Monday 30 September 2019

Buried Tour and Giveaway!

by Sian B. Claven
Genre: Horror

Home is where the heart is ... or the hatred.

You can feel the love and care someone puts into their home just by walking into it. Equally, you can feel the hatred and malice when you step into a home where dark deeds have been done.
Alex and his team of so-called paranormal investigators are given the opportunity of a lifetime when they are able to film inside one of the most haunted, and cursed, locations in their area.

The Jackson Mansion.
The thing that makes this mansion truly unique is that it is built completely underground. Determined to uncover the dark secrets of the mansion's past, and prove himself a notable investigator, Alex doesn't care what it takes. The mansion, however, has other ideas, as well as some rather restless occupants.

Amazon * Books2Read

Taken from Chapter Two
Claire had been an orphan her entire life, and when she was told she had been adopted by a wealthy family, she couldn’t believe her luck. The Jackson family was well-known in the area as one of the wealthiest families around and Claire would be one of them, a Jackson. Claire Jackson.
She liked the sound of that as it rolled off her tongue in her mind while sitting in the back of the car that bumped along the road, taking her to her new home. Her family had sent it to collect her and she was too excited to think on how strange it was that family hadn’t come to collect her.
They arrived outside a large gate and the car honked three times. All Claire could hear was the rumble of the engine. Two servants ran to the gates and opened them wide for the car to roll by them. They drove towards a large earthen mound in the middle of the grounds.
“Where are we?” Claire asked, looking for a house.
“Why, we’re home, little miss,” the friendly driver said.
“But there is no house?” Claire was terribly disappointed, thinking it was all too good to be true and she was actually merely being dumped somewhere.
The drive chuckled. “Don’t let your eyes deceive you, miss. You’re about to live in one of the biggest family homes ever.”
Claire sat back as the driver pulled up to the mound and got out, opening the door for her. She saw embedded in the embankment were two doors.
She was about to ask about them, when they swung open to reveal the most beautiful lady Claire had seen in her life. Dressed in a gown of midnight blue, and with green eyes that sparkled, the lady walked gracefully out of the doors and waited, her hands folded in front of her.
Claire swallowed and went towards the lady, with the driver following, carrying her suitcase. Two sets of clothes were all she owned aside from the suitcase.
“Claire Jackson?” the lady asked, looking down at Claire.
“Yes, ma’am,” Claire answered, looking up in awe.
“You are now to address me as ‘mother’. You won’t need that suitcase or any clothes you brought. We have catered for everything you will need. Come.”
She turned and descended gracefully down the stairs. Claire followed her, completely forgetting about the driver and her suitcase.
The entrance hall was vast and Claire’s mouth dropped open. She realized a lot of the things she was about to see would be a first.
Standing in the middle of the entrance hall was an elderly man, a younger man, and two small children.
“Claire Jackson,” Mother said, “this is Grandfather Peter, father, and Lucy and Michael, your younger sister and brother. You will be expected to be a good older sister and keep them entertained.”
“Yes mother,” Claire said, struggling with the new word.
Although Mother was absolutely stunning, there was something cold about her words, about the way she addressed everything; it was almost as though everything was clinical to her.
Lucy gave a small curtsy and Michael a short bow before they both greeted her with soft ‘Good afternoons’.
Father came towards her and held his hand out. Claire gave him her hand and
he bent, kissing it gently. “Hello, my darling,” father said.
He was taller than mother and more slender, and those bright blue eyes frightened Claire at first, but his words were warm and his smooth voice set her at ease.
Claire smiled brightly as he took her hand in his. “Let’s take you to your room. You’ll need a hot bath and then a change of clothes. A Jackson always looks their best,” Father explained as they walked through the house together.
