Book Blitz, Excerpt, and Giveaway: Songs of Insurrection


soiSongs of Insurrection
(Daughter of the Dragon Throne #1)

by J.C. Kang
Publication date: January 6th 2017
Genres: Adult, Fantasy

Princess Kaiya’s voice could charm a

Had she lived when the power of music could still summon typhoons and rout armies, perhaps Cathay’s imperial court would see her as more than a singing fool. With alliances to build and ambitious lords to placate, they care more about her marriage prospects than her voice.

Only the handsome Prince Hardeep, a foreign martial mystic, recognizes her potential. Convinced Kaiya will rediscover the legendary but perilous art of invoking magic through music, he suggests her voice, not her marriage, might better serve the realm.

When members of the emperor’s elite spy clan– Kaiya’s childhood friend Tian and
his half-elf sidekick (or maybe he’s her sidekick?)– discover mere discontent boiling
over into full-scale rebellion, Kaiya must choose. Obediently wedding the depraved
ringleader means giving up her music. Confronting him with the growing power of her voice could kill her.

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Not-So-Chance Meetings

If marriage were a woman’s grave, as the proverb claimed, sixteen-year-old
Princess Kaiya suspected the emperor was arranging her funeral. Entourage in tow, she shuffled through the castle halls toward the garden where General Lu waited. Given his notorious dislike of the arts, the self-proclaimed Guardian Dragon of Hua had undoubtedly envisioned a different kind of audition when he requested to hear her sing.

After all, she was dressed like a potential bride.

She buried a snort. The Guardian Dragon—such a pretentious nickname. The only
real dragon, Avarax, who lorded over some faraway land, might make for a more
appealing audience. A quick trip down his gullet would spare her a slow death in a
marriage with neither love nor music.

And it wouldn’t matter what she wore.

The gaudy dress compensated for her numerous physical imperfections, but stifled
the only thing that made her special. How was she supposed to sing with the inner robe and gold sash squeezing her chest, in a futile attempt to misrepresent her woefully underdeveloped curves? The tight fold of the skirts concealed her lanky legs, but forced a deliberate pace. At least the short stride delayed the inevitable, while preventing her unsightly feet from tripping on the hanging sleeves of the vermilion outer gown.

At her side, Crown Princess Xiulan glided across the chirping floorboards. Kaiya
suppressed a sigh. If only she could move with the nonchalant grace of her sister-inlaw, or even the six handmaidens trailing them. She dug her nails into clammy palms. Through this choreographed farce, appearances had to be maintained, lest she
embarrass her father, the Tianzi.

Chin up, back straight. A racing heart threatened to ruin her already meager
semblance of imperial grace. Eyes forward. Servants knelt on either side of the looming double doors, ready to slide them open. She forced a smile, with her best approximation of feminine charm. If only she’d lived before Dragon Songs had faded into legend, she could’ve sent the realm’s victorious hero fleeing with the song he supposedly wanted to hear.

An aging palace official stepped into her line of sight.

Singular focus on the doors broken, she blinked. Her fluttering pulse lurched to a
stop as she blew out a breath.

His blue robes ruffled as he tottered forward with averted eyes and a bobbing head.
He creaked down into a bow. “Emergency, Dian-xia,” he said, using the formal address for her rank. “The Tianzi commands you to greet a foreign delegation in the Hall of Bountiful Harvests.”



jcauthorphotoAuthor Bio:

JC Kang’s unhealthy obsession with Fantasy and Sci-Fi began at an early age when his brother introduced him to The Chronicles of Narnia, The Hobbit, Star Trek and Star Wars. As an adult, he combines his geek roots with his professional experiences as a Chinese Medicine doctor, martial arts instructor and technical writer to pen epic fantasy stories.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter



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Cover Reveal, Excerpt, and Giveaway: Follow the Music

Today is the cover reveal for Follow the Music by L.C. Ireland. This cover reveal is organized by Lola’s Blog Tours.

Follow the MusicFollow the Music (The Collective #1)
By L.C. Ireland
Genre: Fantasy
Age category: Middle Grade
Release Date: March 7, 2017


Ama is a talented, young musician whose life is changed forever when she is kidnapped by bandits and wounded so badly that she loses her hearing. Far from home and newly deafened, Ama discovers that the music she has been learning all her life possesses hidden powers. The music may even be powerful enough to guide Ama home … if she can learn to listen without hearing.

You can find Follow the Music on Goodreads


Ama tried to hear. She tried to hear the words spoken by the girl with the honey-brown eyes, who held out her hands to push her back down when she tried to sit up. She tried to hear her own ragged breaths as panic welled inside her. She strained to hear the music that had accompanied and defined every moment of her life. But she heard nothing.


And that’s when Ama knew, absolutely knew, that she wasn’t dead. Because Ama’s mother had always told her that Heaven was made of music. And this strange place was nothing but silence. The quiet was so loud that Ama wondered if sound had ever existed.

She couldn’t even hear herself scream.


L.C. IrelandAbout the Author:
Leslie Colleen “L.C.” Ireland is an Arts Specialist in Ogden, Utah. By day she works as an educator and arts advocate for two elementary schools. By night, she writes plays and novels.

You can find and contact L.C. Ireland here:

There is a cover reveal wide giveaway for the cover reveal of Follow the Music. One winner will win an e-copy of Follow the Music by L.C. Ireland. Open International.

