Book: Eighth Note (Fire Ballad One) Author: Kimberly Stedronsky Genre: Paranormal Horror Romance Release Date: October 31, 2013 Hosted by: Book Enthusiast PromotionsEva Reed saved the world. Actually, she saved two worlds, but who’s counting? Finding herself in the middle of present day suburbia, married and a mom at only twenty years old, she’s beyond bored. Even with her popular music blog and her handsome husband Will catering to her every impulse, she longs to use the incredible powers that she possesses. But Earth is no place for magic. When Cole Mathison arrives, asking for Eva’s help in solving the death of a famous pop star, she cannot resist the overwhelming pull to use her abilities again. Eva finds that there is more to the sinister murder than what the evidence shows. People who listencontinue to die, and she must rely on her immortality to protect her from a frequency that is shattering minds and stopping hearts. There are forces at work that she could never have imagined... And evil will be heard. Kimberly Stedronsky is an Ohio author who prefers an epic love story. She has a degree in Early Childhood Education, which she uses as an excuse to be as immature as possible on a daily basis. She is married to a stand-up comedian Marine veteran, and their three children are appropriately sarcastic. “I’ve spent the last thirty years proving to myself that I wasn’t crazy. I’ve… helped… people with paranormal activity.” “You’re a ghost hunter?” I snorted, listening to the monitor crackle and Perry cry out softly. Will gave a deep, amused sigh, gesturing to the house. “I am going to bed. Ten minutes, Eva.” I automatically scowled at his order. “I’ll be up in a little while,” I countered, using all of my self control not to tell him off for treating me like a kid. “Yes, love.” He bent to me, practically lifting me off the ground to catch me off guard with a possessive kiss. I could only hold on to his shoulders as his mouth moved over mine, and it took me five witless seconds to realize that the display was completely for Cole. Men, marking their territory. Please. “I won’t keep her long,” Cole promised, and Will responded with a quick nod before heading for the house. “All happily ever after here, I take it?” I turned to him, tucking my hands under the sleeves of my hoodie. “Obviously. Now tell me what’s going on.” He scratched his chin. “No, I’m not a ghost hunter. I just… lend a hand. When crazy, unexplainable shit happens.” “I hate to tell you this, but people die. Every day. I’m sure the toxicology reports will come back with some fun party results.” He stared at me, contemplating. I returned his look, waiting impatiently. Finally, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, handing it over to me. “The security cameras caught her death. There’s no sound. Eva honey, are you sure you can handle this?” I accepted his iPhone, shrugging. “Um, I set my father-in-law on fire from the inside out. I think I can handle watching someone die.” His palm covered my hand, and his fingertip swept the screen open. His nails weren’t nearly as manicured as Will’s, and his calloused skin felt rough on mine. “No sound,” he repeated, and I nodded, trying not to appear as confused as I felt. The street lamp flickered over our heads, and I waved my hand to turn the bulb completely off, leaving us in darkness. The video began with an aerial view of Nina, black and white, in the studio. I could hear that the sound had been wiped from the video, and the continuous, looping whisper kept time with my heartbeat as my pulse began to pound in my ears. Nina was tall and blonde, with adorable dimples that kept her looking years younger than her actual age. She had two fingers over her earpiece as she sang, and I watched her drag the back of her other hand over her brow in mid-verse. She stopped singing, and the rushing sound intensified. She was coughing; I watched her reach for something, and then tip her head back and take a long drink from a bottle of water. Cole’s hand slid around my waist, and I almost screamed. I’d been so involved in the video, waiting, holding my breath, I’d almost forgotten he was next to me. “Eva.” He warned. I ignored him, narrowing my eyes and focusing on the iPhone screen. Nina stilled suddenly, and the water bottle slipped from her hand. Long seconds passed as she stood there, frozen, still, and I started to lift my finger to touch the screen, checking to see if the video paused. Her head jerked down violently, chin to chest. All of her hair surrounded her face. When her head snapped upward to meet the camera face-on, my hand clamped over Cole’s arm. Her mouth was a wide, dark O, no teeth, no sound… no pupils. Blackness seeped from the corners of her eyes, and she began to bend backward, further, further still, until her entire body was folded- backwards- at the waist. Text copyright © 2013 Kimberly Stedronsky a Rafflecopter giveaway
“I am certain, without any doubt, she was meant to be in my life. We belong to each other. I spent too much of my time consumed with what everyone else thinks of my feelings for Darcie, but the truth is, it was always supposed to be this way.” ~Reggie Evans
Darcie Claiborne spent several years of her young life living with a monster, always fearing what he would do next. Clasping onto her last ounce of hope, Darcie releases a scream. It’s her final attempt to live; to survive the villain of her reality. Sweeping her up in his arms, Darcie’s knight in shining armor rescues her from the hell she’s been living; from the stepfather she’s feared for all those years.
