Wednesday, March 30, 2016

Cover reveal and giveaway--L.M. Pruitt's Silk


About the Author:

I pleased to host horror author L.M. Pruitt today. Her latest, spooky novel is about to release and she's come with a cover reveal. Ready? There is an excerpt and a giveaway below, so please read on.



Silk

L.M. Pruitt



Release Date: April 19, 2016

And here it is, the cover... *drum roll please*

Tuesday, March 29, 2016

Good reads and small update.

And for a little light housekeeping...


 Watchmaker's Heart is up on Good Reads! If you'd like to add it to your TBR lists, go here:


London, 1898: For Miss Phoebe Lockswell, fashionable London tea parties and balls aren't her style. Instead, she prefers to tinker tirelessly with a clockwork diffuser she's built from scratch. If only she can get the invention to work on command, she might earn her way out of an arranged marriage to a repugnant member of the House of Commons.

London watchmaker Mortimer Kidd was brought up hard in the arms of an infamous London gang. Despite the respectability he strives for now, the gang leader is blackmailing him. When Mortimer sees Phoebe's diffuser, he thinks he's found a way to buy himself out of trouble. The brash Phoebe manages to steal his heart, however, before he can purloin her invention.

Will Mortimer's unsavory past catch up to him before he convinces Phoebe of his devotion? Worse, once Phoebe learns the truth, will she ever trust him again?

If you're waiting for the paperback it's coming. *rubs hands gleefully* It shouldn't be long now! :)


Good Reads button by Pure Imagination

Friday, March 18, 2016

new release–Watchmaker’s Heart

Announcing something new.

I’ve released a new book…something a little different than you might expect from me… A little steampunk, a little Victorian romance. It’s a genre I’ve been noodling around with in Works in Progress well.. forever. It’s not as dark as you might expect from reading the Antique Magic series, et al, But hey, a girl’s got to have a little fun and I had fun writing this one.

What is it? WATCHMAKER’S HEART is an historical romance about a young woman in the very late 19th century who likes to build things and doesn’t like attending balls like most young ladies her age… 

The synopsis is as follows…

Watchmaker’s Heart
Genre: Victorian romance, steampunk

Synopsis:
For Miss Phoebe Lockswell, fashionable London tea parties and balls aren’t her style. Instead, she prefers to tinker tirelessly with a clockwork diffuser she’s built from scratch. If only she can get the invention to work on command, she might earn her way out of an arranged marriage to a repugnant member of the House of Commons.

London watchmaker Mortimer Kidd was brought up hard in the arms of an infamous London gang. Despite the respectability he strives for now, the gang leader is blackmailing him. When Mortimer sees Phoebe’s diffuser, he thinks he’s found a way to buy himself out of trouble. The brash Phoebe manages to steal his heart, however, before he can purloin her invention.

Will Mortimer’s unsavory past catch up to him before he convinces Phoebe of his devotion? Worse, once Phoebe learns the truth, will she ever trust him again?

Excerpt:
Phoebe pretended the landscape outside the train window held her attention, but it didn’t. Her gaze fixed instead on the reflection of the skulking reporter as he oozed down the aisle. His beady, searching gaze swept over the passengers. She knew he sought her out, had seen him at the Royal Mechanics Society Expo and done her best to avoid him. Of all the bad luck! How did we end up on the same train? She had no intention of becoming a building block for his journalistic ambitions.

Could be worse. Could be a friend of her father’s. On the other hand, if this journalist cornered her she knew “no comment” wouldn’t suffice. Respectable young ladies didn’t travel alone. She knew no other respectable young lady like herself, however. Maybe she should’ve asked Sally to accompany her. Oh, but if the press ever caught them together, a flurry of scandal would ensue. She’d find her name splashed across the gossip pages attached to the word harlot.

An old man coughed. A baby squealed. Neither one distracted the journalist.

Blast it! Phoebe dipped her head, to hide behind her hair, and stood. She pushed her way through the cramped car.

Oh dear God, if that man recognizes me there will be hell to pay! If her name ended up in print, her father would know she’d come to the Expo. If the reporter cornered her, would she be able to lie her way off the front page? Bad enough her intent in coming to Southend-on-Sea, bad enough she’d gone against her father’s wishes in the trip, but to see her rebellion splashed over the newspapers would be nigh unforgivable!

