Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Sealed in Sin Guest Blog


Series: The Vessel Trilogy, Book Two

Print Length: 276 pages
Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Release Date: April 21, 2015

Tag Line: Sometimes sin looks an awful lot like heaven.

Full Description: One demon prince may be festering in the bowels of the soul eater Cocytus, but Genevieve’s troubles are far from over. Prince Bamal, demon lord of New York City, still wants her. But this time, he wants her alive, to control her inherent power as a Vessel of Light. 

With Jude Delacroix off searching for the prophecy, Thomas—a guardian angel with sea-green eyes and an aura of winter woods—steps into the gap, offering her the power to protect herself.

Yet she hesitates, for the transfer of that power comes through a kiss. While Gen’s love for Jude is true, Thomas stirs a desire where there should be none. Thomas also knows Jude’s darkest secret and plans to use it, if necessary, to win Gen for his own.

While her Vessel power grows and more demon spawn creep from every dark corner of the world, one thing is certain—the Great War between the angels and demons is quickly approaching. And Gen is in a race against time to awaken her full power before the storm breaks.
Warning: Contains a demon hunter with dark secrets, a sexy angel with ulterior motives, and demonic creatures running amok.

Buy Links:

Author Bio:
Juliette calls lush, moss-laden Louisiana home where the landscape curls into her imagination, creating mystical settings for her stories. She has a B.A. in creative writing from Louisiana State University, a M.Ed. in gifted education, and was privileged to study under the award-winning author Ernest J. Gaines in grad school. Her love of mythology, legends, and art serve as constant inspiration for her works. From the moment she read JANE EYRE as a teenager, she fell in love with the Gothic romance--brooding characters, mysterious settings, persevering heroines, and dark, sexy heroes. Even then, she not only longed to read more novels set in Gothic worlds, she wanted to create her own.

Author Links:

“Hiiii, Juuude.” Mindy actually cooed his name as she crossed into the living room right before the man himself waltzed into my kitchen.

“Hello, Mindy.” As always, he sounded dark and rough, which did strange things to my insides.

Apparently, Dave let him in. Not that a door could or would stop Jude Delacroix from going wherever he damn well pleased. Still, it was nice when he pretended to be human, knocking and stuff, rather than appearing out of nowhere and scaring the bejeezus out of me. He had to put on the whole I’m-normal-and-walk-through-doors routine at my apartment when Mindy was home.

The moment he entered the room, all my senses rose to full alert. The man packed enough heat and power in his aura to melt a girl into jelly. A mere glance from his dark eyes or slight touch from rough hands, and I was lost.

I focused on flipping the pancakes on the stove, still trying to figure out how to tell him about our trip to the House of Hades, the near-miss with Gorham, and the brief and strange meeting with my guardian angel. Kat preferred asking forgiveness rather than permission, or just omitting the admission of any sins altogether. But I had trouble lying, though I seemed to do it often as of late. I especially had trouble lying to Jude.

“Want some brinner?” I asked, plopping another dollop of butter in the pan.

“Brinner? What might that be?” He leaned with his back against the counter next to the stove, splaying one huge hand on the countertop, watching me pour the batter into the pan. How did this man make watching me cook a sexy thing?

“You’ve never heard of brinner?” I glanced at the door to make sure Mindy was out of earshot. “For someone who’s been alive nearly two thousand years, you don’t know a whole lot.”

He slid a finger down my forearm. I nearly dropped the spatula. He leaned closer, his chest brushing my shoulder, voice dropping several decibels. “Educate me.” And just like that, my heart slammed into my rib cage, my thoughts scattering to the wind. I stared at him, knowing my eyes were no longer hungry for pancakes. He pressed warm lips, a feather-soft kiss, to the slope between my neck and shoulder. “Genevieve?” Another press of lips higher up my neck, melting me into goo.

“Hm?” Eyes closed, I welcomed a third kiss just under my jaw.

“Your brinner is burning.”

“Oh, dammit!”

I snapped open my eyes, grabbed the smoking pan and thrust it under the water faucet in the sink. A hissing crackle spit up more smoke.