Reggie Evans has been forced to grow up before he’s ready when his mother dies of an overdose, leaving him responsible to raise his younger brothers. One fateful night, Reggie jogs by an old, run down house and discovers a young girl clinging to life as she screams for help.
Three years later, Darcie is healing and always protected by the man who saved her, but now she’s fighting with something she isn’t prepared to face. The growing love for the man who saved her life three years ago, the same man who’s nine years older. All the while, Reggie fights to protect Darcie from the demons of her past and new ones of her present.
**Mature Content Warning** 17+ for language and sexual content**
BOKK TWO IN THE SERIES
BLURB :When all signs point to trouble, can Amanda steer clear of disaster?
Amanda Ryder's determined never to fail her coven again. Next time, she won't hesitate to pull the trigger to defend her friends. If only they'd trust her enough to let her set foot outside the Academy…
Frustrated and itching to prove herself, Amanda snags her first Academy mission: she and Toby Laboyteaux, fellow teen witch who "kinda sorta sees the future," must work together to track down a local swamp monster stirring up trouble in the sticks. But overturned suburban garbage cans and blurry tabloid pictures aren't the only problems—strained relationships with her new colleagues, a growing guilt-complex, and the waxing moon all add to Amanda's stress. Add to that the pressure of being hunted by a psychic psychopath, and Amanda's got plenty on her mind.
Meanwhile, Hamilton Nash swears Marian Dupree and her Academy of bumbling do-gooders have thwarted his plans for the last time. Convinced Amanda's the subject of his mother's recent prophecy and the key to his future success, he redoubles his efforts to obtain the mystery girl. But when Amanda proves too slippery a quarry, Nash sets his sights on the next best thing. When a valuable member of the Academy coven is kidnapped, Amanda and her friends are in a race against time. Is a tragic future destined to come to pass?
Hamilton Spencer Nash was pissed the fuck off. This shit between him and Marian
Dupree was at motherfuckin' DEFCON1. Something was going to go thermonuclear, and soon.
As he greeted each of his guests, however, he kept all outward signs of his fury well
hidden. He hadn't wrecked a room in his house, though he was sorely tempted. He hadn't
punched anyone's face in, though his palms itched for contact. He hadn't taken his anger out on
his associates, for that would be undignified, and they were not to blame… technically.
Instead, he'd sat tight. Thought long and hard about what had happened, the how and the
why it had come to pass. He debriefed those involved, checking and rechecking the facts.
And he'd come to the conclusion that Dupree was to blame. She and her bumbling little
scout troop had interfered for the last time. And yes, he recognized how cartoon-villainish that
sounded, thank you very much. Yet another reason Dupree was irritating: she brought out the
worst in him.
He hadn't gotten to where he was—the head of a powerful and lucrative organization—by
throwing tantrums. He'd earned his wealth and position by maximizing opportunities while
minimizing risks. By making calculated, rational decisions. By eliminating problems with
Dupree was a problem. Therefore she would pay. And pay dearly.
He knew something had gone seriously wrong when his pet firebug, Angelica, hadn't met
up with him at their rendezvous point. The girl was prone to panicky overreaction whenever she
sensed the slightest danger, real or imagined, so the fact she'd never even called was ominous,
indeed. And he'd never heard from her again, in fact—nor had his associates managed to turn up
any sign of her. He had no definitive knowledge of what actually happened to her—Dupree
hadn't bothered to inform him, the bitch—other than the firm belief that Angelica was dead at her
He did not pause to consider he'd sent Angelica on a dangerous mission to burn Dupree's
precious Academy to the ground. The only fact that concerned him was that he'd lost a valuable
member of his team. A loss he blamed on Marian Dupree.
It wasn't a personal loss, per se. He had no emotional connection to Angelica, and he was
not the sort of person to delude himself otherwise after the fact. In truth, not long before she went
missing, he'd been wondering if Angelica was worth the hassle: the woman had taken an
inordinate amount of coaxing and coddling to become even slightly useful. But now that she was
gone, he'd never know if she would've matured into a fantastically successful associate. And the
loss of his profit, both realized and potential, wasn't a pittance.
