Today we have author Dan Adams visiting. Welcome!
What would you like to tell readers about yourself?
* Dan Adams is a Sydney-based writer. When he’s not penning kick ass war stories, he’s working on his guns - the arm variety, rather than the weapons featured so prominently in his books. He loves slushies and always finds himself climbing too many stairs on Wednesdays. Follow him on Twitter at @DanAdamsWriter
A look into...
~ Blurb ~
* Alice is minding her younger sister when the Zombie apocalypse hits. She has to find safety but is thwarted at every turn - by a strange man, by two stoners. The world has gone mad and she doesn't know who to trust.
~ Excerpt ~
* Alice registered the confused look on her sister’s face and traced her line of sight along her outstretched arm to her finger that pointed to a man racing along the edge of the park. The sight was peculiar, if nothing else. Unlike the joggers Alice noticed on her way to and from school, who ran the circuit daily, this man was dressed in a fine grey suit. The perspiration had soaked all the way through the jacket, leaving a dark stain that was clearly visible even from this distance.
* The man was running toward them and Alice instinctively stood and moved in front of her sister, resting her hands on her hips in an attempt to look as intimidating as possible. Last term she had adopted the same stance in the playground when Susie P had stormed up to her and accused her of snitching. She had held her ground then and Susie was a proper bitch — this guy looked like he had nothing on a pampered schoolgirl.
* ‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ he muttered as he saw them, huffing between words to catch his breath.
* Alice didn’t know what he meant by that but even her little sister had risen, and now stood behind her, clutching her book to her chest like a makeshift shield.
* He slowed, glancing over his shoulder, then to his phone, then back over his shoulder again before slowing and changing his direction to come their way. Behind him the street was empty, and the air hung heavy with static, a shimmering haze warped the road in the distance.
* ‘What are you doing outside?’ he asked in disbelief.
* Alice thought it was none of his business and told him as such.
* ‘Didn’t you see the news?! It’s been all over the television and radio.’
* ‘Do you see any of either of those around here?’ she retorted, indicating with the wave of her hand the open expanse of the park.
* He looked at her like she hadn’t heard a word he had said. ‘The infection … it’s been all over the news. They are telling everyone to remain indoors and people who display symptoms are … dangerous.’
* ‘What do you mean infection?’
* The man was clearly getting frustrated, ‘The fatal kind.’
* Alice’s sister let out a whimper behind her. It probably wasn’t as bad as he was making out. People died all the time from diseases.
* At the sight of her questioning raised eyebrow, the man elaborated. ‘It’s worse than just death. Once they die, they get back up and start feeding on the closest human. If you don’t believe me check out YouTube. I’m sure someone’s posted something by now.’
* Alice skimmed her finger along the screen of her phone, quickly thumbed in her password without taking her eyes from his face. He was looking nervous; his fingers were shaking and he kept looking back in the direction he had come from.
* A moment later she had opened a browser and was skimming through videos labeled ‘zombie outbreak’, ‘woman eats child’ and ‘The apocalypse is here’. She clicked on the first and tapped her foot impatiently as the video loaded. The screen opened and was filled with a woman cradling a man in her arms, both covered in blood. At first it looked nothing more like some horrific accident, and the woman was grieving the loss. Until the woman leant down and tore a chunk of flesh from the man’s chest, ripping her head back and Alice could clearly see meat dangling from her mouth, her jaw moving up and down as she devoured it.
* Alice put the back of her hand over her mouth to stop herself from vomiting. The video panned down the street behind the meal and a crowd of blood-covered monsters were shuffling toward the filmer’s location. Then someone muttered ‘Oh fuck’ and the video cut off abruptly.
* Alice’s face was drained of colour as she slowly put her phone away. The man, who had stood patiently while she discovered the horrid truth for herself, was now jumping from foot to foot, scanning the distance.
* ‘Ok, I believe you now.’
* ‘Finally. They are evacuating the city at four different points. We’re closer to the south exit, at the school on Williams street. Do you know where that is?’
* ‘Yeah, I know.’
* The man pulled his phone back out of his waistcoat pocket and looked at the time. ‘We’ve got 20 minutes before they quarantine the city and no one else gets out. The army will probably fire bomb the city if ground troops can’t deal with it.’
* Alice wondered if he had formerly been in the military or if he was just repeating what he had heard on the news. It didn’t really matter, but she was curious, if only for a second. She was about to ask him when the sound of smashing glass resonated in the distance followed a split second later by a wailing car alarm. Then there was the high-pitched scream.
* ‘Fuck it, let’s go! I don’t want to be late,’ the man ordered, before turning and racing off south.
* Alice looked at her sister then back at the man. She grabbed Elizabeth by the hand and raced after him, risking a glance back over her shoulder. She immediately knew she shouldn’t have. The first wave of the walking corpses came around the corner where the man had come from and her heart leapt into her throat.
* Alice fixated on the man at the front of the pack. Perhaps ‘man’ was a loose description now.
* Half his face was missing, exposing the whiteness of the jaw and teeth underneath the skin and muscle. Blood dripped from the remains of his dark goatee and covered the front of his white shirt. His head hung to one side and he seemed to be dragging his left foot along with each labored step of his right.