“There goes brinner.”

“You’ve made more than enough already.”

He motioned to the ten-high stack with a smirk. I couldn’t even think about eating now. Not after that kiss. And not with this guilt weighing me down.

Something registered in his gaze. He reached out his hand.

“Come here.”

From his expression, I wasn’t sure if he planned to give me a hug or a spanking. I wouldn’t mind either. Taking his hand, I let him pull me into his arms.

Slipping through the door just as two red-eyed demons in cargo pants and muscle shirts rounded the corner, I sped down the hall in the opposite direction, my boots echoing on the stone floor. Two sets of boots pounded behind me, drawing closer. I skated around another corner, hoping to find a stairwell or elevator, smacking right into a wall.

No. Not a wall. A man. Flamma. My VS zinged to new heights as a signature of downy snow and windswept hills washed over me. His hands wrapped my forearms in a firm grip.

I pushed my palms against his rock-hard chest, ready to blast him with VS power.

“Wait! I’ll take you to safety, Genevieve. Hold still.”

His voice, a sonorous melody, rolled in a deep, languid baritone. I froze. Trapped in sea-green eyes and powerful arms, I was taken into the Void.

My breath sucked right out of me as we fell through the darkness. The second time in a matter of minutes I’d been sifted away by a stranger.

The moment my world righted, I pushed out of his hold several paces away. He’d brought us to a park. A pond shaded by orange-gold trees with skyscrapers towering in the distance. Central Park.

I glared at the stranger and tried to catch my breath, drawing the dagger from the sheath sewn into my boot. He stood nearly as tall as Jude, similar in build but leaner. Black hair hung in staggered waves halfway to his shoulders. He regarded me with startling eyes—deep cobalt blue, the color of a glacier buried and untouched for centuries. Like white marble, his jaw, face and neck were sculpted in perfect, harmonious lines. His captivating signature circled me like a wintry halo.

My dad had splurged the Christmas after I’d turned sixteen, taking us skiing in White Fish, Montana. At the tip-top of the slope, the evergreens were completely covered in new-fallen snow, sculpting white ghosts out of the landscape. The wind blew snow crystals in whirls—a pristine world of enchanting beauty. The air sparkled with iridescent ice-dust, like a fairy land. This image pushed to the forefront as I backed another foot away, gazing at my frost-and-snow rescuer.

“Who are you?”

His eyes flicked to the weapon in my hand, but he made no move toward me. Though we were quite far from park-goers and anyone who could help me if I cried out, I felt safer in this public place.

“I’m here to help you.”

That voice again, deep and mesmerizing.

“That’s not an answer.” Definitely Flamma, but which kind. Naughty or nice? I couldn’t tell. “How do you know me?”

His smile widened, making my pulse pound faster.

“I’ve known you a long time. I’ve watched over you your entire life.”

I examined him more closely. His power lapped against my VS like ocean waves, a gentle suction with each ripple before washing over me in a gentle caress. Though his power didn’t scream its presence or beat against mine, he was potent all the same. The perfect stoic expression, the controlled, straight-backed stance, the undeniable, breathtaking beauty. He exuded the essence of—

“Holy crap.” I gulped. “You’re an angel.”

His smile widened, his beauty brightening into something painful. I lowered my trembling hand, sheathing my dagger. An angel who’d watched over me my whole life.

“Not just any angel…my, my guardian angel. Aren’t you?”

A dip of his strong chin.

While he didn’t emanate the same pulse-pounding aura of Uriel, the Archangel who created the Dominus Daemonum, he carried a similar cast of heavenly essence. He tucked his hands in his pants pockets, appearing completely harmless. But I wasn’t fooled. Even angels could be dangerous.

“Have you never sensed my presence?” he asked, eyes steady on mine.

“No. Not really.” I remembered all the near misses in my life, when I somehow avoided danger or trouble by an internal niggling. Was that him? “Why have you never shown yourself before?”