Nor was it something he was inclined to overlook.
Marian Dupree would suffer at his hands. She would experience the kind of setback he
had, but on a much larger scale. She would be made to sacrifice, and she would know who was
the author of her pain.
"I want everything you have on Marian Dupree and the Academy of St. Joan of Arc," he
announced calmly to the assembly.
His highest-ranking associates, seated around his spacious dining table, reacted with
varying degrees of surprise and curiosity.
"Thought you said they were small time," Brittani Rollins yipped impertinently. "Why
the sudden interest?"
Hamilton leveled a penetrating stare at her until she started to squirm. He dragged his
eyes away once she'd been put in her place, scanning the group for any other signs of
insubordination. Finding none, he continued. "The situation has changed. What was once a minor
inconvenience has become a serious problem."
He paused once again to inwardly tally the ledger. He'd had to abort the foreclosure-arson
scam with Dale Dalton at Gulf States Bank—without a firebug, the fires would've actually
looked like the work of an arsonist, and their crooked insurance claim adjustor had balked.
Thousands of dollars had been pissed away with that one folded deal alone. Who knew how
much more they might've made running the scam elsewhere?
Hamilton's blood pressure rose once again at the thought. But he was careful not to let
any of the others sense how riled he felt.
"Round the clock surveillance. Tails on everyone who enters and leaves that place.
Wiretaps. Financials. Grocery lists. I want everything," he said in an even voice.
Several of the group nodded, understanding which of these tasks were meant for them
without being specifically told.
"And I want someone on the inside we can trust." He stared straight at Lane Cassidy,
who'd established contact with one of Dupree's litter. The mole's allegiance was in doubt, as far
as Hamilton was concerned. It was time for Lane to put the screws to the bitch and make her
show her true colors.
"Spread the word: I want recruitment stepped up. Finder's fees increased by twenty
percent. Doubled if the new initiate comes from the Academy." He paused for a moment for
effect, then held up a month-old newspaper clipping of a grainy photograph: his only concrete
proof she existed. "And twenty grand for the person who brings me this girl."
About the Author:
Born and raised in small-town, rural Indiana, I now live in metropolitan Phoenix, Arizona with an intimidatingly smart and devastatingly handsome husband and two hyperactively cute and talented sons who will one day be Earth's Overlords (never underestimate the power of Legos). I enjoy cooking, traveling, gardening, sewing, quilting, and embroidery but only when I'm in the right mood and seldom concurrently (I'm kind of streaky when it comes to hobbies). I adore reading and writing in the same way that I love breathing and eating, gaining a similar nourishment from each.
Amazon Author Page http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B006HGAZL0
Shuffled from place to place in the foster system, Morrigan doesn't know the meaning of home. Plus, she is different. She has power over fire, the ability to move objects with her mind, and glimpse into the future. Just when she believes her life can’t get any stranger, she discovers her true identity.
Filtiarn, a knight with a dark past and a surprising secret, has been tasked with guiding the heir of Tír na NÓg through countless perils to be returned to her family. Once Morrigan has been reunited with her mother and grandmother, their triad can save the forgotten land of magic from being devoured by an ancient evil.
“Guardians!” A low snarl emanated from the back of his throat. “What are you doing with Guardians?”
“Stop it! Sit down!”
Morrigan wasn’t sure who she was addressing, the man or the animals. Luckily, they both obeyed her command. She stepped in between them to avoid any further confrontations. The cats took a seat on either side her legs, but their posture hardly relaxed. They still glared warily at the newcomer, even though their hisses died down to an occasional soft growl.
“Dirty, filthy beasts!” Tiarn snarled as he climbed to his feet. “I hate Guardians.”
“They’re just little cats,” Morrigan told him. “What’s the big deal?”
“Just cats! Hah!” He was standing at a careful distance, even though they had started licking their paws nonchalantly. “They are much more than simple cats! Though even those I find distasteful.”
Morrigan narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Never mind. It does not matter.” Tiarn dismissed her question with a wave of his hand. “They are not coming with us.
“They most certainly are coming!”
Tiarn growled again. “I beg to differ with you, Your Highness. They would only get in the way. Possibly even get killed.”