* ‘Don’t turn around sis, just keep your eyes focused on the man in front of us, the man in the waistcoat,’ Alice pleaded, making a bigger push to catch up to him.
Buy Alice Through Bloodstained Glass here... (NOTE: Book is only $0.99)
Amazon
Find Dan Adams here...
Facebook | Twitter | Website
Thank you for joining us here today, Dan Adams! It was a pleasure getting to know you and your story.
ANNOUNCEMENT! Dan Adams will be awarding an eCopy of Alice Through Bloodstained Glass to 3 randomly drawn winners via rafflecopter during the tour! So be sure to leave a comment AND use the Rafflecopter below. Also, visit the other tour stops for a greater chance of winning!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Today we have author R. L. King visiting. Welcome!
What would you like to tell readers about yourself?
* R. L. King is an award-winning author and game freelancer for Catalyst Game Labs, publisher of the popular roleplaying game Shadowrun. She has contributed fiction and game material to numerous sourcebooks, as well as one full-length adventure, "On the Run," included as part of the 2012 Origins-Award-winning "Runners' Toolkit."
* Her first novel in the Shadowrun universe, Borrowed Time, was published in May 2015.
* When not doing her best to make life difficult for her characters, King is a software technical writer for a large Silicon Valley database company. In her spare time (hah!) she enjoys hanging out with her very understanding spouse and her small herd of cats, watching way too much Doctor Who, and attending conventions when she can. She is an Active member of the Horror Writers' Association and the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America, and a member of the International Association of Media Tie-in Writers.
Today R. L. King will be talking about how she handles balancing life and writing.
* Thank you very much for inviting me to your blog! You asked me to talk a bit about how I balance life and writing.
* I consider myself quite lucky that my situation makes it fairly easy for me to keep a balance between my writing and the rest of my life. For one thing, I have a good job as a technical writer that I like a lot, and best of all they let me telecommute! Since I live in the Silicon Valley and the roads are horrible during commute hours, that saves me about two hours a day where I’d otherwise be in the car.
* When I’m working on a project, I tend to write whenever I can: lunch hours, after work, evenings, weekends—and that’s the other area where I’m lucky. I have a very supportive spouse who loves the fact that I write and who’s proud of my accomplishments, so he’s (mostly!) patient with the fact that I can sometimes let other things slide when I’m in the middle of something. There are lots of reasons why he ends up in the dedications of all my novels, and putting up with my cluttered ways is by no means the least of them!
* We don’t have kids, which also makes things easier—I have a lot of respect for parents who manage to fit writing in around the edges of caring for kids, because I can see by watching them just how much work it is. That’s dedication! I don’t think I could manage that. My “kids” are a small herd of feline assistants, who most of the time either don’t bother me when I’m writing or sometimes even hang out with me (my tabby boy is my “mews”—he’ll sit on my desk and put his paws on my shoulders and go to sleep like that, which is nice.)
* I sometimes wonder if I’d be able to keep up the output rate I do if I had to deal with more obstacles in my life, honestly. I know I would still write—I can’t not write—but probably not as much as I do now. I’m in awe of other authors who manage to write as much as they do while juggling far more real-world responsibilities.
* Thank you again for the invitation!
A look into...
~ Blurb ~
* Dr. Alastair Stone, Occult Studies professor, powerful mage, and snarky British expat now based in Palo Alto, California, does his best to keep his academic and social lives separate from his increasingly frequent brushes with various malevolent forces from the supernatural side of the street. A little horror, a little humor, but mostly straight-up urban fantasy.
* Stone and a Hard Place
* Dr. Alastair Stone, Occult Studies professor and powerful mage, has his hands full trying to keep the two sides of his life separate as he trains a new apprentice, deals with a malevolent entity trapped in the basement of a wealthy old woman's massive home, and battles dark mages intent on enslaving it for their own ends.
* Debut novel of the Alastair Stone Chronicles.
* The Forgotten
* Dr. Alastair Stone is back, this time teaming up with Jason Thayer, a young man hunting for his missing sister. Embroiled in a web of odd homeless people, a growing conspiracy, and deadly danger, they soon realize that even if they find Jason's sister, they might not be able to help her.
* What do you do when you discover an extradimensional plot that threatens the safety of the entire world, but you can't tell anyone about it because literally anyone on Earth could be part of it?
* Book Two of the Alastair Stone Chronicles.
~ Excerpt ~
THE FORGOTTEN
* Jason let out a loud sigh, his natural tendency to want to move nearly overwhelming now. “How do we know if it doesn’t work? Do we have to stand in here forever?”
* Stone was about to answer when he stiffened, startled. “It’s back,” he said, pointing at the mirror.
* Jason spun around. Sure enough, the reddish figure had reappeared behind them in the mirror, looking as angry as ever. It said something to Stone in its bones-and-parchment voice, punctuated by many growls and other sounds of displeasure. The mage nodded. “She’s there now, then?” he asked.
