New Release Alert: Deadly Intentions

Deadly Intentions by Lisa Kuehne

 

 

BLURB

Sixteen-year-old Ava O’Brian’s may have survived her ordeal with Satan, but her troubles are far from over. They’re just beginning. Her premonition nightmares only create questions about her special ability; is she really capable of influencing good or is she truly creating something else—evil. Uncovering the truth behind her miraculous survival, and choosing between the two immortals fighting for her affection will reveal far more than she is expecting and expose her to Deadly Intentions.

EXCERPT

Prologue

He is probably the last person in this world who would panic. This must be serious.

“You need to turn it on.”

The urgency in his normally smooth-as-glass voice causes a chill to run down my spine. And it’s not from the fever.

What’s so darn important?

“Alright, hang on,” I say. With trembling fingers, I place the phone between the curve of my neckline and shoulder so I can turn on the television.

“What channel?” I ask while aimlessly searching the couch and end tables for any sign of the remote.

“Any! It’s all over every local news station.”

I cringe at the sharpness of his voice. It’s totally unexpected. It’s like seeing him kick a puppy. My search becomes more fear driven.

There it is.

I yank the remote out from between the recliner’s seat cushions and nervously flip through the television channels until I’m confident it’s on a news station.

Even though she’s apparently in the middle of the report, the redheaded female anchor’s voice instantly catches my attention.

“The chaos appears to be spreading, with no immediate end in sight. There has never been so much . . . .” Her voice drops off as she stares blankly at the camera, obviously reading her teleprompter screen.

“I apologize, but I have just been given the latest breaking news update.”

She pauses again, and her brows slant into an affronted frown. I watch her carefully—wishing she would say something—anything. Her soft brown eyes widen in obvious alarm, and a green pallor takes over her face. She mouths the words, oh my God—

Chapter One—Aiden

Lucifer lies on his cedar Adirondack chair, sipping his latte. It tastes scrumptious on his lips—a mixture of vanilla and cinnamon. His guard, Edwin, comes out the sliding door, interrupting Lucifer’s pleasure. His nervous behavior clearly shows urgency; he obviously needs Lucifer’s attention.

“Master,” Edwin says with hesitation. His eyes desperately search the room as if the answer to some unspoken question would reveal itself in the aura of the balcony. Lucifer has never seen his follower so dumbfounded.

“Yes?” Lucifer says. His voice is unwelcoming. He doesn’t conceal his annoyance at Edwin’s interruption. Although curious, he considers Edwin’s lack of composure unacceptable.

“There is someone here to see you.”

“Then send them in.”

Edwin nods and walks away, not bothering to close the sliding glass door.

Lucifer rolls his eyes and climbs out of his lounge chair. Although he is annoyed with Edwin, he stares with curiosity. How could he not be interested in seeing what all the fuss is about?
A young male surrounded by a pale light comes gracefully through the doorway, dressed completely in white.

Lucifer smiles. This is no human.

“And what do I owe the Lord for this honor?” he says with sarcasm. He grins from ear to ear.

“I am not here for God,” the young male says.

“Then make it quick. I have other business to attend to.” Lucifer walks with poise back to his chair and sits back down. He takes another sip of his coffee, and then tilts his chin to the sky to soak up the sun’s rays.

When his visitor doesn’t continue speaking, Lucifer grabs the stack of paperwork sitting on the table next to him and starts flipping through a few pages.

“I’m here to bargain,” the man finally says.

“Bargain? Why would I want to bargain with you?” Lucifer asks. He adjusts his sunglasses and goes back to sunbathing.

“Because I have a gift you strongly desire.”

Lucifer laughs at the comment. “A gift, huh? What gift could you possibly possess that I would want badly enough to bargain for?”

“Do you not remember me? For it was you who had me killed in an accident last October because you feared my gift so much.”

Lucifer grins as he remembers in vivid detail. He widens his eyes with delight as he takes another sip of his latte. He loves that Aiden, innocent, wholesome Aiden, is so easy to read and even easier to play. Sighing with glee, he notices Aiden’s hands are clenched at his sides. He notes the hatred emerging from Aiden’s pale green eyes. Lucifer fights back the smile teasing the corners of his mouth.

“Yes, I remember you.” Lucifer takes another sip from the glass, then inhales the sinful smell of his latte. “And I remember your twin sister, Ava, too. Soon, she will work for me.”

Aiden stares at him, his eyes intense. “I know you will soon control my sister.” He pauses, seems nervous, as if he’s choosing his words carefully. “There is something you didn’t consider. She is with Sam now. Theo is dead. Once her transformation is complete, she will run. You will spend your time chasing them, until you have no choice other than to destroy her for good. Sam is too smart to allow you to get a hold of her power.”

Lucifer can feel Aiden watching him intently. The young man’s comment has given Lucifer some things to consider.

“That’s where I come in,” Aidan continued. “I’m willing to bargain with you. If you spare my sister and keep her human, I will give you my soul. I will leave heaven, leave God, and follow you. You are well aware my sister and I have the same powers. Yet, with this deal, you’ll have complete control over mine. Think of all the opportunities you will have with my ability.”

Lucifer closes his eyes. The boy is right. If he takes this angel’s offer, he will have complete control. The possibilities are endless. He can immediately go after the leaders of mankind: the American President, celebrities, even the Pope. Aiden would be able to influence them with ease.
Plus, there is the fact this Ava is obviously more concerned about Sam Perry’s well-being than her own. Their love for each other is sickening. He can still pursue Sam and her and get her soul at a later time. Surely, there are plenty of humans in this world willing to trade; if one of them gives up his or her soul and kills Ava, Lucifer will fulfill the assassin’s every desire. Because Ava has so much power to influence for good, there aren’t very many of his dark angels with the ability to destroy Sam in her presence. She could surely influence them toward good, making them powerless.

There is one more problem to consider; Aiden might try to help her in the future. That could end up being a problem for eternity.

Lucifer glances back at his latte; the vanilla-cinnamon aroma causes his stomach to turn. Without saying a word, he motions for Edwin to get the drink out of his sight.

Another thought enters his mind. The deal should include a clause. If Aiden ever contacts his sister in any way, Lucifer will make sure he destroys the two people the boy loves most. He will make Aiden watch as his mother and twin suffer a painful death. Lucifer would enjoy that
immensely.

Of course, if he desires, he can still send some of the local, dark angels to the fraternity house, have them apprehend Ava before the transformation is complete. While Ava changes from a human into an immortal, her powers are significantly weaker. She won’t be able to stop any dark angels from destroying Sam.

Lucifer can’t leave the safety of his New York City loft; his beauty would cause a scene and alert the humans to his presence on Earth. So he stays put and allows his dark angels to do all his dirty work. Even now, he can easily keep control of the situation.

Decisions, decisions . . . . What’s a prince of darkness to do?

 

Submission Call – The Order of the Dragon

Submissions are now open for this exciting new YA series created by Barbara Sheridan/Kit Forbes.

ORDER OF THE DRAGON

A shared world series created by Kit Forbes and debuting in 2012 from Noble Young Adult that might be described as the love child of Forever Knight  and Dark Shadows  who had Buffy the Vampire Slayer  (earlier seasons)  as a babysitter during its formative years. This series will have crossover appeal and be of interest to fans of The Vampire Diaries, The Secret Circle, and of course the Twilight saga.

The series takes its name from the historic Order of the Dragon created in 1408 of members of the nobility by the King of Hungary, Sigismund. Similar to the military orders of the crusades, the members swore to defend their lands against the enemies of Christianity, particularly the Turks of the Ottoman Empire.

