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Monday, November 9, 2015

New Release: Menagerie à Trois

Menagerie à Trois
Housetrap Chronicles, VII
By RJ Hore
Fantasy
$2.99
Amazon: http://goo.gl/hAFDa2
Kobo: https://goo.gl/bPfgzc
Champagne Books: http://goo.gl/OtETGe

When a quiet day at the office turns into utter chaos, it’s business as usual at the unusual detective agency.
EXCERPT

“Mr. Aloysius will see you now.” Bertha held open my office door and a tall figure swept through, glanced around, wiped off the seat of a chair with a white glove, and lowered himself carefully to the edge.

“You are Randolf C. Aloysius?” The words held a certain vibrant ringing tone to them.

“I am.” I can say, with all honesty, as a general rule I do not like elves. Not fond, would be putting my prejudice too mildly. When it comes to High Elves, their rarified upper-crusted brethren, the hairs on my back become positively twitchy.

This character wore a black suit with creases so sharp you might cut yourself if you came in accidental contact with a pant leg. He actually sported a short, red-trimmed black cape over the top of his jacket. His tie, black silk, woven with what I suspected was genuine gold thread, covered his throat. This overdressed in early summer weather, not the cool mid throes of spring or fall, seemed a bit too much for this part of town. Maybe the oversized diamonds sparkling in his pointy earlobes did it. I decided to detest him and double my price, for whatever I was going to be asked to do.

“Can you be discreet?” Those golden eyes narrowed, the pupils probing.

I had the distinct feeling he was examining me closely, clothes, features, in order to estimate my net worth, and where I fit in the city’s pecking order. My jacket was new ten years ago, my status, as a mongrel, far closer to the bottom of the dung heap than near Central City’s center. He appeared to be trying to use his powers to probe me. I broke eye contact and concentrated on a fly strolling on the wall behind him.

“I’m so discreet some days I have no idea whether I’m coming or going. I keep everything a secret, even from me.” And this may turn out to be one of those days.

A frown distorted his narrow face. “This is a very serious matter.” He spoke in a hoarse whisper.

Did he think the walls had ears? I have the office swept at least weekly, and Bertha casts a mean hex and counter-snooping spell every morning when she arrives.

Sunday, November 8, 2015

New Release: Amber Legacy

Amber Legacy
Amber Gifts, 3
Kevin B. Henry
Fantasy/Steampunk
$1.99
Amazon: http://goo.gl/N9voIk
Kobo: https://goo.gl/Whlb3A
Champagne Books: http://goo.gl/gdrkU2

A simple research project goes horribly wrong when murder and time travel is involved.

EXCERPT

Part of me was like some detached, immature schoolboy. I was the hero, bound for adventure and looking for the infamous villain with hope of making all things right and returning to the hearth fires of my home, victorious. I was Robert Downey Jr. playing Sherlock Holmes. I was John Wayne playing almost any role. Hell, I was David Tennant playing The Doctor.

The problem was, I wasn’t playing, and if I wasn’t real damn careful I was going to end up playing John Wayne in The Cowboys or even worse, William Shatner in Generations. God, please make my death scene more interesting and meaningful than that. These thoughts poured through my brain as I walked across the street.

By the time I reached the opposite side I exuded cool, matter of fact demeanor and displayed no heroics. Simple confidence was my copilot. Caution was my mantra. I had an almost-wife and a beautiful baby girl to return to.

I took a winding path that led me to Commercial Road. The darkness was all engulfing. More than half the lampposts were not functioning. It cast every turn, every alleyway, every alcove in total blackness. I walked cautiously but without any appearance of trepidation. I did not want to appear an easy target.

Women of questionable morality approached and quickly departed. I was polite, but firm in my refusals. There was certainly no questioning their hygiene or their state of inebriation. A very high percentage of the female residents of Whitechapel turned to prostitution. Most began as a way to make a living, but as they turned more and more to alcohol to erase their memories, the act became more about the next drink and less about the money. Most could be had for the cost of a shot of gin, about fifty cents.

