Spooktacular Vampire Detective Midnight by JC Andrijeski
Give a Spooktacular welcome to jC Andrijeski author of Vampire Detective Midnight. Pull up a chair, grab a drink of your choice from the cauldron. Take your choice of a bat wing Chocolate Chip or Pumpkin, or Peanut Butter cookie from the plate, and let’s find out a little about JC and Vampire Detective Midnight. But first the Spooktacular Guest Blog.
chest… I MISSED HALLOWEEN, lol.
Thanksgiving… Talk Like A Pirate Day.
of my favorite holidays.
States in July. This was after spending almost five years living in Thailand,
with another few years in India prior to that.
just doesn’t translate, even if, like in Thailand, they like to celebrate it,
at least in the big cities where a lot of foreigners live.
is pretty much the epitome of that, they had Halloween-themed movie nights,
Halloween decorations in the malls (there are a LOT of malls in Bangkok),
Halloween-themed bar nights (a LOT of Halloween-themed bar nights… Bangkok
likes its bars), costume parties thrown by foreigners living there and some of
the consulates… Halloween music in the coffee shops.
same.
Fahrenheit year-round in Bangkok, with roughly 80-90 percent humidity. That
doesn’t flex all that much, although there are seasons in Bangkok. There’s the
super-duper, crazy hot season that runs roughly from April to June, where it
goes up to the high nineties, and even into the one-hundreds. There’s the
wetter seasons, the “hot” and “cold” monsoons, where it rains a lot and the
city floods. But it never really cools down. “Cold” Monsoon is just slightly
cooler than the one at the end of the hot dry season.
November to February, is heavenly if you live there – but it’s still like high
eighties to low nineties, which is, yeah, still hot.
the average Westerner, isn’t much fun. A lot of living in Thailand is hopping
from one air-conditioned enclave to another. I’m a big walker / outdoorsy
person, and even I needed a lot of breaks from being outside.
novelty for Thais, and fun for them, it’s really not a part of their culture,
so it’s not celebrated by most families. Thai kids don’t trick or treat… it’s
not a thing there (although I did give out candy in my building). Horror movies
are huge in Thailand, especially for teens, but that’s kind of a year-round
thing, and even teenagers don’t care all that much about Halloween as a
separate thing.
doorsteps, no scarecrows or other weird, macabre decorations on front porches
or in yards, no dads making dorky attempts to scare kids, no haunted houses, no
leaves changing colors, no big street parties like there were in San Francisco
when I lived there. And yeah, because there’s no trick or treating, there’s
also no roving bands of kids in crazy-cute costumes, jacked out of their minds
on intense sugar and chocolate rushes.
my first REAL Halloween since 2013.
possibilities, now that I’m living in Los Angeles. Part of me is tempted to go
all-out and do a Disneyland Halloween, or one at one of the other nearby
amusement parks, since all of them seem to have big, fun Halloween blowouts.
whatever costume I pull out at the last minute, whichever friends of mine I
drag out for a night of fun, I’m here for it! There’s nothing like a few years
in a foreign country to make you miss the little things of home.
spooky, dorky, sugary, costume-y, autumn-y, pumpkin-y, and haunted-house-filled
Halloween, as well! 🙂
as a “Midnight,” or vampire in the employ of the human police. Like all state-reg’d vamps, he gets his food delivered to his door, lives in government
housing, and basically can’t sneeze without the U.S. government knowing about it.
to be left alone, to endure his immortality in peace, but he’s barely in New
York two weeks when things start to go sideways.
shouldn’t exist at all, and a possible conspiracy involving the richest humans
in New York.
effect on him.
pretty sure he’ll end up forcibly reprogrammed by his human owners––assuming
they don’t just rip his heart out of his chest and be done with it.
A sneak peek between the pages of Vampire Detective Midnight
He needed to feed.
It was putting him in a foul mood.
That, and all this fucking blood…
Nick frowned, staring around at the alley floor.
It hit him again.
There was something wrong with this blood.
It smelled too fucking good.
It smelled way too fucking good.
That couldn’t all be Nick’s hunger.
“Anyway, that’s what I can tell you so far,” he said, making his voice deliberately casual. “Without knowing who the victims are, or what brought them to this alley, it’s pretty hard to speculate on motive, but…”
Nick hesitated then, realizing something.
Frowning, he stepped closer to the pools of blood.
Nose wrinkling, he crouched down so he could smell it from closer, even though the scent was overpowering, even from a lot further away. Taking a few full whiffs, he felt his fangs begin to extend in earnest.
That time, he couldn’t pull it back.
A flush of heat hit his gut and chest, burning in his throat. It was intense enough, he almost got hard, but he’d gotten pretty good at squelching that reaction, too.
He stood up at once.
Really, he lurched back.
It happened so fast, that smell and his reaction to it, Nick forgot to modulate his body’s natural reflexes to accommodate the people around him. He was up and moving in a heartbeat, darting back in pure instinct, without slowing his movements at all.