One of the members was the Prince of Wallachia, Vlad II or Vlad Dracul, father of Bram Stoker’s iconic vampire Dracula.

There can be romantic vampires and storylines but we also love the ones who revel in being the badass immortal creatures they used to be. Even hardcore thrill-kill vamps can find love – it just takes a special, certain someone to both touch that dark little vampy heart and enjoy the rush of being a mean mother-expletive when the spirit moves them.

While a lot of readers these days may see Edward Cullen as the iconic vampire, we can’t get enough of our man from Transylvania, Dracula; of course known to history as Prince of Wallachia, Vlad Tepes. While the Gary Oldman portrayal in Bram Stoker’s Dracula was pretty cool, I personally adore Rudolf Martin’s version in  Dark Prince: The True Story of Dracula a role he played again as a full on, traditional vamp in the Season 5 opener of Buffy “Buffy Vs Dracula” (available on Netflix)

Ideally, the series would blend fact and fiction and draw on the many vampire legends spanning the globe. For example a cross might very well repel a vampire who lived their human life when the Orthodox or Roman Catholic Churches wielded a lot of power whereas a Japanese or Chinese vampire could scoff at that but be controlled by Buddhist prayer beads or a paper charm hammered into their flesh with an iron nail.

Old political conflicts or rivalries could carry over as well. A contemporary of Vlad’s might hate any and all who remind him of the battles with the Turks of the Ottoman Empire. Or inspiration could be drawn from an epic family feud like the USA’s Hatfields & McCoys.

Submission Guidelines:

We’re looking for novellas and novels from 10,000 words up.

This would be older YA /”New Adult”. You can read The Young Dragon , a short prequel introducing the world.

FAQ:

Q: Does the series tie together?

A: It does, in that it’s a shared world series like the various novelizations of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the Star Trek franchises. However, the books need not strictly follow one another chronologically the way the Harry Potter or Twilight books do.

Q: Is each book from whichever author supposed to play off another or stand alone?

A:  As noted above, it’s not required for authors to follow a specific continuing plot. Stories can take place in any time from 1456 to the present. Time travel scenarios are possible although no changing of previous plot history can take place. Example: you can’t have your character go back a hundred years and kill a character from someone else’s book.

Q: Can characters be shared amongst authors’ works?

A: Original characters will be the property of their creating authors and can’t be used as POV characters unless permission is obtained from their creating authors.
Since it is a shared world series you should be willing to have your characters referred to by other authors they could have fought a common enemy, had a friend or relative in common, traveled together, heard of one another through the supernatural grapevine or have an acquaintance in common. Scenarios like these cannot contradict what the originating author has established or wishes to establish in a subsequent story.

When in doubt about having another author’s character appear in a small role in your story, ask the originating author or series editor Bryl Tyne. bryl (at) nobleromance (dot) com

NOTE: There are a few core characters featured/mentioned in the debut book of the series Kit Forbes’ Echoes of the Pastwho might be used further.

You can get a glimpse into the world of Order of the Dragon with the free read here.

FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS

Q: Is there a specific world?

A: If you mean a world with many specific rules then no. It’s “our” world much like Buffy, Being Human, and the Vampire Diaries, with supernatural creatures who remain hidden to the population at large.

Q: What if I have an awesome vamp story but there’s not one lick of romance in it?

A: Awesome stories are what we’re after! If it fits the OotD universe we want to see it. Romance is not a requirement although emotionally satisfying endings tend to be reader favorites.

Q: What if NRP rejects my story, can I send it elsewhere?

A: Yes, but only if you remove any Order of the Dragon specific characters or events.

For a copy of the Order of the Dragon overview or to ask any questions please contact Kit Forbes:  Kitforbeswrites (at) gmail (dot) com

When you are ready please send your submissions to bryl (at) nobleromance (dot) com

New Release: Reluctance

Reluctance by Cindy C. Bennett the first in the Young Immortals series.

Blurb:

Twenty-year-old Dahlia hates the life that she is forced to lead. But the time is quickly coming when she must make a decision that will shape the rest of her life. She’s set her sights on Jace. He is someone her family will approve of, someone that will finally gain her acceptance among her people. Then Cam comes into her life, making her question what she assumed was her inevitable destiny, giving her hope that she might be able to lead the normal existence that she longs for. But fate has its own plan for Dahlia. Now she has to find courage she didn’t know she possessed to fight for her own future.

Excerpt:

Cam Taylor watched, amused, as Dahlia stumbled and nearly launched her lunch tray into a table full of brainiacs. She was new—she had only been working at Grave’s Community Center Hospital for a couple weeks. Cam had noticed her right away. She had a headful of curly, brown hair that fell to her waist in the back, pinned up on top with an unfashionable barrette. The barrette was studded with sparkling rhinestones, excepting the large center stone, which was missing. She wore no makeup; her pale face was clear and blemish-free. An unfortunate, brown floral pattern as outdated as a rotary-dial phone covered her lumpy, brocade dress which was at least two sizes too big for her. She was tall, gangly, awkward—the biggest klutz Cam could remember seeing—and he was smitten.

He watched as Dahlia finally slid to safety on a bench, once again nearly dropping her lunch as it clunked to the table. She laughed at herself, but the other women at the table, mostly nursing assistants, met her laughter with sneers. They exchanged meaningful glances, then stood as one, leaving without speaking a single word. Cam felt a moment’s anger at the unfeeling women as he saw Dahlia’s face fall. He decided to go sit with her himself, no matter how much crap he might get for it.

As Cam moved toward Dahlia’s table, she turned her attention from her tray toward Jace McMahon, who sat across the lunchroom. With a wistful sigh and dreamy eyes, she propped her chin in her hands, a smile curving the corners of her mouth upward. Cam stopped in his tracks.

Jace was an orderly like Cam. He was athletic, muscular, and better looking than most of the stars in Hollywood. The most popular guy at GCC, Jace was arrogant and cruel and loved by all the women anyway. Cam suspected most of the other guys really hated him, as Cam did, but they wanted to be near him anyway, hoping his charm and luck with the women would rub off on them. If nothing else, being Jace’s buddy got them girls who would do anything to get closer to Jace, even if it meant dating one of his lesser friends.

Cam and Jace had attended the same high school. At that time, they’d been best friends. Back then, no one could touch the popularity of the two tall, good-looking, enigmatic boys. Then Cam found out exactly what Jace was.

Cam had distanced himself from Jace after that, making him something of an outcast his senior year. He didn’t care. Being on his own was better than being part of Jace’s world. He’d hoped GCC would be different, even with Jace there, but work turned out to be nothing more than an extension of high school. Jace was still the star. Cam sometimes wondered why no one thought it strange that Jace, with his athletic prowess, was working at GCC to pay his way through school instead of attending a prestigious college on a fantastic scholarship. But Jace knew. Not only poor grades, but also the thing that created the rift between Cam and Jace had caused colleges to run the other way when it came to Jace McMahon.

Cam glanced over at Jace, jealousy and anger burning within his chest. Tabitha Heron, who now went by the ridiculous nickname of Tabby, had draped herself across Jace. Tabby was absolutely beautiful, the perfect counterpoint to Jace’s good looks. Until Cam’s falling out with Jace three years earlier, Tabby had been Cam’s girlfriend. Then Jace pursued her relentlessly, just to prove he could take her if he wanted. And prove it he did. Jace even talked her out of accepting an admission offer from Harvard to join him at Grave’s University. Even now, when Jace treated her with nothing but disdain and kept her dangling at his whim, Tabby refused to admit Cam was right about him. She hardly needed to work to pay her way, not with her wealthy family, and yet she’d even followed him here, to work a crappy job as a receptionist for crap pay.

They deserved one another.

