Hell Holes Series ~ Blog Tour ~ Excerpt

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Blog Tour ~ Hell Holes Series ~ (What Lurks Below & Demons on the Dalton)
Author: Donald G. Firesmith
Genre: Science Fiction /Paranormal/Fantasy
Dates: 1st – 12th of May
Hosted by: Ultimate Fantasy Book Tours

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Blurb:

When hundreds of huge holes mysteriously appear overnight in the frozen tundra north of the Arctic Circle, they threaten financial and environmental catastrophe should any more open up under the Trans-Alaska Pipeline or any of the many oil wells and smaller pipelines that feed it. An oil company sends a scientific team to investigate. But when the geologist, his climatologist wife, two of their graduate students, a local newspaper reporter, an oil company representative, and a field biologist arrive at one of the holes, they discover a far worse danger lurks below, one that threatens to destroy all of humanity when it emerges, forcing the survivors to flee south towards Fairbanks.

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↓Buy Links↓

Amazon.com: https://www.amazon.com/Hell-Holes-What-Lurks-Below-ebook/dp/B012IUE14U

Itunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/hell-holes-what-lurks-below/id1076804292

Booklife: http://booklife.com/project/hell-holes-what-lurks-below-12402

Indigo: https://www.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/books/hell-holes-what-lurks-below/9781310431210-item.html

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/608355

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Blurb:

When hundreds of huge holes mysteriously appeared overnight in the frozen tundra north of the Arctic Circle, geologist Jack Oswald picked Angele Menendez, his climatologist wife, to determine if the record temperatures due to climate change was the cause. But the holes were not natural. They were unnatural portals for an invading army of demons. Together with Aileen O’Shannon, a 1,400-year-old sorceress demon-hunter, the three survivors of the research team sent to study the holes had only one chance: to flee down the dangerous Dalton Highway towards the relative safety of Fairbanks. However, the advancing horde of devils, imps, hellhounds, and gargoyles would stop at nothing to prevent their prey from escaping. It was a 350-mile race with simple rules. Win and live; lose and die…

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Buy Links:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Hell-Holes-Demons-Donald-Firesmith-ebook/dp/B01FQA1EFI
Booklife: https://booklife.com/my/project/hell-holes-demons-on-the-dalton-12403

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/625752

Itunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/hell-holes-demons-on-dalton/id1097614941

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Author Bio:

A geek by day, Donald Firesmith works as a system and software engineer helping the US Government acquire large, complex software-intensive systems. In this guise, he has authored seven technical books, written numerous software- and system-related articles and papers, and spoken at more conferences than he can possibly remember. He’s also proud to have been named a Distinguished Engineer by the Association of Computing Machinery, although his pride is tempered somewhat by his fear that the term “distinguished” makes him sound like a graybeard academic rather than an active engineer whose beard is still slightly more red than gray.

By night and on weekends, his alter ego writes modern paranormal fantasy, apocalyptic science fiction, action and adventure novels and relaxes by handcrafting magic wands from various magical woods and mystical gemstones. His first foray into fiction is the book Magical Wands: A Cornucopia of Wand Lore written under the pen name Wolfrick Ignatius Feuerschmied. He lives in Crafton, Pennsylvania with his wife Becky, and his son Dane, and varying numbers of dogs, cats, and birds.

His magical wands and autographed copies of his books are available from the Firesmith’s Wand Shoppe at: http://magicalwandshoppe.com.

Visit him at:

Website: http://donaldfiresmith.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/FiresmithAuthorFanPage
Twitter: https://twitter.com/DonFiresmith
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B001HQ006A

BOOKTRAILER: https://youtu.be/amXuTAlKoX0

 

excerpt

 

Hell Holes: What Lurks Below

Excerpt In The Hole

“Professor, take a look at this,” Mark said, squatting down and pointing at the nearest mound of dirt. He held his hand a few inches over it. “There are small holes, and I can feel gas escaping from them. That’s weird; it should be freezing, but it’s actually warm.” He leaned over and sniffed the air just above the hole. “Jesus, that reeks,” he cursed as he stood up and rubbed his eyes.

I reached down. There was a surprisingly large flow of gas coming out of the hole. I looked around at all of the other mounds of dirt dotting the ice on which we were standing. “Shit,” I exclaimed. “We’ve got to get the hell out of here.”

“Why?” he asked with a confused look on his face. “We just got here.”

“Prudhoe Bay natural gas is about three fourths methane. One eighth is ethane, propane, and other heavier hydrocarbons, while the remaining eighth is carbon dioxide. I’m not worried about the methane and ethane; they’re lighter than air and will drift up and out of the hole. But carbon dioxide, propane, and hydrogen sulfide are all heavier than air and build up in low areas.”

“Like the bottom of this hole,” Mark said as the nature of our danger dawned on him.

“Like the bottom of this hole,” I agreed.

Although I was breathing rapidly, it was becoming increasingly harder to catch my breath. Both were early signs of carbon dioxide poisoning. Meanwhile, my eyes were really watering, my nose was running, and my lungs were starting to burn. Hydrogen sulfide combined with the water on their moist surfaces to form hydrosulfuric acid. I had a dull headache and was becoming increasingly nauseated. Worse, the stench of sulfur had begun to disappear: a classic symptom of hydrogen sulfide poisoning. “We have to head back up and strap on oxygen tanks and full face respirators before we come back down.”

“Okay, Professor,” he replied, looking at me with concern. “You’re definitely not looking so good.”