He moved fast enough to make the humans around him freeze.
Instantly, they turned into prey.
Ignoring them, and ignoring their deer-in-headlights reactions to how he’d just moved, Nick backed away from the pool of blood with a scowl.
He backed away from the human detectives and tech team, too.
“They’re hybrids,” he said, emotion reaching his voice.
He turned around, staring at the humans sharing the alley with him.
The stared back at him, faces blank, eyes holding flickers of fear.
Frustrated, wanting to smash through that frozen prey look, Nick let his voice turn into a harder growl.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Nick said. “Did you hear me? They’re all fucking hybrids.”
When they still didn’t speak, he averted his gaze with a scowl. His eyes returned to the alley. Staring around at all of that blood, it sank in what it really represented.
Once it had, he couldn’t help but feel sick.
WALL STREET JOURNAL bestselling author who writes paranormal mysteries and
apocalyptic fiction, often with a sexy, romantic and metaphysical bent. JC has
a background in journalism, history and politics, and loves martial arts, yoga,
meditation, hiking, swimming, horseback riding, painting… and of course reading
and writing. She grew up in the Bay Area of California, but travels extensively
and has lived abroad in Europe, Australia and Asia, and from coast to coast in
the continental United States. She currently lives and writes full-time in
Bangkok, Thailand.
Detective Midnight, the Bridge & Sword series, the Quentin Black Mystery
series, The Morph series, and the Alien Apocalypse series. She’s also written a
number of standalone novels, novellas and short stories, as well as nonfiction
articles and essays.
writing, please visit
Twitter: https://twitter.com/jcandrijeski
It was Spooktacular having you with us today. Please feel free to stop by anytime. Good Luck with Vampire Detective Midnight!
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Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged MC Andrijeski, Paranormal Mystery, Science Fiction, Vampire Detective Midnight by Tena Stetler with comments disabled.
Halloween Spooktacular The Darkest Gateway by Jeri Westerson
Give a Spooktacular Welcome to Jeri Westerson, author of The Darkest Gateway, Book Four of the Hidden. Pssst…Don’t forget to enter the Rafflecopter at the end of this post.
Pull up a chair, grab a drink of your choice from the cauldron. Take your choice of a bat wing Chocolate Chip or Pumpkin, or Peanut Butter cookie from the plate, and let’s find out a little about Jeri Westerson and The Darkest Gateway!
A little about The Darkest Gateway Booke of the Hidden Book Foursupernatural Booke of the Hidden is set to release a barrage of deadly creatures
onto the hapless village of Moody Bog, Maine.
knows the showdown is coming and wants to end the Booke for good. But the only
way to accomplish this is a journey to the Netherworld and get the help of the
only being powerful enough to destroy the Booke: Satan himself. And, though the
brooding and elusive demon Erasmus Dark has captured Kylie’s heart against her
better judgment, she ignores his repeated warnings that the mission guarantees
her doom.
A sneak peek between the pages of THE DARKEST GATEWAY!
I moved to the very edge of the road and waited.
The sound grew louder. It couldn’t be anything except hoofbeats. They clopped, not in a gallop but in a leisurely canter. And soon, there was the Dullahan coming around the curve. His head looked even greener and slimier under his arm than it had before, if that were possible.
His weirdly roving eyes spotted me easily. He kicked his red-eyed horse’s sides and hurried toward us. All the while, he swung that spine whip. With each revolution around his headless neck, the weapon grew longer and longer.
I kept the spear close to my side. I didn’t want that whip to catch it the way it had gotten the crossbow the last time.
He was almost upon me when he shrieked, “Kylie Strange!”
“That doesn’t work on me, you idiot!” I yelled.
The face frowned under his arm. It cast its googly eyes toward Erasmus and opened his mouth to yell his name.
“He’s a demon, remember? We’ve been through this before. Boy, you sure have a short memory. Must be because your brain is decaying faster than the rest of you. Looks like a bad case of melting Roquefort you got there.”
His dead face either grimaced or it really was melting. “Then I don’t need to say your name,” he said in a high screechy voice.
He spun the whip. Before I could get out of the way, it came at me and wrapped around my body, trapping my arms at my sides. I barely got out a yell before I was yanked off my feet.
The horse started galloping and I was flung out behind it almost parallel to the road. I couldn’t bring the spear up. I was whipping around in the air and getting a little seasick, but it was better than being dragged behind on the asphalt. There wouldn’t have been much left of me after that.
The bones of the spine whip were digging sharply into my skin. I tried wriggling free. If Headless decided to fling me off a cliff, there wasn’t much I could do about it. I knew Erasmus must be around somewhere, but this was up to me to figure out…if I could.
The Dullahan galloped around a sharp curve and I was thrown and dragged through the limbs of pine trees shouldering the road.
“Dammit!” I yelled, spitting out pine needles. “I am so going to kill you!”