And, now, the newest object of Cam’s attention was drooling over his nemesis. Dahlia didn’t have a shot with him; anyone could see that. Unless Cam managed to hook up with her—then he’d bet Jace would turn his sights on the strange, new girl. Cam would see Jace burn before he allowed him to hurt the fascinating Dahlia.

* * * * *

Dahlia stood in the freezing wind, watching as Jace McMahon climbed into his fancy, red Mustang. He turned the key, the engine growling fiercely as he peeled out of his parking spot, cutting off an old, rusty beater and nearly running over a group of interns. She knew well enough Jace was not exactly a kind, caring person, but she also knew what he could do for her. He was perfect—beautiful, graceful, popular. In other words, everything she was not.

“Hey.”

Dahlia turned to see Cam Taylor standing next to her, smiling at her. She glanced behind her to double check, but as no one else was there, she supposed he must be speaking to her.

“Hey,” she said back, wondering why someone like Cam would speak to her on purpose. Cam was every bit as good-looking as Jace. But where Jace was dark—dark hair, dark eyes, olive skin—Cam was light. His blond hair was practically white, his eyes translucent blue, his skin nearly as pale as Dahlia’s. He, too, was graceful and beautiful, and popular among many of the nurses, aides, and volunteers. But he did not have the power Jace had to transform her.

“Need a ride home?” Cam asked.

“Uh . . .” Dahlia hesitated. She didn’t really want anyone to know where she lived. The wind chose that moment to blow its icy fingers across her exposed legs. She shivered at the sensation, and Cam laughed.

“Come on. I can’t have you freeze to death on my watch.” When she still hesitated, he held his hand out toward her. “It’s just a ride, Dahlia.”

She looked at his extended hand, wondering vaguely how he knew her name. This was one of those socially awkward situations she had no idea how to handle. Should she take his hand?

“Okay,” she said, turning toward the parking lot. As she took the first step, she managed to put her foot onto one of the few spots with a disc of ice clinging to the cement, and squealed as she felt her foot slide away. She prepared for the pain that would come with the fall.

But then Cam grabbed her by the elbow, halting her descent.

“Whoa, there,” he said, steadying her. “Gotta be careful of these slippery steps.”

Humiliated, Dahlia looked up at him. “Thanks,” she mumbled.

“Yup,” Cam answered. He kept hold of her elbow all the way to the car. Once inside the vehicle, she fastened the seat belt—one of the few devices that could guarantee her safety and that she had full control over, so used always—he turned the heat on high, directing all the vents her way. She wondered idly whether Jace would have done the same if she were seated in his Mustang rather than in Cam’s Honda.

“So . . . how do you like working at GCC?” Cam asked when the silence began to stretch out uncomfortably.

“It’s the same as any other job, I guess,” Dahlia said.

Cam couldn’t argue that point. “Oh, yeah? Is that a bad thing, or good?”

Dahlia shot him a look as if to say You’re kidding, right? and Cam smiled.

“I understand,” he said,but somehow Dahlia doubted he truly did understand. She doubted that Cam, with his golden looks and infectious smile, had ever been shunned, that he had ever sat at a table only to have others leave just to avoid being seen with him, that he had ever been called doggy, beastly, or nerdy. She doubted he’d ever looked around a room and known the only people who would accept him as a friend were those who completely understood all those things.

“Turn here,” she said, directing him up Draper Avenue. He lifted his brows a little at the turn, but didn’t say anything. When they reached the end of the street, she said, “You can stop here.”

He looked out the window. With surprise in his voice, he said, “This is where you live?”

Dahlia knew how it looked. The house was the largest in the neighborhood—ostentatious, overbearing, shouting wealth at the tops of its lungs. She really wished her family knew how to blend in.

“Yeah.”

She waited for the sarcasm, the cutting remarks, but, instead, he simply said, “Nice place.”

“Um, okay . . . thanks for the ride, I guess,” she said, pulling on the door handle—to no avail.

“Oh, here, let me get that. It sticks sometimes.” He leaned across her to grab the handle, and Dahlia flattened herself against the seat. She’d never been this close to a boy she wasn’t related to . . . and definitely never this close to one who smelled so delicious. For one crazy second, she had the urge to reach up and—

“There you go,” Cam said as the door swung open and a wintery blast of air drew her attention from her fantasy.

Dahlia climbed out, then looked back. “Thanks again.”

He gave her a charming smile in answer. “See you tomorrow,” he said as she slammed the door. With a wave, he turned his car in a wide U and drove away. Dahlia watched him go, and then, with dread, turned back toward her house—or as she’d come to think of it, the “monstrous mausoleum.”

New Release – Season’s Change: Summer by Mandy Harbin

Season Crete isn’t one for surprises, but at her surprise seventeenth birthday party, she gets a big one. She learns her mother isn’t really dead. Not only that, her guardian gives her a cryptic message about her mother’s return on her next birthday, mentioning something about mysterious changes she’ll be going through up until then. Seasons’ confusion takes a solemn turn when she discovers a death certificate with her name on it dated for her eighteenth birthday.

While desperately wanting to discover the truth about her mom and these so-called changes, Season is plagued with dreams about the weather, which she cannot explain. But she also finds herself focusing on a budding romance with the hottest guy in town, Don Davis, while trying to enjoy her summer vacation, knowing it may be her last.

When Season strikes up a friendship with newcomer Chrys Gorge, she soon discovers everything isn’t always as it seems as he explains the reality of mythical gods and the danger surrounding how she fits it. He holds the key to unlocking her family secrets, but he’s interested in more than just a friendship with her . . . . And he has the power of a prophesy on his side.

Can Season discover the truth about her heritage without losing the guy she’s falling in love with?

 

 

Chapter One
My alarm sounded as I tried to adjust to the morning light peering through my window. I wished more than anything I could sleep in a little while longer, but I smelled what suspiciously smelled like bacon cooking downstairs and wondered what all the fuss was about. Melissa never cooked a big breakfast on a school day. As I dragged myself out of bed, I suddenly remembered why she would care to get up and cook me breakfast.

I imagined others would think today was important to me, but I knew it wasn’t. In all honesty, I hadn’t been waiting for this particular day since I was little or anything. I could understand the excitement surrounding a sixteenth birthday where one would get the freedom of the road or an eighteenth birthday where one would become an adult. No, emancipation would have to wait another year—today was only my seventeenth birthday.

I got out of bed and picked out my favorite outfit. It’d be nice if I were a beanpole and could fit my scrawny behind into anything of my choosing. Such was not the case. But my favorite outfit was a green dress with just the right accessories. Frilly necklaces and earrings tended to draw the eye away from my curvy assets, which was always a plus. Also, my blue eyes sometimes changed to green depending on what I was wearing, which usually happened when I wore this dress. That was another plus.

But I wasn’t dressing up because I was excited about today being my birthday. Or because today was the last day of school before summer break and I knew it would be difficult to escape the hordes of cameras, although being immortalized in photographs provided some incentive. The real reason I donned my favorite dress was because today the seniors who’d just graduated would be back at school for the annual parade and float contest.

Translation: Don Davis would be there.

“Happy birthday, Season!” Melissa yelled to me as I walked down the stairs.

Season Crete. What a name. I didn’t know any other girls named Season—Melissa told me it was a family name. But I just assumed my parents wanted to pay homage to the hippie era. Too bad I wasn’t seventeen then, when girls weren’t expected to have the bodies of adolescent boys. I had hips and boobs. If I turned a guy’s head, he wasn’t looking at my face, wouldn’t know my eye color if it were purple. And most of the girls acted like I was fat, but I usually had the last laugh when I was happy eating real food and they were sucking celery sticks at lunch.

