Deep in the Hollow by Brandy Nacole
Give a warm welcome to Brandy Nacole, author of Deep in the Hollow, Chindi Series!
Pull up a chair, grab a drink of your choice from the cauldron, a Bat Wing Chocolate Chip, Pumpkin or Peanut Butter cookie from the plate, and let’s find out about Deep in the Hollow.
Prologue
July 11, 1972
Once again I’ve fallen prey to MaryAnn’s pleading, and I follow her out the window, my stomach churning with dread, a contrast to her excitement. I don’t know why I let her talk me into these things. She’s always getting us into trouble, has been since we were little. Yet, here I am, still following her after seven years of mistake after mistake. There’s something about her I can’t say no to. I’ve always thought of her as my sister, not my cousin, and considering we were born only two days apart, we are more like sisters—look like it too. But still, even sisters tell each other no every once in a while. Not me. This time though, I should have.
Our tiny flashlights give off little light in the dark forest, mine unsteady as it shakes in my hand. Thorns scrape at my skin and I look back, hoping to see a light in the cabin on and my grandfather coming out to see where us girls have run off to. No such luck. The small, two-bedroom cedar cabin is dark, its frame nothing but an outline against the trees around it.
“I think we should go back,” I whisper, my voice trembling.
“Will you quit whining, Ester? This is no different than walking through the woods during the daylight.”
I beg to differ. During the day, the green leaves look welcoming, not over-powering and creepy like now. I don’t feel trapped and afraid when walking these familiar woods when the sun is shining bright, but now I do.
“But, MaryAnn, grandpa said—”
“He was just trying to scare you,” she hisses, as she shines her light on a raccoon scavenging for food. It rushes off to hide from what he perceives as danger and we continue on through the thicket.
No matter what MaryAnn says, I know she’s wrong. I saw the fear in our grandfather’s eyes as he told us the story of the thing that haunts these woods. MaryAnn had been enthralled as she sat by the fire, her eyes bright, her body unmoving as she absorbed every word. I had been terrified. Our grandfather has never been a skeptical man, always saying rumors and legends are nonsense. “What you don’t see with your eyes, don’t witness with your mouth.” So to see the fear in his eyes as he witnessed the story he told us tonight is enough to convince me he was telling the truth, and not just some tale to scare his grandchildren.
An owl hoots overhead and a chill slowly creeps up my back, making me shiver.
“I think we should wait. I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
MaryAnn ignores my pleas, knowing I won’t go back alone.
The leaves rustle as a slight wind picks up. I can no longer see the outline of the cabin. I don’t know if it’s from my fear, but our lights seem to grow dimmer, making the darkness feel as if it is weighing down on us.
A small clearing comes into view, with timber laying hazardously along the ground.
“We are almost there,” MaryAnn whispers. “This is where grandpa and his workers have been logging close to the overlook.”
Good. Once we reach the overlook and she sees it is the same during the night as it is during the day, we can go back to the safety of the cabin. I can already feel the relief of being back under my blankets, eagerly waiting for morning, with the fresh smell of biscuits baking in the oven and bacon frying in the pan filling the air.
Whoosh.
“What was that?” I ask, panicked, and spin around in a circle, my flashlight shaking with more force.
“Ester, please stop this nonsense. I’m sure it was nothing.”
Once on the other side of the clearing, we start the mile hike up the incline and once again I wish we had stuck to the main road instead of taking the shorter path through the woods. The ground is slick from the rain we had yesterday, and with every step I take, I lose two as I slide back down.
MaryAnn grabs my hand, steadying me, as we both use our weight to climb the impossible hill.
Whoosh.
“Did you hear that?” she asks, her voice a bit higher than before.
I close my eyes, my stomach tensing. She better not be playing any games with me. I will rat her out in a heartbeat if she is.
“Yes. What do you think it is?”
Before she can answer, a strange mist builds in front of us. I examine it closely and point it out to MaryAnn, but before it takes on a shape, it’s gone.
Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.