“Guardians tend to stay in the shadows.” My self-proclaimed guardian, Jude, might not like him staking a claim on that position. “And would you have believed me if I’d ever told you of my existence? Before your twentieth birthday, that is.”

On my twentieth birthday, I’d been attacked and nearly strangled to death until Jude came along, did his voodoo mojo and ripped a bony demon from inside my would-be killer. That night changed everything, including my belief in angels and demons walking the earth.

“No.” I smiled. “I guess not.”

My cell phone vibrated in my back pocket. I answered.

“Where the hell are you!” screamed Kat.

“Um, Central Park.” The angel gave me a slight nod. “There’s a pond and a picnic area. I’m looking directly at the Empire State Building in the distance.”

“Stay put. Dorian and I will be there in two.”

I tucked the phone in my jacket.

Wind blew over the water, rippling the surface. My hair had come loose in the melee, dark wisps crossing my face. Pool-green eyes followed the strands, then my hand when I tucked them behind my ear. His keen observation transformed a simple moment into something that made me breathless. He’d moved closer, within a yard, and I hadn’t noticed. I stepped back.

“Stay where you are.”

“What are you afraid of?” His voice dropped, not lower but deeper, like it was pulling on something hidden within me. My blood pumped faster. “That I’ll sift you away somewhere you don’t want to go? I could’ve done that already. And I told you. I’ve watched over you all of your life, kept you safe from harm so that you could reach maturity.”

“You almost bungled that. I’ve been nearly killed like a hundred times.”

“Nearly.” He shrugged. “The demon hunter was there. Most of the time.”

My heart plummeted into my stomach. With those last three words, I realized this angel knew about Danté. Why hadn’t he saved me then? Before Danté had invaded my soul.

“It would be much easier for you to escape your enemies if you had the power to sift.”

“Don’t I know it,” I snapped back.

He smiled, then angled his head as if listening for something.

“I must go.” He reached out a hand for me to shake. I eyed him with suspicion. “It’s a friendly gesture, Genevieve. One does this in greeting and parting. Sometimes a person even says thank you when one saves another from harm.”

My VS tingled, recognizing his power, finding no danger. I stepped forward, holding his gaze as I took his hand. I gasped. The second our hands made contact, a whisper of winter wind caressed my body from head to toe, but I felt no cold, only a sensual embrace tingling along my skin. My knees nearly buckled.

“Th-thank you,” I stammered.

Edging close, still holding my hand, he trailed his gaze from my eyes to my hair, down my cheek to my parted lips, agape from the strange sensation of his touch, before he met my eyes once more.

“You’re more than welcome.” He smiled, probably at my dumbfounded expression. “Until we meet again, dear Genevieve.”

He sifted out, leaving me with the scent of snow and mountain air.

Saturday, February 28, 2015

Cover Reveal: The Griffin's Secret by Cate Masters

The Griffin’s Secret
by Cate Masters

In this contemporary re-telling of Grimm’s classic fairy tale The Griffin, two people must risk everything to free themselves from the invisible prisons that keep them from love…

Jackson Grant had it all—the girl he loved, his Harley, and his guitar. Until a tragic accident stole it all away. Now, more than scars and a tattoo remain. Jackson has a secret. Cursed by his dead girlfriend’s mother, he can never fall in love again or his beloved will die. With his heart on lockdown, he keeps to himself—until a roadie gig with Malcontent, the world’s most popular band, entwines his fate with sweet, wounded Layla’s…

Music is what Layla lives for. She has no choice. She’s bound by magic to serve Malcontent, cursed to propel them to stardom with her musical powers. Then Jackson appears and gives her hope that he’s the hero who will save her. A reluctant hero, yet one she can’t resist. But freedom will come at price—and who will pay…?

The faint scent of an exotic flower on an ocean breeze hit him the second the girl walked in. Every part of his body stood at attention, taking in the way she moved. The curve of her slender hips. Those long legs…they’d wrap around the back seat of his Harley perfectly. Wrap around him perfectly, too.

A flip of her onyx-silk hair sent it behind her shoulder as she sat opposite. “Who are you?”