“Thanks, Melissa.” I tried to stifle a groan and feigned a smile at the acknowledgement. “I’m more excited about today being the last day of school; I’m so ready for summer break.”

Even though I couldn’t wait for summer, it wasn’t my most favorite time of the year. Who loved the sweltering heat? Not me. That was for sure. And the humidity—yuck! Summertime in the South was no place for a girl with naturally frizzy hair.

“Aren’t you very pretty this morning! Your mom loved the color green.”

“I know.” I shrugged as I continued to walk down the stairs, avoiding eye contact and hoping Melissa’s mention of my mom wouldn’t lead into a generic story about her. Melissa meant well. She and my mom and Laurel’s mom had been friends. When our parents had died, she’d taken Laurel and me in to raise us. Since I just was a baby when that had happened, Melissa often told me stories to help me feel close to my mom on occasions like this. I had enjoyed some of the tales over the years, but mostly, they were just generic nonsense that I’d heard a thousand times.

“So are you and Chloe going shopping? It is a birthday tradition.” Melissa chuckled as she finished cooking breakfast, and I made my way to the kitchen table beside her.

“You know Chloe will make a shopping tradition out of any occasion.” I laughed. “But there’s a new pair of Christian Louboutin shoes which are hard to find that she’s been going on and on about. We’ll be on the hunt for those.”

Chloe Shannon had been my best friend for many years. She was one of those girls who came from money and lots of it. Being the fashionista that she was, she always wore the latest trends and rarely wore the same outfit the same way.

“I know you said you didn’t want a party, but I’m making a cake. Tell Chloe to come in with you after you finish shopping and have a piece.”

If a homemade cake was all I’d have to endure, then I was all for that. “Okay, sounds great,” I said as I inhaled my breakfast.

Melissa cleaned the kitchen while I grabbed my car keys. “You girls have fun tonight. And try to be excited about your birthday, Season. You only turn seventeen once.”

Before I had a chance to respond, the phone rang. Melissa picked it up and read the caller ID, a somber expression on her face that disappeared so fast I almost didn’t catch it. “It’s Laurel. Probably just wants to talk about her summer classes.”

I nodded as I hurried outside and jumped into my car, too excited to take my time getting to school.
The campus wasn’t far from my house, but the drive was still long enough for the butterflies in my stomach to multiply more than I’d thought was possible. I couldn’t wait to see Don! Graduation had been two weeks ago, so I’d hardly seen him. I knew I had it bad for him, but I couldn’t help it. He was just so outgoing and charming, my insides melted every time he gave me any attention. Not to mention he was unbelievably gorgeous. Not that looks mattered to me, much. But the way he looked should have been considered a sin. He was tall, with dark-blond hair and piercing blue eyes. It was as if he stepped out of my own personal fairytale.

After I pulled into the lot I parked next to Chloe’s car, spotted her chatting with some other classmates, and made my way to her.

“Happy birthday!” she yelled and waved to me before I had a chance to even reach her.

“Thanks. Where’re Kim and Emma?” I searched, half-interested, as I asked.

Kim Smart and Emma Fritz were best friends who attached themselves to whomever they felt was popular at any given moment. They were the typical vain, skinny, teenaged chicks, thinking they were hot stuff. Emma wasn’t so bad. Kim, however, made up for any cruelty that Emma lacked. Since Chloe was obviously the richest girl in school, Kim tried latching onto her like a starved leech. I was just an unfortunate nuisance they had to endure, but I pretended I was oblivious just the same.

“They’re hanging out with the seniors.”

“You mean spying on the seniors.”

“Oh, please, Season. You know the seniors win this thing every year. Not that the girls care. They’re over there because Don’s showing off his new graduation present.” She wagged her eyebrows.
Of course. Obviously, I wasn’t the only girl in school eager to ogle one last time. I frowned at her, shaking my head.

“He got a new car as a graduation present . . . um . . . He’s been showing it to everyone,” Chloe continued, trying to ease my concern. Yeah, she knew I was obsessed with him.

“Look, Chloe. I know Don is not, nor has he ever been, more than just a friend.” He was out of my league. Heck, he was out of everyone’s league.

“There’s nothing wrong with liking someone, Season. I’ve liked lots of guys.”

“Yeah, but you get to date the guys you like,” I said as we made our way to the crowd of people forming around the seniors and their decorated cars.

When Don came into view, I gasped. I couldn’t help myself. There he was, with his head cocked to the side, flashing his beautiful smile and showing some of his perfect teeth. My palms started sweating, and my heart took off. He was wearing a fitted, blue, button-down shirt with the top few buttons unfastened. He leaned against his new, dark blue Camaro as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Blue car, blue shirt, blue eyes, against a clear blue sky. He seemed to blend in perfectly with this beautiful day.

Chloe glanced my way when she heard my gasp, probably to make sure I was still breathing. I grimaced at the impossibility of my luck when I met her gaze, and we continued walking toward the seniors’ cars.

“Hey Kim. Hey Emma,” I said, trying to avoid eye contact with Don because Kim was hanging all over him like a dang wet noodle. She had a boyfriend, for crying out loud!

“Hi Season,” Emma responded as Kim rolled her eyes and immediately diverted her attention to Chloe. At least she’d let go of Don.

“Don’t you look fabulous, girl!” Kim screeched as she grabbed Chloe by the arm and gawked at her designer threads. “What’s the occasion? I mean, don’t get me wrong, you always dress hot, but this outfit is to die for!”

“It’s Season’s birthday.” Chloe grinned and winked at me. “It’s a day for celebration.”

“It sure is.” The masculine voice was unmistakable. I could pick it out in a crowded room full of whispers. “Happy birthday, Season.”

“Thanks, Don.” I turned and smiled as our gazes met, hoping I didn’t come off as a star-struck idiot. “Nice car.”

“Thanks. My parents promised me a new car when I graduated, but I didn’t expect something like this.”

“Ah.” I apparently couldn’t form a more coherent response.

“So . . . do you have any plans for your birthday?”

“Um, not really. I mean, Chloe and I are going shopping after school, and Melissa’s baking me a cake.”

“Well, you look stunning,” he said as he took in my green dress. “That color really brings out the green in your eyes. They’re so beautiful.”

“Thank you.” He noticed my eyes! And he flirted! Don’t think anything of it. He’s nice to everyone, I reminded myself. “Er, you look nice today, too.”

“You look nice every day, but thank you.”

Whoa.

“Season,” Chloe interrupted. “We need to get ready for the parade.”

“Oh, okay.” Thank the heavens I didn’t have time to process what Don just said and make more out of it than what it truly was.

Don smiled at me and took a step closer. My heart tried to break free from my chest, and I felt blood rushing to my face.

“I hope you have a wonderful birthday, Season,” Don whispered to me in such a sincere manner that made me feel as if we were the only two people in the parking lot. He stroked my arm as he stepped even closer in a move that I was sure to end in a hug.

Oh no. I froze on the outside. On the inside, I was screaming in anticipation. Sure, Don had hugged me before, but I never got used to it.

He held me in his strong embrace for a brief couple of seconds, and, somehow, I managed to move my numb arms from my side to around his back before he stepped away.

“Good luck on your float,” I said to Don to try and distract myself from the wonderful smell of his skin as I started to turn toward Chloe. “You’ll need it. Ours is awesome.”

“You, too.” He laughed and winked as I walked away.

I stared at the ground as I mentally made the effort to make my feet move but I could feel Chloe’s gaze on me.

“You know, he doesn’t act that way around just anyone.”