He lifted his head up with his other arm. It swiveled and glared at me. “Not if I kill you first, Mistress Strange.”
“No need to be so formal,” I grunted, struggling. I slammed into some holly bushes and OW!
The face cackled and turned away, tucked back under his arm again. Then I looked up and saw what he was cackling about. The next curve of the road didn’t have any nice prickly holly bushes or spikey pine boughs. It was just granite all the way up the rock face. “Shit!”
Now a Spooktacular Flash Fiction Treat!
Erasmus
Dark
by Jeri Westerson
This is not an excerpt from the Booke of the Hidden urban fantasy series, but an exclusive and sexy little slice of subtext just for you.
Erasmus Dark skulked around the
perimeter of the house now known as Strange
Herbs & Teas. He glanced up at the sign in the moonlight, eyes tracing
over the engraved letters inlaid with gold. The herbs he could manage. The tea
was another thing. The smell of the stuff made him sneeze and he wondered how
he could stand to be in the same room with those dreaded cannisters filled with
tea of every stripe.
But it was the “Strange” part
that was the most unfathomable. She
was unfathomable. Humans he had known. Thousands of them over the many
centuries. And Chosen Hosts, too. But Kylie…
“It must be some sort of magic
charm,” he wondered aloud. Some sort of…spell. None of the other Chosen Hosts
had ever intrigued him as much. Oh, there were a few in Babylon, in Egypt, and
some in medieval Britain, but he had never felt so invested, so out of sorts,
so…
He touched the place on his neck
where his amulet used to be. Maybe that was it. Almost the first thing she had
done upon meeting him was steal his amulet. And then she ordered him around
like he was her minion, for Beelze’s sake, making him fetch the chthonic
crossbow. How had it happened? Why hadn’t he been on his guard? It was
ludicrous having a mere human lord it over him like that.
He frowned and glared at the
moon. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He just wanted to do his job and be
done with it.
His sharp eyes turned again to
the dark woods. He picked out forest creatures, saw their life forces shining
brightly, almost too brightly to look at. Fox, vole, owl, cricket, frog…and
other creatures so old that the earth scarce remembered them.
When a light came on inside the
shop, his head jerked toward the window. He could see her moving about, doing
Beelzebub-knew-what. Making that damned tea, no doubt. He moved closer to the
window to peer inside.
The Booke of the Hidden had
followed her and hovered near the chair she had curled up in. She tucked her
legs under her and was wearing those ridiculous sleep clothes of thin,
long-sleeved shirt and some sort of baggy trousers. Women in trousers. There
was a time she would have been burned at the stake for that.
She pushed her hair back from her
face. Women wore it shorter now. In past times, a woman with shorn hair meant
she was being publicly humiliated. Twenty-first century. Bah! He could pull a
better century out of his—
What was the woman doing now? Her
shoulders shook, her face was hidden in her hands—all indication that she was
crying. Erasmus frowned. He sensed her distress, even from outside. Without
even thinking about it, he walked forward through the wall, feeling the atoms
of wood and plaster pass easily through him.
He stood behind her, watching,
listening to her wrenching sobs. She pushed her hand over her ruined face. It
was red and folded into a grimace, with wet streaks across her cheeks. For some
reason, even in her sudden ugliness, his heart twitched.
“Why do you weep?” he said
softly.
It startled her anyway. She leapt
from her seat, all ungainly legs and arms flailing. She spun to face him.
“Don’t DO that!”
“Do what?” He
meant it as a jibe, but she wasn’t having it.
“You know very well! Sneaking up
on me.” She turned away, dug a well-used tissue from her trouser pocket, and
blew her nose into it. “You’re always doing that,” she muttered.
“I’m sorry. It is my way. I can
sense other beings around me and so I assume humans can do it too.”
“We can. Sometimes. When we
aren’t vulnerable.”
He peered into her face nearly
hidden by her hair. She glared back at his close proximity.
“And are you…vulnerable?” he asked.
She held her arms out, with an
expression on her face that would seem to say, “Are you insane?”
He thought hard. Yes, he supposed
she was. Vulnerable. Creatures coming from the book to plague her, and one
mystery after the other, what with her friends in danger and other emotional
turmoil. He could see where she could well be considered vulnerable. “I’m
sorry,” was all he could think to say.
She blew her nose once more,
stuffed the disreputable bit of tissue back in her pocket, and dropped back
into the seat. “It’s not your fault. I guess.”
He sauntered around her, studying
her from different angles. “It isn’t
my fault. I am as much a captive of the book as the creatures that emerge from
it.”
“I know. And I appreciate your
helping me.”
He lurched to a halt behind her. She
appreciated him? What sort of devilry
was this? Humans ran in fear of him, prostrated themselves before him, even
submitted unwillingly to his desires…but none had ever appreciated him. He scowled. It was likely some sort of trick.