Weak and increasingly clumsy, Mark had to help me reach the rope and secure it to my climbing harness. Then he said into his walkie-talkie, “Angela, there’s hydrogen sulfide and excessive carbon dioxide down here, and we need to get out of here right now. It’s made the professor sick, so I’m sending him up first.”

“Understood, Mark,” Angie replied, her voice indicating her concern. “Is he ready?”

“Yes, all hooked up,” Mark replied.

A second later, the rope began pulling me up. It sped faster and faster until I was practically running up the side of the hole. Soon, I was up to where the permafrost gave way to damp dirt. I slipped going over the boundary, and the rope dragged me face first over the short muddy slope. Bill helped me climb over the ridge of dirt surrounding the edge and unhooked my climbing harness.

Coughing and unable to catch my breath, I stumbled into Angie’s arms. The caustic gasses at the bottom of the pit had set off one of my ordinarily rare asthma attacks, leaving me gasping for air. I fumbled through my pockets, found my rescue inhaler, and had to give myself three puffs before my breathing became easier. Meanwhile, my eyes were still burning and watering so heavily that I heard rather than saw Bill throw the end of the rope back into the pit and use the winch to lower it rapidly into the hole. After helping me wipe the mud from my face, Angie wrapped me a bear hug, totally heedless of the muck she was transferring to her own face and clothes.

“It’s down,” Jill said, her voice amplified through our walkie-talkies.

Bill stopped the winch, and we waited for Mark to tell us when he was ready to come up.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Mark said. “Bring me up.”

Bill restarted the winch, and the rope began winding itself back around its spinning shaft.

Feeling stronger, I let go of Angie and turned back towards the pit so I could watch Mark being raised over the edge. It was at that moment, through eyes still somewhat blurry from tears, that I saw Kowalski. He was standing near the edge of the hole, a few feet downwind so that the smoke from his cigarette wouldn’t bother us. He took a final puff and carelessly flicked the still smoldering butt into the pit.

“Stop!” I croaked, my voice raspy and painful from coughing.

Kowalski turned towards me, and our eyes met. Unaware of what he’d just done, he was completely confused by the expression of horror on my face.

After seconds that seemed to stretch into eternity, the cigarette butt tumbled past Mark and eventually reached the depth where the concentration of methane and hydrogen sulfide reached explosive levels.

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Blog Tour ~ The Thieves of Nottica

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Blog Tour ~ The Thieves of Nottica
Author: Ash Gray
Genre: Science Fiction/Steampunk
Tour Dates: 3rd – 7th of April
Hosted by: Ultimate Fantasy Book Tours

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Blurb:
In a world where humans are evil, invading aliens, Rigg is the youngest member of the Keymasters, a band of professional thieves who use their skills to defy an overbearing government known as the Hand. It is a world full of pollution, intrusive surveillance cameras, and injustice, where any who “give the finger to the Hand” are punished with death. The Keymasters are hired to steal a highly sought after treasure, but when one of their number is lost during the job, they find themselves the tools in a power play for said treasure — a mysterious lockbox that no one can open. To ultimately survive in the end, the Keymasters must battle their way through mechanical monsters, airships, and politics, literally going through shit (they travel through a sewage pipe) to make it out alive.

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↓Buy Links↓

Authors Bio:
Ash Gray is a dragon with minuscule spectacles perched on her nose, living in a wonderfully dank, musty cave far away in an alternate universe. She types her stories with gigantic claws on a ridiculously small typewriter before sending them through a membrane and into your dimension for your enjoyment.

I am the scariest thing you’ll find in the dark, forsaken places, with breath of fire and claws that shred. “Dragon!” they scream as I rip them red.
Visit them at:

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14603050.Ash_Gray
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/A.-D.-Gray/e/B003DXYVII

 

excerpt

 

When Rose awoke, she could hear voices speaking quietly, and the room was so vast and so empty, they echoed off the walls in a whispered refrain. She went very still, too afraid to open her eyes, listening with building dread to the whispers that surrounded her. She could feel that she was lying on a metal table, for its cold stung the back of her arms and her legs, which seemed to be bare in that chill room. She tried moving her hand, and when it did not respond, her brain flew into a panic and tears filled her eyes. She was unhappy to realize that she could open them if she wanted and squeezed them shut tight, too afraid of what she might see. Her heart thundered in her chest as she tried to imagine where she was, if she had been kidnapped . . . if Oliver was dead.

The voices fell silent, and somehow, without even looking, Rose knew they were waiting for her to open her eyes. She didn’t want to. She just wanted to wake up in her hotel room again, with Oliver beside her in bed, laughing and stuffing his face with popcorn as he watched tv.

“Rose,” said a man’s voice, buzzing as if from a speaker. “Open your eyes. It’s alright. You are safe.”

Rose swallowed hard. Somehow, she knew that voice, but she couldn’t recall where she’d heard it before. Her eyes slowly fluttered open, and her heart shrank to see the man standing over her. He was wearing a tropical shirt and a pair of khaki shorts, and her lips parted in surprise when she recognized him as the young man from the bar, only now his eyes were solid black instead of warm brown. His golden brown skin appeared dusky in the dim light, and matted blonde locks fell twisted into his eyes, which reflected the overhead light like black water.

The room was very dimly lit, but straining to look past the bartender, Rose could see the curving walls were lined with pod after pod. The translucent brown sacks all contained black-eyed fetuses that were curled and gurgling softly, a strange warbling sound that rose like a background buzz in the vast chamber.