I hope he hasn’t seen me! She quickened her steps.

A door loomed before her and she slipped through it gratefully. Thinking she was safe, she pulled off the veiled hat hiding her chestnut hair—only to find herself standing on the tail end of the train, staring at a strange man. He blinked at her in surprise, a perplexed look on his angular face. A pair of screen-sided coal goggles covered his eyes, and he held an indigo blue bandana in his light, strong hands. For a moment, he said nothing, simply gaped at her as if she’d caught him at no good.

She laid a hand over her pounding heart. “Oh! Excuse me.”

“I say,” the man protested, “I … uh. Hello.”

“Hello.” She glanced back toward the door and bit her lip.

“I don’t advise jumping,” the man said. “Life is intolerable sometimes, but it’s not worth that.”

“What?” Phoebe said. “No. I took a wrong turn. I thought this was the ladies’ lounge.”

A mixture of amusement and relief crossed his features. “That’s one door back.”

She looked over her shoulder doubtfully. To go back in, though? She stamped her foot. “Oh bother! Well, you see, sir … the truth is, I’m a little worried someone might be following me.”

The man frowned, his gaze on the door. “Someone’s following you? We’ll see about that.”

He stuffed the bandana into the pocket of his gray jacket and took a step forward only to bump into her. Phoebe shifted backward, mumbling, “Excuse me.”

He smiled at her, his eyes laughing behind the gray-tinged lenses. “I can’t do anything to help you if you block the door.”

“Hiding won’t help?”

“Not for long, I daresay, Miss….”

“Locks—” No, that would never do. She couldn’t disclose her real name and risk any accompanying gossip. If her father found out about her day, he would blame her life’s work. The fog and coal dust causing a tickle, she cleared her throat. “Locksley.”

“Ah. A female Robin Hood, are you?” he teased. “My name’s Kidd.”

“Like the pirate?” She couldn’t believe his parents had given him such a famous name. But she knew stranger things had happened in life.

His lips twitched and she wondered, in amusement, or annoyance?

“Yes,” he said. “As to your shadow, I’m sure you’ve lost him.”

She shifted the hat in her hands to better hold her bag. “You think so?”

He wiggled a finger to the door behind her. “Shall I check if the coast is clear?”
****
If you’d like to check WATCHMAKER’S HEART out, it’s up at Amazon now. The paperback is forthcoming. I can’t wait to see this cover in full real life color!I hope you will enjoy it! (Thanks, Suzanne G. Rogers, for the beautiful cover.) For those of you waiting for the next Antique Magic novel, I got the final edits back recently and I just have to get them in the computer. So, it’s coming… before Spring ends, I hope.

***

Fantasy author Christian A. Brown talks about #newrelease Feast ofDreams

tour banner

Another fine author visits us today. I think his epic fantasy series, Four Feasts Til Darkness, look intriguing so I asked him here to tell us a little about it. I hope you will enjoy it. Please welcome Mr. Christian A. Brown and lend an ear while he gives us his take on things he does, and doesn't, like about characters, specifically....
Women in Fantasy
by
Christian A. Brown

Just a second, everyone put away the pitchforks and stop brandishing those Gertrude Stein books at me as if they can compel the misogynistic demon from my flesh. This isn’t a diatribe on feminism in literature–I wouldn’t dare to touch such a heavy subject without an array of facts at my disposal. As a fantasy writer, I don’t really deal in facts, as much as possibilities. What I would like to discuss is the portrayal of women in fantasy, what I like, and what I don’t like, what I think needs changing. I’d like to keep this dialog as uncontroversial as possible, and focus on how these characters are written, more than diving into the societal influences that make writers craft women in this manner. That’s psychology, and I’m not a psychologist. Okay, moving on, I’ll start with the stuff I can’t stand–expect hyperbole and potential cussing.