Good question. He’d been seeking the same answer for too long. “Jackson Grant.”

Her eyes darkened, deep brown to charcoal diamonds. “Why are you here?”

“For the roadie job.” Was she the first gatekeeper? A gate she kept locked, he’d bet. Or maybe she was another test. Kev had warned him there’d be tricky questions and to answer straight. Something told him she asked out of curiosity.

“You think you’re up for such a demanding job?”

Again, the impression hit him she was making these questions up as she went along, ad-libbing off his replies.

He’d play. “I’m strong. Dependable. I follow orders, keep my head down, and stay out of trouble.” And he liked his privacy.

Her features smoothed, hard as porcelain. “Do you.” Not a question.

He’d answer anyway. “Yes.”

Did disappointment curl her lip? Or boredom? Why did he care? If he could, he’d blast out of there before his own curiosity got the better of him. Already, she’d gotten under his skin. Crazy how the tat no longer singed him, but now twisted like a trapped animal.

With a plastic smile, she batted her eyes, and the false flirtation didn’t suit her. “So. You’re a yes-man.”

The way she said it, he’d be no different than any other roadie serving the great rock star, Malcolm Fetterman. Fine by Jackson. The less he stood out, the better. Except for her. He hated to think of her glossing over his presence, but that would be better, too.

He drummed his fingers on the table. “I need the job.” Where the hell was Malcolm anyway? The longer he stayed with her, the more he wanted to. Definitely couldn’t afford that kind of trouble. He glanced at the open door, hoping he wouldn’t have to go through the same interrogation again.

She tapped the table. “You’d have to travel constantly.”

“Perfect.” No different than his usual way of life. Except this time, his paycheck would remain steady.

“You wouldn’t miss your family?” She dipped her head. “Your girlfriend?”

He curled his lip this time. No one’s business but his. He shifted in his seat. “They’re better off.”

Her brows knit, and then her expression became unreadable as the Sphinx. “The hours are long, and the equipment’s heavy. Everything has to be exactly as Mal orders.”

Did he imagine it, or had she winced at her own words?

He shrugged. “It’s his show.” Someday, Jackson would have his own roadies. And would treat them much better than Malcolm Fetterman did, if the stories proved true.

Her steely focus cut into him. “Mal doesn’t hire musicians except for those in the band. And there aren’t any openings in Malcontent.”

He didn’t allow himself to blink. “No problem.”

“But you play, don’t you?” Her gaze dropped to his callused fingertips drumming the tabletop.

He drew his hand down. “No.” A necessary lie. She might suspect, but couldn’t possibly know the truth. Almost like leaving one of his limbs behind, he’d locked his Fender in storage in New Jersey with his paltry possessions for six months. By then, he’d know whether this gig worked out.

The Griffin’s Secret
Reimagined fairy tale/fantasy romance novella
ISBN: 9781616507053
Publish Date: 5/12/2015
About 33,000 words

About the Author
Cate Masters has made beautiful central Pennsylvania her home, but she’ll always be a Jersey girl at heart. When not spending time with her dear hubby, she can be found in her lair, concocting a magical brew of contemporary, historical, and fantasy/paranormal stories with her cat Chairman Maiow and dog Lily as company. Look for her at http://catemasters.blogspot.com and in strange nooks and far-flung corners of the web.

Contact Details
Twitter:  @CateMasters

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Cover Reveal: Erin Fanning's Blood Stitches

Blood Stitches

By Erin Fanning

Coming May 12, 2015 from Lyrical Press

Love and danger intertwine…


It’s called El Toque de la Luna—The Touch of the Moon. At least that’s how nineteen-year-old Gabby’s older sister, Esperanza, refers to the magical powers she inherited from their Mayan ancestors. Esperanza says women with El Toque weave magic into their knitting, creating tapestries capable of saving—or devastating—the world. Gabby thinks Esperanza is more like touched in the head—until a man dressed like a candy corn arrives at their Seattle home on Halloween. But “Mr. C” is far from sweet…

Soon, Gabby and her almost-more-than-friend, Frank, find themselves spirited away to a demon ball, complete with shape shifters—and on a mission to destroy Esperanza’s tapestries before they cause an apocalyptic disaster… And before it’s too late to confess their true feelings for each other.