They went through one of the many doors in the entrance hall, and then an entertainment room where there was a bar and some snooker tables. Another door led into a wide empty room with a stage to one side, and they then entered a hallway. It felt as if they walked forever along this hallway before they reached a pink door.
“This is your room,” Father said, reaching for the handle and pushing it open.
Claire’s mouth almost hit the floor when she saw the beautiful room. While the door was a pretty powder pink, the room was deep pink with red skirting. A large four poster bed sat to one side, with a desk and chair and a toy box overflowing with dolls. To the left of the bed was an open door and Claire saw beautiful gowns and matching shoes. She couldn’t have counted how many, but they all seemed to be in her size.
“Thank you so much,” Claire said excitedly, and entered.
Father and Mother stood at the door and watched her for a moment before Mother cleared her throat. “The door to the right of your bedroom is your bathroom. You are to have a hot bath and scrub with soap, wash your hair and brush it out.”
Claire turned to face her and nodded.
She continued, “You may wear any of your gowns, but will always wear matching shoes. You can ring for a servant by pulling on any of the bell pulls in the rooms; each one has one.” She indicated a rope in the corner. “In the morning a servant will wake you up to help you get dressed and you will join us promptly for breakfast in the Shadow Hall Dining room.”
Claire bit her lip and Father interjected, “Don’t worry; for the first few weeks the servants will help you get around. You just yank on a bell pull and summon one to escort you to where you want to go or if you get lost and need someone to come get you.”
Claire smiled. “Thank you, Father. Thank you, Mother.”
“Very good,” Mother said before lifting her skirts and sweeping out with Father following her.
Claire immediately did as they requested and had a hot bath, scrubbing herself clean before she let the water out and ran fresh water to wash her hair. Once she was sure she was free of dirt, she went to get into one of her gowns. She struggled to figure it out, so she pulled on the bell pull and, sure enough, within a few minutes a young female servant arrived.
“I’m sorry to bother,” Claire said, “but could you please assist me into my gown?”
The female servant nodded. “Of course, little miss, I am here to assist you. My name is Florence, but you may call me Flo.”
She came over to Claire and helped her into the gown before fetching the matching shoes. Claire was fascinated that everything fit so perfectly.
“Would you like me to do your hair, little miss?” Flo asked, indicating that Claire could sit down.
Claire smiled. “Yes, please, Flo, I would really like that.”
She sat and allowed Flo to do her hair and, once done, Flo offered to take her to supper with her parents.
Claire and Flo walked through the hallways talking quietly. Claire quickly learned that it was easy to get lost in the house and often the older servants had to come find the younger servants who didn’t know their way around. The older servants had been working for the Jackson family all their lives, as had their parents and their parents before them. In fact, most had grown up in the Jackson Mansion and that was why they knew it so well. Their children also worked at the mansion, but Flo said they were kept out of sight because the servants feared Mrs. Jackson something fierce.
Claire didn’t blame them. Mother seemed very stern and no-nonsense, and Claire wouldn’t want to bother her either. They reached the dining hall where supper would be served and Claire went to sit with her family, eating her food without saying anything as it seemed against the rules to speak.
Father read the paper as he ate. Mother simply focused on her food. Michael and Lucy also seemed to simply concentrate on their meal without too much hassle.
Claire kept to herself as she ate and waited until after dessert was cleared before she asked politely, “Mother, what about school?”
“What about it?” Mother asked, folding her hands on her lap and looking at Claire.
“Where am I going to go school? My normal school is so far away.”