He said nothing, continued
walking around her chair, and stopped before the other chair opposite her. He sank
slowly into it. Measuring her for a long while, he watched as she raised her
gaze and settled it on him. Then she smiled.
His heart did that twitching
thing again.
“I’m over it now.” She sighed and
leaned back, resting her head against the cushioned chair. “Every now and then
a good cry is what’s needed.” When he failed to answer her, she leaned forward,
hands curling on her thighs. “I haven’t seen you all day. What have you been
doing?”
“This and that.”
“Really. Nothing that can help?”
His eyes flicked for only a
second toward his amulet flashing from its place on her chest. “Nothing.
Sorry.”
She sat back again. “That’s all
right. Maybe I don’t want to think about it tonight.” She glanced once at the
book that persisted in hovering. “Will you sit down!” she yelled at it.
Strangely, it complied, slowly lowering to a side table. “Thing makes me
jumpy,” she said with a shiver.
“Kylie, you mustn’t fret yourself
over this. You will conquer these creatures. I will be beside you when you do.”
“But I worry about you, too. I don’t
want you to get hurt.”
And again, that strange squirmy
feeling in his gut and in his chest. He was a demon. No one cared if he was
hurt or not. Not for thousands of years. Not on earth, not in the Netherworld.
Not ever.
He studied her again, wondering
what she meant by it. She continued to gaze at him under increasingly droopy
lids. No, not droopy. She was looking at him from under her lashes. Those long,
dark lashes and those penetrating brown eyes that seemed to wear such a tender
expression…
“Do you want some wine? Or some
brandy?”
She had asked it so suddenly that
he almost startled.
“Brandy,” he answered before he
could think about it.
“Okay.” She sprang up as if her
earlier melancholy had been a mere trick of the light. His ears pricked as he
listened to her rummaging in the kitchen and soon she brought out two glasses. Handing
one to him, she sat again, tucking her bare feet under her. She sipped, looking
up through her lashes again over the rim of her glass. At the same time, she
was absentmindedly stroking his amulet. “I was wondering,” she said quietly.
“Yes?” It wasn’t very good
brandy, but he enjoyed the slight burn in his throat when he swallowed it.
“I wondered…if you wanted to
stay.”
He coughed, choking on the drink,
but he easily recovered and lowered the glass to the table beside him. “I am
always here to guard.”
“I don’t mean…to guard.”
All his senses suddenly chimed
together and he found himself standing. She followed suit to face him.
The many times he had engaged in
sexual relations with the male and female of her species, it was always done
quickly, fervently. Sometimes they welcomed him as an interesting stranger.
Sometimes they simply felt obligated or succumbed from fear. The few Chosen
Hosts with which he engaged did it with wariness, perhaps thinking erroneously
that it would compel Erasmus to help them. But not her. Not Kylie. She even
raised her chin to look at him with unabashed yearning.
He sensed her breathing, how it
sped up and equally her heart, with its rapid beating that spoke of the life
and spirit throbbing within her. When he stepped closer and touched her neck,
fingers skimming up to her jaw, her pulse jumped on his fingertips. Pheromones
billowed off of her and her aura gave off a distinctly reddish-orange glow. Those
brown eyes with their pupils blown had no fear in them. He was surprised each
time he looked at her, and how trusting she seemed to be. This was not like any
of her species before her.
He breathed in the scent of her.
Some of the herbs she kept in her shop and something flowery, perhaps perfume,
mingled with the underlying earthy fragrance of her mortality. That in itself
was intoxicating to any demon, but more so to him. He flared his nostrils,
taking it in, before he leaned in closer and could no longer resist opening his
lips over hers.
The taste of her mouth—the brandy
with the bitterest perception of tea—could not hide the taste of her, and his mouth lingered, enjoying
the feel of soft, warm lips, tongue, the essence of her breath. His lips left
hers for an infinitesimal moment to breathe her name, “Kylie,” with a roughened
voice. He hadn’t meant to say it, but it had spilled out of him, drenched in
all the confusion that possessed him the moment his lips touched hers.
His shoulders gave off wisps of
smoke that mingled with her pheromones, an intoxicating combination.
Suddenly, he yearned for privacy.
The shop had windows where prying eyes could peer in, where the beasts of the
forest and of the book could smell and see them. Through the Dark-In-Between,
he instantly transported them both to her bedroom. She made a little sound of
surprise but didn’t seem bothered with the change of location, continuing to
kiss him with as much fervor as when she started.
He thrilled to the moment.
Because he knew—for now, at least—he
possessed her. Not that bumbling constable, not any past lover of hers, but him, the demon. And he had needed no
coercion, no charm or spell. She gave herself willingly, and the fire of that
knowledge burned hot in his chest.
Her arms reached up and encircled
his neck, and she tilted her head to kiss deeper. He obliged and wrapped his
arms around her, pulling her close. He burned their clothes away leaving a fine
layer of ash that soon sloughed off of them. She made a concerned sound. She
didn’t like him to do that. Apparently, hers never reappeared again like his clothes, but it was the most
expeditious method to get at what he wanted. He didn’t want to take the time.