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Book Blitz, Teasers, Excerpt, and Giveaway: The Piper’s Price


piperspriceThe Piper’s Price (The Neverland Wars #2)
Audrey Greathouse
Published by: Clean Reads Publishing
Publication date: February 21st 2017
Genres: Fairy Tales, Retelling, Young Adult

Peter is plotting his retaliation against the latest bombing. Neverland needs an army, and Peter Pan is certain children will join him once they know what is at stake. The lost boys and girls are planning an invasion in suburbia to recruit, but in order to deliver their message, they will need the help of an old and dangerous associate—the infamous
Pied Piper.

Hunting him down will require a spy in in the real world, and Gwen soon finds herself in charge of locating the Piper and cutting an uncertain deal with him. She isn’t sure if Peter trusts her that much, or if he’s just trying to keep her away from him in Neverland. Are they friends, or just allies? But Peter might not even matter now that
she’s nearly home and meeting with Jay again.

The Piper isn’t the only one hiding from the adults’ war on magic though, and when
Gwen goes back to reality, she’ll have to confront one of Peter’s oldest friends… and
one of his earliest enemies.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble /
iBooks / Kobo

Peaceful background, blue night sky. Elements furnished by NASAart abstract spring background or summer background with fresh grass


They found the forest’s hiking trail moments before breaking the tree line. “Where
are we going, Peter?” He was heading toward a mobile home community next to the
state park.

He continued to walk with confidence. His usual cocky stride looked surprisingly like
the swagger of an ordinary teenage boy. “My friend lives here. Don’t worry. Don’t look
like such a stranger here.”

She didn’t want to appear conspicuous, but Gwen was too baffled to help it. The
unkempt lawns were boxed in by chain-link fences covered in varying degrees of rust.
They passed a lawn littered with bicycles; on the other side of the gravel street, two
different cars were parked on the lawn, clearly non-functional. Satellite dishes were on
every trailer home. Despite all being painted differently, the track housing still managed
to present a uniformity of depressing color.

Multiple houses had motorcycles out front or a dog milling around their yard. When
she and Peter passed a pack of Rottweilers, the dogs ran up to the fence and began
snarling until all the other dogs in the neighborhood were barking too. “Ignore it,” Peter
advised her.

She was scared. This was not the sort of place she ever expected to visit with Peter.
She didn’t trust his ability to protect her here. This wasn’t his world, but it wasn’t hers
either. They were both out of their element. Peter just didn’t have the sense to realize

Winding down the gravel road, Gwen matched Peter’s pace almost step for step.
They approached a blue-and-grey house. Like the others, it had wooden latticework
around the bottom to help obscure the fact it didn’t have a foundation in the ground. The
square house reminded Gwen of how she would take shoeboxes and try to turn them
into homes for her dolls by decorating them. It was hard to fathom that she was walking
up the plastic steps of the porch to knock on the door.

She waited, feeling her heartbeat in her throat, her toes, and everywhere besides
her chest. Even the predictable noise of the door opening startled her.

A woman with a long, black braid and beige cardigan stood in the doorway. Gwen
looked up at her, and then watched as the sharp features of her dark face dissolved into
unadulterated shock.


The startled woman ushered them in. She was just as uncomfortable with their
presence in the trailer park as Gwen. Once inside, they stood in a living room full of old
furniture, facing a kitchen with old electric appliances. There was no unity or romance to
the orange recliner, chipped mixing bowl, off-white blender, dull toaster, and sunken
couch. It was a bunch of old stuff that looked like it represented several decades of
objects abandoned at Goodwill. The chingadera and bric-a-brac wasn’t any more
cohesive: porcelain angles, an antique pot, a vase full of bird feathers, and a stopped
clock made the place confusing and strange in the same way her grandmother’s house
had been.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed, pulling her cardigan close and tossing her
thick braid over her shoulder and out of her way. She had a shapeless housedress
underneath the beige sweater, and a pair of black leggings insulating her legs as she
stomped around, heavy-footed in her leather slippers. She looked comfortable, except
for the unexpected guests who were putting her so ill at ease. “You shouldn’t be

“I need your help,” Peter said.

“They’re still keeping tabs on me.”

“That’s why I came in disguise.”

“You’re being irresponsible. You’re jeopardizing us both, and Neverland to

“I took all the right precautions. This is important.” Hollyhock and Foxglove wrestled
their way out of the pixie purse and came twinkling out now that they knew they were
safely inside.

“You brought fairies here?” she exclaimed. She leaned down and grabbed a hold of
his arm, forcing him to look her dead in her dark eyes. Gwen wanted to leave. This
wasn’t a friend, not anymore. This was a grown-up, and unlike Antoine the aviator, she
was not amused with Peter’s wartime antics.

“What happens if they figure it out and come to question me?”

Peter scoffed. “You won’t tell them.”

“What if they threaten to arrest me? They could put me away forever until I told
them what they needed to know, and nobody here would stop them.”

Peter broke free of her hold with ease; she wasn’t actually trying to restrain him.
“Preposterous,” he declared. “If they did that, you would sit, stone-faced and silent in
your cell until they all died.”

“What if they beat me?”

“You’d take the blows as though you were made of rock, and you would not speak.”
Peter seemed to disregard the question.

“What if they tortured me and stuck blades under my nails?” she demanded.

“Then you would not even scream, but stay silent as a stone!” Peter insisted,
hopping up onto a wooden kitchen chair at her dining table, looking down at the

“What if they bring knives and cut off my fingers, one at a time, until I told them how
to find you?”

Peter yelled right back, “Then you would steal their knives and scalp them all like
the redskin princess you are!”

Her anger slunk off her face and out of her shoulders. She shook her head, frowning
as a sad laugh escaped her. She clung to her sweater, blinking back tears, until, at last,
she flung her arms around Peter. Still on the chair, he had to bend down to return the

“Oh, Peter,” she muttered, unaware of the tears slipping off her smiling face. “Oh,

“It’s good to see you, Tiger Lily.”