“We don’t go to school,” Lucy said, and Mother hushed her.
“We do home schooling, dear,” Mother said. “You will be taught here at the house where we can keep an eye on you and make sure you excel.”
“Oh, alright,” Claire said and didn’t say anything more.
“Can we go play now?” Michael asked.
“Yes, take Claire with you,” Mother said.
Claire got up with Michael and Lucy and followed them out of the dining room. Through the weaving hallways she trailed after them until they reached a large room filled different toys, doll houses, rocking horses and even a television.
Michael and Lucy went to opposite ends of the room to play. Claire glanced between them, unsure of what was expected of her. She decided to play with Lucy first, because she was a girl and that might be easier. She approached Lucy who had two dolls in her hands.
“What are you playing?” Claire asked.
“You’re not my sister,” Lucy said, standing and looked up at her. “So don’t bother.”
Hurt, Claire backtracked and went to Michael instead, who was digging around in a trunk full of what looked like dress up clothes.
“Go away,” he said before she could even say anything.
Claire bit her lip and went to the television, turning it on and sitting to watch it. She felt heartbroken that Michael and Lucy wouldn’t even give her a chance. Maybe she should speak to Father and Mother about it. No, maybe if she did that they would return her to the orphanage because she wasn’t a good fit for the house.
Claire would simply have to try and win them over; she would have to think of something.
The days blended into weeks and Claire did everything she could to get Lucy and
Michael to like her, but they did not budge. They had lessons together daily with Mother, where they were exceptionally polite to Claire, but they weren’t friendly towards her when it was play time. Claire was expected to join them for playtime; after all, Mother had explained that was why they had a room just for their children’s things, but Lucy always went off to play with her dolls and Michael to do whatever it was he was doing - Claire was unsure. Normally, Claire simply sat in front of the television, watching whatever was on at the time.
Claire gradually found her way around the house and soon didn’t need to ring for the servants to fetch her in the mornings. She always found her way to breakfast, to the room they used as a classroom and to the play room.
On a quiet Saturday morning Claire heard her parents discussing going out that evening to an event. It was the first time Mother and Father had been away since adopting Claire and she was worried about what would happen without them around.
She was reassured by Father that the servants would be there should they need anything, and that she was to ring them if there were any problems.
Claire spent the morning with Mother, knitting a new scarf for winter, before she went off to the play room to spend the remainder of the day with her sister and brother.
She was surprised to discover that they were nowhere to be seen. Claire didn’t know where their bedrooms were, so she couldn’t go looking for them. She wondered if she should tell Mother and Father that her siblings were not where they were meant to be, but then chided herself because that would surely set their hatred for her.
Instead, she turned on the TV and sat to watch a program.
Several hours passed and Claire was sure it was near bedtime. She still hadn’t seen Lucy or Michael and wondered if perhaps they were already in bed or if they were playing somewhere else in the house.
Claire hadn’t considered that before; a huge mansion with so many rooms, obviously there were other things to do. Struck suddenly with a longing for adventure, she ventured out of the playroom and, instead of going right towards her bedroom, went left to see where the corridor led to.
At the end of it she could either go left or go right. She looked left and saw a long passage with many doors, and when she looked right she saw a long passage with only one door at the end. She found it peculiar and decided to investigate the lone door to the right.
Her feet didn’t make a sound as she treaded lightly on the carpeted floor. The beautiful green and red pattern seemed almost ominous when she looked down at it, so she kept her eyes up and trained on the door.