My head popped up. “What are you talking about, Chloe? He’s just being polite. You know he’s a kind person. He heard you mention my birthday, so being the caring gentleman that he is, he acknowledged it.” I looked away from her, hoping she would drop it. The last thing I needed was for her to feed my frenzied crush.

“Whatever, Season.” She shook her head and grabbed my arm, so I would pay attention to this nonsense. “I’ve noticed the way he looks at you. He’s not just being nice.”

“Chloe, please don’t do this.”

“Fine.” She smiled. “Only because it’s your birthday.” Thankfully, she dropped it, but knowing Chloe, she would find a way to revisit this conversation later.

 

Season’s Change: Summer by Mandy Harbin available now.

New Release: My Big, Fat, Hairy Werewolf Intervention – A Love Story with Fur

It’s Regan’s seventeenth birthday, and her sister has just picked her up from school to take her to a “surprise” birthday dinner with their single father. Soon, however, Regan realizes she’s been lured not to the Grouper Grille, but to a hotel conference room, where her best friend Ava, her Dad, and Freddy Fields, the hottie thug from her sixth period shop class, are all waiting.

Could it be? Why, yes, it is . . . an intervention!

Suddenly, Regan sees lights and cameras and . . . is that Hunter Hazard, host of the Scream Channel’s top-rated reality show Monster-Vention?

But why are they here? Regan’s family reminds her about the bloody clothes in the washing machine, the chewed up sneaker on their lawn, and the teenage girls who have gone missing in their sleepy little town of Crescent Cove, South Carolina. The clues are piling up, and they all point to a conclusion Regan doesn’t want to accept. Could she really be a werewolf?

Prologue
Here’s the thing about sitting in a cheesy hotel conference room crawling with werewolves:

You.

Can’t.

Show.

Even.

A.

Little.

Bit.

Of.

Fear.

Not a drop of sweat, not a stammer in your voice, not a quiver in your wrist as you reach for your black-and-gray-camouflage backpack to scrounge up some silver, any silver, from anywhere at all.

Trust me; it’s harder than it sounds.

Especially when the werewolves used to be your family and your friends.

Especially when they’re watching your every move, waiting for you to do something, anything, to spook them, and then—bam—it’s claws out, and there goes your right forearm, torn off at the joint. And that’s just the beginning.

Some things look easy in the movies.

Things like, say, sitting in a hotel conference room full of werewolves.

You know, in that situation, the heroine of the typical Hollywood “hairy tale” would automatically bust out some silver bullets she just happened to have lying around in her purse.

Or maybe she’d just run over the tops of the werewolves’ heads like she was a player in a totally non-scary game of Duck, Duck, Goose until she leapt out of the door just in time and rolled into her all-silver getaway pod or something.

Naturally, she wouldn’t break a single nail or chip a tooth or so much as stub a toe during her escape, and, of course, she’d look divine in a blood-red jumpsuit with her silver hair pulled back and cool, giant shades covering her (of course) blue eyes.

In real life, it’s not so easy.

It’s like knowing a secret—a really big secret—and not being able to blab about it, to anyone, ever.
Like, say, your best friend slept with half the football team even as she still proclaims to be a virgin (just like you), and you know she’s totes a skank, and she knows you know she’s a total hooch, but you don’t dare let on you know or something ugly would happen between the two of you.

So you look her in the eye and don’t blink; and, when one of the football players gives her a wolf whistle in the hallway, you ignore it—even though you’re both totally thinking the same thing.

It’s this little game you play, you know?

I’m going to keep a straight face, no matter how many nude pictures of my BFF I see plastered on her locker.

Well, facing down werewolves isn’t all that different.

Scarier?

Yes.

Smellier?

Sure.

Different?

Not so much.

First, you try to overlook the fact that their nails are growing an inch every second. And that’s before the sound of their bones cracking and lengthening and their skin and muscles stretching starts to become, shall we say, noticeable.

Then, you have to ignore the wet dog smell permeating the room.

Next, you have to look the other way when one of them opens its mouth, and, instead of words, out comes a growl.

Forget about cringing in abject fear when they start to lick their chops as darkness falls. You don’t want them to see you doing that.

It’s pretty hard to look like you’re not impressed by your wet-dog-smelling family and friends as they sit in a semi-circle, mewling and drooling, waiting to rip you to shreds. But pretending your family and friends aren’t werewolves on a day-to-day basis in regular life is nothing compared to doing it all in front of the cameras.

The bright lights, the power chords, the . . . . What, I didn’t mention the film crew?

Oh, yeah. Well, there’s that, too.

But wait, I’m getting ahead of myself . . . .
Chapter One
Sara is picking me up after school today.

Sara never picks me up after school.

For one, she hates me.

For two, I hate her back.

For three, duh, I already have a car.

Sure, it’s a piece of crap, ten-year-old pickup truck that needs to be push-started twice a week and smells like smoke, but it’s better than riding with Sara and listening to her “you really need to show your teachers more respect” speech for the billionth time.

“Sara?” I lean through the window of Mom’s old minivan where Sara is, naturally, blasting her punk-slash-folk- slash-acoustic-slash-Christian rap at Mach 10.

(Yes, in fact, there is such a thing as punk-slash-folk-slash-acoustic-slash-Christian rap. Yeah, I didn’t know either.)

I cringe at the jarring sound coming from Mom’s tinny speakers as the lead singer belts: “That’s no carpenter, you see; that’s my Lord, born just for me!” in this girly, high-pitched squeal that’s a gazillion times more annoying even than the lyrics.

He goes an octave lower and purrs: “Jesus, I’m not afraid to say; you’re the guy who made my day!”

Sara closes her eyes rapturously and mouths the words—even she knows she can’t carry a tune in an Easter basket—while I try to hold back the projectile vomit that’s churning in my nether regions.

Mom’s old, blue van idles at the curb next to the student parking lot, and it’s been so long since I’ve seen it anywhere but in our driveway that I literally do a double take.

“Regan?” Sara mimics me, trying to be funny.

Sara is many things—athletic, talented, born-again, beautiful, leggy, blonde, suntanned, blue-eyed like my Dad. But she has never been, is not now, and will never be funny. She wrinkles her little, freckled, pug nose, and, as usual, I just want to punch it until I hear the cartilage snap and watch the blood ooze down her upper lip.

“Get in,” she says breezily, like she picks me up after school all the time and she isn’t actually pissed she’s been waiting at the curb for me for thirty minutes listening to punk-slash-folk-slash-acoustic-slash-Christian rap while I tried to score change off the dowdy librarian lady to feed my Nutter Butter fix after school.

“Why?” I ask suspiciously, not leaning too far into the window in case she has a stun gun she bought off the internet hidden in the pocket of her perky size-two yoga pants.

“Regan.” She’s impatient now, and her goody-goody façade cracks just a smidge. “Just get in. Okay?” Her voice wavers between sunshine and hurricane, with a little wind chill thrown in for good effect.

Sara and I were born nearly five years apart, which my best friend Ava says is too far apart to be really close. That would explain a lot, I suppose, and I always nod when Ava points it out. But I doubt Sara and I would have gotten along even if we’d been identical twins.

“Why?” I ask. “So you can drag me to another Silent Retreat at your crazy Baptist church again?”

She flinches momentarily.

“No, Regan, we talked about that, remember? In exchange for you dropping the charges—and the restraining order request—I agreed never to drag you to a Silent Retreat without your knowledge and consent again. Ever. Okay? How long are you going to ride that dead horse, anyway?”

I cluck my tongue, shake my head, and enjoy her obvious discomfort for as long as I can.

“I have my own car, remember Sherlock?”

Sara grins the way she does at home when I get up for extra asparagus and she’s already heaped the last of it on her plate. “No worries; Ava drove it home for you.”