A gust of wind scattered leaves across the University of Seattle campus. My hair tangled over my face. New contacts tortured my eyes, and books weighed down my backpack. It didn’t matter. A tornado could have snatched me up. As long as it carried me home and put an end to the anniversary of the worst day of my life.

“Watch out, Gabby.” My best friend Frank thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his pinstriped suit. “We’re being followed by a giant candy corn.”

“Giant candy corn? Yeah, right.” If I turned around, Frank would laugh and say, “Gotcha”, or some other dorky thing. The mind-numbing boredom of Calculus I, our last class of the day, always set Frank off, making him zanier than usual.

“I mean it. We’ve got a candy corn on our tail.” Frank whistled a Lester Ruben song as he sauntered ahead.

“Okay, okay. Let me see this Halloween wonder.” If I didn’t give in, Frank would never leave me alone. I whirled, ready to hear Frank’s laugh, and almost ran into a man. His face glowed orange, like someone who’d spent too much time in a tanning booth, and he wore a white cap pulled down to his ears. A yellow scarf hid his neck and chin. For once, Frank wasn’t kidding. The man resembled a giant candy corn.

Shredded paper and a postage stamp poked out of his scarf, and a moon decorated an edge of the knitting, like one of my older sister Esperanza’s creations. It didn’t seem possible, but no one else I knew added garbage and a signature moon to their knitting. A wool coat covered the rest of him, except his face and steel-tipped boots.

“Sorry.” I jumped back.

Frank’s chuckles mixed with squirrels chattering in a nearby tree. Drizzle moistened my forehead, and a cold dampness seeped into my bones. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion, like watching Esperanza unravel her knitting one stitch at a time to fix a mistake.

About the author:

Erin Fanning spends her summers on a northern Michigan lake, where her imagination explores the water and dense forest for undiscovered creatures. In the winter, she migrates to central Idaho, exchanging mountain bikes and kayaks for skis and snowshoes. She’s the author of Mountain Biking Michigan, as well as numerous articles, essays, and short stories. 


Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Cover Reveal: Deception by A.S. Fenichel

Book Two
The Demon Hunters

Genre: Paranormal Historical Romance
Publisher: Lyrical Press/Kensington Publishing
Date of Publication: July 7, 2015
Available for Pre-order:


When Demons threaten Regency London, only a Lady can stop them.

Lillian Dellacourt is beautiful, refined and absolutely lethal. She’s also the most feared and merciless demon hunter in The Company. She’s come a long way from the penniless seamstress’s daughter sold to the highest bidder, and it wasn’t by trusting a man, let alone an exiled Marquis with more on his mind than slaying the hellspawn . . .

For Dorian Lambert, Marquis de Montalembert, being sent to keep track of Lillian is no mean task. He’s wanted the fiery vixen since he first heard of her five years ago. But wooing the lady while fighting the demon uprising is no easy feat, especially when the lady’s tongue is as sharp as the Japanese sai blades she favors for eviscerating the spawn of hell.

These two will have to learn to trust each other fast, because the demon master is back, and he’s planning to turn Edinburgh into a living hell…

Code for Rafflecopter giveaway:

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/bb0ebfb10/" rel="nofollow" data-raflid="bb0ebfb10" data-theme="classic" data-template="" id="rcwidget_fxvb3y95">a Rafflecopter giveaway

About the Author:

A.S. Fenichel gave up a successful career in New York City to follow her husband to Texas and pursue her lifelong dream of being a professional writer. She’s never looked back.

A.S. adores writing stories filled with love, passion, desire, magic and maybe a little mayhem tossed in for good measure. Books have always been her perfect escape and she still relishes diving into one and staying up all night to finish a good story.

Multi-published in erotic paranormal, contemporary and historical romance, A.S. is the author of the Mayan Destiny series, Christmas Bliss and many more. With several books currently contracted to multiple publishers, A.S. will be bringing you her brand of romance for many years to come.