She reached it and reached up, turning the doorknob slowly and letting the door swing open of its own accord. She peeked into the dark room and wondered what was inside of it, when she heard a scurrying noise, like a rat running on a hardwood floor. Shaking involuntarily, she retreated quickly, running away from the room. She heard whatever it was scurrying behind her, and panicked.

Born in South Africa, in the heart of Johannesburg, Sian Claven grew up with a vivid imagination. When she wasn't immersing herself in books, she was actively creating her owns tories.

At 29 years old, left to her own devices after her sister immigrated, Sian, wrote her first horror book Ensnared and dared to publish it under the guidance of indie authors Toni Cox and Ashleigh Giannaccaro.

Now she has released more than ten books including a thriller and sci-fi fantasy.

In 2019, Sian took up the challenge of publishing 11 books in 11 months.

Sian came second place in the First Annual Indie Awards for Favourite African Author.

Sian's book, Sylvana, the final book in her Butcher series, made the Amazon top 100 best sellers list in several categories across three countries.

In her spare time, Sian is an avid Harry Potter fan, pop collector and Bingo addict. She resides in Johannesburg with her 2 best friends, their daughter, their 6 dogs and 2 cats.

Follow the tour HERE for exclusive excerpts and FOUR giveaways!

Amazon Bundle Give Away US ONLY

Kindle Fire Give Away US/UK/SA ONLY

$20 Amazon Gift Card INTERNATIONAL

Amazon Bundle Giveaway UK ONLY

The Devil & Dayna Dalton #Blitz

 photo Screen Shot 2019-09-10 at 8.54.56 AM_zpspya51wkc.jpg
Book 9: A Bulwark Anthology
Paranormal Romance
Date Published: September 30, 2019
Publisher: Chelshire, Inc.

Reporter Dayna Dalton’s reputation has been ruined since birth. The daughter of wild child, Becky Dalton, is expected to follow her mother’s footsteps; never given a chance to prove she’s different. Dayna’s been in love with Clay Finnes since she was a teenager. Her unrequited love for Sheriff Finnes leaves her empty.  He’s happily married and unavailable. Instead, Dayna finds herself stuck in the revolving door of bad relationships. But this is Bulwark, Georgia, a town where strange things are always happening.  Dayna is doomed to this loveless life until she can find someone who will appreciate the depth of her character. Can she overcome her fears and look beyond her own perceptions to accept a greater love?

*Contains Sexual Content*


Chapter 1

“I am good, but not an angel. I do sin, but I am not the devil. I am just a small girl in a big world trying to find someone to love.” Marilyn Monroe

The crisp, clear sunlight was not her friend. Dayna Dalton winced at the bright light that squeezed in through the slats of the venetian blind. She reached over and gave the cord a hard tug, sending the pint-sized bathroom into near darkness. Behind her, the shower head dripped with a steady plop, plop that reminded her of the exposé she did on water torture in Guantanamo Bay that never got published. It was deemed too harsh to print.

The Bulwark Advance preferred her to write…fluffy pieces. She sneered thinking of the crap on her computer, the half-written article about the elusive Easter Bunny that awaited its final edit. She hung her head in shame, thinking of what her sorority sisters from Georgetown would feel if they knew where Dangerous Dayna Dalton had ended up. There’d be hell to pay in the form of eternal humiliation.

Dayna twisted the faucet, her freckled knuckle turning bone white from the effort. It was no use; the leak continued relentlessly, driving a hole in her throbbing head. Oh, that last round of shots was totally not necessary.

No matter how hard she wrenched the faucet, the dribble continued. She thought she should ask her guest to fix it before he left. He was a plumber, after all. She was sick of this place. Dayna peered at her reflection in the mirror. She was sick of her life.

Skip Benson’s bearlike yawn turned into a growl from the bedroom. “Dayna.” His voice grated on her nerves.

Dayna rolled her kohl-smeared eyes.

“Dayna, come on back to bed.”

Dayna took a steadying breath and used both hands to grip the sink as if it were holding her up. What was she thinking last night? Skip Benson? How low could she go? A shudder ran through her lithe frame. That left only Trout Parker, and she could now report she had officially and irrevocably scraped the bottom of the barrel of Bulwark, Georgia.

She rubbed her forehead where a hammer banged against the inside of her skull.

Skip wailed for her to return to the warmth of the bed. Dayna wrinkled her nose, thinking about Skip’s performance, or rather what she remembered about it. Oh yeah, too many tequila shots will make anyone desirable, even stupid Skippy Benson.

She ran her fuzzy tongue over her dry teeth, fighting the urge to gag.

Skip Benson had never been on the football team, the basketball team…Hell, he’d never even made the chess team. He had been the school screw-up, and now he could brag that he and Dayna had…

Dayna turned away from the mirror with disgust, her cheeks flushing. She staggered to the doorway of the bedroom. Using the frame to hold herself erect, she shouted, “Get up!”

“Wha–?” Skip rose, the comforter bunched at his flabby waist, his chest bare and the pathetic tattoo of a red devil across the front of his right bicep.

Vague memories of kissing that image flitted through her foggy brain. Dayna picked up a pillow discarded on the floor during their frenzied arrival and threw it at his head.