“What?” My BS meter suddenly flies off the charts—along with my heart rate. “That’s crazy, Sara!
Why would Ava drive my car home? And when? I’ve been with her all day? And . . . how? I mean, she doesn’t even have a key.”

Sara smiles. “No, but I have a key, and I gave it to her. Big deal. It’s all part of your birthday surprise, Regan. Now, get in.”

Birthday surprise?

Sara?

Surprising me on my birthday?

And Ava, who she basically can’t stand, is in on it with her?

And why didn’t my best friend Ava say anything about this during one of the four periods we share each day? Or at the lockers where we meet after every class?

And when in hell did Sara have time to give her my car keys without my seeing it? And why?

My Big, Fat, Hairy Werewolf Intervention – A Love Story with Fur, by Rusty Fischer.

Happy Halloween!

CHELSIE SHAKESPEARE

Halloween just might be my favorite holiday. I love dressing up, and it gives me the perfect excuse. It was a sad time in my life when I was too old to trick-or-treat and too young to go to the bars. Those few years I had to hunt to find a reason to dress up, and of course I always did. There are so many beautiful clothes from other eras that are not appropriate in any normal situation, and Halloween is just about the only time you can get away with wearing them.

I’ve always had an obsession with vintage clothing. Corsets, layers and layers of silk, hoop skirts… you just don’t find that anymore. Now it’s shitty polyester blends and rayon. I’ve always wondered what attracted some people to certain eras. My best friend Hadley has always been fascinated with England in the 1500′s. I’ve always been drawn to the 1950′s. Hadley and I would stay up talking into the wee hours of the night about these inherent affinities that people seem to be born with. Time and time again we explored the possibility of past lives. These late night discussions planted the seed that would eventually flower into The Pull, my first novel.

The Pull is a love story that stretches beyond the limitations of life and death. I wanted to write something unabashedly romantic. Something that defies logic and reason. I aimed to explain the unexplainable, to delve into a world of fantasy and create my own rules.

Evie Remington had always done what people expected of her. As a result, at twenty-six she finds herself the unhappy owner and manager of a Denver hotel. That is, until deep-rooted memories of a past life and the hidden knowledge of a promise she made in her previous lifetime pulls her away from it all. Without knowing where it will lead, Evie sets out on a cross-country journey that will challenge what she believes about life, death, and love.

Chelsie Shakespeare, author of The Pull. Follow Chelsie on Facebook.

C. MARGERY KEMPE

My story DRAGGER ELLA doesn’t have any supernatural elements, although it is a kind of Cinderella story, but it’s set in Connecticut which is the home of the wonderful Witch’s Dungeon, a movie memorabilia museum dedicated to horror films since the 1960s. When I lived in Connecticut, I went to a lot of films they sponsored, old horror film classics like Phantom of the Opera and Frankenstein as well as rare Warner Bros cartoons no longer in circulation.

The Phantom of the Opera (1925)

Cortlandt Hull has run the museum as a tribute to his favourite films since childhood, watching it grow steadily–a great example of the power of pursuing your dreams! He was instrumental in helping get the US Post Office to create the Classic Movie Monsters stamps with icons Karloff, Lugosi and Chaney. This weekend is your last chance to visit this year!

C. Margery Kempe, author of Dragger Ella. Follow C. Margery Kempe on facebook.

KIMBER AN

Bianca Bags a Vamp

By

Kimber An

Ophelia parted the dangling orange and black crepe paper streamers as she stepped through the gym’s doorway with her twin sister.  The Thriller pounded through her skull.

“Wait, you’re hung up.”  Bianca untangled some of the streamers from her filmy white wings.

“Fairy princesses.”  Ophelia folded her arms and glared at the monster mash on the dance floor.  “I can’t believe you talked me into fairy princesses.” She fixed the green antennae tilting to one side among her sister’s swirled red hair.

“Don’t you get irony when it smacks you in the face?”

“I hate you.”

“I hate you more.”  Ophelia felt a surge of evil and clasped her sister’s hand.  “Feel that?”

Bianca drew a deep breath and closed her eyes briefly.  She was still getting used to her empathic senses, but there was no presence among the Regular humans.  “Oooh, shhh…”

Ophelia clapped a hand over her sister’s mouth before the naughty word could get out.  It was habit, even when their devoutly Catholic mother wasn’t around.

Bianca shoved her hand away.  “Don’t we ever get a night off?”

“Come on.”  Ophelia groaned and dug her hand into her purse.  “Let’s just clean house, so we can party.”

“Fine.  You packing heat?”

“Souped-up iPhone.  What do you got?”  Ophelia held it aloft.

“Holy Water breath spray.” Bianca tapped it against the phone.  “Not only will the Blood-Sucking Dead Guys get fried, they’ll also be minty-fresh!”

“Ooh, nice touch.”  Ophelia saw the red eyes approaching through the crowded dance floor, like little pinlights.  “Four Mallies and one Bennie.”

“I call the Bennie.  He’s got a nice butt.”  Bianca purred over her shoulder, watching a tall boy pretending to sip punch in the far corner, his back turned to them.  Maybe he dined on the red stuff, but he was all goodness and light.  “Dang.”  Her lips curled.

“Fine, but try to keep your hormones together until we’re done with the Mallies.” Ophelia flipped open her iPhone and started tapping the secret code.  “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”  Bianca made snarling come-on at the Bennie as he looked their way.

“Oh, good grief.  Better warn lover-boy over there.”

Hey, Snookums, put your fingers in your ears.  Bianca kissed the air in the Bennie’s direction.

He picked up on the telepathic communication.  Huh?

Hello?  I’m a Borean Empath.  Just do what I say.

Surprise washed over his adorable face.  Borean Empath?  He set down his drink and plugged his ears.

“I can’t believe you’re name-dropping to snag a guy.”  Ophelia groaned, for she knew how enticing empaths could be to telepathic vampires.

“Whatever works.”  Bianca snickered.

Ophelia pressed her finger hard into the keypad.

Instantly, a high-pitched sound  out of human range pierced the Malevolent Vampires’ senses and the dropped to floor, screaming.

Bianca’s laughter came up like bubbles as the blood-suckers flipped themselves and fled the Halloween Dance.

“Aww,” said Ophelia, nodding to her sister’s Holy Water breath spray.  “You didn’t get to use your thingamajig and you’ve been working on it all week.”

“That’s okay.”  Bianca stuffed it back in her purse.  “I have other ways of bagging a vamp.” 

Ophelia watched her sister swagger through the dancers, flirty skirt swaying with her hips, to the Benevolent Vampire and pull his fingers from his ears.  She smirked.  “You sure do, sister.”

The pattern used by Bianca to create costumes

Kimber An, author of Sweet Bytes. Follow Kimber on Facebook.

ELLA JADE

Fall is such a magical time of year. There’s something about the autumn chill in the air, the leaves turning colors and the smell of fireplaces burning that has given me inspiration in both my everyday life and my writing journey. Some of my best plot ideas are created during this time of the year. There are so many vibrant colors, rich folklore, and supernatural tales to keep my creative juices flowing for the next few months. I’m having a hard time keeping up with all the characters who are dying for me to tell their story. That’s scary!

Halloween has always been my favorite holiday and I believe its because it occurs during the fall. One of these days I’m going to get around to telling a chilling tale of murder, mayhem and mystery with a heavy dose of romance thrown in for good measure. But, for the next day or so, I’m taking some time off to celebrate the Witching Hours with my kids. We have a Halloween tradition in our house…trick or treating, pizza and cupcakes. A simple evening, but memorable none the less. Happy Halloween!

Ella Jade, author of Jocelyn’s Choice. Follow Ella on Facebook.