As she glanced around, Rose realized her table was in the very center of the room. On a table beside her, the corpse of a dead woman was stretched, and Rose went still, staring at that body in silent dismay. The woman was beautiful, with smooth brown skin and pale blonde hair, high cheekbones and full lips. She was wearing what looked like a white hospital gown, and glancing down, Rose realized she was wearing the same garb.

The dead woman’s eyes were barely open, solid black orbs that stared in frowning agonies she could feel no more. The front of her hospital gown was bloody and her legs were up in stirrups, as if she had died in childbirth.

Rose’s eyes turned back to the bartender in fright and confusion. She tried to speak but her throat flexed, her lips moved, and nothing came out. Her lashes fluttered and she tried again. Tears started to her eyes when she realized she could only make the barest moan.

“You can not speak,” the bartender gently told Rose, his voice buzzing still, as if he were speaking through a dying microphone. “Which is just as well. There is no need for you to. You need merely listen. It is paramount that you do so.” He paused, as if to make certain Rose was indeed listening.

Rose glared at him. She didn’t care what he had to say or what was important him. He had drugged her and kidnapped her and had probably murdered her husband to boot! She could still feel the drowsing effects of the drug and glanced around in a listless daze as she raged against her own helplessness. It seemed to her as if the world was spinning the harder she tried to scream, but nothing came out of her mouth and her chest heaved in vain. Whatever drug they had given her, it had stolen her voice.

“You have been selected,” said the bartender, “to carry one in the fifteen thousand eggs of her royal highness, Empress Nashal, of our beloved planet Qorlec.” His black eyes went to the dead woman on the adjoining table and they filled with affection.

Rose watched, heart thudding fear, as people with surgical masks came forward. Like the bartender and the dead woman, their eyes were solid black and their skin was brown and their hair blonde. There were two of them and they were women. One gently closed the dead woman’s eyes with fingers that were spindly and long, while the other shook her head in silent sorrow, gently taking each of the woman’s legs down from the stirrups.

“Our empress passed away as we smuggled her from the homeworld,” said the bartender regretfully and his eyes saddened as he gestured at the surrounding pods on the walls. “But she managed to lay every last one of her eggs. She did so prematurely, knowing she would die but that it was best for the survival of the empire.”

Rose glared at the bartender, wondering why she should care.

“Each one of the fifteen thousand princesses needs a womb and a place to hide on your planet, until the rebel forces have regained control of Qorlec. Because you are one in ten thousand humans who are biologically compatible with our people, because you are healthy, intelligent, and – by estimation of our brain scanners – kind and compassionate, we have chosen you to carry one of our royal eggs. When the time is right, we will return to Earth for the girl.”

How do they even know it would be a girl? Rose wondered in listless misery.

The bartender’s lips curled in a slight smile, as if he were listening to her thoughts. “Ninety percent of the eggs that hatch to our women are female. Men on our planet are something of an anomaly. The queen’s sister would have been a perfect replacement in the event of her death, but she has disappeared.” He blinked regretfully. “We believe the regime has taken her.”

There was a bang in the distance, and the room rocked. The lamp above Rose wobbled, gliding its spotlight through the dark in a white circle and swinging dangerously before the bartender caught it deftly in one long-fingered hand. He looked with alarm beyond the edge of the light’s sphere, and following his gaze, Rose could see people in white coats staggering amidst sliding furniture as the room swayed. They screamed and shouted in a language Rose could not understand, scrambling to gather falling trays and instruments.

The sound of a clicking voice buzzed something frantic over an intercom, and several people ran in and out of the room. Lights on the walls blinked in duress, and the fetuses stopped their soft gurgling to shriek in horror. There was another bang and a crash, and someone screamed in pain as somewhere far away, glass shattered.

“My god,” muttered the bartender, his voice buzzing still. “They’ve found us. It’s begun.” He braced himself against Rose’s table and looked down at her apologetically. “If the regime captures us, there will be no hope of saving the royal children. You may be the only one we manage to impregnate – Gralik! Hurry! We’ve little time now!”

Rose saw three women come running to her table. As the bartender stepped back into the shadows, they surrounded her, peering down at her from behind their white surgical masks. Two were dressed in white scrubs, while the third was wearing a long white lab coat.

As the nurses prepared instruments and scrambled to ready the procedure, the woman in the lab coat caught the swinging overhead light and twisted it into the proper position. Rose winced as the light was flashed hot in her eyes and beads of sweat broke out on her skin. One of the nurses opened the front of her gown, revealing her bare belly in the harsh pool of light.

Watching as the masked nurses lifted gleaming-sharp instruments, Rose wanted to scream, but her mouth moved in silence. She hated how the woman in the lab coat watched her with pitying black eyes.

I am the doctor, said the woman’s voice, reaching abruptly into Rose’s mind. She pushed a button on the overhead panel, and Rose watched in silent horror as a whirling drill peeled out of the darkness.

As the whizzing contraption came slowly toward Rose’s vulnerable belly, the room rocked and the walls banged, smoke rose and people screamed, and miraculously, Rose remained fixed to the table, never sliding, only moving slightly with every violent quake.

The doctor alone seemed unmovable. She watched with quiet intensity as the drill drew within inches of Rose’s bare belly, a still pillar in the swaying room, even as her nurses cringed in fear of the shots that rocketed into the walls. When yet another blow hit its target, the room tilted violently, and Rose heard the bartender hiss from the shadows for the doctor to hurry. The doctor, with panicking eyes, reached up and hit another button, and Rose was horrified to see the drill coming down faster.

Helplessly watching those menacing razors, Rose felt certain it was all some hellish nightmare, that she would wake and the drill would never have touched her. She was wrong. The whirling drill plunged slowly through the flesh of her trembling belly in a sudden cream of bright red blood, and she screamed and screamed, the sound tearing at last from her throat like the ragged wail of a dying woman.