Vine growing on concrete wallStarry sky through trees


Author Bio:

Audrey Greathouse is a lost child in a perpetual and footloose quest for her own
post-adolescent Neverland. Originally from Seattle, she earned her English B.A. from
Southern New Hampshire University’s online program while backpacking around the
west coast and pretending to be a student at Stanford. A pianist, circus artist, fire-eater,
street mime, swing dancer, and novelist, Audrey wears many hats wherever she is. She has grand hopes for the future which include publishing more books and owning a crockpot. You can find her at audreygreathouse.com.

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Book Blitz, Teasers, Excerpt, and Giveaway: Only a Duke Will Do


dukeOnly a Duke Will Do (To Marry a Rogue #2)
Tamara Gill
Published by: Entangled Publishing
Publication date: February 20th, 2017
Genres: Adult, Historical, Romance

Without a Season, Lady Isolde Worthingham captured
the Duke of Moore’s heart at a country dance. But on the eve of her wedding, a scandal
that rocked the ton and sent her fleeing to Scotland alone and unwed,
leaves her perfectly planned future in a tangle of disgrace and heartbreak.

Merrick Mountshaw, the Duke of Moore loathes the pitiful existence he hides from
the ton. With a scandalous wife he never wanted, who flaunts her many indiscretions,
life is a never-ending parade of hell. When the one woman he loved and lost returns to
London, he knows he can no longer live without her.

But vows and past hurts are not easily forgotten. Love may not win against the ton
when a too proper Lord and Lady play by the rules.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes &
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“I’m sorry you feel that way, but you cannot stop Isolde from marrying. She will marry one day. It may not be me, but it will be someone. And if the reports around London are correct, she is looking for a husband.”

“Damn you to hell.” Merrick left Wardoor, grabbed a half-filled bottle of whisky from
the pavilion, and started toward the Italian Walk. He found a secluded grassy spot within the trees. The sweet-smelling scent floating on the breeze did little to lesson his ire.

Merrick clung to the tree branch above his head and fought not to snap it off,
imagining it as Wardoor’s neck. He flung back a good portion of the whisky and
welcomed the burn to his throat. How could his closest friend do this to him?

The thought of Isolde welcoming his attentions was like a physical blow.

Damn them. Damn him.


It had always boded trouble when Isolde called him by his title. He turned, wanting
and yet not wanting her here right at this moment. “My lady.”

She came up to him, standing but a few feet from his person, close enough to reach
out and touch, to pull close and take what he desperately sought. And wished for.

“What do you think you’re doing, running off Wardoor from courting me?”

“He told you?” Merrick made a note to choke the bastard to death the next time he
was in range to do so.

“Yes, he told me. After seeing you two trying to kill each other, in front of everyone, I
might add, I asked him what you were about. Demanded to know, in fact.” She placed
her hands on her hips, her perfect brow marred with a slight frown. Hell, she was
beautiful. More beautiful than when he had met her at Cranleigh. “Now answer the

“He’s my friend.”

She stood staring at him a while, before she slouched, as if gauging his meaning.
“Merrick, you keep forgetting you married someone else. You have to let me go, if this is your struggle.”

It was his struggle. A constant gnawing on his soul that would never leave. “What if I
do not want to?”




tamaraAuthor Bio:

Tamara is an Australian author who grew up in an old mining town in country South
Australia, where her love of history was founded. So much so, she made her darling
husband travel to the UK for their honeymoon, where she dragged him from one
historical monument and castle to another.

A mother of three, her two little gentleman in the making, a future lady (she hopes)
and a part-time job keep her busy in the real world, but whenever she gets a moment’s
peace she loves to write romance novels in an array of genres, including regency,
medieval and paranormal.

Tamara loves hearing from readers and writers alike. You can contact her through
her website, and sign up to follow her blog or newsletter.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook /



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Book Blitz and Giveaway: My Delicate Destruction


mddMy Delicate Destruction (Wolfegang #1)
by Jillian Ashe
Publication date: July 26th 2016
Genres: Adventure, New Adult, Science Fiction

They Promised her Hope…

My name is Katerina Anderson. In 2016, a drug called Hope was created. Administered during suspended animation, the drug was supposed to cure the cancer my twin brother and I had. When an earthquake leveled Los Angeles, we were presumed dead.

Forgotten, we slept.

The day I woke up, I realized everything had changed. My brother was missing, and
everyone else I knew was dead. I booked passage on a ship to find Kris. The government thinks I’m a criminal and the cure did more than just cure my cancer. My
brother is the only one who might have the answers I need, but that drug and all its false hope set me on a path I’m not sure I can follow.

Will I find my twin and learn exactly what they did to me before it’s too late?

Goodreads / Amazon

*Get My Delicate Destruction for FREE for a limited time only!*

More books in the series:



I sat in the interrogation room, waiting. I was annoyed. If they were arresting me for the car, then why was I in an interrogation room? Did they need me to confess? It all seemed a little strange. There had to be some sort of retinal scan that threw up some red flags on my lack of identification if I wasn’t there for the whole car thing.

I tried not to panic. I could totally get out of this. All I had to do was sweet talk them
into thinking I was a dumb girl who lost her license…or whatever I was supposed to

I waited for almost two hours before Officer Smith came in to do the preemptive
paperwork. When he was done, he paged his partner, Officer Cromwell.

Officer Cromwell was the big, burly guy who had knocked me out. One of his arms
was the size of my torso and he could probably tear me in two.