The first victim, Polly, went out one last time the evening of her death because she thought she looked exceptionally well. She had a new bonnet. She had no teeth, but the hat made all the difference, I’m sure.

I found the cut off that led south from Commercial Road and made the turn. Less than a block down this street was the Socialist Club and adjoining the club was a small open courtyard. As I walked toward the club entrance, I heard a sound I can only call a muffled gurgle. I sprinted the rest of the way to the courtyard opening. There, lying on the ground was Elizabeth Stride. Kneeling beside her was the one and only, Jack the Ripper. He was nothing I had ever expected.

The man stood as I came to a halt at the courtyard opening. He was much shorter than I would have expected. I had envisioned a mixture of Vincent Price, Frank Langella, in his early films and just a hint of Malcolm McDowell, again from his younger days. This Ripper was none of those.

As I mentioned, he was not tall, perhaps five foot six, no more than five foot seven. He was portly. That is the only word I can use to describe him. While his clothes fit well, they could not conceal his amble midsection, nor his arms and hands, which I can only describe as doughy.

His face surprised me the most. I had expected to see an angry, scared, possibly deformed individual. Jack’s face was almost angelic. It was round, and I would swear it appeared to have baby fat in the cheeks.

His eyes were sharp, clear and a grey color. He was perfectly clean-shaven, his light-colored hair trimmed short and well groomed, perhaps with lard, since styling mousse would not arrive for many years. I would have expected to see him in a cathedral pulpit or perhaps in a bank, not hunched over the fresh corpse of an unlucky prostitute.

Saturday, November 7, 2015

Unbalanced by Courtney Shepard Review by OnlineBookClub.org

[Following is the official OnlineBookClub.org review of "Unbalanced" by Courtney Shepard.]

Book Cover
4 out of 4 stars
Review by Tanaya
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Unbalanced is a fantasy adventure novel by Courtney Shepard. It is the first book of a series.

The story follows four sisters: Asha, Ivy, Avia, and Mere. They each command a different element, which includes fire, earth, wind, and water respectively. Their existence is prophetic. Throughout the centuries, there has always been a set of female quadruplets born with these extraordinary abilities. They are usually hunted down and sacrificed by the Order when they are young. However, in this generation, things have drastically changed. Asha and her sisters have survived longer than those who came before them, making the stakes so much higher. For their own protection, they were separated at birth. Now several years later they are reunited. They gradually learn more about each other, themselves, and their joint destiny as they fight against the Order for their survival.

Given the premise, there are many dark moments in the story, which are rather riveting. Because the sisters have such great power, there is also plenty of action. The story is told in the third person. While Asha is technically the protagonist, the story also jumps around to the other characters’ perspectives, particularly when they are in different parts of the world. However, this is not done in a choppy manner. The technique works well, and the story is not at all hard to follow. Comic relief comes in the form of the characters’ italicized thoughts, which are sparse and effective. All aspects of the story are thoroughly explained and new details are revealed throughout the book. To accomplish this, the dialogue sometimes relies on redundant exposition.

The story is filled with secrets, mystery, and betrayal. The sisters discover the origin of their powers and come to terms with the dark history that precedes them. On top of that, they face sexism and have to deal with the notion of being monsters due to the use of their powers. Because they were separated across the globe, the sisters have unique backgrounds. Before being reunited, Asha had a reputation as a warrior queen in Colombia. The fact that their names go along with their powers was a cute touch. 

As for the romance, Asha’s love interest is Clay, who was sent by the Order to kill her. However, he decided to spare her life because he had frequently seen her in his dreams over the years. Because they are enemies, there is lots of angst and tension between them. Their attraction is incredibly complicated and completely undeniable.

Romance, fantasy, and action are an entertaining combination. The author clearly has fun playing around with all the different opportunities of this genre blend. That was the best aspect of the book. She creates ever-changing bonds and animosity among the various characters and adds many surprises into the plot.