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Blog Tour ~ Rise of the Deva’shi ~ Excerpt With Giveaway

 

 

Blog Tour ~ Rise of the Deva’shi (Parthalan #3)
Author: Jennifer Allis Provost
Genre: Fantasy/Science Fiction/ Young Adult
Tour Dates: 20th-24th of March
Hosted by: Ultimate Fantasy Book Tours

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Blurb:

A stolen girl. A legendary champion. A plan that might destroy Parthalan once and for all…

Aeolmar, First Hunter of Parthalan, leads a solitary life. Having long since abandoned his quest to kill Mersgoth—the demon that murdered his family—Aeolmar moves through his days with cold efficiency. Everything changes when he leads a training mission in Brennus, where he’s attacked by Mersgoth himself, and saved by an unlikely heroine.

Latera, first born and heir to Gannera’s throne, is kidnapped and left for dead in Parthalan’s vast forests. A lone human amongst Parthalan’s fae, she makes a home in Brennus, and lives a quiet life—until she finds herself defending a wounded First Hunter from a clutch of demons.

Back in Parthalan, Harek warns Asherah of something called the deva’shi—a warrior loyal only to the demon lord, Asgeloth. Both Aeolmar and Latera suspect that there is more to this deva’shi than what Harek has told them, but before they can learn the truth, Parthalan’s borders are attacked. Will Aeolmar and Latera be able to stop the deva’shi in time, or is it a distraction to hide Harek’s true plans?

RISE OF THE DEVA’SHI – book three of the Chronicles of Parthalan

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↓Buy Links↓
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1438978987

Author Bio:

Jennifer

Jennifer Allis Provost is a native New Englander who lives in a sprawling colonial along with her beautiful and precocious twins, a dog, two birds, three cats, and a wonderful husband who never forgets to buy ice cream. As a child, she read anything and everything she could get her hands on, including a set of encyclopedias, but fantasy was always her favorite. She spends her days drinking vast amounts of coffee, arguing with her computer, and avoiding any and all domestic behavior.
Visit her at:

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excerpt

“Will there be women in this village?”

Aeolmar’s gaze slid toward Luth. “Missing Innetha already?”

Luth snorted. “Hardly. She refused to become my mate. Again!”

“Of course she said no,” said Luth’s brother, Bron. “What self-respecting woman would have you?”

Aeolmar almost bit through his tongue; he thought Innetha was many things, but respectable was not one of them.

“I hope there will be women,” Adhaire said, bringing his horse alongside Luth’s. “After I complete my Trial by Stealth, I’ll want to celebrate!”

Aeolmar glanced at the young nuvi, doubtful of his chances. Adhaire recently won the Trial by Combat for a third time, but had only recently mastered calling fire. Aeolmar assumed it would take Adhaire a few tries to master stealth, as well.

“Have faith,” Finlay said. “Adhaire will be a fine hunter.”

“Of course,” Aeolmar agreed, unwilling to say more until Adhaire actually failed. Once that happened, he would petition Asherah to have the useless nuvi removed from the sola and sent far, far away from Teg’urnan.

Not that Aeolmar intended to witness Adhaire’s failure himself. Aeolmar had chosen to hold this exercise outside a village close to his birthplace. Once the Trial was underway, Aeolmar planned to slip away and visit his home. Nothing remained but a charred patch of earth, but it was home, nonetheless.

Aeolmar touched the small bump over his heart. For the journey, he’d taken his mother’s pendant with him, rather than leave it behind in Teg’urnan. He hoped his mother’s spirit rested close to her grave, since he needed her advice now more than ever. He was tired of his life as First Hunter, tired of being alone, of palace life… Gods, he was just tired.

The hunters arrived in the village of Brennus and found the innkeeper, Ingvarr, a man known throughout the west for his hospitality, as his mate, Elma, was for her fine cooking. While Finlay spoke to Ingvarr about boarding the horses, Aeolmar investigated the stables. He’d never left Myrnnhe anyplace he wouldn’t sleep himself, and needed to see his horse’s accommodations.

As Aeolmar approached the stables, he spied movement at the far corner; a small form clad in a tunic and leggings, and a flash of bright hair. Intrigued, he followed the person toward the back of the yard…and almost bumped into a girl coming the other way. She gasped and dropped the saddle she was carrying, then scooped it up an instant.

“May I pass?” she asked, balancing the saddle on her hip.

Realizing that she was the person he’d followed, Aeolmar took a long look at her. Her hair was flame red, bound up in a braid that did a poor job restraining her curls. Her eyes were pale blue, and her skin was golden and a bit burnt across her nose and cheeks. What amazed Aeolmar most was her size. She was hardly larger than a child, yet she had a woman’s curves. And she held that saddle as if it were weightless.

“May I pass?” she repeated, tapping her foot. Aeolmar stepped aside. She stalked past him and placed the saddle on the workbench. After watching her for a moment, Aeolmar joined Finlay and the innkeeper.

“Who is that?” Aeolmar asked, indicating the stable.

“My stable girl, Latera,” Ingvarr replied. “She has a way with horses, you know. Some of my patrons only stop by for her services.”

“We’ll need her to accompany us,” Aeolmar said. Finlay raised an eyebrow, but Aeolmar ignored him. “If we stable our horses here and walk to the location, it will add days to our journey. I’d prefer to take the horses as far as we may.”

