns. Devin instantly wreaks romantic havoc in Luna’s life after she finds a corpse sitting in her tea shop as though awaiting service. The shop is surrounded by faeries who have befriended Luna. They know who left the dead man, but they aren’t sharing. The sheriff is convinced Luna is daft and that she’s the culprit. Devin wonders just how odd Luna is…even though he’s drawn to her. And, Luna’s ex-husband tries to incriminate her for reasons and purposes of his own. Will Luna survive? Only the faeries know.

Amazon

First Chapter

Nine tables, dressed and ready for patrons, stood scattered about the room. Soft light behind Luna cast a pale glow across the darkness as she squinted through the doorway. The faerie cakes, all baked, frosted and ready to serve sat in the lower level of the building. As always, she’d managed it all in the span of a few wee morning hours.

She narrowed her eyes, adjusting to the gloom of the room beyond her. A shadowy figure sat at a table in the center of the room, his back toward the doorway.

“Hello?” Luna Devere’s voice trembled and echoed across the gloomy room. “C-can I help you?”

No answer.

Head bowed, the figure sat upright. Luna could see the outline of a man clothed in a dark suit. She reached for the switch next to the door and flicked on the overhead lights. Luna gasped, moving her hand to her throat. She stared at his thin gray hair lay scraped over his dome. He hadn’t moved or acknowledged her.

Questions slipped through Luna’s mind faster than the click of a camera shutter. What was he doing here? When did he arrive and from where? How did he come to be sitting in her teashop this early in the morning? How had he gotten in? Had she left a door unlocked yet again?

Luna crept closer. The elderly stranger’s wrinkled, parchment-like skin sagged under his chin. His pale hands rested on the table, a spoon clasped in one of them. A teapot huddled next to the empty cup and saucer before him.

She reached out and touched his shoulder. The stiff body slumped forward. With a gasp, Luna jumped back. Wiping her fingertips across the apron swathed around her, Luna backed toward the door. Nothing was out of place, other than the dead man sitting at a table set for tea.

Luna lifted the phone from the base and dialed nine-one-one.

“What’s your emergency?” the operator asked.

“T-there’s a d-dead man sitting in my d-dining room.”

“Ma’am, did you say you have a dead man in your dining room?”

“Yes,” she said. “My name is Luna Devere, owner of Faerie Cake Junction on the outskirts of Swanscott, Maine. The shop is number seven-one-one on Old Meadow Road.”

The calm voice asked, “Are you certain he’s dead?”

“He’s stiff and feels cold to the touch. He didn’t answer my questions, it’s just after four in the morning, and the shop doesn’t open until ten o’clock so yeah, I think he’s dead.” She swallowed hard, fighting back an overwhelming sense of panic.

“Emergency services have been notified and are on their way.”

She hung up and paced back and forth in front of the sparkling glass pastry cases. What should she do next? Nervous, a soft melody thrummed in her head and then issued from her throat. Never understanding why she did so, Luna just understood she would every time her anxiety mounted. Instead of bravery, never Luna’s strength, optimism topped the list of her attributes.

Luna believed in and saw things other people couldn’t see even though she’d heard the town folk considered her eccentric. Her trust in faeries caused many to scoff, but Luna knew they existed since she’d been born with the Sight. She could see faeries, and on the rare occasion she experienced clairvoyant visions while in their midst.

Faeries lived in the meadow and woods behind the shop. She spoke with them often. Their early tolerant relationship had turned into friendship over time. Rarely did  she  mention  them  to outsiders since it tended to make her look stranger than she was already perceived.

Walking onto the porch, she leaned against the handrail on the rear veranda of her building. Luna gulped deep drafts of fresh, crisp air. Nerves taut, she peered into the darkness. Tiny lights flickered on and off. People thought these mere fireflies, but Luna knew the colors meant the presence of faerie folk. Lights danced closer and closer until a small swarm gathered within the purple hydrangea bushes just off the veranda.

“What have you seen, Luna?” a tiny blue creature asked in a singsong voice. She swept closer to Luna, her translucent wings shimmering in the moonlight while she swayed in the faint breeze.

“I found a man in the tea room. He’s dead.”

Iridescent wings fluttering faster, the blue faerie jittered back and forth.

“We have seen movement of humans this night,” the faerie said and quivered toward the doorway.

Knowing the faerie would never enter the domain, Luna asked, “How many humans were there?”

“More than one, but no more than three.” The faerie darted away.

Luna’s gaze followed the light and she called, “Three? There were three humans? Were they walking or was one carried by the others?”

The tiny faerie flitted forward, fast like a hummingbird. A twitter of noise arose from the hydrangea bushes where other faeries watched the exchange.

“One carried another, one stayed behind. I must leave you now.” Her beautiful voice lilting, the faerie began to drift away. “Rest easy, the images will come.”

The entire mass gathered together, winging away into the night. Luna watched them disappear within a thick stand of wood as the sound of emergency vehicles arriving caught her attention. She returned through the back door, entering the shop. Lights flashed from the roof of the emergency vehicle rolling to a stop out front. Three paramedics strode up the steps. Luna rushed to unlock the double doors and flung them wide open. The sheriff parked his car alongside the rescue.