Women who are powerless. To me, nothing is more irritating than watching a female lead take a backseat to the action. I understand that characters need time to “grow” into their heroism, however, the foundations for that backbone should have been laid prior to that mettle being tested in a life-or-death situation. Otherwise, my suspension of disbelief is being tested. Even if a heroine is in a situation from which she cannot escape, she should always be thinking of escape, and not complacent with her miserable existence. At least that spark of free-will can be convincing impetus for a future act of daring. In the event that your heroine ends up chained in a basement, and awaiting the most wretched fate imaginable, she should be testing her chains, wondering who she can pounce on when they enter her cell, or looking for a rat bone to pick her irons. Whatever. She should be doing something, or sure that she will somehow live. That fire for life is what keeps me, as a reader hooked. When characters give up, so do I.

Women who are overly negative. As a man who writes some pretty snappy ladies, this can be a delicate act to balance. Cynicism is fine, particularly if that character has endured hardships. But when all she does is harp, or whine, or question her strength, that character becomes as unpleasant as the people in real life who do that. You know that friend that you have who calls you up to complain about her weight/ marriage/ job? Negative Nancy the sorceress, can have the same tone and repellence. Negativity can serve a purpose, and a hero should always suffer moments of doubt. But the strongest people do so silently, or among their closest allies, and never often or vocally (unless they are giving a rousing speech against their injustice). Finding a balance with humor, can help to offset a character with a naturally acerbic demeanor. At least it gives the reader something else to focus on.

Women who need to be constantly saved (usually by an all-powerful figure). Similar to the first point, although I believe it deserves its own mention. Getting saved once by your beau, assuming our heroine has exhausted all of her resourcefulness, and is really, truly, screwed, is fine. Sometimes, despite everything, we just cannot extricate ourselves from a mess. We need help. Alright. Help arrives. Then, she trips and falls down a well in another ten pages. Shortly after calling for help and being rescued, she decides to go for a walk in the Forest of Ultimate Evil. Probably a bad idea, given the name, but this girl (I’ve demoted her from womanhood for her naiveté), doesn’t have the good sense God gave a toothpick. Don’t worry, here comes Damien Glorylocks–knight, and secret royal blood of a long forgotten dynasty–to save Clueless. From now on, we’ll just refer to my sample heroine by that name, as it tends to sum up a lot of decisions that writers place in the minds of their female leads.

Stupidity. Coming off that last point. How stupid can one character be? Okay, we all make dumb decisions. In fact, it’s necessary for characters to do one or two things in error, and thereafter grow from that experience. The key here is grow. Grow. As in, not do that stupid thing, or comparable act of stupidity again. If you’re on the 3rd arc of your trilogy and your character is still figuring out the fundamentals of how to control her dragonblood, faery-magic, or whatever, then you have a problem. Similarly, if you’re deep into your story and Clueless still can’t figure out why the Dark Elves want her dead so badly, then you probably haven’t done a good enough job as a writer giving the reader–and potentially Clueless–information. Readers like to be in the know, and if your character is being kept in the dark, often treating your audience the same risks aliening them. So if these scenarios are occurring in your books, then your character (and audience) is not learning, they are not growing. And if you’ve watched one season of Honey Boo Boo, you’ve watched them all.

The only thrill in that entertainment is in watching the mediocrity unfold. We do not want our stories to be banal, we want them to be inspiring, and teaching of greatness. Mediocrity is for the real world, it has no place in fantasy.
Things I like.

Here, we have a shorter list, as most of these things are self-explanatory.

Normal characters. By this I mean, they have no supreme, miracle, magic. No great hidden power. These women are just tough as nails, and have learned how to kick life in the balls. Almost universally, readers like these sorts of characters. Sure, later on in the story-line, that character may struggle to hang with their mystical friends, and as end-of-the-world events unfold, it takes a deft narrative hand to weave them through those troubles unscathed. Still, the value of a normal character in an otherwise epic fantasy cannot be understated, for they create a bridge between our world and the fantasy.

Women who make their own choices. Decisiveness. I love this trait in characters. As a storyteller, characters who do not waver with indecision, move the story forward at a steady pace. Otherwise, you can end up wasting pages on internal dialog, which can make a character seem weak, which then threatens to lose the reader.

Women who fight. I’m not saying that every heroine has to be a martial expert, but even a princess can have lessons in fencing, and if you make the heroine a blacksmith’s daughter, she would surely know how to swing a blade. Again, this cycles back to women being helpless, which I personally hate to read.