He didn’t want her changing her mind.
His hands skimmed down her flanks, feeling the
smoothness, the suppleness of her young, mortal skin. His exploring hands
reached further and behind, grabbing the pliant globes of her buttocks and
squeezed at the same time he pressed her against his groin. Yes, he liked the
feel of her more than he had ever
enjoyed her species before. He couldn’t owe it to the long years between these
experiences for he had been in a state of stasis since the last time the book
was opened and it had seemed but a brief time to him when he was awakened again.
But this was different. Somehow.
Perhaps it was her. Perhaps merely this strange new era.
She moved her lips away from his
and attacked his ear lobe, nipping gently down to his neck. Oh yes, he liked
that too, liked that she took the initiative. He allowed her to gnaw on him
before he spread his hands on her ribcage and lifted her.
“Where are we going?” she said in
a husky voice.
“To the bed,” he said, laying her
gently back.
“And then what?” She was in a
playful mood, a talkative mood.
“What indeed. Do you have any…preferences?”
He watched her face as his hand moved below her belly.
She gasped before smiling lazily,
looking down at herself, at what he was doing. He looked too. He liked what he
saw and reached for her with his other hand and kneaded other pliant areas,
until he couldn’t resist bending close and replacing his hands with his lips
and tongue. She tasted like she smelled; earthy, floral, salty.
She threw her head back, closing
her eyes. “Whatever you’d like,” she whispered as he continued tasting her.
That was a big list. But for now,
he just wanted to be inside her. He wanted her to wrap her legs around his waist
and pull him in. He wanted her hands on him, skimming, pinching, clawing with
her nails.
When he reached under her to
close his hands on her bottom again, she didn’t disappoint. He lifted her hips
and she eagerly opened to him, and when he guided himself in, her thighs
clenched his waist, and her heels dug into his backside. Never was a creature
more compliant.
“Kylie,” he growled. She seemed
to thrill at it and moved impatiently and then with him.
He wanted this feeling to go on
and on, but he also wanted his completion in her too. Watching her writhe and
her mouth fall open and her eyes close, sent him higher and higher, until she
snapped open her eyes and watched him,
daring him. And all at once, much to his chagrin, he realized that he possessed
nothing. He never possessed her. It was she
who owned him.
He couldn’t control the growl he
expelled when he gave in to her. His hands were once again beneath her bringing
her even closer, while hers dragged those nails down his chest. For a moment he
spun higher, even when he thought he had finished. The spike in sensation with
her piercing nails drew a sharp breath out of him and he thrust hard in the
waning moments of his peak until finally he could slow, luxuriating in the feel
of her, suspended in the moment that seemed all too brief. Hanging his head, he
hid his eyes behind his hair and gazed at her, and she was still looking at
him, breasts heaving as she breathed deep.
“I don’t understand you,” he said
when he’d gotten his breath back, still poised above her…and within her.
She pushed her sweaty hair out of
her face and offered an impish smile. “What do you mean?”
“You enjoy this.”
She looked down boldly at him as
he finally withdrew and her legs flopped to the side. “What’s not to like?”
“I am a demon.”
“I know. Is there a problem?”
Abruptly, he rolled off the bed
and stood up. “Shouldn’t there be?”
She struggled to sit up and
folded her legs under her on the bed. She drew the blanket up to her chest. He
suspected the room was cold though he could never feel it. “What’s wrong,
Erasmus? What’s going on in that little horned head of yours?”
He swiped his hand over his
forehead…just to check. “Why do you keep saying that? I do not have horns.”
She seemed to be suppressing a
giggle. “Not anymore,” she muttered under her breath. “I mean what is your
problem? Don’t you like…” She gestured awkwardly between them. “Don’t you like this?”
“Of course I do. I thought that
would be obvious.”
“Then why do you question
everything? Can’t you just enjoy it?”
He frowned. This was not what he
expected. She was never what he expected. “I’m going to patrol.”
He vanished from her sight, but
not before he heard the tail end of her, “Wait! I—”
The Dark-In-Between held him for
only a moment. Atoms dissolved around him and he appeared outside below her
bedroom window. At nearly the same instant he began to reappear, the atoms of
clothing formed around him again—leather trousers, black shirt, black leather
duster—and he looked upward. The window framed the light and shadows, and then
there was a figure in the window looking down at him.
He turned away from her frown of
perplexity. He didn’t want to look just now. Instead, his eyes faced the woods.