I rate this book 4 out of 4 stars. While the story has it’s fair share of fantasy story clichés, the author did manage to create a convincing world of her own. If you don’t like superhuman adventure narratives, then this isn’t the book for you. I would recommend this book to readers who enjoy powerful female characters in leading roles.

******
Unbalanced 
View: on Bookshelves | on Amazon

Savvy Saturday: Our Social Media Specialist takes a crack at Alan Joshua and Dr. Slezak

For this Savvy Saturday we have two very intelligent, and secretive, guests. For the purposes of safety, I have been told that what you read here you read at your own risk. For, if the enemies of Alan Joshua and Dr. Slezak find out you know this information, nowhere will be safe. 

Alan Joshua is the author of the ever popular book, The SHIVA Syndrome, available now on Amazon.

Hello Mr. Joshua!
A pleasure, Kylee. Thanks for the invitation.

You brought a very distinguished-looking gentleman with you. And he is…
Dr. Karlik Slezak, Chief of Operations in Bioengineering at the National Science Foundation—NSF.

Before I interview Dr. Slezak, would you give us a little background about his book?
You must have heard by now that part of the Russian city of Podol’sk, a suburb of Moscow, was mysteriously destroyed—obliterated—leaving a crater two miles wide and a mile deep.

No, I hadn’t heard. You would think something of that magnitude would be spread all over the media.
The information’s been blacked out; the whole matter’s classified. Even Putin hasn’t made an official statement yet. There are at least ten thousand dead.

NSF’s upper echelon began to worry that, because the Russian research at the Anokhin Institute was so similar to what NSF is doing, there could be a connection. Dr. Slezak assembled a topnotch US-Russian investigative team, including Beau Walker, a research psychologist. The team will enter the crater and to try to discover what caused the catastrophe.

How tragic. You said the crater is a mile deep? That sounds dangerous.
That’s an understatement, Kylee. The little data that’s been gathered so far sounds otherworldly, almost extraterrestrial. Lukasha Ibatov, a xenogeologist, will be heading the expedition. But that’s how The SHIVA Syndrome begins.

(Slezak clears his throat loudly, interrupting them.) You can stop right there, Mr. Joshua. That’s as far as you go. This is classified above Top Secret…and you’re aware of the consequences.

Yes, Dr. Slezak. I’m aware.

If Podol’sk can’t be discussed, Dr. Slezak, can you at least tell us something about your bioengineering research at NSF?
(Slezak smiles, but his gray eyes are cold and dead-looking) The advancement of science, of course. We serve humanity and protect our great nation. Safeguarding our nation’s security—you, your lovely family, those things we hold so dear in these troubled timesis of the utmost importance to us. It’s the guiding principle in my life’s work.

You really haven’t answered my question, Sir. How can your project accomplish that? What, exactly, is the nature of your research?
It’s pioneering. It involves mind research used to—
That’s quite enough Mr. Joshua! Ms. Howells, I’m here as a favor that’s been abused already. Normally, I’m very uncomfortable being interviewed. I’ll just say that security issues prohibit disclosure. National security. That’s about the best answer I can give at this time, my dear.

Very well. Then let’s just jump into this interview shall we?
As you wish. I have pressing matters in Washington requiring my attention. So please be brief.

All right. First question: What is your greatest extravagance?
(Slezak grins) I’m not a man prone to extravagances or nonessentials. You might call me rather spartan. I deal only with necessities—including how I spend my time.

What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
Two I think: transparency and the relative value of truth. The idea of transparency is vastly overrated—even dangerous. It invites others to exploit your vulnerabilities, to weaken your resolve. My employees know full well that the less said, the better. The public at large should not have all the information. They simply can’t handle it. They’re more comfortable with the predictable and familiar. Leave the complexities of life to the government and its agencies.

When and where were you happiest?
When I received the National Medal of Science from the President for achievement in bioengineering. It led to the nomination for my present position in NSF.