* The figure snarled and glared at Stone. It appeared to be contemplating another lunge out into the real world, but eyed the mage warily and decided against it. Instead, it spat at him. The spittle flew out, contacted its own side of the mirror, and ran down toward the table with a sizzle. Then it reached out with a ropy, muscular arm and attempted to sweep all the objects off the table on its side of the mirror. The candles, knife, and chalice went, careening silently over the edge and out of sight. The book remained, and the creature screamed in agony as its arm contacted it.
* “It’s fighting me—” Stone said under his breath. “I’m going to release it now.” He reached up with both hands and put them on the mirror again. Loudly and clearly, he uttered a long sentence in the strange Latin-like language, then pulled his hands back abruptly and clapped them together in a sudden, sharp sound that made Jason jump. He stumbled, reeling back, realizing with horror even as he did so that he had no way of stopping himself. He was going to fall over backwards, taking out a good chunk of the circle when he landed.
* As he went over, he got a last look at the creature’s face. Instead of looking angry, it looked suddenly surprised and triumphant. That lasted about two seconds. It flung itself forward again, clawed hands eagerly reaching in front of it, reaching for Stone, for Jason—
Buy The Alastair Stone Chronicles series here...
Amazon - Stone and a Hard Place (Book 1) | Amazon - The Forgotten (Book 2) | Magespace Press
Find R. L. King here...
Amazon Author Page | Facebook | Twitter | Website
Thank you for joining us here today, R. L. King! It was a pleasure getting to know you and your story.
ANNOUNCEMENT! R. L. King is giving away a $40 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour! So be sure to leave a comment AND use the Rafflecopter below. Also, visit the other tour stops for a greater chance of winning!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Today we have author Elizabeth Einspanier visiting. Welcome!
What would you like to tell readers about yourself?
* Elizabeth Einspanier is the self-published author of the Weird Western novella Sheep’s Clothing and the upcoming sci-fi romance novel Heart of Steel. Her short stories have been published in Down in the Dirt and Dark Fire Fiction. She is a member of the St. Louis Writer’s Guild and an associate member of the Horror Writers of America. She lives in St. Louis, but frequently spends extended periods in worlds of her own creation.
A look into...
~ Blurb ~
* Wolf Cowrie is back in his second adventure! In the Black Hills of the Dakota Territory in 1865, tensions run high between white settlers looking for gold and the Sioux people who consider this region their holy ground. When Wolf is hired to find out what happened to the workers of a mining outpost in the area, the general theory in Goldwater is that they were slaughtered by the Sioux. Wolf discovers something far more sinister lurking in the Black Hills, an ancient evil whose unending hunger drives sane men to ghoulish extremes.
~ Excerpt ~
* Smythe greeted the two men with a horrified look and a startled oath.
* “Yar Doc is dead,” Wolf said. “Again. This time I think he might stay down. Ken we come in?”
* Smythe backed up, still staring. “You’re… you’re covered in…” he managed to squeak.
* “It ain’t mine,” Wolf said, wiping his feet on the welcome mat before walking into the front hall. “Now go get yar master so’s we can give him the good news. And… I need a basin of water to wash up.”
* The servant returned a minute later with a pitcher of water and a basin, and Wolf endeavored to scrub his hands and face until his flesh stopped crawling. He was halfway through when Hartford uttered a syllable that made his blood run cold.
* “Ma’am.”
* Wolf looked up, gory water dripping down his hands and chin, to find Susannah in the doorway. She was staring at him in a mixture of horror and concern, and he was acutely aware of the results of an exploded skull still clinging to him. He swallowed hard, wishing fervently that the ground would just swallow him up right there.
* “Miss Twohill,” he greeted her. “I… I took care of the problem ya had running around. He won’t get any more of the townsfolk. Don’t you worry none.”
* “What… what happened?” she asked. “Are you…? Did he…?”
* “No,” he said. “I ain’t bit. This is just… well... we, ah… blew his... brains out.” He glanced at Hartford for assistance, but the other man was steadfastly looking out the window. The message was clear: he was staying out of this conversation.
Hungry As A Wolf will be available October 31, 2015
Find Elizabeth Einspanier here...
Blog | Amazon Author Page | Google+ | Twitter | Website
Thank you for joining us here today, Elizabeth Einspanier! It was a pleasure getting to know you and your story.
Elizabeth Einspanier is awarding a $25 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn commenter via rafflecopter! So visit the official tour stops for a chance to win!
Those who know me, know I am a very eclectic reader, and I like to highlight a variety of authors on my blog.Today I'm happy to welcome, Graeme Ing, author of Necromancer, a dark fantasy, horror story.
What would you like to tell readers about yourself?
* Graeme Ing engineers original fantasy worlds, both YA and adult, but hang around, and you’ll likely read tales of romance, sci-fi, paranormal, cyberpunk, steampunk or any blend of the above.
* Born in England in 1965, Graeme moved to San Diego, California in 1996 and lives there still. His career as a software engineer and development manager spans 30 years, mostly in the computer games industry. He is also an armchair mountaineer, astronomer, mapmaker, pilot and general geek. He and his wife, Tamara, share their house with more cats than he can count.
What was your inspiration for writing Necromancer?