“I said, get up and get out of here!”

Skip ducked, then slid off the bed, his behind exposed, another image of a werewolf on his left butt cheek. Dayna convulsed at a hazy memory of talking to that tattoo.

“You weren’t so eager to get rid of me last night.” Skip stood in all his naked glory, which wasn’t much.

“Ugh. I’m never drinking again,” Dayna muttered under her breath. “I said get dressed and get out of here.” A shoe sailed past Skip’s head.

Her unwanted guest scrambled to find his clothes. “Hey, cut it out, Dayna!” Skip was living up to his namesake as he struggled into his work pants, bouncing toward the door.

Dayna’s face split into a demonic smile that was known to strike fear in the hearts of single men everywhere. Here, she thought, was the elusive Easter Bunny. She watched Skip hop toward his escape as though he were in the Fourth of July potato sack race.

Dayna picked up a shirt that had been discarded on the floor and threw it at him. The garment appeared to have a life of its own and engulfed his head. Skip’s muffled cries were nearly smothered by the material. His hands tore at the shirt to no avail.

His fingers—Dayna looked closer, grimacing at the dirt under his nails, and watched his wrestling match with the clothing. She pushed him into her shabby living room, then out the door of her condo. Mrs. Sweetpea, an antonym for sure, watched in revulsion as Dayna shoved her guest out of her apartment.

Dayna lived in Shady Oaks, a rundown condominium community, where she reluctantly shared a front porch with her neighbor. The building was a connected row of apartments that bordered undeveloped land, as though a builder had left the project unfinished halfway through. It was hot real estate when they released the first phase, and half the town bought investment properties. Then the real estate bubble burst, and the whole thing came tumbling down.

Dayna had an inside scoop about what was really going on, but once again, the paper wouldn’t print it. The mayor had sold the land and gotten a back-end deal for it. He made a ton of dough and then skipped off to Colombia—the country, not Columbia, South Carolina. The builder had used inferior products, and once he went to jail for money laundering, the whole place went to seed. There was no one to call when things broke.

Dayna cast Mrs. Sweetpea a jaundiced eye, daring the nosy neighbor to say something about her guest. While the old crone might have appeared to be like the proverbial sweet grandmotherly type, Dayna knew her to be an ornery bitch with a sting as sharp as an angry wasp.

She hated her; had for years. Thelma Sweetpea had been her babysitter back in the day when she was a small child. Dayna’s mother had dropped her off at the old lady’s house for the first nine years of her life.

Dayna looked at Mrs. Sweetpea and shivered. The old woman had moved into the complex a year and a half ago, cutting up Dayna’s peace. What were the odds they’d end up living next door to each other? She was a mean old woman, and Dayna felt judged every time those beady eyes settled on her.

Dayna considered moving but was so underwater with her mortgage, she couldn’t think of selling. She was stuck at Shady Oaks, and she was stuck with the prying eyes of Thelma Sweetpea.

Mrs. Thelma Sweetpea took out her aggression with a broom and started to sweep as though the hounds of hell had just taken a shit there. Dayna fought the urge to say something. Speaking with Mrs. Sweetpea usually ended up in a hissing contest. Dayna’s compressed lips turned up just a bit with a smile at the result of this morning meeting. Mrs. Sweetpea was in a frenzy of spring cleaning, as if she could wipe the interlopers from reality.

The sky was overcast, and even though it was springtime, the air was decidedly chilly. A wave of cold air stole under Dayna’s shirt, making it billow out. She fought the urge to shiver. Her bare feet felt the shock of the freezing concrete. She’d be damned if she would show that old biddy any weakness, even if it was unseasonably cold.

Dayna looked up at the watery sky, searching for a glimpse of the sun. Global warming was playing havoc with Georgia’s weather. Either it was extremely hot when it was supposed to be cold or freezing when the time of year dictated heat. It didn’t rain anymore; it stormed with funnel clouds that touched down, ripping homes and trailers from their moorings.