What was the achievement that won the award?
Ah, that was for a new engineering device and technique for more effective and rapid genetic resequencing.

Where would you most like to live?
I’m perfectly content to stay where I am, in Washington, D.C. For me, it’s the center of the world.

I notice you keep looking at your watch, Dr. Slezak.
I’m sorry, but the research team will be leaving for Russia and I must see them before their departure.

My final question: what is your most treasured possession?
That, I think, is yet to come, more as a success than a possession. The catastrophe in Russia that Mr. Joshua unfortunately leaked is the NSF’s greatest challenge yet. Please understand that my need for vagueness is for the public’s protection. The problems the investigative team faces are filled with unknowns—and dangers I cannot even hint at. If I—I mean we—are able to resolve this enigmatic disaster, I would have to consider that my most treasured accomplishment.

Thank you Mr. Joshua and Dr. Slezak for being here today.
Thank you for having us, Kylee.


Yes, Ms. Howells. I hope you were able to meet your needs. However, the information Mr. Joshua told you is an official secret. Private citizens like you can be prosecuted under the Espionage Act for sharing classified information. I suggest—strongly—that you censor your recording and do not disclose anything related to the Russian event. If you do, it will be at your own risk.

Friday, November 6, 2015

New Release: Seducing the Darkness

Seducing The Darkness
Darkness, 1
By Shiela Stewart
Paranormal Romance
$3.99
Amazon: http://goo.gl/2epvFD
Kobo: https://goo.gl/trKkC4
Champagne Books: http://goo.gl/NQuzE0

An outcast by her kind, Trinity Ford has learned to live on her own…not an easy thing to do when you’re a vampire.

EXCERPT

“I don’t think you want to be doing that.”

The tall, gangly, greasy haired vampire jerked and spun around to face Trinity. His teeth were primed for the kill, his yellow eyes glaring at Trinity as if she were his next meal. The poor girl in his arms was wailing something awful.

Now you regret going through the dark alley.

“Yeah, says who?”

Trinity lifted a brow, cocked her body to one side and rested her hand on her hip. “Jesus, could you have said anything more lame? Let the girl go and no one has to get hurt.” Okay, so that wasn’t completely the truth. He would be more than hurt when this was over.

He would be dust.

“How ‘bout I keep her and you wait against the wall until I’m done?” He jerked the girl towards him, yanking her head back to expose her neck. He was just about to bite down when Trinity placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and his face froze.

“How ‘bout I don’t.” Trinity bared her fanged teeth to show him she was not going to back off. “Beat it kid.” She clamped her hand on the vampires shoulder, her nails digging into his flesh as she jerked her head at the girl. As she’d suspected, the guy was a wimp.

He released the girl who immediately ran off screaming.

“Now, you wanna take off, or am I going to have to mess up that pretty face of yours?” she asked sarcastically as she glared down at him.

“You couldn’t handle me, bitch.” He slapped her hand free, then curling his fingers in a fist, threw a punch at her face.

She was ready and ducked out of the way. Slicing her hand up, she chopped him in the neck, sending him crumbling on the ground. “You don’t want to mess with me, jerk,” she advised as she planted a booted foot on his jugular. The razor blades she had attached to the toe drew a small amount of dull gray, deoxygenated blood as she pressed it just below his chin.

“Go ahead and dust him, he’s useless.”

Trinity glared over her shoulder at the man she had once been destined for and felt her heart ache. She couldn’t stop herself from admiring the beauty of the man before her. His long dark hair floated in the light breeze sweeping away from a face sculpted of fine bone and delicate skin. He looked so dark and dangerous in that long, black leather coat he always wore. One look into his translucent blue eyes turned her heart to mush.

Then she reminded herself how much she detested him.

To show she wasn’t a push over, Trinity pressed her foot harder, the razor blades cutting into the vampire’s neck. His arms flailed out, trying to yank her foot away from his neck. His legs kicked wildly, but Trinity had a good ten pounds on the scrawny vamp. Tilting her toe downward, she sliced deep into his neck, finally cutting his head off. In a whoosh he disintegrated into a pile of dust, his last breaths used to scream his way to death.