Witty, curious women. Witty, is not the same as bitchy–another fine line that can be crossed. And curiosity may have killed the cat, but it shouldn’t kill the heroine. A sense for questioning order, a rebellious spirit, and someone who can take the slings-and-arrows of life with the occasional laugh, all make for engaging characters.

I have another 90 pages of editing to do on my second MS, so I must bid adieu to deal with that duty. I hope that my ramblings have been thought, and not anger, provoking. Do keep in mind that the above represents only my opinions, and there are as many ways to write characters as there are writers in the world. These are just my pet-peeves, and the pitfalls that I try to avoid.


Feast of Dreams

Four Feasts Till Darkness

Book Two

Christian A. Brown



Genre: Fantasy Romance



Book Description:



As King Brutus licks his wounds and gathers new strength, two rival queens vow to destroy each other’s nations.



Lila of Eod, sliding into madness, risks everything in the search for a powerful relic, while Queen Gloriatrix threatens Eod with military might—including three monstrous technomagikal warships.



Far from this clash of queens, Morigan and the Wolf scour Alabion, hunting for the mad king’s hidden weakness. Their quest brings them face to face with their own pasts, their dark futures…and the Sisters Three themselves.



Unbeknownst to all, a third thread in Geadhain’s tapestry begins to move in the wastes of Mor’Khul. There, a father and son scavenge to survive as they travel south toward a new chapter in Geadhain history.



Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/rURqUni_lco



Available at Amazon Kindle and Paperback









Feast of Fates

Four Feasts Till Darkness

Book One

Christian A. Brown



Genre: Fantasy Romance



Date of Publication: September 9, 2014



ISBN: 978-1495907586

Number of pages: 540



Word Count: 212K



Book Description:



"Love is what binds us in brotherhood, blinds us from hate, and makes us soar with desire.”



Morigan lives a quiet life as the handmaiden to a fatherly old sorcerer named Thackery. But when she crosses paths with Caenith, a not wholly mortal man, her world changes forever. Their meeting sparks long buried magical powers deep within Morigan. As she attempts to understand her newfound abilities, unbidden visions begin to plague her--visions that show a devastating madness descending on one of the Immortal Kings who rules the land.



With Morigan growing more powerful each day, the leaders of the realm soon realize that this young woman could hold the key to their destruction. Suddenly, Morigan finds herself beset by enemies, and she must master her mysterious gifts if she is to survive.



Available at Amazon and Createspace





Feast of Dreams Excerpt:



“My queen, it grows late.”

Queen Lila was about to address the enormous man casting his silver-hued shadow over her as Rowena. But no. Her sword was gone and neck-deep in espionage with the master of the East Watch, and a hammer named Erik was her guardian these days. What sad eyes the man had, more black than blue—as morose as those of an owl perched over a graveyard. She could see them glinting from beneath his darkened visor. Rarely did she spot the hard, hidden handsomeness of the man—his black hair, broken but appealing face, and stubble crisscrossed in scars. Come to think of it, aside from the moment his naked, scorched self had abruptly manifested in a cindery puff within the Chamber of Echoes some weeks ago, she hadn’t seen him without his helm. He was hiding then from the absence of his king or another private torment. She had been staring at him rather unabashedly for quite a spell. The sparkle of fiery colors off the immaculate polish of his pristine armor hypnotized her. His voice snapped her out of her trance. How quickly evening’s shroud had fallen.

“Time has escaped us,” commented the queen.