CHARLES DAY

I have always been a fan of horror and dark fiction, both on the big screen and through the written word in books. This includes Halloween, which in my opinion, is a great time to relive all the creepy moments we’ve had growing up and being scared. It’s also the perfect opportunity to dress up as your favorite character, and actually get to play pretend. I mean… how cool is that?

When I wrote “Legend of the Pumpkin Thief,” which was accepted for publication here at Noble YA, I had the best of times bringing this novel to life. Why? Because it brought back all the wonderful memories I had growing up in my neighborhood, sharing Halloween with my friends. Oh yeah, my buds and I delivered many dastardly tricks in our younger years. We even held a Haunted House in my parent’s basement, doing our best to scare all the people who bought our tickets and came through our foggy world of ghouls and goblins. We were only 14 years old; children, but we had extremely imaginative small minds and produced an awesome scare fest for our neighborhood.

Many of my characters in “Legend of The Pumpkin Thief,” came about by the antics and wrong doings from incidents that occurred in my childhood. Well, except for the Pumpkin Thief. I’m grateful I never ran into this frightening character in a dark alley.

The Pumpkin Thief came to life in my head first, before I even began typing this story. He spoke to me, told me what he was and why he needed to tell his story. His legend is all about Halloween. His role in my story is a simple one. He picks a town each Halloween and steals all the pumpkins from the town folk. Once he’s captured all these orange vegetables, he’s able to release the ghouls, ghosts, and goblins upon the poor, unsuspecting people. Luckily, for his chosen neighborhood this year, a few smart teenagers manage to prevent him from causing havoc. Wait, I almost gave some of the story away.

Now if you look back in history, Pumpkins were originally placed out on the porches and steps of town folk to keep the evil spirits from coming into your abode and causing terror and mayhem. The Pumpkin thief’s thievery helped me in developing my novel. It’s a real blast, and I think many teenagers and adults will relive their past experiences, both good and bad, of the Halloween’s they celebrated growing up when reading the pages.

Hey, even my alter ego you see by my side above in the photo, my muse, my best friend, he’s an extension of Halloween to me. In fact, this year he and I are going out trick-r-treating together hand and bony hand. The only problem, I have to find the evil little jester a costume to wear. Me, I’m going as Spiderman.

Happy Halloween everyone! Hope you get the chills and frights you’re looking for.

Charles Day, author of Legend of the Pumpkin Thief, coming soon. Follow Charles on Facebook.

LISA KUEHNE

HOW MYTHS AND LEGENDS INSPIRE TRUE INTENTIONS

Mankind lives in a physical, tangible, material world influenced by the invisible and mysterious spiritual world around them. That’s where dark angel, Samuel Perry, comes in: to influence mankind. That’s what he has focused his efforts toward becoming good at since his birth into this new world in 1798.

His job is simple: to invisibly tempt. Not only the members of mankind who have poor or weak morals, but to influence everyone, which includes people who view themselves as righteous followers of God.

It never ceases to amaze Sam; the vast majority of people in this world have lost sight of the real connection between cause and effect. They seldom stop to think of the long-term consequences of their daily, sinful actions.

If this innocent girl met the devil face to face, she would never believe it was him. Satan has always been depicted as a cartoon character in a red suit with a pitchfork or a ghoul so hideous that if she saw him, her instincts would kick in, and she would instantly know to run.

None of these characteristics are the truth.

In reality, she would find him attractive, engaging and persuasive. Although Satan is the Prince of Darkness, he successfully presents himself as an “angel of light.” A master of misrepresentation, he is the world’s greatest advertiser packaging his product so it’s attractive and appealing. In reality, it’s deathly poisonous. That’s where Sam comes in. He is the product. 

He is the product the devil is selling to mankind. Samuel Perry is, in fact, one of Satan’s angels.

Satan needs mankind to see his angel soldiers as good, beneficent, and trustworthy. He wants his products’ abilities to appear enticing and inviting. Their ultimate goal: influence mankind toward sin and the rejection of God. The human race is completely unaware of how well Satan has been training his angels for this role.

It’s as easy as taking candy from a baby.

Of course, some of them are far better at it than others. Practice makes perfect. Many of Satan’s angels have been around for multiple centuries and have found a great appreciation for what works and what doesn’t.

The rest of Satan’s angels, like Sam, are still fairly new at this life of deception, and are still honing their skills, like a hunter with a new weapon.

There are benefits to working under Satan—immortality being the biggest. Sam has been seventeen since 1798. Over the years, he’s seen mankind evolve, for better and for worse. He’s witnessed the creation of antibiotics, which saves lives, and nuclear weapons, which easily destroys them.

His external beauty works as his biggest advantage. For mankind is, and probably always will be, superficial. Everyone wants to be rich, beautiful, and powerful. How easy it is to persuade someone to follow your ideas or directions when you can mesmerize them with your beauty.

Temptation is the easy part.

Lisa Kuehne, author of True Intentions. Find Lisa on Facebook.

Have a safe and Happy Halloween. Don’t forget to leave a comment for a chance to win an ebook from one of the authors in this blog as well as a five dollar gift code from Noble Young Adult. Winners will be chosen at random a few days after Halloween.

An Asian Hero? And the Release of SWEET BYTES!

An Asian Hero?  And the Release of SWEET BYTES!

By

Kimber An

Good morning, Blog Buds!  I’m extremely busy these days, wrangling my massive herd of offspring and bracing for the release of Sweet Bytes, the third book in my Ophelia Dawson series, on Monday, October 17^th. 

From the start, I’ve struggled about what to call Tristan Li.  The Hero?  Well, not exactly.  Ophelia is the Heroine and this entire series is her story.  And her soul-mate is Adrian, a ‘Non,’ a non-addicted Newblood (vampire-like alien/human hybrids.)  Early in Sweet Bytes, a Malevolent Oldblood ( bad vampire) informs Ophelia that he’s destroyed Adrian.  Even though she’s an empath, she believes the lie in her terrible grief.  To protect herself from forced turning and mating, Ophelia chooses Tristan, a Benevolent Oldblood (good vampire,) as her Claimant.  This means all other suitors must stay away from her, until she decides to accept or reject him as her mate.

It’s like the ‘marriage of convenience’  trope in the Romance Genre.

The thing is Tristan’s kind of sweet on Ophelia.  You can go back and read the first book in the series, the novella (only about fifty pages) Crushed Sugar to find out what I mean.  Isn’t this always how the trope goes?  Either the couple starts out hating each other or one secretly has the hots for the other, but doesn’t dare tell.

Anyway, besides being Ophelia’s bodyguard and Claimant, Tristan is also the most highly advanced *telepath* of the Benevolent Oldbloods.  This leads into some dynamics that were interesting for me to write.  An Empath and a Telepath, how would they get along?  What sort of communication problems might they have in their relationship?  Of course, a romance ensues as Ophelia works through her grief over Adrian’s ‘death.’

And that brings us back to the title, ‘An Asian Hero?’  You don’t see many of them outside martial arts movies and Star Trek, do you? I’ve seen a handful, like in Kit Forbes’ Falling Through Glass. 

That book was one of the things that drew me to Noble YA in the first place.  I figured, hey, if they like Kit’s heroine accidentally kidnapping the future emperor of Japan, they might like Tristan too!  My Asian Hero is Chinese American, by the way.  Being a Trekkie (the new Mr. Sulu is so cute) and loving movies like Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and being fascinated by ancient and medieval Asian history and mythology, I just had to have an Asian hero at some point in my stories.

And now I do, Tristan Li.  His first name means ‘sadness’ by the way.  If you read the story, you’ll learn why and it’s not just because Ophelia’s still hung up on Adrian.