“We want to know what connection you have with Captain Chase Wolfe.” His voice
was so deep it made the air around him vibrate. I was impressed despite my automatic
hatred for him.

Wolfe was the last thing I expected them to ask me about. They went to all that work
to arrest me, but for none of the things I was actually guilty of. They wanted to know
about the captain instead. My nerves went haywire, surely trying to warn me; the basic survival instinct kicking into overdrive.

I knew nothing about this captain. At least if it was something I’d done I could
answer their questions. “Well, I booked passage with him,” I replied. “I’ve never met him prior to today.”

“You’re sure?” the smaller one asked as he walked in, Smith.

“Positive. I actually have no idea why I’m here.” My hands felt constricted in the
cuffs, and they jangled unpleasantly when I moved.

Why would they hunt me down for information on this guy? I was on that ship for
barely an hour. Things must be worse for the Wolfegang then I’d originally thought. The authorities wanted them bad.

“You have no identification, you aren’t in the system, and you recently went to the
bank to exchange a large amount of cash for credits,” Cromwell stated. “It’s not possible to have nothing to identify you. This means you had it wiped somehow, most likely for criminal reasons. Oh, and you stole a car. Anything else I’m forgetting?”

Well, shit. They did know about my criminal activities, but somehow, they thought it
was connected to this captain. What exactly had I gotten myself into?

He threw down a plex that showed the stolen car report, the bank transactions, and
my passage receipt.

How had they gotten it all so fast?

“You deposited five thousand dollars in cash. Where did you get it?”

“My grandfather left it for me.” At least that wasn’t a lie. I didn’t know what they
wanted me to tell them, but they were so convinced that I knew something. How was I
going to get them to understand?

Maybe if I played this cool enough they would let me go. Though, I doubted it. Bestcase scenario: I was thrown in a holding cell with a court date and no one to pay my bail. Worst-case scenario…I could only imagine what was legal for law enforcement now.

“Have you ever contacted Chase Wolfe prior to the purchase of your passage?”
Smith asked me.

“No.” Another truthful answer. I was getting lucky. I was also getting annoyed. I
hated roundabout questions that were just the same question reworded. I’d already told him that I hadn’t.

“But you do know a Kristopher Anderson.”

Crap, I had a bad feeling about this. “Yes.” How could they possibly connect me to
him? There were probably a million Kristopher Andersons in the world.

“We arrested him a while back on assault charges and resisting arrest. Served time

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t move or react in any way. He watched me, and it made
me feel cagey.

“Why are you headed to the same planet that was his last known location?”

Damn, these guys were good. “Vacation.” I didn’t bother to elaborate.

Cromwell slammed his fist on the desk. I jumped about an inch off my chair. “Stop
playing around! I know he’s your brother; the DNA we took when we processed you
matches. Are you smuggling weapons to him? Are you working for him or Wolfe? Give
me answers, damn it!” His fist left an impression in the table.



Author Bio:

My readers are what’s important to me. Yes, I write for myself and the enjoyment of it, but I adore when a reader actually has a great time reading a story I slaved over. I don’t write any particular genre, but I do stick to kick-ass female characters. I love writing about all types of differently strong women. My debut series is Young Adult Science Fiction. The first novella is free to see if you enjoy what I write.

I’m very involved with my fandoms, and love all things geeky and nerdy. I love connecting with my readers, so if you’d like to contact me just head over to my website  🙂

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter



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Book Blitz, Excerpt, and Giveaway: Romeo and What’s Her Name


romeoRomeo and What’s Her Name
by Shani Petroff
Published by: Swoon Reads
Publication date: February 7th, 2017
Genres: Contemporary, Romance,
Young Adult

Understudies never get to

. . . which is why being Juliet’s understudy in the school’s yearly “Evening with
Shakespeare” is the perfect role for Emily. She can earn some much-needed extra
credit while pursuing her main goal of spending time with Wes, aka Romeo, aka the
hottest, nicest guy in school (in her completely unbiased opinion). And she meant to
learn her lines, really, it’s just:

a) Shakespeare is HARD,

b) Amanda, aka the “real” Juliet, makes her run errands instead of lines, and

c) there’s no point because Amanda would never miss the chance to be the star of the

Then, Amanda ends up in the hospital and Emily, as the (completely unprepared!)
understudy, has to star opposite the guy of her dreams. Oops?

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo / iBooks


I stood there like a lump, waiting for my line. Finally, I turned toward Kayla and
repeated, “I said, LOUDER-ETH.”

She fed me the line again. Supercrazy loud this time. “I would not for the world.”

It was so loud, the crowd heard it and started to laugh. Not the snickers from before,
but those evil, full belly laughs people get when watching home videos of someone
getting kicked in the groin. Wes was going to hate me for putting him through this. This torture needed to end.

“Methinks,” I said, “I could use-eth a book-eth.” Come on, Kayla. Take the
“You know-eth. A BOOK-ETH where-est I can recite-eth beauteous words to
thee . . . thou . . . whatever. I NEED THE BOOK-ETH.”

As I was shouting that last book-eth, I got my wish. The script came
sailing from off stage left and hit me in the back of the head. “Ow,” I unintentionally
yelled, to the delight of the crowd. It weighed a ton.

“Sorry,” Kayla whispered. “My bad.”

I didn’t care. I’d get over the pain faster than the embarrassment I was suffering. I
was just happy to have the script. At least I was until I realized Kayla hadn’t
bookmarked the page I needed. It was the complete works of Shakespeare.
There was no way I would find the right page. Not to mention that since the book was
with me, Kayla couldn’t even feed me lines anymore. R&J wasn’t a tragedy. My life

I was so flunking English.