Erik gently led her from the bedside she attended. As they passed the hospice’s cots and floor pallets, the hands and voices of the wounded reached for her. Erik watched the queen’s remorseful looks and the aching way she touched the feet of certain sufferers or the backs of weeping kin. These days she was cold and ruthless in her judgments within the palace. She had become a steel queen to stand metal for mettle against the Iron Queen rising in the East. In these particular confines, however, where the faltering breath of the ailing made the air humid, and it was thick with the stench of eucalyptus poultices and incense to mask the rot magik would not heal, the queen’s mask cracked or was simply cast off. Genuine pity replaced it. She had come here each day for the past fortnight since the storm of frostfire had struck Eod. “The day of ruin,” the people called it—when first the skies were bare and then suddenly forked with red lightning, spitting shards of ice and arrows of flame to the earth. None of sound mind could have prepared for that wailing apocalypse. Thousands were killed instantly. They were boiled inside tarry craters the earthspeakers were still working to fill or entombed in buildings that could not hold against the storm’s wrath. The injuries were uncountable, and they were still being reported. Those with only singed or frostbitten flesh dismissed the pettiness of their wounds and carried on with tourniquets and grimaces. Others had to be scraped from streets or, if mauled but living, extracted from rubble and taken to a growing encampment of emergency sites erected near the palace. Here was where the queen always found herself once the details of war, supply lines, allies, enemies, and stratagems had worn her patience to a snappy disinterest. Somehow in these miserable hospices, the queen seemed peaceful, albeit sad.

Time and again Erik made one-sided conversation as he guarded his new charge—he never managed to say these words. You blame yourself for this or for my kingfather’s fate. You see these sins as your own. You feel the weight and needs of this entire nation upon yourself, and what a terrible weight that must be to bear. You are not alone, though, my queen. As adrift as you might be, I am here. I shall be the rock you need. I have made a promise to the great man who speaks to us no more.

The night he had appeared so rudely at her side, she held him and told him she could not sense the king anymore. The icy flame of Magnus’s soul had gone as cold as a forgotten hearth.

“What does it mean? What does it all mean?” she’d sobbed.

She was without her lover and partner in eternity, and he was without his father. They were agonizingly alone. Only on that night did she cry for the king and never since—as far as Erik had witnessed. He and the queen did not speak of their grief again or further pursue the reality that the Immortal King—missing and utterly quiet in his queen’s mind since the battle with his mad brother in Zioch—was quite possibly dead.

At the hospice exit, Queen Lila stopped so suddenly that Erik almost elbowed his liege. With what Erik perceived as a speck of wariness, she half glanced over her shoulder, and her gaze swelled wide with fear. She was staring at something behind them. Erik looked as well and reached a hand to his weapon. However, he saw nothing aside from the rows of squirming sufferers moving on their bloody, sweat-soaked cots like man-size maggots. What horrible times these were.

“Have you forgotten something?” he asked.

Queen Lila wished she could explain the hairs that prickled on her neck or the chill of Mother Winter’s mouth that blew the humidity from the chamber, but no one else seemed to feel it. Most of all, she wanted to find a less hysterical explanation for the shadow—tall as a mountain, black, and somehow bright—that hovered in the corner of her eye. She would not turn around and look at it. She could not. She was afraid that if she opened her mouth, she would involuntarily scream. What do you want, shadow? Why do you haunt me? Why do you come to me in dreams?

“My queen?”

“No. I need nothing more,” she answered curtly and moved ahead, trembling.

The world of Four Feasts Till Darkness series:


Blogmistress note: Don't you just love that map?

About the Author

Bestselling author of the critically acclaimed Feast of Fates, Christian A. Brown received a Kirkus star in 2014 for the first novel in his genre-changing Four Feasts Till Darkness series. He has appeared on Newstalk 1010, AM640, Daytime Rogers, and Get Bold Today with LeGrande Green. He actively writes a blog about his mother’s journey with cancer and on gender issues in the media. A lover of the weird and wonderful, Brown considers himself an eccentric with a talent for cat-whispering.

http://christianadrianbrown.com

https://twitter.com/AuthorChrisAB

https://www.facebook.com/ChristianAdrianBrown

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8422242.Christian_A_Brown

https://plus.google.com/u/0/105782095673393074893/about

Thank you for being with us today, Christian! Good luck with Feast of Fates!





Thursday, March 17, 2016

Happy St. Patrick's Day

celtichearta



Wearin' a little bit of Celtic green today. May you all have a happy day! Don't take any green beer from suspicious-looking leprechauns, y'all. ;)

Back to the writing cave. More Celtic-flavored stories need writing. :)

   

Friday, March 4, 2016

Cover Reveal/new release--Watchmaker's Heart

Announcing something new.