Originally from New York, she grew up in New Jersey, and now lives in the East Texas with her real life hero, her wonderful husband. When not reading or writing she enjoys cooking, travel, history, and puttering in her garden.

Find A.S. Fenichel

Friday, November 28, 2014

3-Day Christmas Giveaway

Hi everyone! I'm participating in this 3-day Christmas giveaway. If you'd like to win some hot books to keep you warm this winter, check it out. :-)

The 1st list of erotic romance and secret giveaways on November 24th!
The 2nd  list of erotic romance and secret giveaways on December 1st!
The 3rd  list of erotic romance and secret giveaways on December 8th!
Winners announced on December 22, 23 and 24th!

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

A Publishing Milestone

This month, I finally achieved something I'd been wanting to do for the past two years. I self-published my first collection of short dark suspense stories on Amazon, both for Kindle and the upcoming print edition. Malice and Mayhem: Tales of the Macabre are eleven stories, five previously published, that deal with how strong emotions like jealousy, obsession, and vengeance can often have detrimental, even deadly consequences.

I noticed that many of my characters, both in my short stories and in my longer works, are often seeking vengeance or are obsessed with wanting something, no matter how dangerous it might be. In "Obsession," Corinne cannot get over the fact her dead ex-boyfriend had a girlfriend before her, and she's determined to use necromancy to find out who he loved more. In "Family Tradition," a cursed kris (wavy dagger) forces a young man to commit murder, and he finds getting rid of the weapon is a lot harder than he expected.

These stories are influenced by the dark suspense shows of my past, namely Thriller, Night Gallery, and Alfred Hitchcock Presents. The idea is not to slather the stories in gore for the sake of scaring readers, but to leave them feeling uneasy. (Although there are some graphic descriptions, the overall rating for the book would probably be 14 and up.)

You can find out more about Malice and Mayhem and read the entire first short story, "It's in Your Blood" by clicking here.

Sometimes, there's truth to the warning, "Be careful what you wish for..."

Monday, October 27, 2014

Kicking It "Olde School": Guest Post by Selah Janel

Olde School by Selah Janel
Book One of the Kingdom City Chronicles

The empty word document dared me, goaded me, sneered at me. Especially that little blinking cursor. You’d think that a ‘write whatever you want for a guest post’ invitation would be easy, but that little cursor was berating me with every flicker, I just knew it. 

“I cannot fathom why this is still a problem for you,” a dry, slightly accented voice observed. Fabulous. Just what I needed.

“I’m still not talking to you.”

The small, blue-green songbird with the adorable feathered topknot lighted on the couch arm beside me. “I apologized for imposing on your convention—”

“You did not!”

He shrugged his wings. “I meant to, more or less.”

“You used my toiletries…my toothbrush…my loofah!” I growled, unable to look at him. There were just some things an author had no business sharing with her muse and I drew the line at my deodorant. 

Clyde, better known as one of the characters from my book, had somehow cheated fictional boundaries, made it into the real world, and declared himself my muse…as well as my roommate and PR manager for Imaginarium. I was still recovering from the experience.

“I needed to be presentable,” he retorted.

“Uh-huh. And what about how you screwed with my GPS on the way home? No one needs to drive by that many liquor stores and ice cream shops—”

“You would not let me drive!” he complained.

Now there was an adventure that I didn’t even want to contemplate. “Besides, for all your supposed help, you spent a lot of time in the hotel room watching television. For being one of those magical talking animal guardians, you aren’t helpful at all.”

He gave me a pitying look. “Milady bard, you should know by now that I am not that kind of talking animal guardian.” Clyde whistled innocently, his grey-green eyes showing complete innocence and lack of remorse. He was good, I’ll give him that. 

“Fine, make it up to me by helping me figure out what to write about. And it cannot be about you – you are not the only thing in this book,” I snapped. 

The pseudo-bird paced across the couch arm with his little legs, then plopped himself down on my shoulder, wiggling his toes in my peripheral vision. “You have talked at length about different topics…mayhaps ‘tis time for a different approach.”