“Of course,” Ingvarr said, looking at Latera. She saw the innkeeper’s gaze, then busied herself with the saddle. “Latera is a willful girl, and may refuse just for the sake of refusing. Let me send my mate to speak with her, my lord.”

“I’ll ask her myself,” Aeolmar said, striding toward the stable. Finlay and Ingvarr followed.

“Do we really need to bring her?” Finlay asked.

“How long do you want to be out here, days from Asherah?” Aeolmar countered. When Finlay grunted, Aeolmar assumed his second agreed. Aeolmar entered the stable and confronted the girl behind the workbench.

“I am Aeolmar, First Hunter of Parthalan,” he announced.

“I’m Latera, and I brush the horses,” she replied, her gaze on her work.

“Please excuse her, my lord,” Ingvarr said. “She’s a human who was lost here and is still learning our ways.” Ingvarr glared at Latera and added, “She claims she was royalty in her homeland.”

Aeolmar looked at Latera, noting her slanted eyes and pointed ears. “Why do you look like one of us if you’re human?”

“I didn’t always,” she replied. “I’m told it’s the effect of the realm.”

Aeolmar had known many humans, and none had taken on fae characteristics. In the midst of wondering who had told Latera such lies, he realized he was frowning at her. He lightened his expression and continued. “My hunters and I will make camp a short distance from here for two nights. We will need someone to care for our horses. Ingvarr tells me that you have a way with them.”

“Hunters or horses?”

His eyes narrowed. “The latter.”

“Yes, I do,” Latera replied. “Will you stable them here?”

“No. You will travel with us.”

Understanding dawned in her pale eyes and she glanced at Ingvarr. “Won’t I get in the way of your hunt?”

“We aren’t hunting,” Aeolmar replied, “This is a training mission. My hunters have scouted the area, and there are no demons nearby. You won’t be in any danger.”

Latera was silent for a time. It was an unusual request to take a young woman into the forest with five hunters, but Aeolmar believed it was a necessity. Her presence meant that the hunters wouldn’t need to worry about their mounts, and therefore get the Trial over with sooner. Then the hunters would be safe at Teg’urnan, and Latera back in her stable.

“Very well,” Latera said. “When do we leave?”

 

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Blog Tour ~ The Gaia Effect ~ Excerpt

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Blog Tour ~ The Gaia Effect

Author: Claire Buss

Genre:  Fantasy/Science Fiction/ Post-Apocalyptic

Tour Dates: 20th-24th of March

Hosted by: Ultimate Fantasy Book Tours

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Blurb:

In City 42 Corporation look after you from cradle to grave. They protect you from the radiation outside the wall. They control the food, the water, the technology and most important of all, the continuation of the human race. Kira and Jed Jenkins were lucky enough to win Collection but when their friends start falling pregnant naturally, everything changes. How long has Corporation been lying to them? Is it really toxic outside the wall? As the group comes to terms with the changes in their lives they discover there is a much more powerful and ancient force at work, trying to bridge the gap between man and nature.

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↓Buy Links↓

https://www.amazon.com/Gaia-Effect-Claire-Buss-ebook/dp/B01N7KT80X

Author Bio:

Claire Buss

Claire Buss is a science fiction/fantasy writer currently based in Barking, Essex. She wanted to be Lois Lane when she grew up but work experience at her local paper was eye-opening. Instead Claire went on to work in a variety of admin roles for over a decade but never felt quite at home. An avid reader, baker and pinterest addict Claire won second place in the Barking and Dagenham Pen to Print writing competition in 2015 with The Gaia Effect and set her writing career in motion.

Visit her at:

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excerpt

 

 

‘What are you two doing here?’ Kira whispered as Jed and Pete followed the Infant Growth Assessor lady into the apartment and closed the door behind them. Pete pursed his lips and Jed frowned as they both saw the activated cocoon. The IGA ignored it and pulled out a touchscreen.

‘Later,’ Jed murmured.

‘Good afternoon, I’m your IGA,’ announced the woman. ‘Who are the parents?’

‘We are.’ Jed pointed at his wife and put on his best smile as he ushered the IGA into the kitchen area and offered her a beverage. Pete looked at the cocoon again. Kira nibbled her fingernails, turning towards the cube when Grace began to cry. She teetered, not knowing whether to go to her or speak with the IGA. In the end the plaintive noise decided her, and she scooped the baby up, rocking Grace gently, and humming as she walked over to the others.

 

‘I’m here to carry out an infant suitability assessment not drink synth-caf, but I suppose one would be nice. It’s not often we get time to indulge while at work. I’m surprised you even have the drinks machine given your requests.’

Jed and Kira looked at each other in confusion.

‘Requests?’ Kira asked.

‘Ah, sorry, we thought you’d be non-conformers you see, because of the no technology request. I mean almost all parents have a NanNan these days and we just thought… well, you know.’ The IGA coloured slightly as she sipped her synth-caf. ‘No offence.’

‘None taken,’ Kira said smiling. ‘We’re not pure naturals but we wanted to try the natural approach with the baby. After my studies I was curious….’

The IGA interrupted.

‘Oh I see, hobbyists then. Well each to their own. I’ll leave the paperwork for the NanNan as well as our latest brochure and then when you want to order, everything will be there for you.’

‘If,’ whispered Kira under her breath.

The agent frowned as she walked around the lounge area.

‘What’s that?’ she asked, pointing at the lit candle in the corner of the room.

‘Oh. Mm, that’s mine. I was just meditating before you arrived.’

‘Meditating?’

‘Yes. You never heard of it?’