She took a deep breath, shook the remnants of a useless life from her boot then turned. “Basil.”

“Trinity.” They stalked each other like the predators they were, neither taking their eyes off the other. “You’re looking good.”

Her breath always caught in her throat when she looked into those icy blue eyes of his. Unlike the rest of her race that had yellow eyes, he had the color of his heritage. He was royal. “So are you, but you already know that.” She circled him, her eyes never leaving his. She knew how quick he could be, and she was prepared. “Was he one of yours?”

“Would I have cared if you dusted him if he was one of mine?” His hand slid to his pocket and he pulled the pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “How have you been?”

She rolled her shoulders, the itch still irritating her. “Better now that I left you.” And wasn’t it odd how acrid a lie could taste?

“I noticed you’ve had your belongings gathered from our home.”

“Your home,” she corrected, keeping her distance from him. She knew perfectly well being close to him would have dire repercussions.

“Have you settled into your apartment then?”

He was being so nice, so civil. She didn’t like it. “Why are you here, Basil?”

“I might ask the same of you, Trinity.” He lit the cigarette smoothly and the flame showed a devastatingly handsome face, with curves and lines and strength.

“I’m protecting the humans,” she remarked with an edge in her voice. “Always the warrior, my fiery princess.” He smiled sweetly as he drew long and hard on his cigarette then smartly blew a ring of circles in the air. All without taking his eyes from hers.

“Don’t call me that.” She hated when he called her that. Okay, once upon a time hearing him call her that made her hot, but that was then. This was now.

“It’s what you are and always will be to me.”

“Yeah, I was such a treasure, that’s why you decided to fuck another woman. Leave me alone, Basil.”

In a quick shift that surprised her, he was in front of her, his hand clamped on her chin as he tilted her face to meet his. “Despite my indiscretion, I will always love you.” He dropped his cigarette and ground it out beneath his boot.

She jerked her chin free, snarling, “You have a funny way of showing it.”

Grabbing her chin again, this time he held a little tighter. “Love has many sides to it, my sweet.” He sealed his words with a sharp kiss, his teeth scraping her bottom lip right before he vanished into the night.

Cursing, Trinity spat on the ground, wanting to eliminate his flavor from her tongue. Bastard thought he could come back and act as if nothing had happened. Fuck him! She still remembered all too clearly what it had felt like to walk in on him and the woman crawling over his naked body.

Shaking herself free of him, Trinity walked away. The last thing she needed was the memory of Basil’s kiss or the feel of his touch on her skin. What she needed was a vicious kill. If only she could find one.

Thursday, November 5, 2015

New Release: Must Remember

Must Remember
Colleen S. Myers
Science Fiction romance
$4.99
Amazon: http://goo.gl/ImCqjk
Kobo: https://goo.gl/GjWtt1
Champagne Bookstore: http://goo.gl/s0T4xi

Dead or alive. They want her back.

EXCERPT

Wait. Red hair.

Sarah! She sat in a different spot by the cereal dispensers. She’d put her face down on the table, her red hair spread across the plate; some vomit decorated the floor. Guess she didn’t head back to her room after all. And she was so still.

My heart clenched. Please no.

Slowly, I approached and touched her shoulder. No response. Did she have a seizure or something? I lifted her head.

Her hazel eyes were wide and filmed over. Dead. Pancake and puke dribbled down her chin.

I let go and her head fell. The thunk when it hit the table made me jump.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

The smell of the sweet syrup made me sick, my vision blurred. I turned and dry-heaved to next to the body. The strength went out of my legs and I sat. My head dropped between my legs.

Sarah.

My mind flashed to that same image of her hanging off me, saying how much she loved me, how I was her best friend. I saw her running away from me on the playground when we were little, passing me notes in high school, all the sleepovers as kids.