“Hi, Gus,” Luna greeted the first EMT, a wiry middle aged man with a dry sense of gallows humor. She pointed to the corpse. “He’s over there.”

“Hey, Luna,” Gus said with a nod, and strode forward, followed by his team. “He’s dressed up for a tea party, huh?” he murmured.

Luna contemplated him as she considered his distasteful remark before turning toward the dead man. Luna noticed his black suit was worn and his shirt cuffs frayed, but they were as clean and crisp as his jaunty red bowtie. The team checked the body while she waited for them to pronounce the stranger dead.

Heavy treads sounded behind her. Luna turned toward Sheriff Henry Tiddler while he clomped up the three steps of the oversized bungalow housing Faerie Cake Junction.

“Luna.” His gritty voice accompanied the dip of his hat when he nodded toward her.

“Sheriff,” Luna responded.

“Want to explain what happened?”

His clipped words left her feeling he was unhappy about the early morning call. She watched as he withdrew a small spiral bound notebook from a pocket and clicked the pen, awaiting her answer. A shiver ran through her as she pondered finding a corpse in the shop. It certainly wasn’t the way she’d ever choose to start her day.

With a deep breath, Luna said, “I’m not sure. I made the usual early-morning cupcakes and was about to return to bed for a few hours.”

“What time was that?”

“When I made the cupcakes, or when I was going to bed?”

“Both,” he replied with a light sigh and a raised brow.

“I got up at two and finished around four.” Luna’s head tipped toward the body. “I found him a little after four.”

“Who is he, do you know?” His voice cool, Sheriff Tiddler’s questions were short and to the point. His suspicious eyes squinted as he regarded her.

“Never laid eyes on him before, Sheriff.” She moved her hand toward her throat as the EMS team searched the body.

Sheriff Tiddler turned to them while he scribbled in his notebook.

“He’s a goner, Sheriff,” Gus said. “Call the medical examiner so he can take charge of the scene.”

“Any idea what he died from?” the sheriff asked after he radioed headquarters.

“There are no signs of injury. The ME will tell you more.” Gus glanced at Luna and then at the sheriff.

The sheriff pulled his attention from Gus and the dead and turned his dark eyes toward Luna.

Within minutes the dispatcher reported the medical examiner was on his way. Sheriff Tiddler’s shoulder radio crackled a second and went silent.

A portly man, Henry Tiddler stood around five-foot-eight, had pudgy hands and short legs. His bald pate held a fringe of light brown hair speckled with grey. Dentures ground in his mouth while he chewed on his words before speaking them. Sheriff Tiddler’s laugh always seemed a mocking one. Divorced early in his career, he now dated Dilly Perkins, a member of Luna’s wait staff. A former Boston cop, Henry Tiddler had retired from the force at age fifty. In an effort to get away from big city life and heinous crimes he had applied for the sheriff’s position in the seacoast village of Swanscott, where life remained quiet most of the time.

Until this morning. Luna stared into his wide face showing signs of oncoming flabby jowls. She noted the way his wide nostrils flared as though his large nose had picked up a nasty scent.

“How did the victim end up here, Luna?”

A sense of trepidation cloaked her. Luna didn’t answer right away, but wondered instead how this could have happened.

“I have no idea.”

“Were all the doors locked?”

Luna had a reputation among the locals for her inability to keep all the doors locked and stay in possession of her keys.

“I think so,” she said. “At least the front doors were ’cause I just undid them to let everyone in.” Luna recollected the unlocked rear door, but decided Tiddler didn’t need another reason to think her nuts or suspicious.

The sheriff’s bushy eyebrows rose while he watched her. Nervously she chewed on her lower lip. “Let’s check the remaining doors then.”

Sheriff Tiddler motioned Luna to walk before him to the doors in question.

The bungalow held a gift shop and a tearoom on the first floor. A galley-style kitchen with an opening lay off the tearoom. The gift shop held a reading area surrounded with gifts, books, wind chimes, and faerie-related goodies. Luna lived upstairs in a large, open-spaced loft. Baking took place in the basement.

They checked the entry door in the gift shop before entering the teashop through the wide-arched doorway. A side entry door in the tearoom opened onto a wide wrap-around porch. The lock remained securely bolted. Luna led the way along a wide corridor toward the rear door. Lights flicked on as she flipped switches.

She stopped to wait until the sheriff caught up to her. The sheriff gaped at the neat, compact, efficient galley kitchen where Dilly worked. Clearing her throat, Luna caught his attention.

Unlocked, the rear door stood ajar. It moved back and forth slightly on silent hinges, the way Luna had left it.

“Here’s your answer to how he got in. I must have left the door unlocked when I went to bed.” Luna turned toward the sheriff as he slowed and stopped beside her. “I could have sworn I double-checked all the entries.”

Unwilling to admit she’d gone out to speak with the faeries; Luna let the sheriff reach his own conclusions. After all, the door had been unlocked, if not ajar.

“Hmm, it doesn’t appear tampered with, so I guess you didn’t lock it after all.” Sheriff Tiddler checked the bolt and then scrutinized Luna.