“Would thou like some help, my sweet Juliet?”

Did Wes just call me sweet? I swung around to face him, but I wasn’t paying
attention to where I was stepping and my foot went right off the balcony. Wes lunged
forward to catch me, but why would anything go right for me? So instead of Wes
stopping me from hitting the floor, I took him down with me.

I was lying on top of Wes Rosenthal. Only, this was not like any of my daydreams.
This was mortifying. I rolled off him and jumped up. “Are you okay?” I was visibly

Wes stood up, too. “Don’t worry-eth, Juliet,” he said without any anger in his voice.
He even smiled at me. For a second I thought that meant he didn’t hate me for the
craziness I was causing. But then I remembered he was acting. He actually took what
he was doing seriously, and right now his part called for him to be in love with

Wes said some line I assumed was to get us back on track. But I had no response. I
couldn’t take it anymore. The laughter of the audience. The panic coursing through my body. The thought of making Wes suffer more. It needed to end.

So I did the only thing I could think of—something super Elizabethan. I put the back
of my and to my forehead, pretended to swoon, and let my whole body fall back to the
ground with a loud thump.

“I am so sorry-eth, Romeo.”

“It’s okay.” He sat down on the ground next to me and took my hand. I felt little
sparks fly through me.

I shook my head. I couldn’t let him go through this anymore. “No, I know how-eth
this play end-eth. I think I shall stab-eth myself now to save-eth us both.”

“Finally,” someone in the audience yelled out.

I picked up an imaginary dagger and began to plunge it into my heart.

“No,” Wes said, stopping me before I committed imaginary suicide. “Our story is not
over yet. So let’s just say, ‘Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night ‘til it be morrow.’”

I was pretty sure that was supposed to be my line. But I decided I probably shouldn’t
point that out. Then he stood up and walked off the stage.

After a moment, someone finally took mercy on me and brought the stage lights

The scene was over. But I knew all too well that my embarrassment was just



Author Bio:

Shani Petroff is a writer living in New York City. She’s the author of the “Bedeviled” series, which includes Daddy’s Little Angel, The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly Dress, Careful What You Wish For, and Love Struck, and is the co-author of the “Destined”
series which includes Ash and Ultraviolet. She also writes for television news programs and several other venues. When she’s not locked in her apartment typing away, she spends a whole lot of time on books, boys, TV, daydreaming, and shopping online.

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Blog Tour, Excerpt, and Review: Grimm Woods




A remote summer camp becomes a lurid crime scene when the bodies of two teenagers are found in a bloody, real-life rendering of a classic Grimm’s fairy tale. Trapped in the wilderness, the remaining counsellors must follow a trail of dark children’s fables in order to outwit a psychopath and save the dwindling survivors before falling prey to their own gruesome endings.

Drawing on the grisly, uncensored details of history’s most famous fairy tales, Grimm Woods is a heart-pounding thriller about a deranged killer who uses traditional children’s stories as tropes in elaborate murders. Set against the backdrop of modern-day Michigan, it’s a journey through the mind of a dangerous zealot and a shocking glimpse into the bedtime stories you thought you knew.



Exclusive to AMAZON


About D. Melhoff

D. Melhoff was born in a prairie ghost town that few people have heard of and

even fewer have visited. While most of his stories are for adults, he also enjoys terrifying younger audiences from time to time, as seen in his series of twisted picture books for children. He credits King, Poe, Hitchcock, Harris, Stoker, and his second grade school teacher, Mrs. Lake, for turning him to horror. For more information, visit grimmwoods.com.

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Follow the Grimm Woods tour HERE


July 7th, 5:44 a.m.

One hacksaw. One hammer, six boxes of nails. Twelve Mason jars, four hunting knives, two pairs of handcuffs. Fifteen gallons of gasoline divided evenly among three dented jerry cans.

It’s time.

A work glove hovered over the table where the objects were laid out side by side and began ticking the air as though marking off an invisible checklist. The chamber reeked of mildew, and the walls had no windows or electrical sockets—no lamps, no wires, no switch covers. A single red candle provided the only light, its crimson wax dripping down its shaft like blood.

The hand picked up a piece of paper from the table and slipped it into a blank envelope. Below, a beetle scuttled across the floorboards. The insect—its gangly antennae tuned to some foul frequency in the gloom—raced past the sole

of a giant boot just as a drop of liquid fell through the air and struck it dead center, engulfing its body in a hot, gelatinous blob that filled its orifices and burned it from the inside out. Another droplet tumbled from the candle, plopping onto the envelope this time, and then a brass stamp came down and pressed the wax into a hardened seal.

Drawing in heavier, raspier breaths, the figure held the envelope up to a corkboard that was bolted to the wall. More than a dozen pictures of young men and women were tacked to the panel by their throats and foreheads, smiling in the shadows.

The figure pinned the envelope to the board and stepped back to take in the room again.

The table and the switchblade.

The book of matches.

The iron rods, the hatchet, the .22 Smith & Wesson.

The smiling faces.

Now, the figure mused, watching the photographs flicker in the bloodred light. Who’s the nicest, who’s the worst, who wants to hear a story first?


Quick Reasons: well-rounded, complex, shady snark characters; SO MUCH BLOOD AND GORE I loved it!; horror that was actually horrifying; mix in a side of fairy tales for an interesting, unique tale; plot-focused novel that still manages to round out everything else; this read was intense!

Huge thanks to D. Melhoff, Bellwoods Publishing, and Worldwind Virtual Book Tours for sending me a free ecopy of this title in exchange for an honest review! This in no way altered my read of or opinions on this book.