I've released a new book...something a little different than you might expect from me... A little steampunk, a little Victorian romance. It's a genre I've been noodling around with in Works in Progress well.. forever. It's not as dark as you might expect from reading the Antique Magic series, et al, But hey, a girl's got to have a little fun and I had fun writing this one.

What is it? WATCHMAKER'S HEART is an historical romance about a young woman in the very late 19th century who likes to build things and doesn't like attending balls like most young ladies her age... The synopsis is as follows...

Watchmaker's Heart

Genre: Victorian romance, steampunk

Synopsis:


For Miss Phoebe Lockswell, fashionable London tea parties and balls aren’t her style. Instead, she prefers to tinker tirelessly with a clockwork diffuser she’s built from scratch. If only she can get the invention to work on command, she might earn her way out of an arranged marriage to a repugnant member of the House of Commons.


London watchmaker Mortimer Kidd was brought up hard in the arms of an infamous London gang. Despite the respectability he strives for now, the gang leader is blackmailing him. When Mortimer sees Phoebe’s diffuser, he thinks he’s found a way to buy himself out of trouble. The brash Phoebe manages to steal his heart, however, before he can purloin her invention.

Will Mortimer’s unsavory past catch up to him before he convinces Phoebe of his devotion? Worse, once Phoebe learns the truth, will she ever trust him again?

Excerpt:

Phoebe pretended the landscape outside the train window held her attention, but it didn’t. Her gaze fixed instead on the reflection of the skulking reporter as he oozed down the aisle. His beady, searching gaze swept over the passengers. She knew he sought her out, had seen him at the Royal Mechanics Society Expo and done her best to avoid him. Of all the bad luck! How did we end up on the same train? She had no intention of becoming a building block for his journalistic ambitions.

Could be worse. Could be a friend of her father’s. On the other hand, if this journalist cornered her she knew “no comment” wouldn’t suffice. Respectable young ladies didn’t travel alone. She knew no other respectable young lady like herself, however. Maybe she should’ve asked Sally to accompany her. Oh, but if the press ever caught them together, a flurry of scandal would ensue. She’d find her name splashed across the gossip pages attached to the word harlot.

An old man coughed. A baby squealed. Neither one distracted the journalist.

Blast it! Phoebe dipped her head, to hide behind her hair, and stood. She pushed her way through the cramped car.

Oh dear God, if that man recognizes me there will be hell to pay! If her name ended up in print, her father would know she’d come to the Expo. If the reporter cornered her, would she be able to lie her way off the front page? Bad enough her intent in coming to Southend-on-Sea, bad enough she’d gone against her father’s wishes in the trip, but to see her rebellion splashed over the newspapers would be nigh unforgivable!

I hope he hasn’t seen me! She quickened her steps.

A door loomed before her and she slipped through it gratefully. Thinking she was safe, she pulled off the veiled hat hiding her chestnut hair—only to find herself standing on the tail end of the train, staring at a strange man. He blinked at her in surprise, a perplexed look on his angular face. A pair of screen-sided coal goggles covered his eyes, and he held an indigo blue bandana in his light, strong hands. For a moment, he said nothing, simply gaped at her as if she’d caught him at no good.

She laid a hand over her pounding heart. “Oh! Excuse me.”

“I say,” the man protested, “I … uh. Hello.”

“Hello.” She glanced back toward the door and bit her lip.

“I don’t advise jumping,” the man said. “Life is intolerable sometimes, but it’s not worth that.”

“What?” Phoebe said. “No. I took a wrong turn. I thought this was the ladies’ lounge.”

A mixture of amusement and relief crossed his features. “That’s one door back.”

She looked over her shoulder doubtfully. To go back in, though? She stamped her foot. “Oh bother! Well, you see, sir … the truth is, I’m a little worried someone might be following me.”

The man frowned, his gaze on the door. “Someone’s following you? We’ll see about that.”

He stuffed the bandana into the pocket of his gray jacket and took a step forward only to bump into her. Phoebe shifted backward, mumbling, “Excuse me.”

He smiled at her, his eyes laughing behind the gray-tinged lenses. “I can’t do anything to help you if you block the door.”

“Hiding won’t help?”

“Not for long, I daresay, Miss….”