* I started writing stories even before I became a teenager. I devoured every fantasy and sci-fi book I could find, and not surprisingly my stories were very derivative, and not at all original. Once I started college, studying, career and life got in the way of my writing and I largely put it aside. I wish I hadn’t - I’d always dreamed of becoming an author.
* In my mid-forties, I started dabbling with a story that became my first book, Ocean of Dust, and my passion for storytelling returned in force. It took me 6 years of hard work to write that novel, but then I was hooked! I had a hundred story ideas swimming in my head.
* Necromancer was a book that begged me to write it. I’d always been fascinated by the necromancer character, except that I wanted to flip the usual trope on its head. I’d read so many books about ancient, malevolent wizards poring over forbidden tomes in the dark of night, and chanting lengthy spells to summon evil creatures to help them take over the world. No, I wanted a young hero. I wanted a necromancer that was trying to protect humanity from the monsters that crawl out of the dark.
* Maldren’s voice came to me so easily - a cocky, sarcastic youth who needed a lesson in humility. His dry wit demanded that I write the book 1st person, so that I could capture his deep thoughts on the page, and I think that worked well. Most readers tell me they enjoy the voice of my main character the most.
* I noodled over many plot ideas. I wanted a tale of betrayal; I wanted a secret society; a frightening, seemingly unstoppable creature; and I wanted Maldren’s apprentice to be a feisty girl - that’s Ayla. Yes, I love tension! She’s also more than she appears. That goes for many of my characters actually. It was important to me that the setting oozed with a sinister and foreboding mood, so I created Malkandrah, a city full of narrow alleys and “Dickensian London” tenement buildings.
* The inspiration for Caradan, the insanely powerful and murderous wraith that is central to the plot, came from watching countless Dracula movies, and reading Lovecraft. I wanted a brooding menace that seemed to reach through time itself. But not a vampire. No vampires were staked in the making of this book. :)
* Phyxia, the elfin seer, was a character that came to me late in the process, when I was considering a mentor for my young necromancer hero. She’s aloof and mysterious with frustratingly enigmatic advice, and I love that! I had such fun writing her character.
* So you can see that out of that tiny germ of an idea to write about a necromancer, I layered on material inspired from all sorts of places.
* What of the future? There will be more books about Maldren and Ayla. Not immediately, but I will definitely return to them. I have some neat ideas. I’m also planning another story set in Malkandrah about a swordswoman, and I think it’d be fun if Maldren, Ayla and Phyxia make cameo appearances, don’t you?
* Thanks for hosting me and my book on your blog. :)
A look into the story
~ Blurb ~
* A primeval fiend is loose in the ancient metropolis of Malkandrah, intent on burning it to a wasteland. The city's leaders stand idly by and the sorcerers that once protected the people are long gone.
* Maldren, a young necromancer, is the only person brave enough to stand against the creature. Instead of help from the Masters of his Guild, he is given a new apprentice. Why now, and why a girl? As they unravel the clues to defeating the fiend, they discover a secret society holding the future of the city in its grip. After betrayals and attempts on his life, Maldren has reason to suspect everyone he thought a friend, even the girl.
* His last hope lies in an alliance with a depraved and murderous ghost, but how can he trust it? Its sinister past is intertwined in the lives of everyone he holds dear.
* Can only evil defeat evil?
~ Excerpt ~
Underworld creature
* “This is dangerous,” I whispered. “I know what I’m doing.”
* Did I? I handed her the lightstick and crept forward, nudging loose stones with my boot to clear the way, never taking my eyes from the archway. The room was filled with heaps of rubble. The spectral rope snaked behind a huge fragment of a fallen buttress lodged against one wall.
* Come out, come out, wherever you are.
* I drew a sizable ball of magic from my core and blasted a massive Dispel into the room, bathing the entire area in a purple flash.
* The grak leaped onto the ceiling, sending rubble clattering in all directions. It scuttled toward me, upside down, hundreds of barbs along its ten legs clinging to the bare stone ceiling. A razor-ridged carapace protected an abdomen the size of a barrel, yet the thing stretched eight feet in length, counting its forked, bony tail and oversize head. Two spheres of flylike eyes reflected a distorted version of my look of horror. Saw-toothed pincers clacked repeatedly and its antennae quivered, probing the air in front of it.
* I stumbled backward, my heart thumping in my ears.
* Kristach. I’d hoped it’d be smaller.
Buy Necromancer here...
Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iTunes | Kobo
Find Graeme Ing here...
Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Google+ | Goodreads | Amazon Page
Thank you for joining us here today, Graeme Ing! It was a pleasure getting to know you and your story.
ANNOUNCEMENT! Graeme will be awarding a $20 Amazon GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour! So be sure to visit the official tour stops (find them here: goddessfishpromotions-vbt-necromancer) for a greater chance of winning!
Today we have author Clarissa Johal visiting. Welcome!
What would you like to tell readers about yourself?
* Clarissa Johal has worked as a veterinary assistant, zoo-keeper aide and vegetarian chef. Writing has always been her passion. When she’s not listening to the ghosts in her head, she’s dancing or taking photographs of gargoyles. She shares her life with her husband, two daughters and every stray animal that darkens the doorstep. One day, she expects that a wayward troll will wander into her yard, but that hasn’t happened yet.