OH. MY. PENGUINS. If you’d told me, last week, that I’d be reading a book that mixed horror and fairy tales into one gruesome mess–and done so in an entertaining and awesome way–I probably wouldn’t have believed you. I’ve read a few books pegged as “horror” recently and overall been vastly disappointed, so when I picked up this book, I didn’t let my hopes get TOO high. But GOOOOOODNESS, I underestimated this read!

So let’s talk plot first this time, because oh my, this book is TOTALLY plot-centric and I absolutely adooooored that! It’s not often you find a book that’s focused on plot yet still manages to implement and introduce complex, well-rounded, awesome characters…but this book?! This book manages to make everything seamless. The plot is action-packed and SUPER intense, to boot. Like seriously, penguins–I was clenching my fists, sitting on the edge of my seat, terrified about what was still to come. And that doesn’t happen to me often these days–usually I can see where things are going and puzzle out what the major “plot twists” are. D. Melhoff? You caught me totally by surprise, SEVERAL times, and I love that you did!


Like I said, these characters are well-rounded and complex. I really enjoyed that we also get different varying perspectives from them (the better to watch you DIE, my dear!) It brought a fun and unique twist to the story, and helped to keep the air of mystery and drama at SUPER INTENSE instead of just chugging along like some other horror novels I’ve read. I really enjoyed the way this comes full-circle in a sense, too–and that ending! That ending will just…gah. It’s bound to haunt me, just as I’m sure it’s bound to haunt that specific character. GAAAAH! GAH! I need more horror novels like THIS, okay?! So…someone recommend me some maybe?

In the end, this was a super entertaining, gruesome, intensely satisfying read and I cannot wait to see what D. Melhoff does in the future! The plot is action-packed and blood-soaked, the characters are like balls of shady snark, and the read was SO so worth it! I recommend this to lovers of horror, murder mysteries, and varying points of view. If characters actually bled, this book would be dripping red–be sure to wear an apron while reading, and remember, even fairy tales have a dark side.

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Book Blitz, Teasers, Excerpt, and Giveaway: Celtic Fire


Celtic Fire (Highland Celts Series, #1)
Liz Gavin
Publication date: January 31st, 2017
Genres: Adult, Historical, Paranormal Romance

This is a standalone, historical/paranormal romance. Its mature themes – violence, religious war, and pagan rituals – might not be appropriate for audiences under 18.

When ancient gods ruled and Druids kept Faith alive, the Celts thrived as a
democratic, matriarchal society. Then savage Roman soldiers swept across Europe,
killing and enslaving. The Celts did not succumb without a fight. Their Old Ways
survived centuries of ruthless domain until another menace loomed: a tortured god
worshiped in cold stone buildings. The sacred shores of Avalon began to drift away, the mists threatened to hide the island from mortal eyes forever.

Against the bleak backdrop of war, the gorgeous Scottish Highlands stood tall,
sheltering its inhabitants from greedy invaders. Yet the reach of the eagle banners was long and the highlanders turned to the Goddess for protection. However, the sacred groves felt silent and grim as Avalon faded away. Once sad, pealing bells began to sound strangely comforting while the high walls of monasteries offered an alluring
barrier from violence. Caught in the middle of this centuries-old war, a young High
Priestess might be Avalon’s last chance.

Wise beyond her years and powerful like no other Priestess in her lifetime, Rowen
had served the Goddess faithfully, forsaking her family and the company of her
soulmate. When the Lady of the Lake asks for another sacrifice, it might be one too
many for her scarred heart. How could she obey the Goddess without betraying
Caddaric? Could she trust Eochaid, who embodied everything she despised and hated?
Would she be able to fulfill her duties without losing her soul?

Caddaric had been Rowen’s companion in countless lives; but, now, they existed in
different realms. Beautiful Rowen lived in the mortal world while sweet Caddaric
remained in the sacred isle of Avalon, watching over her. Could he step aside to allow
another man – a flesh and blood man – to become her protector?

Eochaid had sworn to protect the Old Ways. The rude warrior never quite
understood his faith yet his loyal heart belonged to the Goddess. A gorgeous, fiery High Priestess was not in his plans. He would risk his life to protect Rowen; but, would the Goddess safeguard his heart? Could he defend the bewitching maiden from

When stakes were so high that a simple mistake could cost their very world, a
priestess, a Druid, and a warrior must learn to trust each other and the mysterious ways of the Goddess. Their success would save Avalon. Their failure would tear the island from the human realm forever, condemning it to oblivion.

Failure was not an option.

Goodreads / Amazon



Although my heart is heavy and my thoughts are gloomy, I take a deep breath and
focus on the task at hand. I search for the sacred oak, the oldest tree in the grove.
Finding it, I lie on the ground, face down, in front of the revered tree. Earth’s energy
radiates from the ground, traveling through my body and limbs, filling me with a potent magnetism, and making my skin tingle as I say my prayer.

“Forgive me, Great Mother. I have failed you yet again. I am your vessel on this
realm and as such I should never doubt your ways. Nevertheless, when the time came
for Caddaric to go back to Avalon, I despaired and fought against the inevitable, as I
always do.

Please, give me strength to control my weak heart, wisdom to understand your
signs, and courage to do your bidding.”

The wind picks up around me making the dry leaves and little twigs swirl. Faint
whispers come in the breeze. A thousand gentle fingers move over my body caressing,
soothing me.

“Oh, Mother, you are too kind and never abandon me. I promise to serve you
faithfully and perform my duties accordingly from now on.”