Mrs. Sweetpea stopped her sweeping to look at Dayna, her lips pursed as if she’d eaten something sour. Dayna returned the stare, her eyes observing the wrinkled face, watching the older woman judge her half-naked form.

Dayna’s freckled shoulder peeked out from an oversized tee shirt. It was paired with her long, bare, coltish legs underneath. Dayna looked down and cursed when she realized she was wearing Skip’s tee. Glancing up, she realized he was struggling with her shirt from last night.
Watching her neighbor’s shocked face, Dayna ripped Skip’s shirt over her head and tossed it to him. He paused in his scuffle with her clothing to admire her perfect breasts.
“I don’t have to leave,” Skip said with a broad smile.

“Oh yes you do, and don’t come back here.” Dayna turned around, her shoulders straight. She paused to look at the older woman, who stood with her jaw hanging in shock.

“Have you no shame?” Thelma Sweetpea sputtered.

Dayna looked back at the gawking plumber, then her scandalized neighbor. She shrugged indifferently. “Apparently I have no shame at all.”

About the Author

 photo Brit Lunden_zpsrch5ipgt.jpg
Brit Lunden is a prolific author who’s written over 50 books in assorted genres under different pen names. Bulwark was her first effort in adult fiction and was chosen by several of her fellow authors as the basis for a new series, A Bulwark Anthology.  Using her characters, they are creating new denizens in spin-off stories to this bizarre town. Brit Lunden lives on Long Island in a house full of helpful ghosts.

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Sunday 29 September 2019

Knightshade Tour and Giveaway

Perdition Bleeds
Knightshade Series Book 1
by John Grover
Genre: Epic Fantasy 


King Gravynmere of Vanosia has sent some of his best soldiers to investigate strange stories in the nearby border town of Faxon.
The men will soon learn there is more truth than fancy to these stories, for something walks in the fields, something with cloven hooves and fire dripping from its hands.

The king rallies his son, Prince Quinn, his entire army and all of the Kingdom of Vanosia to confront the very forces of darkness in an epic tale of adventure, magic and mystery as the veil between their world and Perdition grows thin.

Join the Prince as he battles for his land, his people and his beloved on a mission that will take him to ends of the world and back, through pain and sacrifice, war and horror as what is below claws its way to above.

Shadow Scourge
Knightshade Series Book 2


The Great War with Perdition has ended but all is not well in the continent of Eurone. Prince Quinn, half human, half shade, lives in exile at the hands of his father, King Harlequin. The King withers into depression, leaving the kingdom of Vanosia weakened and open to attack. It is now that the Shrouded Woman seeks vengeance for the death of her sister at the hands of Prince Quinn. She will stop at nothing to see the extermination of the royal family and all of Vanosia.

In this sequel to Knightshade: Perdition Bleeds, the forces of darkness and light will once again collide in an action-packed, fantasy tale of family secrets, dark history, forgiveness and redemption. Prince Quinn is the only way to stop the dark shadow magic of the Shrouded Woman and the scourge she has unleashed upon the world. He must learn that to finally bring peace to the kingdom he will need to not only face the truth of the Shrouded Woman's identity but the truth about his own family as well. 

This is book 2 of the Knightshade Series. It is highly recommended that you read Book 1: Perdition Bleeds before starting this book.

Coming Soon!!
Knightshade Book 3 – King Ascends

John Grover is a fiction author specializing in Horror, Fantasy and Sci-Fi residing in Massachusetts. John grew up watching creature double feature with his brother on Saturday afternoons. This fueled his love of monsters, ghosts and the supernatural. He never missed an episode. In his spare time he loves to cook, garden, go to the theater to watch horror movies with his friends, read, talk about food, bake amazing desserts, play with his dog Buffy (yes named after the character in the TV show) and draw-badly.

Some of his favorite TV shows and influences are The Twilight Zone, Tales from the Darkside, Space 1999, Battlestar Galactica, X-Files, Night Gallery, Monsters, Star Trek, and much more. 