So, technically, Tristan is not the hero.  I guess in the strictest sense he’s the next most prominent protagonist. 

Nevertheless, to me, he’s the Hero of this book.

FYI, Osric Chau was the visual inspiration for Tristan Li.

Okay, deep breath and exhale, my daughter, a professional teenager, will be posting the first review of Sweet Bytes, tomorrow, Sunday, October 17^th at Fabulously Young ePubs.  The celebration launches at that point.  Pop over, read the review, and comment to win the Grand Prize, a plush toy Alaskan moose, a wooden Alaskan bear keychain, some AK postcards, and a free eBook of Sweet Bytes.  My other guest posts and reviews are also giving away free Sweet Bytes.  Visit my main site’s Calendar to see where I’ll be, so you can enter those drawings. 

.

Finally, here is the Sweet Bytes blurb-

*

Ophelia’s escape from Martin, an Addicted Newblood, came at a terrible sacrifice.  Adrian, the boy she loves, is now infected and hunted like vermin.

As her new Protector, Tristan Li represents the Oldblood determination to destroy Adrian, along with all the Newbloods, addicted or not.

In her grief, Ophelia hates everything about Tristan, until his subtle strength empowers her to resist being turned into a vampire by the High Prefect. 

As Tristan helps Ophelia harness her empathic ability, his need for redemption rings in her heart.  Her own strength grows, along with her passion for freedom.

The veil of mourning lifts.

The evil of Martin returns.

Ophelia seizes ownership of her destiny.

*

Please, pop over to Fab ePubs to read up on the schedule for Sweet Bytes’ release festivities and then over to my main site to learn more about the Ophelia Dawson series.  Thank you!

www.kimberan.com

How I Woo Blogging Book Reviewers

Kimber An Being Wooed By Husband

Good morning, Blog Buds!
I’m one of the new girls on the block. I just signed with Noble YA for Sweet
Bytes, a Romantic Paranormal set in my home state of Alaska.  The weird part about it is Sweet Bytes is the third book in the series.  You can learn all about the
first two by popping over to my main site- www.kimberan.com  But, please, hang on until you finish reading this.

This post is for authors, technically, and aspiring authors, just in case they need help in this area. Readers and Reviewers will probably find it amusing though, because, hey, we’re talking about you!

During my time moderating the Enduring Romance book review blog, I found that Readers find Reviewers with similar tastes and hang out with them in cyberspace.  The Readers and
Reviewers are online and they talk to each other.  If they like you and your book, they tell
each other and you’ll get more requests for reviews and more readers.  If you whine about a negative review, they tell each other and your email will probably go into the Spam dump.  If you throw a hissy-fit, well, you can kiss a lot of sales good-bye ‘cause you probably won’t get reviewed at all.

Remember, even a negative review gets your story out there.  A reader can’t buy a book if she
doesn’t know it exists. So, you’d better play nice, no matter what.

First thing I do is go Scouting! If you’re brand new, find a popular book that’s similar to yours.  In my case, that was Twilight by Stephanie Meyers.  Then, Google ‘book blog Young Adult’ or you can just pop over to your author buddies’ blogs and see who has reviewed for them.  I have a list and so do most of the YA authors I know. Just ask us for it.  Since blogging book reviewers hang out together, pop over to one of their blogs and scroll down to the links.  They also post each other’s banners.  That’s your starting point.

Visit all the blogs and start your own list.  If there’s no obvious indication that a blogger likes the Popular Book, like a banner that screams ‘EDWARD CULLEN EATS TOAD EGGS!’ then do a Search of the blog.  Put in the title, Twilight, for example, and you should come up with a list of posts which mentions it, positive or negative.  If the blogger likes, loves, or is okay with the popular book, then she might be interested in yours.

If she thinks Edward Cullen eats toad eggs, well, then it’s time to surf on, dude.

So, let’s say you’ve found a blogging book reviewer who thinks Twilight (or whatever your
sample popular book is) is just the bee’s knees.  Then, you emit a little ‘squee!’ and you scroll to the top of the page (or sometimes it’s on the sidebar) and click on ‘Review Policies.’  There are variations in the title.  ‘Policies,’ ‘Don’t Send Me These Crappy Books,’ and ‘What I’m Dying to Read!’  You’ll figure it out.  Click on that and read all about what that blogger wants to read and review.  The first thing you should check out is if she accepts eBooks at all.  If that’s a ‘go’ then check out her current preferred genres and wish list, if she has one. Don’t bother someone who isn’t interested in your kind of book.  You don’t want to come off as an annoying pest.

And always, always, always follow whatever procedure the blogger wants.  Always send your book in the format she wants.  Obey the Book Review Blogger!  Like an agent or editor, she doesn’t need your book, plus she doesn’t get paid money like they do.  She’s got plenty of authors begging her to read their awesome books.  Show her the respect she is due.

The List!  Each time you find a reviewer you think might be interested, add her name, blog address, and email to a running list.

The Form Letter!  This is like a query letter for an agent or editor. You customize this form letter for each of the reviewers.  Most of them will respond, whether they accept or not.  Here is mine for Sweet Bytes at my main site- http://www.kimberan.com/2011/09/sweet-bytes-promo-letter.html

Please don’t go there until you finish reading this post!

You send out this letter to your potential reviewers as soon as you get a Release Date and cover art! Remember, your book isn’t the only one begging for their attention.  You’ve got to give the blogging book reviewers as much time as you can to move yours up the line and get it reviewed right around the release date or within the first month or two afterwards. Although, if a reviewer can’t get to your book for several months, that works too. You can pick up new readers and build your momentum that way.

With each new book you release, it’s important to go through this process again.  Blogging Book Reviewers are real people who go through life changes.  New blogs pop up all the time while others go into retirement, though they usually remain online as ‘read-only.’  Reviewers’ tastes change too.  When I was pregnant the last time, for example, I only wanted Romance novels with an absolute Happily Ever After.  Once I gave birth, I went straight back to my
multi-genre self.  A blogger who previously rejected eBooks might get an Amazon Kindle for her birthday and suddenly be voracious for them.  You just never know, so do your homework each time.

One last thing, always, always, ALWAYS, thank the book reviewer, even if she said your book was the crappiest she’d ever read.  I knew one Reviewer on a popular site who always gave horrible reviews to all books which involved babies or children.  Yet, she read them all the
time!  Huh?  As a Reader, I quickly learned I would love whatever book she claimed to hate.  So, at the very least, post a comment saying, “Thank you for taking the time to read and review my book!”  And leave it at that.

Okay, so that’s the first thing on my promo to-do list.  Since I just sent my pre-edited Sweet Bytes to my editor, I’d better get on it.

Aspen: Crosses for Vampires….

Did you know that at one time Aspen was the type of wood preferred when making Vampire Crosses?

According to some groovy Vamp lore, wanna-be Van Helsing’s had their preferences.

Supposedly, the cross of Christ was made from Aspen. So back in the day, when all was pretty much the Age of Folklore–after one scarfed down some pheasant or roasted venison along  with their favorite pint–they would then stagger out into the world of night (or day) with their Aspen–made–crosses, which in their minds, would ensure their way home.

Now, if you happened to be a so- called Vampire Hunter, you would carefully make sure that all of your stakes (not steaks) were carved from this protective and blessed wood.

According to lore, Aspen did not just work on Vamps. Anything of Evil roamed in total fear of it. In fact, it was said that if you lay some of these twigs by a Vampire’s or Witch’s grave then d they wouldn’t be able to rise again by moon-time.

With that being said, who’s game for harvesting some Aspen?

Until next time darklings,

C.H. Scarlett

www.chscarlett.net