The wind blows stronger, molding my clothes to my body, covering me in dry
leaves. I feel faint and when I open my eyes, I’m not in the sacred grove any longer. I’m lying on a sunny field, there’s a gentle breeze blowing from the distant line of apple trees, bringing the sweet smell of their flowers in full bloom. Recognizing my beloved isle of Avalon, I get up and look around. I see the Lady of the Lake standing just a few feet away. I go to her and offer a curtsy. The Lady gently holds me by my shoulders, smiles serenely and holds my gaze. Not for the first time, I wonder if her eyes can read my soul.

“Rise, Rowen, my child. And do not cry. You should rejoice over your successes
instead of mourning what you perceive as failures. Your apprentices look up to you and seek your guidance, because your advice is wise and respectful. The villagers worship the Great Mother according to the old traditions, because they follow your firm yet kind leadership. Despite being so young, my beautiful Rowen, you are wise and your people respect you.”

I am touched by her words. I never expected the Lady of the Lake herself would
answer my prayer and come talk to me, comfort me.

“You are too kind, my lady. I am honored and, although I think I do not deserve your
comfort, I am thankful.”

“I speak only the truth, Rowen, as all true servants of the Goddess shall do. Now,
you will not like what I need to tell you. You have always been loyal to your vows and I
count on that loyalty to see you through the task I need you to undertake.”

“You frighten me, my lady. What do you need from me? You know I would never
deny you, or the Great Mother, anything.”



lizAuthor Bio:

International best-selling author Liz Gavin, has accomplished much in her short career. Her books have made to #1 and Top Five best-selling ranks in her home country Brazil and others as diverse as Japan, the UK and the US; both in English and Portuguese, collecting 5 and 4-star reviews. Nominated for a Summer Indie Book Award in 2016, and again in 2017, this RWA member constantly seeks new opportunities to improve her craft.

This thirst for knowledge propelled Liz to leave the comforts of family and friends in
Brazil and move to California to pursue a Master’s degree in late 2015. She lives in
sunny SoCal, where she’s researching the writing process, for her thesis, in hopes to
figure out why she creates in English instead of her native Portuguese.

Liz Gavin writes in contemporary, paranormal, and historical genres. In her sexy
stories, one finds smart, independent women, who don’t need rescuing by knights in
shining armor, but indulge in steamy action with swoony Alpha males with big hearts.
She also writes about women discovering their sexuality and finding happiness in
unconventional setups.

Blog / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Amazon / B&N



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Book Blitz, Teasers, Excerpt, and Giveaway: The Kingmaker




The Kingmaker (The Kingmaker Trilogy, #1)
Gemma Perfect
Publication date: January 1st 2017
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult

“I am sixteen years old and I will die on the morning of my seventeenth birthday. As tradition dictates, I will be sacrificed and my life’s blood will determine which one of my two brothers will be King. My blood will kill one and crown one. My name is Everleigh and I am the Kingmaker.”

The legend of the Kingmaker goes back millions of years. Their magic chooses the
rightful King of the Realm and they all die on their seventeenth birthday.

Except this one.

Everleigh is special.

She is the Kingmaker who will live, the Kingmaker who will rule, the Kingmaker who
will be Queen.

But not everyone agrees with an age old prophecy that says that a girl will rule the
Realm and soon Everleigh is locked in a deadly battle for the throne.


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I have been sleeping so much more than normal. I believe the dreams are sending
me messages. I have such a strong feeling about this one – stronger than I have ever
had before; I think she might be the one.

I know what people think when they look at me, half of them revere me and half of
them fear me.

I admit I exaggerate my persona but never ever my powers. My powers are real. I
know things and I see things. I see things that haven’t happened yet but will happen. I
know a person’s heart – I can see greatness and badness, trust or ill will. I know if
someone is cursed before they tell me. I know if a woman is with child before she does.
I know the private thoughts of people. Some people. Not everyone – some people are
good at hiding their true self, blocking off the signals I pick up, but for the most part I

My persona is something else. I do have a little fun with the chanting – not all of
which is strictly necessary. I enjoy staring at someone and then letting my eyes roll back
in my head as if I have been overcome with some secret thing to do with them – that
trick gets everyone in a fluster.

But I’m a good woman and a useful one. I do help the King. I use my powers to
advise him. I use my knowledge to guide him and I have never shown him wrong. The
Realm is peaceful and prosperous and I know that I have helped with that.

But my real purpose, the reason my teacher placed me here at the castle, has
eluded me thus far. Through no fault of my own, I must add.

So, the blessing is over and here I am making up a future fire to see what I can

I’ve gathered the wood and started the fire, the flames licking upwards and warming
my room. I’ve put all the necessary ingredients in to my bowl over the fire. The liquid is
swirling. I’m trying to see if my hunch is correct. If I’m right about Everleigh.

Ah, I’m fed up of this puzzle. The fire will not show me anything, but does that mean
I am wrong or that the future is too uncertain?

Where is my knowledge now?

Every time a Kingmaker comes to this final countdown in their life I intervene.
Everleigh is the seventh Kingmaker I have known. That may give you an idea of my age
I know, and yes, I am older than anyone I have ever met.

The teacher told me I will live until my life’s purpose is completed and my life’s
purpose is to find the Kingmaker who is not the Kingmaker.

Does that even make sense?

When I met my teacher, I was only a teenager. I was rebelling against my power
and trying to drown out my knowledge and gift with drink. Alcohol dulled the power and
the voices inside me.

My teacher helped me, guided me and allowed me to live with my power, enjoying
the help it gave me and embracing it fully. He also told me that I had been chosen for a
special and important purpose.

He asked me if I had heard of the Kingmaker. Of course, I had – everyone had. The
Kingmaker was a sacred tradition used to choose the new King of the Realm.