He completed a creative writing course at Boston’s Fisher College and is a member of the New England Horror Writers, a chapter of the Horror Writers Association.

Some of his more recent credits include Best New Zombie Tales Vol 1 by Books of the Dead Press, The Book of Cannibals by Living Dead Press, The Vermin Anthology, The Northern Haunts Anthology by Shroud Publishing, The Zombology Series by Library of the Living Dead Press, Morpheus Tales, Wrong World, The Willows, Alien Skin Magazine, Aurora Wolf and more.

He is the author of several collections, including the recently released Terror in Small Doses for Amazon Kindle as well as various chapbooks, anthologies, and more.

Follow the tour HERE for exclusive content and a giveaway!

Fearless by Allana Kephart blitz

Allana Kephart
Publication date: September 24th 2019
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance
Priv·i·lege: having special rights, or immunities. Societal and social advantage.
For Riley McLeon, ignorance is bliss. As the daughter of a single cop with a history of shooting first and asking questions later, she’s grown up sheltered. He taught her everything she knows about life, love, guns, and the world as he sees it. And all he ever asked from her was a promise: she would never date a man of color.
Ra·cist: a person who shows or feels discrimination, prejudice, or antagonism against people of other races, or who believes that one’s own race is superior.
Lincoln Sanders knows all too well about the skin deep judgments people make. He knows what it is to lose everything, to be haunted by the impossible. He knows pain. He knows hate. And he definitely knows trouble when he sees it.
Chance: to take a risk. A possibility of something happening.
Silence comes easily when the whole world is against you, and being together is an act of bravery neither Lincoln or Riley think they’re capable of. Loving each other feels like coming back to life, but you can’t move forward if you’re living in the past.
When you unlearn everything you’ve ever known, you can become fearless.
“Okay, okay,” Riley laughs, slamming her empty bowl down on the coffee table. She clutches her head, squinting through the pain of her brain freeze. “Truth or dare, jackass?”
Tears stream down my face from laughing so hard at her display. After bringing her in and showing her around my little place, we made our way to the gray leather couch with two half gallons of frozen custard and a bottle of whiskey. One way or another, we got around to playing truth or dare. I promptly dared her to swallow the entire big, chocolatey scoop she had balancing on her spoon, that she promptly shoveled down her throat like a boss.
“I can’t believe you actually did that,” I cackle.
Truth or dare?” she laughs furiously, louder now. “It better be fucking good after that. I’m pretty sure that was abuse.”
“I’m not even sorry,” I say as I wipe the tears from my eyes. I press my hand against my chest, as if that will force air back into my lungs. “Truth.”
“Oh, typical,” she jokes, and I’m laughing again. “Alright. What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done? Spare no details, I want to be flabbergasted.”
I shake my head, trying to think of something to tell her. This is where she finds out just how boring I am. “I ate a whole bag of marshmallows once.”
“Linc,” she hisses, unimpressed.
“What?” I ask, beaming at her. “I don’t have any fun crazy shit. The craziest thing I’ve ever done is go to prison. I don’t want to be a wet blanket.”
Trepidation washes over her, and my amusement fizzles out like a lit match in a puddle. “I… I’m not sure why I told you that,” I cough. Riley sits quietly, waiting for an explanation, and as much as I want to come up with a brilliant, sexy backstory, I can’t lie to her. I sigh. “Promise not to judge me?”
“Did you kill somebody or something?” she says through a forced laugh. When I don’t immediately respond, she pushes away from me on the couch. “You… Did you kill somebody?”

Author Bio:
Allana Kephart has been making things up and bending people to her will from a very young age. She loves animals, tattoos, music, laughing, and reading. She spends an obscene amount of time finding pretty new words and thinking up awful ways to torment her characters.
When not writing, she can be found walking one of her many furbabies, making havoc with her credit union work buddies, or jamming out in her car to Broadway musical soundtracks. She lives in the beautiful state of Colorado with fur-babies.