Uncomfortable with his inquisitive stare, she shrugged and agreed with a nod of her head. She could have sworn she’d checked the doors. Maybe the sheriff wanted to wrap things up in a neat package in an effort to eliminate an investigation of a breaking and entering on top of the death of the old gentleman.

“We could dust for fingerprints, though I’m sure it won’t do much good,” the sheriff said.

He acted as if it was a waste of time, but Luna wasn’t so sure. She knew the doors had been locked.

Sheriff Tiddler returned to the tearoom with questions about the space upstairs. Appearing to be satisfied after Luna explained it was her living space, he simply nodded.

“Where do you bake the cakes?” he asked while his keen eyes viewed the neat dining room.

“Downstairs in the basement. I had a room outfitted when I first bought this place so I could cook there. It’s cool and away from the shop area.”

“Can I get a look?”

With a nod, Luna led the way toward the room where magnificent cupcakes were baked, frosted and beautifully decorated. Confections were created in the wee morning hours for customers who swarmed to Faerie Cake Junction from far and wide. From morning to night tea and cupcakes were served to people flowing in and out of the shop like the tide. The dining room remained busy all day, every day and the gift shop did very well. During the holiday season, Luna got no rest. Now in her mid-thirties, she often wondered if she’d lost her mind by starting a non-stop, year-round business.

As they neared the confectionery room, she watched the sheriff inspect each nook and cranny with great interest, seeming to note every single foot of the area.

Her thoughts wandered as the sheriff took stock of the faerie cakes and cupcakes. At the start of a cupcake day, she slid baking pans into enormous ovens along the back wall of the brick basement. She baked dozens upon dozens of cupcakes, frosted them and added embellishments to each batch. She did the job by rote, she knew it so well.

Every morning Luna mixed ingredients bought specifically for each flavor of cupcake. They baked, cooled and stood in line like soldiers, waiting for frosting. Ambling back and forth, she’d added a touch of something special here and there to make each confection a delight to the eyes and taste buds of her customers. Luna offered at least ten varieties of faerie cakes to patrons.

Faerie cakes, the British equivalent of the American cupcake, adorned with flavored glaze and silver nonpareils, were held in high-esteem by customers. Vanilla-bean cupcake batter mixed with melted chocolate created light chocolate-colored cupcakes covered with vanilla-buttercream chocolate-ganache topping. This morning, she had baked a batch of chocolate cupcakes with chunks of chocolate and cherry pieces mixed in. She’d then topped them with chocolate-cherry buttercream frosting and pure chocolate sprinkles. She stared at the trays of delights waiting to be brought upstairs and placed in the cases. Her glance strayed to the sheriff, who licked his lips and stared at the rows and rows of pastry.

“Do you think the shop can open today?” she asked.

“It’s a crime scene, but if the ME offers details on the victim’s death, then you might be able to.” Sheriff Tiddler licked his lips again.

“Would you care for a cupcake and a cup of tea, Sheriff?”

“If it wouldn’t be any trouble,” he said and walked toward the countertop.

Opening a cabinet, Luna pulled a plate from within and handed it to him.

“Choose what you’d like and meet me upstairs. I’ll make some tea.” She left him to choose his fare and hustled toward the upstairs galley kitchen.

My Review

Faeries! Mystery! Aaaccckk, this novel is so cute! It’s a mystery and a nice whodunnit is always welcome to me. I had such fun reading it. I also had MAJOR cupcake cravings. The novel was so descriptive, my mouth watered while reading. And the faeries were so cryptic, in how they speak and in what they do, I love it.

This was a light read and a fast one at that, one that you’d finish in one go sitting while the rain is pouring. Like what’s happening right now here. I also like Devin and Luna’s relationship and pretty much everything else about their characters. The novel opens with a dead man in Luna’s Faerie Cake Junction and woah, what better way to start a novel than a dead man?

Overall, a lovely read you will surely enjoy. :D

About J.M. Griffin

JM Griffin grew up in the Maine countryside. Inspired by the Nancy Drew mysteries, JM wrote her first story at age twelve.

With 5 books written and more in the works, JM’s first book in the Vinnie Esposito series published in February of 2009. The first and second Vinnie Esposito novels have been re-released through Lachesis Publishing. The third novel in the series, Dead Wrong, was released in ebook format in October 2010, and in paperback in April 2011. Stay tuned for more of the Vinnie Esposito series.

In addition to the Esposito series, JM has written a mystery featuring faeries, pixies, murder, tea and cupcakes. Lyrical Press, Inc. presented the ebook on August 16th of 2010. The paper edition was released in June 2011 and is available at www.amazon.com.

Murder on Spy Glass Lane, a novel filled with the antics of Sarah McDougall, a psychic artist, her Bassett hound Sparky, and their swashbuckling pirate-like neighbor was published as an ebook in January 2012. The paper version of this book will be available January 1, 2012 on http://tinyurl.com/82rs8s7.

JM and her husband John reside with two crazy cats who rule the roost in New England. Their home is surrounded by a forest, a nearby reservoir and natures creatures.

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Giveaway

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