What are you going to tell us about today?
* My story Struck.
A look into the story
~ Blurb ~
* The shadows hadn't been waiting.
* The shadows had been invited.
* After a painful breakup, Gwynneth Reese moves in with her best friend and takes a job at a retirement home. She grows especially close to one resident, who dies alone the night of a terrific storm. On the way home from paying her last respects, Gwynneth is caught in another storm and is struck by lightning. She wakes in the hospital with a vague memory of being rescued by a mysterious stranger. Following her release from the hospital, the stranger visits her at will and offers Gwynneth a gift--one that will stay the hands of death. Gwynneth is uncertain whether Julian is a savior or something more sinister... for as he shares more and more of this gift, his price becomes more and more deadly.
~ Excerpt ~
* A bolt of blue-white lightning snaked from the sky and hit the ground in front of her. The thunderclap that shattered the air was deafening. Gwynneth slammed on her brakes and skidded. It was a slow skid, or it seemed to be. Spinning around and around in a circle, she felt like she was watching herself from afar. Time felt like it was slowing. Oddly enough, she found herself wondering if there would be white or red flowers on Hannah’s casket. Or maybe none at all.
* Gwynneth’s face smacked against the steering wheel. Reality hit her along with the pain. She had forgotten to wear her seatbelt. She pressed her fingers lightly to her throbbing temple and winced. “Shit!” Thankfully, she was in one piece. Gwynneth opened the car door. Lightning lit the area and bathed her senses in a flash of blue-white. Icy rain hit her skin. Stupid! You left your jacket back at the funeral home. She ran around the car and checked all the tires. The back one was flat, and on top of that, her car was quite obviously stuck in a ditch. “Great.” She had no spare tire, she knew that for sure. She also had no idea which way led back to the retirement home. Her headlights cast a weak glow through the rain. Soaked to the skin and shivering, Gwynneth peered into the darkness. A muddy road meandered across saturated fields and off into nothingness.
* She sloshed back to her car and quickly turned the engine off. She certainly didn’t need a dead battery on top of a flat tire. “Okay, Gwen,” she said aloud, “you need to figure out what to do.” Rain ran in rivulets down her face and her tie-dyed T-shirt stuck to her like a second skin. I’m a soggy, shivering rainbow. She started to walk and cursed the fact that her cell phone wasn’t charged. Seth was always bugging her about that. “Suck it up, Gwen. It rains in Oregon too.” The inky blackness was disconcerting. Lightning intermittently illuminated the area like the flash of a camera. A snapshot of a road to nowhere. Gwynneth hoped that she was at least walking in the right direction. Her teeth were chattering so hard she was in danger of biting her own tongue. Thunder rolled up her spine and along her scalp like probing fingers.
* Her thoughts wandered back to Hannah. A diary. I wonder what she wrote about? She wouldn’t read it, of course, it was private. I’m sure she just wants me to throw it away so her children don’t either. A pang of loss sliced through the cold and Gwynneth shook it off. They had spent countless hours chatting and Hannah never mentioned a diary. She bit her lip. If she could only turn back time, Gwynneth would have told her how much their time together had meant. Hannah had always encouraged her to start painting again, but also understood why Gwynneth couldn’t.
* A loud ‘crack’ sounded and an iridescent white light surrounded her. Two things registered: a searing pain that ripped down her back and the ground which seemed to be pulled away from her at an alarming speed.
* * * *
* Blackness.
* Pain shot through the back of Gwynneth’s head as she opened her eyes. Somebody was standing over her. She tried to focus on the face, but it hurt too much. A cool hand slid across her forehead. She opened her eyes again.
* Pale, almost white eyes. High cheekbones, aquiline nose, and a well-shaped mouth. Long, white hair. Ageless. Beautiful, like a Michelangelo. All of those details registered with clarity before agony ripped through her body. She arched her back and cried out. The man murmured something into her ear which she couldn’t understand. She could feel the vibration of his voice and his breath on her neck as he gathered her in his arms. She opened her eyes and saw lightning fork to the ground silently behind him. She blacked out again.
Buy Struck here...
Musa Publishing | Amazon | Barnes and Noble
Find Clarissa Johal here...
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon Author page
Thank you for joining us here today, Clarissa Johal! It was a pleasure getting to know you and your story.
ANNOUNCEMENT! Clarissa will be awarding an ecopy of STRUCK to three (3) randomly drawn commenters during the tour! So be sure to visit the official tour stops (find them here: goddessfishpromotions-virtual-book-blast-tour-struck) for a chance to win! [comments on this blog don't count toward the contest.]
Welcome to the middle of the week!
Mid Week Tease is an event where authors are spotlighting a few lines or a paragraph or two from their stories. Readers, you get to sample some delicious snippets and be teased, titillated and tantalized into the weekend!
My contribution to MWT this week is from In the Cards, an erotic horror story I'm working on. Figured another peek into it would be the right thing to share with Halloween just around the corner. This part picks up right after where we left off last week. Enjoy!
* A gray mist-like ribbon weaved through the beaded strings without disturbing them. Trailing the mist was the faint trace of a woman’s laughter which hung in the air like the soft scent of perfume of a passerby.