That was something he could understand. The darkness, the shadows. He ignored
the figure in the window and searched in the dark for each flare of life,
searching for the danger he knew was out there.
the Author:
is the author of twelve Crispin Guest Medieval Noir Mystery novels, a series
nominated for thirteen national awards from the “Agatha” to the “Shamus”. Her
fifth novel BLOOD LANCE was named one of the Ten Hot Crime Novels for Colder
Days by Kirkus Reviews, and her sixth, SHADOW OF THE ALCHEMIST, was named Best
of 2013 by Suspense Magazine. For BOOKE OF THE HIDDEN, her urban fantasy
series, Publishers Weekly said, “Readers sad about the ending of Charlaine
Harris’s MIDNIGHT, TEXAS trilogy will find some consolation in Moody Bog.” The
fourth and final in the series, THE DARKEST GATEWAY, releases October 2, 2019.
Jeri also writes the humorous SKYLER FOXE LGBT MYSTERIES under the pen name
Haley Walsh. Jeri’s short stories were included in several mystery anthologies,
including Shaken: Stories for Japan (for the 2011 Earthquake Relief Fund). Jeri
was also featured on two local NPR shows, “My Awesome Empire” and KVCR-Arts.
She has served two terms as president of the Southern California Chapter of
Mystery Writers of America, twice president of the Orange County Chapter of
Sisters in Crime, and as vice president and California Crime Writers Conference
co-chair for the Los Angeles Chapter of Sisters in Crime. See more about Jeri
at JeriWesterson.com, BOOKEoftheHIDDEN.com, and
SkylerFoxeMysteries.wixsite.com/novels.
It was Spooktacular having you with us today. Feel free to stop by anytime. Good luck with The Darkest Gateway!
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Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged Jeri Westerson, Paranormal Romance, The Darkest Gateway, Urban Fantasy by Tena Stetler with 2 comments.
Chat with S.K. Andrews Author of Bay of Darkness
Give a warm welcome to S.K. Andrews, author of Bay of Darkness.
Pull up a chair, grab a drink of your choice from the cauldron. Take your choice of a bat wing Chocolate Chip or Pumpkin, or Peanut Butter cookie from the plate, and let’s find out a little about S.K. Andrews and her Bay of Darkness.
Why should we read this book/series and what sets you apart from the rest and makes your book/series unique?
There are many psychic heroines in the paranormal genre, but Vivien Kelly in The Kelly Society series also helps other characters open up their psychic ability. Vivien talks about protecting oneself when negative energies are around, and actually discusses a meditative process—all in the midst of murder, supernatural suspense, and romance. Not only does Vivien Kelly tap into her intuitive awareness, which we all have, but dives into her wild, creative, warrior side, which as humans, we all possess as well. I like to call it Personal Power. We each may express our power in different ways and in different degrees, but it helps us achieve our greatest goals in life.
Where do your story ideas come from? If they come to you in the middle of the night, do you get up and write them all down?
My stories are a paranormal movie in my head, because I love the genre and I’m always thinking of new tales to tell. If I don’t write them down, I shall go mad. Just kidding, but sometimes it feels like that. I’m an early morning writer. I can write anytime, of course, but my strongest creative energy flow happens as dawn is breaking. I set my coffeemaker timer the night before and it brews at 5:30am, as I charge up my laptop. Then, I begin typing up a scene I thought about just before going to bed, and as I’m typing, I see the action in my head like my own personal movie. Then, the scene simply keeps going and I keep typing.
Why do you write what you write? e. Contemporary, paranormal, suspense, etc.
Having been influenced by the powerful scripts of Rod Serling and Richard Matheson from The Twilight Zone, I gravitated toward paranormal stories laden with hope. Writing supernatural tales became my passionate hobby, in between life in the theatre. I love to sip hazelnut coffee, while reading a riveting ghost story, or while typing up a chapter of my own focusing on the strength of the human spirit in the face of adversity, or evil. Incidentally, my heroine in Bay of Darkness, Vivien Kelly, loves hazelnut coffee. A bit of me thrown in!
Any tips to share with fellow authors/aspiring authors? What’s the best advice you’ve ever heard?
Getting out of the hamster wheel existence of the day job is very important. Focus on your creative project. Even if you take five minutes and write, paint, read a monologue, stretch your body, bake cookies, crochet, or whatever resonates with you. Then, you can do ten minutes the next night, and so on.
Follow your intuition. After pitching literary agents online and in person at writing conferences, and getting close, but still no luck in taking me on as a client, I finally decided to submit my book to eBook publishers. It was a huge switch for me, because I wanted my own literary agent more than anything, but I allowed myself to follow an intuitive spark. One of those publishers I sent my query letter and first five pages to was the Wild Rose Press. After submitting parts of the manuscript, the entire book, and then working with one of their editors for almost a year, I got my contract! They are wonderful to work with and are in their twelfth year of publishing. If I had been stubborn and not listened to my intuition, I would still be unpublished today.