I glanced over at him, grimacing at the odor of red wine coming off his beak tried to not get his toenails stuck up my nose. “Meaning?”

“Allow me to interview you.”

I blinked at him. He blinked back. “That…actually isn’t a bad idea,” I admitted. He gave me his “Of course it’s not you foolish mortal” look and cleared his throat. Yeah, no matter how many times I heard that or how deep and gravelly his voice was, that was still obnoxious.

He retreated into thought, head tilted and his little purple tongue working its way out. “Well then. It occurs to me that you have a decent knowledge of folk and fairy tales, to the point where you brought together aspects from many obscure stories into something melded with what you humans think of as more modern fantasy. You even delve into bits of the horrific stylings of him who you dub the ‘Crafter of Love’—“

“For God’s sake, Clyde! Lovecraft. H.P. Lovecraft. That is NOT the same thing as Crafter of Love.”

“Are you sure?”

My head was starting to throb, something that seemed to happen during every Clyde visit. “Uh, very much so. And yeah, I blended his type of otherworldly mythos with some Faerie basics….” I frowned, trying to find the question in his soliloquy. “What were you asking again?”

He fluttered his tail feathers and gave me a condescending look down his beak. “Well, you write cross-genre fiction for this book, do you not?”

I frowned. There was something definitely off about his interview style. “Uh…yes?”

“Splendid! See, this is not as difficult as you would think,” Clyde preened. “Now then, you made the decision to make much of your cast nonhuman, yet you go out of your way to not have their characterizations be gimmicky, and make sure to paint them in such a way that your audience empathizes with them. They have similar hopes and frustrations as many of your readers, and that way your audience will plunge even deeper into this world that you have created, is that not correct?”

I could feel my eyebrows creeping higher on my forehead as the ache pulsed behind my eyes. Although his magic powers had been restrained, he was almost easier to deal with when they accidentally leaked out. “That’s right…”

The little bird hopped up and down, tittering in excitement. “Good girl,” he cooed, and the only reason I didn’t smack him with a pillow was because I’d learned from experience that he had exceptional reflexes. And wings. He cuddled up against my neck, tapping his toes in thought. “Now then, you distinguish yourself from much of your mortal realm’s fantasy writings by allowing the expanse of Kingdom City to modernize. Your creatures have modern conveniences, though they are put through a…what do you call it…a fairy tale filter?”

“Yep,” I drawled from behind the paperback I’d picked up. 

He went on, throwing his wings about like an orator. “And you make great use of popular culture so that your readers will identify with the realm of Kingdom City—”


“And also take pains to make your folklore elements part of Kingdom City’s history, and have your characters consider magic to be tales of old wives…”


He ignored me, shivering in excitement as he continued, obviously on a roll. “You even merge aspects of Crones into modern hospitals—”

“Oh, Clyde?”

“And concepts of conventions and movie franchises and—”

“Hey, C-dog!” I had to admit, it was amusing when his feathers puffed up when he got irritated.

“You will not address me in that tone, mortal.”

“My apologies, Oh Olde One who in his infinite wisdom yet finite magic seeks to come to my aid,” I shot back. “What are you trying to do?”

“I do not fathom what you are asking.”

I rolled my eyes. “You get that this isn’t how you do an interview, right?”

Clyde was busy smoothing a ruffled feather on his chest. “Come again?”

“You’re answering all the questions for me as you ask them!”

A guilty flush lit his cheeks and he shrugged. “I suppose I get carried away from time to time, though think of it as reputation control,” he suggested. “You do tend to run your mouth about weird things, and you tend not to mention me as much as you could.”

Yep, that headache was getting stronger. I fought the curse and settled for a sigh. “Anything else you feel like asking, Clyde?”

He stared up at me with those fathomless eyes and tilted his head. His topknot slid with the movement and for a moment I could forget about his blasted ego.

“When are you going to discuss your infatuation with me?”

And the moment was gone.

“Excuse me?” I tried not to let my temper flare, but blast it, the stupid bird got under my skin.