The teacher had been privy to a prophecy found years ago, which told of the one
Kingmaker who would not die, she instead would rule as the Queen and the greatest
ruler that the Realm had ever known.

I was to learn my craft and then go to the castle and work as a wise woman to assist
the King. But every time the Kingmaker feast came around, I was to secretly meet the
Kingmaker and test if she was the future Queen.

I have a feeling with this one that I’ve never had before. I’m more excited than I’ve
been previously to test her. I’m nervous too. The one thing the teacher never told me
was what happened next. If I found the Kingmaker who should be Queen, how did I
convince anyone else?

My fire has let me down. I leave it to die and decide to finish for the night. After all, if
she does as I’ve asked, I will meet Everleigh at the river at sunrise, which isn’t that far

I lay in my bed, watching the embers of the fire flicker away, and as I do I see a
crown forming in the smoke. Is it a trick of my imagination or is it a sign?

I drift off to sleep pondering.



gemmaAuthor Bio:

Gemma Perfect loves to write. She’s been doing it since she was nine. After a few false starts – self publishing children’s books, and being traditionally published with her romance novella, she has finally found her feet writing young adult historical fantasy books. She is currently writing The Cursed Princess, set five years after The Kingmaker Trilogy finishes, following the adventures of Everleigh’s sister, Addyson.

Gemma lives in Wales with her husband Craig and their three boys, Sam, Corey
and Oliver. She is happiest when writing, day dreaming and eating smelly blue

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter



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Blog Tour, Excerpt, and Giveaway: Kill’t Dead or Worse



Kill’t Dead or Worse
By: R.W. Hacker

After a murdered partner, a cheating wife and a lost job in Houston, Nick Sibelius sets up a
private investigation business in a small Texas town hoping to find some peace and maybe, himself. When two lovers disappear and a fisherman turns up dead, he finds himself drawn into a web of crime and deceit involving MaryLou, a beautiful woman with a mysterious past; Junior, a failed farmer whose best intentions seem to always result in a dead body; and Barry, a sociopathic dentist turned illegal toxic waste entrepreneur with a violent right wing agenda. When the felon who killed Nick’s partner in Houston joins forces with Barry, Nick must not only stop the toxic waste dumping while finding his client’s missing daughter, but keep from being killed in the process. In the end, MaryLou’s dark secret will either save him or kill him — whichever comes first.

Link to Follow Tour  | Goodreads Link |  Amazon

Author Info:richard-hacker-0916

Richard Hacker has been writing most of his life, and professionally, in support of his work in management consulting, public speaking and training in the healthcare and pharmaceutical industries. In 2009 he moved, along with his wife, from Austin to Seattle, shifting his professional focus from business consulting to writing fiction full time.

Wanted by authorities for smuggling Texas BBQ across state lines, he now writes and lives in Seattle. His writing has been recognized by the Writer’s League of Texas and the Pacific Northwest Writers Association. As a judge in literary contests such as PNWA and ChicLit, he enjoys the opportunity to give writers honest critique to move their craft forward. In addition, he is the science fiction and fantasy editor for the Del Sol Review, an online literary magazine.

Website| Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads


A banging startled him awake. Nick lifted his head off a stale, damp pillow case, the bed creaking as he sat up. Three fifteen. He slipped on some shorts and checked the safety on his Glock. The banging continued, which in his trailer sounded like Thor hammering on his head.

He shouted, “Who’s there?”

“Reverend Anderson.”

Nick didn’t know a Reverend Anderson since he had no desire to step through the transom of a church anytime soon. This had to be the same guy who called. Why would a minister go to this much trouble to wake me up? He held the gun behind his back, opening the door to a large black man, six foot four, dressed in tan slacks, a green polo shirt and shoes with a shine that reflected the light from inside Nick’s

“Did you call earlier?”

“Yes, that was me. I need to speak with you urgently.”

Nick slipped the gun behind a cushion of the built-in seat by the door. “As I told you…” He searched for the man’s name.

“Reverend Anderson. I’m the paster of Victory Church in town.”
“Yes, mister…Reverend Anderson. Like I said, we can talk during normal business hours.”

Nick reached to close the door.

“You shut that door and you’re condemning my little girl to God only knows what.”

“Trust me, Reverend. It can wait until the morning.” Nick pushed the door closed, but Anderson stiff armed the door open. “You don’t want to go down this path, Reverend.”

“I’ve heard what people say about you.”

“So I’m the talk of the town, eh?”

“They say you’re rude, arrogant and a drunk.”

“Well you can tell them to kiss—”

“And that you get it done.” Anderson took a step forward, placing his large frame in the doorway. “Is that correct, Mr. Sibelius. Do you get it done?”

“It’s Nick. And yeah, I suppose I do.” He breathed a weary sigh. “Do we really need to talk about this right now?”

The Reverend stared at him. Nick eased away from the door, nodding toward the trailer’s interior. Anderson took the two steps through the opening of the trailer, ducking to avoid banging his head against the doorway.

Nick said, “I take it I’m not going to get rid of you until you tell me what’s crawling up your ass, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right, Nick. I need your help.”

Nick looked to the right at dishes piled in the sink, empty bottles on the counter and the remains of last night’s dinner still sitting on the table, and then left, to a pile of dirty clothes and towels. He grabbed a barbecue stained paper plate off the table, folding it up and placing it in the trash under the sink. “So what’s this burning issue?”

“It’s my daughter. She’s missing.”


Up for grabs:
4 Austin TX Coasters
Asleep at the Wheel—20 Greatest Hits —CD
Texas Eats — Cookbook of Texas Recipes
Kindle or Paperback Copy of Kill’t Dead or Worse


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