‘No. I mean not in real life.’ The IGA patted her neat bun. ‘I read history at Higher Academy you know, I remember some of the strange customs.’ She moved closer peering at the candle on the small table. ‘So what do you do with it?’

‘Well,’ Kira had followed the IGA into the lounge and she sat down with Grace. ‘I believe in balance, so sometimes when I feel stressed or out of sorts I like to try and focus my energy on releasing the things that made me feel out of balance. It’s easier to think of it in terms of light and colour, moving from dark to bright,’ Kira paused, searching for something else to say. ‘Controlled breathing helps….’

The IGA interrupted again and pointed at the small blue statue.

‘And who is that?’

‘That’s Gaia. She is the spirit of the Earth, dedicated to keeping the life force of the planet in balance. She can be used as a focus point.’ Kira could see the IGA was looking troubled. ‘I work in the Archives so I have approved access.’

‘Ah, well I guess that makes sense. Not sure how I would write this up anyway. Probably best not to mention it to anyone. I expect it’s quite a personal thing and let’s face it we don’t tell everyone about everything we do behind closed doors do we?’

The IGA glanced at the cocoon before turning to look at Kira and smiling, not realising how offensive she sounded. Kira agreed, in disbelief yet relief that the topic would be dropped. The IGA finished her drink and fished out her paperwork.

‘Right, here’s my checklist. Neural jack’s in use?’

‘No’.

‘Nan-Nan installed – no. Scent patches activated?’

‘No’.

‘Cube ordered?’

‘Yes.’

‘Type?’

‘Standard sleeping, able to move around our apartment.’

‘Hmm,’ the IGA looked down her list. ‘I don’t think there’s much point in me going through the rest of the options. They are all classified as high-tech and you’ve clearly decided against that kind of help. I don’t think there’s anything else I can do for you today.’

‘Don’t you want to look at the baby?’ Kira queried.

‘Do you mind a health probe?’

‘Is it non-invasive?’

‘It can be.’

‘Alright then.’

Kira watched suspiciously while the IGA brought out a handheld, pressed some buttons and then directed the scan towards Grace laying in her cube. Several bleeps later the IGA handed Kira a readout.

‘It’s all good. Remember to visit your local Med Centre if you have any queries. Do you have a medical handheld?’

Kira shook her head.

‘Well, you might want to look into that otherwise how will you know if the baby is okay? Contact your local Agent, they’ll have what you need. I’d recommend a health check at six weeks but obviously get in touch beforehand if you have any worries. Babies are tough little things.’

The IGA gathered her things. After a cheery goodbye she left the apartment.

 

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Chameleon Uncovered ~ Release Day Blitz

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Book Title: Chameleon Uncovered

Author Name: B.R. Kingsolver

Genre: Urban Fantasy, science fiction, post-apocalyptic dystopian

Hosted by: Ultimate Fantasy Book Tours

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Blurb:

The dark sequel to the best-selling Chameleon Assassin.

Libby has a chance to build a legitimate reputation when she’s hired by one of the world’s most prestigious museums to bolster their security. The gig is in Chicago, where her heartthrob lives, so she hopes for a little romance.

She’s on a first-name basis with larceny, mayhem, and death, but Libby’s not used to being on the receiving end. Chicago is far darker and more dangerous than her native Toronto. Amidst terrorist bombings, stolen treasure, and murder, a mutant prophet calls for revolution. Away from her family and friends, Libby has nowhere to turn as enemies assault her from all sides.

Their mistake. Libby is a dangerous enemy.

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Author Bio:

I made silver and turquoise jewelry for almost a decade, ended up in nursing school, then took a master’s in business. Along the way I worked in construction, as a newspaper editor, a teacher, and somehow found a career working with computers.

As to my other interests, I love the outdoors, especially the Rocky Mountains. I’ve skied since high school, with one broken leg and one torn ACL to show for it. I’ve hiked and camped all my life. I love to travel, though I haven’t done enough of it. I’ve seen a lot of Russia and Mexico, not enough of England. Amsterdam is amazing, and the Romanian Alps are breathtaking. Lake Tahoe is a favorite, and someday I’d like to see Banff.

For special deals and news about new books, sign up for my newsletter.

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Blog Tour ~ Blue Waters ~ With Excerpt

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Book Title: Blue Waters

Author Name: India R Adams

Genre: Young Adult/Romance

Hosted by: Ultimate Fantasy Book Tours

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Blurb:

 

“The blue water I sank through was angelic, quiet, peaceful…”

Whitney is a vivacious, highly spirited 17-year-old girl. Her motto, “Live life to the fullest” is derailed when the young man, who’s captured her attention, turns out to be the son of a drug tycoon- the same that provided the drugs that killed her brother. Whitney believes she simply need to heal from her first heartache, not knowing she is a part of a devious trade, one against human rights, and she has been… since the day age was born.

Blue Waters is the first Novella in a Tainted Waters, and begins a story of deception, corruption, self-discovery, and love with all that it demands you sacrifice…

“There was a beauty in dying that day…”

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29207112-blue-waters

 

 

 

↓Buy Links↓

 

Amazon.com https://www.amazon.com/Blue-Waters-Tainted-Water-Novella-ebook/dp/B01BFSOD5S

 

Author Bio:

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India R Adams is an author/singer/songwriter who has written YA and NA novels, and the music for the Forever series.

India was born and raised in Florida but has also been so lucky as to live in Idaho (where she froze but fell in love with the small town life), Austin Texas (where she started her first book, Serenity, and met wonderful artist), and now Murphy, North Carolina (where the mountains have stolen a piece of her heart).