I brushed the back of her head with my hand. My insides twisting, mouth dry. I should’ve found her. I should’ve taken her with me to that room. But what if she went nuts? I didn’t know, but too late now. She was my best friend. I should’ve looked for her.

I’m so sorry.

A sob slipped out, then another until I couldn’t stop. My dad would have been so disappointed in me. I rocked back and forth on my seat.

Oh god. What was I going to do? Nobody was answering. What the fuck was going on here! What sort of madness was this?

I rubbed my hands over my wet face, wiping away my tears. Home. That was still the plan. I needed to go home. My heart pounded a sick rhythm in my ears and my thoughts scattered. I needed to find my mom.

No room for tears, not now.

Later.

I ran toward the street. There were a few pools of blood. No signs of the bear or anyone else. Nobody alive, anyway. The short dude from earlier remained curled on the ground. Cars lay scattered in piles, and more debris littered the asphalt. The same damn car alarm blared in the distance and the air carried the smell of decay.

Red lights bathed the ground and I looked up.

This time I couldn’t hold back the laughter.

Wednesday, November 4, 2015

New Release: Hidden

Hidden
Amy McKinley
Paranormal Romance
$4.99
Amazon: http://goo.gl/k2TnQq
Kobo: https://goo.gl/CVapbz
Champagne Books: http://goo.gl/kR1wUU

Cursed since birth, hunted by gods, and desperate for love—she never stood a chance.

EXCERPT

Jade froze, her paintbrush hanging mid-air above her palette. The light streaming in diagonally through the bay window cast an eerie, surreal frame over the room.

Whispers seduced and coerced.

She scanned the painting. Buildings cast long, ominous shadows, stalking the pedestrians as they made their way to and fro, huddled against the misery of the evening. A man lay sprawled, his lifeblood staining the sidewalk crimson. Half in a deserted alley, he was yet to be discovered. This was the detail Jade concentrated on. She blended a burnt red and used careful brush strokes to complete the scene as the portrait fell prey to the darkness that burned inside her.

Without meaning to, her gaze was once again drawn to the slain man. She reached up and touched the blood seeping from his body, her fingers coming away wet. Bringing her hand to her nose she closed her eyes and inhaled.

Instead of the cloying scent of her oils, she inhaled the coppery twang of blood.

Stunned, her mouth parted on a silent scream. No! Darkness bubbled to the surface, invading her senses with a roar. Unable to fight the invasion, her heart beat an increasing crescendo. Part of her didn’t want to struggle, not with the temptation of death on her hand.

Deep inside, a macabre shadow stretched. Hungry for more, its long arms clawed for purchase with each breath. Changing her, as part of her argued for the better. The other part—the one that gloried in her fire-kissed hair and shimmering eyes—cried against this crime and screamed for redemption.

She crouched to welcome the demonic strength as the parasitic monster grew inside her. Evolving into a fierce predator, she was able to taste, weigh, and measure the souls who sifted through her fingers.

Still, she fought for space in her own body. For control.

But with the scent of blood, of death, of prey teasing the monster—she was losing fast. It’s happening. Unshed tears burned her eyes. Finally. The curse of the three Fates had begun. With her.

Slowly Jade stood, bit down on her lip and welcomed the pain. The distraction would help fight the transformation. Dipping the brush into the Caribbean blue, she swirled then began to paint a shimmering cove. The vision soothed the beast that lurked just beneath, but it was temporary, and Jade knew its evil would soon mutiny. The Fates’ curse would change her over time, unleashing an unstoppable power within her to annihilate the gods who created her and anyone who got in her path.

Including her family.

Succumbing to a surge of menace, Jade dropped the blue-tipped brush as her back snapped straight and her mouth opened on a silent scream as she lost control. Every cell stretched to accommodate the new presence. Shivering from the effects of her altered state, she briefly shut her eyes, adjusting. When she opened them, her painting was before her, and she viewed the scene anew. Cocking her head, she closely observed a woman who tightly clutched her rain slicker about her body.

This one will not make it home tonight.