* She blinked, shook her head, questioning if what she’d heard or seen was real or imagination, wondering if she suddenly had lost her mind.
* Being in the back room no longer seemed like such a hot idea.
* Stop it. You’re creeping yourself out.
* Closing her eyes, she breathed deep, keeping in mind she chose her room’s location for its macabre ambiance. She alone decided to give the space its gothic feel and to dress in dark colored, flowing peasant blouses and skirts to play the part. Clients apparently liked that kind of stuff, and it added to the experience of receiving a reading. But right now…
* Tanner slowly opened her eyes, stared at the table and hovered a hand above the artistic cards. The energy emanating from them was intense. The air broiled with a heavy gloom. She likened the sensation to walking into a room where an argument had just occurred. It was the same oppressive feeling she had the last three times the same cards had appeared in her personal reading.
. . .Visit these other wonderful authors for more MWT goodness!
Welcome to the middle of the week!
Mid Week Tease is an event where authors are spotlighting a few lines or a paragraph or two from their stories. Readers, you get to sample some delicious snippets and be teased, titillated and tantalized into the weekend!
My contribution to MWT this week is from In the Cards, an erotic horror story I'm working on. Figured it'd be the right thing to share with Halloween just around the corner. Enjoy!
* Erotic power. Secrets. Shocking truth. Endings. Discontent.
* Fool.
* “Oh dear Lord. Again?”
* Tanner Stone fidgeted in her chair and stared down at the table. The faint yellowed light of a desk lamp cast a weak glow in the small crimson walled room bordered near the ceiling with frilly gold stenciling. A sweet, sensual aroma from some sandalwood incense filled the stuffy air.
* Fourteen tarot cards with intricate, colorful designs created a brilliant cross and fan pattern on the deep purple cloth covering the table.
* Devil. Tower. Hanged Man.
* In a mix of anxiety and disbelief, she gazed at the cards in no particular order while their meanings played on a continuous loop in her mind. Movement. Structures of lies. Puppet master. Suspicions.
* Three of Swords. Four of Cups. Moon. Death.
* The walls seemed to close in on her. She swiped a shaky hand over her face. Her damp palm moistened her nose and lips. Her gaze flitted from the tarot layout to the wood-bead curtained doorway. The crescent moon and stars design formed by the way the cream and black colored orbs hung didn’t waver. The air conditioning had clicked off while she’d been shuffling the cards, she reminded herself. Her older sister, Ember, was still with her client in her room at the front of the boutique. Their cousin and her best friend, Rochelle, manned the checkout counter. That left her alone in the back of the shop at the end of the dark hallway. No air currents wafted from the vents or from people wandering by. The smoke from her sandalwood incense rose in a steady stream.
* Black shadows played in the room’s corners, clinging, crawling, devouring the accent tables and shelves that displayed her crystals, pictures and other divining tools. The silk scarves she’d hung from the ceiling and attached to the walls to give the space character and make it feel more mystical floated like inky, slithering spirits above her head, ready to sweep down at a moment’s notice to claim her. Enslave her like the Devil card suggested. Cold tingles slipped down her spine, branched out and wrapped her in a chilly embrace.
Come back next week for another look into In the Cards!
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Today we have horror author Brad C. Hodson visiting. Originally from the dark hills of Appalachia, BRAD C. HODSON is a screenwriter and author living in Los Angeles. He is a history buff, enjoys lifting heavy things, and likes writing about himself in the third person.
So, Brad, what inspired you to become a writer?
I honestly couldn’t tell you. My earliest memories are of reading and writing. I like to quote Byron on this one. When Shelley asked him, “What makes you write?” Byron replied: “My inability to prevent it.”
When did you attempt your first story? What length was it? What's become of it?
The first story I remember was some kind of detective story involving friends in my second grade class working for a detective agency I owned. I remember it had something to do with a girl that was found dead hanging from a noose and a big shootout in a warehouse with 1930’s era gangsters. I think I was seven. I have no idea where that is today, but would love to find it.
How many stories did you complete before you sold your first?
When I actually started taking writing seriously, I think I sold my fourth or fifth story. I had a little jaunt where I left prose writing and pursued stand-up comedy, improve, sketch, and acting. I saw a lot of things I’d written staged and then, eventually, I realized I hated being in the spotlight and hated rehearsing. But I loved writing material. This led me back to writing fiction around the time I moved to Los Angeles. Being in LA definitely helped, too, as you can’t throw a rock without hitting someone whose business card reads: “Actor / Screenwriter / Stand-up Comic / Musician.” Rather than fall in with an army of “Jack-of-all-trades, master of none,” I dove headfirst into literary pursuits and have never looked back.
What are the best and worst pieces of writing advice you ever received?
* The single worst piece of writing I’ve ever heard is that anyone can do it. This is not only insulting and infuriating to anyone has spent the time and effort to hone their craft, it also implies that no one needs to spend the time and effort necessary to become a good writer (let alone a great one). Writing is hard. Damn hard. Any yahoo with an idea can spill it onto the page, but that’s not writing.