Being a survivor of abuse, has inspired India to let others know they have nothing to be ashamed of. She put her many years of professional theater background to the test and has written fictional stories with a shadow of her personal experiences. She says, “I’m simply finding ways to empower perfect imperfections.”

Another cause India feels needs change, is Sexual Slavery. She has joined forces with jewelers to design beautiful ways to raise money for non-profit organizations. Even though India writes about serious subjects such as domestic violence, sexual abuse, and Human Trafficking, she has a magnificent sense of humor, as do the characters she creates. Perfectly balanced between laughter and tears, her readers see how to empower their own perfect imperfections.

Visit her at:

Website: http://www.indiaradams.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/IndiaRAdams

Twitter: https://twitter.com/TheIndiaRAdams

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/India-R-Adams/e/B01BLPKULQ

 

excerpt

 

 

 

I ran to the concession counter to see Frank had abandoned his post. Without an employee in sight, and a movie guy refusing to push pause, I took my only option. I climbed over the counter to get my own damn butter.

As I was falling off the other side of the counter—after a shameful ass-in-the-air presentation—it was evidently clear Harlan was right. I might have been one hell of a dancer, and had a rare audition with Tender West’s summer dance program, but I truly was a complete klutz.

After pulling myself off a filthy floor, I wiped questionable grease off my palms and mailbag and grabbed my bucket of popcorn—and yes, I refilled it, deciding I was a regular and deserved a couple of free kernels. Feeling giddy at finally having control over the infamous butter machine, I swore angels sung in harmony, and I smiled and squealed in delight.

When I heard a chuckle behind me, my nervous stealing hands threw my bucket of popcorn up into the air, announcing my guilt. I turned to see who had busted me and looked into the most mysterious, trouble-promising, male blue eyes in the whole wide world.

The rough-looking character with darker hair and a medium-sized scar above his left eyebrow stood on the ‘proper’ side of the counter, where I should have been, and watched popcorn fall from my unruly red hair. “Damn, sorry to have scared you. I just need a water. How much will it be?”

Fighting the desire to lick the individual before me, I uttered, “Uh,” before looking up at the price menu on the wall behind me. “Ummm a dollar seventy-five… Damn! They charge a buck seventy-five for a water? That is redunkulous!”

As tatted fingers reached into a leather wallet, Mr. Lickable said, “You have unusual sale tactics.”

Being a tad bit stunned by this guy, who pleasantly appeared to be everything mamas warn young girls about, I was slow to realize he thought I was a theater employee. Since my mother never took the time to warn me about such things, and turning down an opportunity for a good time was against my religion, I agreed. “That’s what the owner said in my job interview. Yep! That’s me: Franket.”

Tilting his head and exposing a partially tattooed neck, he asked, “Your name is Franket?” The tattoo saying, “Life 1982” was clearly significant, but it being along his jugular seemed even more so.

I shrugged. “I know. My parents must hate me, right?”

He grinned, and I was instantly intrigued, especially when the stranger said, “Far too cute to be a Franket, but I think you can more than pull off a Franky. Do you mind?”

This stranger danger could’ve decided to rename me ‘Mug Rat El Stinky,’ and I would’ve still replied, “Works for me! My mom may not like it, but she needs to pipe it down anyway, or I’m telling my dad she’s sleeping with the pool boy.”

“You have a pool boy, yet you work here?”

“Not my pool boy, remember? Mother’s pool toy—I mean boy.”

“You’re a natural born hell-raiser, ain’t cha?”

I approved of his approving tone. Then I thought of what my Link had said earlier. “Born ready.” I reached into the fridge for the water bottle and set it on the counter. “That’ll be one seventy-five.”

“No tax?”

“Huh?”

Mr. Lickable snickered. “There’s more of that talent you must’ve been hired for.”

“Like you said, Mr. Water Purchaser, I’m cute. Probably how I got the job, right?”

“I’d hire you.” Somehow, I understood he was implying more, but I played along.

“You have a movie theater?”

“Nope.”

“Sorry. Seems you and I are over before we ever even began.”

“Oh, something has begun here, and you and I both know it.”

Boy, did I! I gripped the counter so I wouldn’t humiliate myself by throwing my willing body right back over the counter where I had come from, offering myself on a popcorn platter. Ah, but playing hard to get was so much more fun, so I had to do it. “Sorry, on the clock. And I have three mouths to feed, so I’ve gotta keep earning my pathetic excuse for a paycheck.”

He playfully shook his head. “How old are you? Mouths to feed?”

“Yeppers. My adopted boys. Reether, Harlan, and Ford. And I’m seventeen. Jailbait for you, I presume?”

“I’d take my chances with jail time, but I’m not ready for kids, Franky.”

“Too late. I’m a package deal.”

He put down a five on the counter. “Damn. Well, at least keep the change—for your boys.”

“Had every intention to.” I watched the bad boy in the making slip from my incapable grasp. His black T-shirt was snug, taunting me to take a gander at shoulders that were surely strong and perfectly molded, but I got preoccupied with his snug jeans that ever-so-gently caressed the cutest ass known to man. I whispered to myself, “Here’s to one-sided mental affairs.”

I gasped when I saw another tattoo on the back of his neck, along his spinal cord. It read, “Death 1995.” We were in 2013.

 

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PINK MOON ~ BLOG TOUR ~ GIVEAWAY & EXCERPT

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Book Title: Pink Moon

Author Name: Tonya Coffey

Genre: Paranormal/Fantasy/Romance

Hosted by: Ultimate Fantasy Book Tours

 

Blurb:

 

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Cast from her home, Jessa struggles to find a place among the realms. With the loss of power, her premonitions are vague and tormenting. However with Micha at her side, she has hope for the future.