“Locks—” No, that would never do. She couldn’t disclose her real name and risk any accompanying gossip. If her father found out about her day, he would blame her life’s work. The fog and coal dust causing a tickle, she cleared her throat. “Locksley.”

“Ah. A female Robin Hood, are you?” he teased. “My name’s Kidd.”

“Like the pirate?” She couldn’t believe his parents had given him such a famous name. But she knew stranger things had happened in life.

His lips twitched and she wondered, in amusement, or annoyance?

“Yes,” he said. “As to your shadow, I’m sure you’ve lost him.”

She shifted the hat in her hands to better hold her bag. “You think so?”

He wiggled a finger to the door behind her. “Shall I check if the coast is clear?”
****

If you'd like to check WATCHMAKER'S HEART out, it's up at Amazon now. The paperback is forthcoming. I can't wait to see this cover in full real life color!I hope you will enjoy it! (Thanks, Suzanne G. Rogers, for the beautiful cover.) For those of you waiting for the next Antique Magic novel, I got the final edits back recently and I just have to get them in the computer. So, it's coming... before Spring ends, I hope.

Thursday, March 3, 2016

Brenda Strange Supernatural Mysteries series returns

So my friend and fellow author Patty G. Henderson has a new book out in her Brenda Strange Supernatural Mysteries series. I read the latest installment, PEG 'O MY HEART, recently and loved it. Brenda acquires an old-time radio and when she switches it on, an old song from the forties begins playing.
Only, as she switches through the dials, it seems to be the only song that plays and at the end, the same DJ says the same thing every time. "Dedicated to Peg".

Meanwhile, she learns that the station the radio is locked to is one that burned down at least fifty years ago! What is going on here? That's what Brenda needs to find out...before the haunted radio hypnotizes her.



I've been  a fan of Brenda Strange for a long time, and I found this to be a fine edition to the series--I'm even excited for the next. ;) Meanwhile, as the banner above says, Patty is donating a portion of the proceeds of the sale of PEG 'O MY HEART to Blind Cat Rescue inc. So if you decide to check it out, you're not only getting a good read, but also doing some good for the world. All good, no? If you'd like to check it out, PEG 'O MY HEART is available in Ebook and Paperback at Amazon.

Juli's Books

Available at now at Itunes:
Bicycle Requiem
Amazon. Some also available at Audible, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords and Createspace.
Passion's Sacred Dance, Celtic Stewards Chronicles, book 1 by Juli D. Revezzo, fantasy, romance, pagan paranormal romance, read free with Kindle Unlimitedfree with Audible trial, Watchmaker's Heart by Juli D. Revezzo, Steampunk romance, Victorian romance, audiobook
New audiobook @ Audible
Frigga's

audiobook @ Audible
Victorian romance, historical romance, Juli D. Revezzo, historical romance, read free with Amazon Prime, Kindle UnlimitedThe Artist's Inheritance, Antique Magic book 1, by Juli D. Revezzo, Gothic fiction, witch fiction, pagan paranormal fiction
Caitlin's Book of Shadows, Antique Magic book 2, by Juli D. Revezzo, short fiction, free ebook, witch fiction, pagan paranormal fiction
FREE ON ALL VENUES
Drawing Down the Shades, Antique Magic book 3, by Juli D. Revezzo, Gothic fiction, witch fiction, pagan paranormal fiction
Lady of the Tarot by Juli D. Revezzo, Gothic romance, historical romance, tarotHouse of Cards, Reign of Tarot book 1, by Juli D. Revezzo, pagan paranormal fiction, witch fiction, tarot-themed fiction, Gothic fiction, supernatural horrorSing a Mournful Melody by Juli D. Revezzo, Gothic fiction, Vampire fiction, short story
Changeling's Crown by Juli D. Revezzo, New Adult, fantasy, romance, pagan paranormal romanceMurder Upon a Midnight Clear by Juli D. Revezzo, paranromal mystery, Christmas romance, pagan paranormal romance, read free with Kindle UnlimitedWatchmaker's Heart by Juli D. Revezzo, Steampunk romance, Victorian romance, read free with Kindle Unlimited
Bicycle Requiem by Juli D. Revezzo, Gothic fiction, zombie fiction, novelette, borrow with Kindle Unlimited

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