“Well you did proclaim your allegiance to me on that thirteenth of Friday...”

“Because you zapped me to Kingdom City with your weird magic and got me locked into a dungeon!” I hissed, looming over him.

The little jerk was completely unperturbed. “I did hear you were looking everywhere for me all throughout that misadventure…”

“Because I wanted to go back home!”

“And you did let me stay in your hotel room at the convention of Imaginarium. I had minions that took fifty years to get to that point.” How something so cute and harmless could be so freakin’ vile, I had no idea.

“Listen, you! I don’t know what twisted thoughts are in that little feathery head of yours, but…”I trailed off when I finally noticed the shaking of Clyde’s little shoulders. “You idjit…” I growled.

“I am sorry, milady, but ‘tis a bit hilarious that you would take that seriously,” he laughed, rolling onto his back, claws kicking in the air. “After all, as an Olde One I could devour far more delectable souls, have far finer minions than you—”

As I figured, he dodged my hand pretty well. “I only mean that you are suitable for my bard!” he quickly corrected, wiping tears from his eyes with the tip of a wing.  “After all, I thought you preferred a professional relationship?”

“Of course I do!” I snapped, and the fact that I was having this conversation with a fictional character of mine didn’t escape me. Maybe I needed a vacation. 

“Think of it this way, milady,” Clyde chuckled, bowing low. “At least it got you writing.” With a throaty laugh he took to the air and disappeared in a flash of light and sound. Eh, that was true, he had jump-started my thought processes…though he was still a great big jerk.

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Cross-Genre: Fantasy, Fairy/Folktale, Paranormal, Urban Fantasy, Horror

Kingdom City has moved into the modern era. Run by a lord mayor and city council (though still under the influence of the High King of The Land), it proudly embraces a blend of progress and tradition. Trolls, ogres, and other Folk walk the streets with humans, but are more likely to be entrepreneurs than cause trouble. Princesses still want to be rescued, but they now frequent online dating services to encourage lords, royals, and politicians to win their favor. The old stories are around, but everyone knows they’re just fodder for the next movie franchise. Everyone knows there’s no such thing as magic. It’s all old superstition and harmless tradition.

Bookish, timid, and more likely to carry a laptop than a weapon, Paddlelump Stonemonger is quickly coming to wish he’d never put a toll bridge over Crescent Ravine. While his success has brought him lots of gold, it’s also brought him unwanted attention from the Lord Mayor. Adding to his frustration, Padd’s oldest friends give him a hard time when his new maid seems inept at best and conniving at worst. When a shepherd warns Paddlelump of strange noises coming from Thadd Forest, he doesn’t think much of it. Unfortunately for him, the history of his land goes back further than anyone can imagine. Before long he’ll realize that he should have paid attention to the old tales and carried a club.

Darkness threatens to overwhelm not only Paddlelump, but the entire realm. With a little luck, a strange bird, a feisty waitress, and some sturdy friends, maybe, just maybe, Padd will survive to eat another meal at Trip Trap’s diner. It’s enough to make the troll want to crawl under his bridge, if he can manage to keep it out of the clutches of greedy politicians

Selah Janel has been blessed with a giant imagination since she was little and convinced that fairies lived in the nearby state park or vampires hid in the abandoned barns outside of town. The many people around her that supported her love of reading and curiosity probably made it worse. Her e-books The Other Man, Holly and Ivy, and Mooner are published through Mocha Memoirs Press. Lost in the Shadows, a collection of short stories celebrating the edges of ideas and the spaces between genres was co-written with S.H. Roddey. Her work has also been included in The MacGuffinThe Realm BeyondStories for Children MagazineThe Big Bad: an Anthology of EvilThe Grotesquerie, and Thunder on the BattlefieldOlde School is the first book in her new series, The Kingdom City Chronicles, and is published through Seventh Star Press. She likes her music to rock, her vampires lethal, her fairies to play mind games, and her princesses to hold their own.

Selah’s Links:
Facebook author page – http://www.facebook.com/authorSJ