Danu raised her head from her grooming to hiss at him again, as though she had taken that last statement as a personal threat. The strange reaction of her faithful sidekicks made Morrigan wonder again just how much Tiarn could be trusted. She also wondered why, when she wasn’t sure she could trust him, she still felt the undeniable urge to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him.
“If they stay here alone, they’ll definitely get killed or at least sent to the pound,” Morrigan told him. “I can’t let that happen. So, they’re coming. End of story.”
Tiarn’s eyes flashed dangerously, and he looked like he wanted to argue, but thought better of it. “Very well, Princess. Bring your mongrel felines. Just keep in mind that Guardians and lycans do not mix well.”
“Lycans?” Morrigan repeated.
A sick feeling started to settle in her stomach, as the truth of his words sunk in. It all started to make sense—his hairy arms and chest, his reaction to the cats, even his earlier comment about smelling her out. Her dark knight had a much darker side than she had ever seen in her dreams.
“Why yes, Your Majesty. Did you not realize? You are a witch and a sorceress. And I, your faithful traveling companion, am a lycan—a werewolf.”
About the Author
Laura "Luna" DeLuca lives at the beautiful Jersey shore with her husband and three children. She has been writing stories for as long as she can remember. Old high school friends would tell you she was always scratching in her notebook instead of paying attention in class and the children she used to babysit for always loved to hear her scary stories at bedtime. In addition to writing fiction, Laura is also the sole author of a popular review blog called New Age Mama. She is an active member of her local pagan community, and has been studying Wicca for close to eight years.
Smudge stick with abalone shell, snake necklace, tumbled stones, incense, natural stone pendant and wood trinket box. (US only)
Amelia Gareth's brother is a witch and the only way to save her family from the taint in his blood is to become a professed nun at Cathedral Reims. However, in order to become professed, she must endure trials that all nuns must face.
Surviving these trials is not easy, especially for Amelia, who is being stalked by shadowy beings only she can see. They're searching for people they can physically touch, because only those they can touch can see them. Amelia soon learns why she is being stalked when she accidentally harms her best friend with fire during the third trial. Fire is a witch's signature. The shadows are after witches.
Now Amelia must decide what to do: should she continue on her path to profession knowing there is no redemption, or should she give up on her dream and turn away from Cathedral Reims in order to stop the shadows who plan to destroy everything she loves?
“You know the rules, Olly. You know how things are supposed to be between us. It’s worse for nuns, especially. You’ll just be given a slap on the hand, but I’ll be exiled.” I close my eyes, soaking in the reality of the implications we toss between each other. “Nothing but this can ever exist between us, Oliver.”
His eyes fall to the scuffed floor. “Not even in secret?”
“Not even in secret. So whatever we feel about each other, we just have to ignore.”
He frowns. “Like we’ve been doing this whole time, Amelia? I just can’t do that, seeing you every day, with your hair, your eyes, your smile.” He turns away, his cheeks flushing a light purple, a peculiar color for a blush, but his blush, nonetheless.
“Would you rather be my friend, or not have me at all, because if you can’t control yourself, then it will have to be the latter.”
Oliver says nothing and starts down the tight corridor of shuttered classrooms and study areas. Not a soul breathes behind them--only the knowledge of Cathedral Reims exists behind those doors when no one occupies those rooms. From day one, those rooms contain everything anyone in the Professed Order ever needs to know and nothing else. We don’t need to know anything else, certainly not about feelings or being human.
We make it halfway down the corridor, when Oliver stops me again. “Since nothing can ever happen between us, can I at least kiss you?”
I raise my eyebrow, an intense heat blossoming in my stomach that threatens to seep under every edge of me. “What will kissing do? If you like it, you’re going to want more.”
“I just want to know what it’s like to kiss you, that’s all. And once I know, I don’t think I’ll want any more.”
I sigh, mulling over his request. I’m about to decide, when I hear a familiar pair of boots pound in the direction of the stairwell that leads to the first floor. None other than Theosodore Branch appears, bearing a jagged smile that makes me want to run to my room.
About the Author
Amber Skye Forbes is a dancing writer who prefers pointe shoes over street shoes, leotards over skirts, and ballet buns over hairstyles. She loves striped tights and bows and will edit your face with a Sharpie if she doesn't like your attitude. She lives in Augusta, Georgia where she writes dark fiction that will one day put her in a psychiatric ward...again. But she doesn't care because her cat is a super hero who will break her out.