* As for the best advice, I guess it would be the opposite of the “anybody can do it” myth. When I first read authors and heard others speak who talked about the craft, about eliminating excess, about character development and engaging dialogue and the musical qualities of language, I took my first real step on the path to be a writer. Talent alone only gets you so far. You have to constantly be learning, growing, advancing. Especially in this e-book self-publishing environment where there are literally tens of thousands of books released every year. How do you set yourself apart? By at least trying to be better than 90% of your competition. I may have failed at actually doing so every time out of the gate, I don’t know. That’s the reader’s decision to make. But what I do know is that I try and, by virtue of trying, I’ve gotten much farther along than if I just sat back and rested on pure talent.
The book you’re promoting, is it a stand-alone story or part of a series? If it’s part of a series, please list the order the books need to be read in for maximum reading enjoyment.
* DARLING is currently a stand-alone. I’ve tinkered with the idea of revisiting Raynham Place, maybe as a collection of short stories, but for now she’s all by her lonesome.
* As for the idea… I’m originally from East Tennessee. The area is overflowing with dark folklore and it has a real history to match. I wanted to explore some of these tales. At the same time, I’ve always wanted to write a haunted house story. So I threw all of these things into a blender together, added a dash of something original, and hit the “High Speed” button. In the end, DARLING isn’t a haunted house story at all. But it feels like one for a good portion, hopefully taking the reader along a familiar and comfortable (and dark and frightening) path before twisting the road in another direction entirely.
*** Now for some fun info… ***
What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?
Chocolate Peanut Butter. It’s the foundation of my marriage.
Are you a morning person or night owl?
I wish I was a morning person. I love early morning, the way the entire world seems to stretch and yawn and slowly start its day. I get so much more done when I get up early. Unfortunately, I’m a night owl. My body wants to sleep late and stay up until 3am. This is why I drink…
If you were stranded on a desert island and were only allowed to have five modern conveniences with you, what would they be?
A Kindle loaded with thousands of books, an iPod with thousands of songs, a refrigerator, crates of matches, and a speed boat to get the hell off the island. Hey, you didn’t say I couldn’t…
*** About Brad’s book… ***
~ About DARLING ~
Raynham Place has been home to a number of mysterious occurrences. From its start as a battlefield through its time as a tuberculosis hospital and even in its current incarnation as an apartment complex, the grounds here have been awash in blood and instability. When two friends decide to move in to Raynham together, a wound that they share opens wide and threatens their sanity. But they’re not alone. Something is off here at Raynham, something that goes beyond the local legends of ghosts and serial killers and Black Hounds, something that gets inside of everyone who ever lives here. When a sacrifice is made, the first freely given in ages, the truth behind Raynham’s legends finally surfaces and the building fills to bursting with all the dreams of Hell…
~ Praise for DARLING ~
One of the creepiest settings I’ve ever experienced…DARLING is deeply unsettling, in your face horror.
— Nate Kenyon, Award-winning author of SPARROW ROCK and DIABLO: THE ORDER
Hodson delivers with passion and intensity.
— Scott Nicholson, LIQUID FEAR and THE RED CHURCH
Have you had the pleasure of meeting Brad C. Hodson’s work yet? His short stories in HORROR FOR GOOD and John Skipp’s WEREWOLVES anthology were amazing, and now here comes his first novel, DARLING. We should all hate him. Buy the books and read them first…then hate him.
— Lisa Morton, Bram Stoker Award winning author of CASTLE OF LOS ANGELES and THE HALLOWEEN ENCYCLOPEDIA
You know that feeling you get as the Bigwheel clicks slowly down the hall? Something awful is waiting just around the corner and your skin crawls with dread because you’re too scared to look away. Well, Brad Hodson knows how to scare you like that. Weird and unsettling, but hauntingly perceptive, Hodson’s DARLING is a rare accomplishment, a finely-honed study in mounting tension that keeps readers turning pages despite their fear. This is how you do it, folks. Hodson knows how to deliver the scares, and he’s got a nightmare just for you.
— Joe McKinney, Bram Stoker Award-winning author of FLESH EATERS and DEAD CITY
DARLING was a great read. It had all the elements I enjoy in a horror novel and Hodson has succeeded where many fail in that he’s managed to actually make it creepy. Like comedy, creepy (real creepy) is harder than it looks, but DARLING raised the small hairs on my arms a few times. Brad has a knack to unnerve and I’m officially a Hodson fan. I eagerly await his next book. Excellent debut.
— Michael Louis Calvillo, acclaimed author of I WILL RISE, AS FATE WOULD HAVE IT, and LAMBS
Bong, bong, bong. Quasimodo, does that ring a bell? Of course! How about Brad Hodson, does that ring a bell? Uh-huh, well check out my enthusiastic reaction to DARLING. The straight forward, reader accessible prose, with no downfield literary juking reminds me a lot of Richard Laymon. Simple, right? Uh-uh, don’t be fooled. Accomplished always looks easy. Hodson gets his simple effects by using precise language, including always picking the exact verb not the first serviceable, which eliminates the need for lots of adjectives and adverbs. His fast-paced plotting with no fluff makes for an engaging and compelling story arc, with great closure, perfect last line. Snag a copy of DARLING on my recommendation, read it, and then: Bong, bong, bong Brad Hodson, does that ring a bell? You bet your sweet ass!