Micha has found his stride as the Ancient King. Nevertheless, the Shadows refuse to allow a Faerie sit on the Ancients’ throne, keeping them apart. Instead of fighting against he Shadows, he focuses his rage on the one who stole Jessa’s powers, a hidden heir herself. When he thinks he has everything under control, he is pulled into a dire situation that will force Jessa’s hand.

Accepting what needs to be done, Jessa takes a risk to save Micha – a choice that may be her last.

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↓Buy Links↓

 

Amazon.com  https://www.amazon.com/New-World-Bk-Pink-Moon-ebook/dp/B01N6968RI

 

 

Author Bio:

tonya-coffey
Tonya grew up in a small town in Kentucky where she lives with her husband and two teen boys. Together, they motivate her to be the best at whatever she faces. If she isn’t writing or reading a fantasy novel with lots of action, you will find her sitting in front of a canvas, painting the landscape which is so abundant around her home.

Visit her at:

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TO ENTER THE GIVEAWAY  JUST CLICK HERE

 

excerpt

 

 

Chapter 2

Micha

The dark chamber rattled as the Shadows filtered in from the depths of darkness and into their perspective throne. Marcus stood before me, a slight smile on his lips. It was an odd appearance to a man who seldom showed emotion.

As I hesitantly walked to the center of the room, whispers echoed around me. My eyes constantly drifted between each of the Shadows and to Marcus, as I tried to understand what was happening. From time to time, words of praise filtered in with word of the Sylph.

Drawing in a breath of stale air, I focused on Marcus and the consequences of my actions. Bren warned me. However, I was too stubborn to listen.

Marcus raised his hand, signaling the others to be quiet as he addressed the king. The crackling of wood in the oversized fireplace filled the silence around us.

“Well done, Micha, King of Ancients.” His voice boomed against the rock walls and carried into the tall ceiling. “We are pleased you took initiative, freeing our people from the Falls.” A rolling echo of conformation carried around the room.

I stood speechless. No words came to mind, as I stood before them. I could not say I did it for a Faery or their queen. They would not understand…or would they? She was the same as I. A mixture of Light and Dark. Would they see her as one of us?

“What do you say, King Micha?” Marcus’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.

Clearing my throat, I pulled some words together. “I did not do it for the praise you bestow upon me. I did it for the…love…I have for the people.” I spoke with some truth.

Marcus stared at me. His eyes narrowed, as if he could read my inner thoughts. Swallowing the lump rising in my throat, I hoped he was blind to my heart. To the real reason, I put myself in danger.

Instead, Marcus lifted his hands up in front of him and clapped. The Shadows followed suite as if they had no mind of their own. Marcus was the puppeteer.

“I am honored to serve such a selfless king.” Bren stepped forward, offering me his hand. I turned to face him and noticed the Bookkeeper hovering in the back corner.

My eyes drifted to the book he clung to then back to Bren. His face held annoyance and his voice was full of sarcasm when he spoke. Then the realization hit me. He tried to warn me. For me to wait for the Ancients, but I refused. Therefore, I would receive the consequences of my actions. The Keeper was there to tell me of my fate—my doom.

“Welcome Keeper,” Marcus called from his throne. “Please read for us the results of a courageous king.”

As the Keeper flipped his book open, he moved forward to stand next to me. I noticed he was not the same blubbering, clumsy man as the first time I had met him. He was confident now. I wondered if I had a hand in the transformation.

“I tried to warn you,” Bren whispered at my side.

Narrowing my eyes at him, I asked, “Warn me about what exactly?” It could not be as bad as he anticipated. Could it?

“You must…”

The Keeper began to read from his book, drowning out Bren’s whisper. “When a king shows compassion and selflessness for his people, it reflects his power and, therefore, he shall pass on that strength to an heir.”

My body went slack. Did I hear him right? I felt as if my world had been ripped away and I was left floating in space. Closing my eyes, I wanted to scream, why?

Turning to Bren, his face solemn, I wanted to strangle him for allowing me to do something that jeopardized my life with Jess. I frowned at him. You should have told me.

“Thank you, Keeper,” Marcus said, “You may go.”

As the Keeper walked away, I turned, facing Bren fully. “Why did you not tell me?”

“I tried,” he whispered, “You would not listen.”

Frustrated, I knew he was right. I would not listen. Jess was in danger and it did not matter what I had to face. Still, I would do it all again.

“I will do what I can to fix it.”

Nodding, I took a breath and faced Marcus.

“Please come forward, King Micha.” As if my soul left my body, I stepped forward meeting Marcus at the bottom of his throne. “We took the liberty of choosing a few beautiful girls who we feel would make strong queens.”

Lifelessly, I followed Marcus to my quarters, Bren lagged behind. “These girls are strong minded, smart and from a worthy line.” He smiled. “Everything you need to carry on your legacy.”

Marcus opened the door, revealing a line of girls waiting in the long hallway outside my chambers. Exhaling, I glanced to Bren. He shrugged as if he knew nothing of it.

“You have until night fall to choose one who…tickles your fancy.”

Marcus turned away as each of the Shadows vanished. Bren closed the distance between us looking down the hallway, as I asked, “How will you fix this?”

Bren placed his palm on my shoulder. “I am not sure but have some faith in me.”

Bren began to walk forward but I grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Let’s walk around and enter through the other door. I am not ready to face them yet.” He nodded and closed the door. I only wished it was on the entire ordeal.

 

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