Saturday 28 September 2019

Sinclair by Alice La Roux #Blog Tour #Review


Selfish. Sinful. Sexy. 

These are the three words that best describe Sinclair Beaumont, and he lives up to every one of them. Women, men and money come easily as a stripper at the notorious club SIX but one phone call changes everything and Sin begins to spiral. 

Determined to get his life back, Sin begrudgingly signs up for a dance class at the local community center. What he doesn’t count on is the hot little Hispanic teacher with the fiery temper. 
Dancing for Sin is foreplay. 
For Sofia, it’s everything. 
What happens when the two tango?

Re: Camelot Tour and Giveaway!

Re: Camelot
The Complete Edition
by E.C. Fisher
Genre: Epic Fantasy 

Seventeen-year-old Arthur Godwin-Dragos finds himself much unlike his childhood heroes who fought for the grace and honor of Camelot. Banished to a bleak boarding school in England, Arthur cannot help but retreat into the fantasy of his mother’s old tales. Longing for his own destiny to assuage his loneliness and despair, Arthur withers in exile in wait for something more.

In the stillness, however, the hands of fate begin to turn. Across the universe, far out of reach of time or space, the planet Avalon grows dim. The ancient sorceress Merlin awakes from a fevered dream--as prophecy calls out through the darkness. Sealed and forgotten, Morgana la Fey stirs in the dark, biding her time to strike against Merlin and Avalon. Once again must the legend of King Arthur awaken, and with the power of the mighty Excalibur, beat back the insufferable darkness once and for all.

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“Where am I? What was I doing now?” Arthur asked.
He was in a pitch-black space. He couldn’t see his hands in front of him. Suddenly a light started to shine from behind him. He turned to face the light and as he did so his body rushed towards it. As he was falling into the light, images of everything he’s been through flashed by, his memories were flashing before his eyes.
The images started to blur as if going faster and then suddenly, they stopped. Arthur was looking at an image he had seen before but not quite. The lake that he saw on his journey to Lancelot was before him, it was morning and fog was light over the lake and there was a young boy with an older man, not something he remembered. The old man handed the boy a sword and the boy started walking towards the edge of the lake.
Suddenly, the water rippled a little in front of the boy. A watery figure started to emerge, Arthur couldn’t see it clearly but it looked like a woman. The boy handed her the sword and she took it with her back under the water. The young boy exited the lake and went to stand by the old man again.
After a few minutes, the water began to ripple again and the woman appeared. She was holding the sword in one hand and a scabbard in the other. She walked on the surface of the water towards the boy and as she did, she placed the sword into the scabbard and handed it over to him. She waved at them as she melted back into the water.
The image faded and started to rush past him again. Suddenly it stopped again, still in the same spot but this time it was dusk out and standing before the lake was a middle-aged man. After a few moments, the water in the lake started to ripple and the woman appeared again.
“Are you sure? Separating them would not be wise, young King,” the watery woman said.
“The scabbard’s healing ability is too powerful, as you were the one to create it, it would be best that you’re the person to guard it as well,” the man said.
He unsheathed the sword and when he did Arthur recognized it, it was Excalibur but he had never seen that scabbard before.
“There’ll come a time when a descendant of mine will come here. Judge him and if you find him worthy of this scabbard then give it to him,” he said, as he handed over the scabbard to the woman.

“I will do as you wish, young King. I shall wait for as long as it takes,” the woman said, and then disappeared into the water. The image faded away and Arthur was left in darkness.

E. C. Fisher is an emerging author who was born in Vandenberg, AFB, California. Currently, he happily writes and resides in Florida.

From 2007 to 2011, he proudly served in the United States Marine Corps. Three years ago he was introduced to the writing world after a bout of inspiration drove him to write his very first story. After sharing his work with several people and receiving favorable feedback, he decided to continue treading on the creative path of storytelling.

When he doesn't have a pen in hand, you can find him at the bowling alley getting strikes or at home reading fantastical books.

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