— Gene O’Neill, Bram Stoker Award winning writer and author of IN DARK CORNERS, THE BLUE HERON, and THE BURDEN OF INDIGO
***Buy Brad's book here***
Bad Moon Books
Amazon
***Find Brad here***
Website
Facebook
Twitter
Amazon Author Page
Thank you for joining us here today, Brad! It was a pleasure getting to know you and your work.
Today we have author Paul Hinton visiting. Paul Hinton is a 49 year old English Golf Professional working in Wallasey where he lives with his wife Jenny and his three daughters Sara, Samantha and Shannon. He started writing as a hobby to fill his time during the long snow filled winters while working abroad but soon discovered a passion for story telling.
So, Paul, what inspired you to become a writer?
My wife. She got tired of me always talking about writing a book and insisted I either sit down and write or shut up.
When did you attempt your first story? What length was it? What's become of it?
Way back in 2006. I wrote it in pencil on A4 paper. It was about 200 sides long. After it was finished, I realised I couldn’t do anything with it so I rewrote it on the computer. Unfortunately, I was pretty dumb in those days, at least in relation to computers. As I finished each chapter the second time, I printed them out and erased the memory. During the process, the story obviously changed but, at the end of the day, I still didn’t have a copy on hard drive. That meant sitting in front of the computer yet again only the second time I saved it which was just as well as the story continued to develop over the following several months. During the process, the book turned into a fourteen hundred page trilogy, the first part of which has been published.
How many stories did you complete before you sold your first?
I was on my fifth novel by the time the first one was published.
What are the best and worst pieces of writing advice you ever received?
Best: Never stop trying! Worst: Give it up, stick to Golf.
The book you’re promoting, is it a stand-alone story or part of a series? If it’s part of a series, please list the order the books need to be read in for maximum reading enjoyment.
The Reaper is a standalone story with the option to continue. Whether it does obviously depends on how it’s received and what my publisher thinks. What sparked the idea is quite simple. I remember watching several news reports at the time about injustice and thought at the time wouldn’t it be nice if victims had another option. At that moment the Reaper was basically born.
*** Now for some fun info… ***
Are you a cat, dog or both kind of person?
As we have three cats and a dog, I have to admit to being a cat and dog person although two of the cats in question don’t really come near me.
Would you/have you own(ed) a snake or some other exotic pet?
We also have two chinchillas sharing our bedroom. Seeing as they are night active, sleeping can be difficult sometimes but we utilise the time reading and writing.
If you were stranded on a desert island and were only allowed to have five modern conveniences with you, what would they be?
Stranded on a desert island I would take a generator, a full fuel tanker, a television, a dvd player and a microwave.
*** About Paul’s book The Reaper… ***
~ Blurb ~
Charles Osborne is a happily married, highly successful businessman. Normally speaking his life should be perfect but a twist of fate followed by a miscarriage of justice has forced him into a seemingly never ending fight against the Consortium of lawyers that are apparently controlling the justice system. He has adapted a secret identity in an attempt to keep his family safe, a character that is feared by both the lawyers involved and the criminals they represent… The Reaper.
~ A brief look into The Reaper ~
* Charles Osborne is happily married with two wonderful daughters. He owns a very successful Broker business in London that has made him rich beyond normal expectations. Normally speaking his life should be perfect but a tragic miscarriage of justice - involving the deaths of his parents - has persuaded him to invest his time and considerable wealth in fighting a seemingly never ending battle against a local firm of lawyers - The Consortium. The immoral lawyers that work for the company are prepared to go to any lengths for the good of their clients - as long as the price is right. This fact has resulted in several guilty parties escaping punishment for crimes they are guilty of - a fact that Charles is unable to accept.
* Well aware that his identity must remain hidden, Charles has created the Reaper, an unforgiving figure that represents the consequences for anybody that dares to cheat justice. Over the years he has gathered a group of specialists around him that support his efforts - Jerry, personnel and security - Sid, computer expert and hacker extraordinaire - Mr Smith, judicial expert - Peter, weapons and specialist equipment - Mary, medical expert and Francois, Interpol contact. After his team have confirmed the accused is guilty and the victim’s families have agreed to the intervention, the Reaper concocts a punishment that fits the crime and visits the guilty party. It has become a ritual that has had a positive effect on the criminal underground controlling parts of the city before the unrelenting vigilante appeared on the scene. Because of this, the police have more often than not turned a blind eye but pressure is slowly rising for them to act. The Consortium themselves are trying desperately to find the man behind the Reaper, driven on by the brutal criminals that secretly own the law firm.
***Buy Paul's book here***
Bad Moon Books
***Find Paul here...***
Facebook
paul_hinton01@yahoo.de
Already published: The Undiscovered Paul's The Undiscovered
Already published: Rammy Paul's Rammy
Coming soon: The Splinter Paul's The Splinter
Coming soon: The Pack Paul's The Pack
Coming soon: Splitters Paul's Splitters
Thank you for joining us here today, Paul! It was a pleasure getting to know you and your work.