SPEED ROUND FOR A LITTLE ADDED FUN:
Speed Round (one word only answer): Yep, I know torture for a writer!<evil laugh>
Favorite movie: Scrooge
Favorite book: Sacagawea
Last book read: Glimpse (the Tender Killer)
Favorite color: Purple
Stilettos or flipflops: Flipflops
Coffee or tea: Coffee
Ebook or audiobook or paperback: Paperback
Pencil or pen: Pen
Favorite song: September
Streak or not: Not
Favorite dessert: Chocolate
Favorite junk food: Fries
Favorite thing to do to relax: Meditation
Champagne or gin: Champagne
Paranormal or Historical: Paranormal
Wonder Woman or Top Model: Wonder Woman
Favorite TV show: Grimm
Hot or cold: Cold
POV: Third
I’d die if I don’t have: Pets
Review or Not: Review
Tell us about Bay of Darkness.
After witnessing her fiancé’s murder and almost dying herself, Vivien Kelly’s mission is to destroy Dagda—a Celtic God turned demon. As a supernatural dark cloud looms over the Sahara, she finds herself drawn to the Northern California town of Half Moon Bay and a new life as a paranormal cleanser. There Vivien finds Dagda’s creatures tormenting the locals. Her own paranormal cleansing team—The Kelly Society— is born, and the race is on when people around her begin to die.
While banishing a banshee, Vivien meets Neal Harrington—a soul partner who can promise true happiness. But when Dagda’s black vapor creates a New World of darkness, her time is up. Can Vivien abandon everyone she loves and succumb to her past life’s barbaric force to defeat the demon? Her actions not only determine her future—but the future of the modern world.
A sneak peek between the pages of Bay of Darkness.
Announcing her presence, Vivien slapped open palms against the bedroom door. Shrieking stopped as the banshee tried to stab into her intuitive power, not even making a dent.
Julie, I’m here to help. Don’t be afraid. After sending her telepathic message, she felt a definite shift. The young girl now had hope.
Sensing another female entity in the bedroom, Vivien tuned in sharper. A spirit connected to the house stood in front of Julie, also protecting her.
“That horrible noise stopped.” Neal eyed the door urgently. “Is that good or bad? I mean, is Julie safe?”
“Yes, she’s safe. I put a protective light around her.”
Heaving a sigh of exhaustion, he rubbed his temple. “Oh, right—the light thing. This is all so weird.” Neal’s head popped up. “No offense.”
“None taken.” She grinned like a debutant about to dance with the coolest boy in school.
“What now?”
Buy Link:
My Review of Bay of Darkness.
After the death of her fiancé Vivien Kelly discovers her true mission in life and her training begins in Ireland a land steeped in myth and legend. A supernatural dark cloud looms over the Sahara. as she learns the trick of her trade in the Emerald Isle. Does the Celtic God turned demon have anything to do with devastation spreading across the land ? Can Vivien stop his plan to create a New World of Darkness?
This book is full of twists and turns you don’t see coming. When Vivien’s past life collides with her present day life, she and everyone she cares about is set on a course for destruction.
The characters and their situations suck you into the story. The vivid descriptions make you feel like you are right there experiencing the world the story is set in and the roller coaster of emotions with each character. I found myself rooting for them to triumph over evil.
I truly enjoyed this book and highly recommend it if you love magic, paranormal romance, and fantasy adventures. This is the first book I’ve read by Ms. Andrews and it won’t be the last. I look forward to reading more of The Kelly Society Series.
Five Stars for Bay of Darkness.
About the Author STARRA ANDREWS (Writing as: S.K. ANDREWS):
Starra Andrews grew up in Laguna Beach, California, body surfing in the Pacific Ocean, writing fantasy stories, and acting on stage. Having been influenced by the powerful scripts of Rod Serling and Richard Matheson from The Twilight Zone, she gravitated toward paranormal stories laden with hope. Writing supernatural tales became her passionate hobby, in between life in the theatre. She loves to sip hazelnut coffee, while reading a riveting ghost story, or while typing up an exciting new chapter of her own. After attaining a B.A. degree in Theatre from University of California, Irvine, and attending LACC Acting Academy, an idea sparked for interviewing actors to help student actors. Her non-fiction book The Pursuit of Acting; Working Actors Share Their Experience and Advice was published by Praeger Publishers/ABC CLIO. In fiction, her heroine, psychic & paranormal cleanser Vivien Kelly and her team are in a race to rid the modern world of deadly Celtic creatures in her book trilogy The Kelly Society. Bay of Darkness, the first book of the series is currently released through the Wild Rose Press. Starra lives in upstate NY with her two cats, Audrey Hepburn and Vivien Leigh.
S.K Andrews Website:
Social Media Links:
https://www.facebook.com/pg/authorskandrews/posts/?ref=page_internal
https://twitter.com/magicstarra
https://www.instagram.com/starraandrews/
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCP6dzir_I6LhEIWOYCJQFCw?view_as=subscriber
https://www.pinterest.com/starraandrews/
It was wonderful having you with us today. Please feel free to stop by anytime. Good Luck with Bay of Darkness!
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Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged Bay of Darkenss, fantasy, Paranormal Romance, S.K. Andrews, Starra Andrews by Tena Stetler with 11 comments.
Spooktacular Origins by Celia Breslin
Give a Spooktacular welcome to Celia Breslin Author of Origins, Tranquilli Bookline, Book 3.
Fiction
I like to share my absolute favorite spooky story from my family’s arsenal of
scary tales. This one comes from my Irish grandmother, about her personal
encounter with a Banshee when she was a teenager. Enjoy!
large two-story house with my parents, younger sister, and grandmother. It was
a cold, winter evening, nothing special or out of the ordinary. My family dined
together, then my sister and I cleaned up while our parents and grandmother
drank tea. We joined them at the dining table to do our homework, but my
grandmother said she was tired and went upstairs to bed. My parents followed
shortly after that, but my father paused on the landing.
going to be a cold night. Fetch us some coal, please.”
homework, grabbed the empty coal bucket from the kitchen, and went down into
the cellar. I filled my bucket and returned to the stairs. I had one foot on
the first step when the temperature in the cellar, already cold, dropped
dramatically. Chills ran down my back. Behind me, someone moaned.
that be? I was alone…
to the spot. The keening grew louder. I dropped my bucket and covered my ears.
A cold wind bumped against my back. I stumbled forward as the shrieking wind
rushed over me and up the stairs.
that be? The cellar had no windows…
cellar door slammed shut. The sound broke me from my stupor. I screamed and ran
up the stairs and out of the cellar, through the kitchen and dining room, and
up the stairs to my room. My parents and sister found me under my bed, shaking
like a puppy lost in a snowstorm.
What is it? What’s wrong?” They asked me, while pulling me from my hiding
place.
heard the Banshee wail.”
each other in silence, all of us reaching the same conclusion moments later. We
hurried to my grandmother’s room.
Celia Breslin. All rights reserved.)
The car stopped. I couldn’t convince myself to step out. What if this was a freaking, injection-induced hallucination? What if I was still back in the damn prison?
Besnik helped me out.
The mansion’s mammoth double doors eased open. The man illuminated in the doorway chased away the numbness, pumped my heart so hard it might pound right out of my chest. He opened his arms wide, calling me. My lips curled upward in the first true smile I’d cracked since the last time he’d held me in his arms. That man, my man, loved me more than any other on this whole damn planet.
“Alexander.”
I ran to him.
Alexander’s arms closed around me, his hold so tight I could barely catch a breath. Tremors ran through his hard body, again and again.
“Carina,” he croaked, voice sandpaper rough. “Carina.”
Nuzzling his neck, I planted fevered kisses along his tan, heated skin. He’d fed recently to be this warm under my lips. Temptation had me licking his pounding pulse, nipping at the vein. Couldn’t resist it. My fangs slid home.
Energy exploded between us, our mate bond bursting to life and tearing away whatever magical wall had separated us for far too long. My bite, the catalyst, his blood the cure. Awash in the force of our reunion, Alexander staggered then clutched me closer while I pulled out of his neck and laved the rapidly healing holes.
As our power continued to bubble and stitch us back together, he whisked us into the grand entryway, planted my ass on an ornate, antique cabinet, and devoured my mouth like a starving man. His hands roamed everywhere, searching, cataloguing, as if to reassure himself this wasn’t a hallucination, that I was really here, in his arms, relatively unharmed.
The more he kissed me, the more those wonderful, golden threads of our connection resurrected inside me, around me, between us, and I felt like freaking Sleeping Beauty awakened from her magical slumber by a kiss from her fated handsome prince. The silly thought made me giggle against Alexander’s seeking mouth, and then I was crying while my love cupped my face between his hands, wiped away my tears with his thumbs, and pressed tender kisses to my forehead, my cheeks, the tip of my nose…
“Alexander.” I fisted his shirt tight. Please, God, let him be real. “I… I don’t want to wake up.” Please, don’t let this end.
His smoky blue eyes bored into mine, his brown hair spiked in every direction, a bit longer than in my memory. It’s not a dream, baby. You’re here. You’re home.
Oh my God, I can hear you. I swiped some willful bits of hair away from his forehead, touched his full lips, ran my fingers along his strong jaw, taking in the whole handsome, bad-boy package. You’re back in my head. I’d never been happier to have someone inside my mind. Silence was seriously overrated.
And back in your arms.
Celia lives in California with her husband, daughter, and two feisty cats. She writes urban fantasy and paranormal romance, and has a particular fondness for werewolves, vampires, and the Fae. Her stories are action-packed and typically include one of the many varieties of romantic entanglements: fated mates, second chance, rescue romance, opposites attract, friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, and more.It was Spooktacular having you with us today. Please feel free to stop by anytime. Good Luck with Origins.
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Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged Celia Breslin, Halloween Flash Fiction. Bumped by the Banshee, origins, Paranormal Romance, Tranquilli Boodline Book 3, Urban Fantasy by Tena Stetler with 5 comments.