A strong wind spins around us, and not caring about what MaryAnn thinks, I let go of her hand and tumble back down the hill, scared for my life. My feet are unsteady as the land levels out again and I fall over a log. Seconds later, MaryAnn lands on top of me.
“Come on!” she screams, terror in her voice. “We have to get back to the cabin.”
“What did you see?” I demand, as I race after her, dodging fallen limbs. But she doesn’t answer. She keeps running, looking back to make sure that I am close behind her.
A strong force comes from behind me and I’m shoved into MaryAnn’s back, making us both lose our footing.
Whoosh.
Tears pour down my face as we scramble to our feet, our flashlights lost in the darkness. We try our hardest to run through the darkness with no light to guide our way. MaryAnn grabs my hand, our sweaty fingers clinging as tightly as they can while we try to make out where we are.
When MaryAnn screams, her body jerked away from me, I feel as if I can’t breathe. Something is trying to take her from me. My grip on her hand tightens, my small twelve year old frame pulling as hard as possible against whatever is trying to tug her away.
A movement behind her catches my eye as we struggle, but I can’t make out who or what it is. It’s shrouded in a black cloak, practically invisible under the blanket of night. I do make out the grey mist behind it, as if it’s drifting and waiting for its prey.
My heart thrums, feeling as if it’s trying to escape out of my chest, and my throat grows tight as I choke on my tears. MaryAnn screams, begging me not to let go of her, as our fingers begin to slip.
Why can no one hear us? We have to be close to the cabin.
A sharp pain explodes in the back of my head, and I pitch forward, disoriented. My legs slip out from beneath me, and I can feel myself losing consciousness. MaryAnn’s fingers slip out of mine as I land against the damp leaves on the ground. The last thing I hear is her pleading for me to save her.
Happy Halloween!
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Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged Paranormal by Tena Stetler with comments disabled.
At Last in Laguna by Claire Marti
Give a warm welcome to Claire Marti, author of At Last in Laguna! Just released October 18, 2017. I see you brought a guest with you.
Yes, I’ve brought Brandt Dempsey from At Last in Laguna.
Wonderful! Pull up a chair, grab a drink of your choice from the cauldron, a Bat Wing Chocolate Chip, Pumpkin or Peanut Butter cookie from the plate, and let’s find out a little about Brandt Dempseey and At Last in Laguna. But first Claire, tell us about writing At Last in Laguna. Was it fun or difficult? Do your characters always act as you expect? Are you a plotter, or fly (write) by the seat of your pants?
Actually, this story, my second novel, almost wrote itself. Alyssa and Brandt were percolating under the surface all through Second Chance in Laguna, so I was eager and ready to write their story. I had strong visions of both of them, but they surprised me a few times too. I’d call myself half-plotter/ half-pantster. I need to have a story arc with the major turning points, which can be fluid. I start with the characters. I know the lessons I want each character to learn and how they’ll need to grow in order to earn their happily ever after.
Okay then, lets find out about what makes Brandt tick.
What event in your past has left the most indelible impression on you?
I’m very private about my past, but I’m working on making peace with it, so I’ll share with you. Most people don’t know, but my parents were abusive addicts and my early childhood was brutally tough. When they died, I ended up on the streets and in the foster care system. Luckily, I met my “Uncle John,” a Good Samaritan who helped me get off the street and into school. His kindness and generosity are why I’m here today.
What do you most value?
Loyalty. I don’t have a family, except for the few close friends and Uncle John so, I’ll fiercely protect them and stay true to them no matter what.
What is the type of woman you want to spend the rest of your life with?
I’ll be honest, I never pictured myself in a long-term relationship. I’ve purposefully kept my dating life on the casual level because I’m not marriage material. If I could describe the perfect woman, she’d be intelligent, funny-as-hell, and gorgeous inside and out. Okay, I just described my best friend’s little sister, Alyssa. She’s the marrying type.
What do you consider most important in life?
Making a mark by helping others have a chance at a better life. My new center, Tearmann House, means safe haven in Gaelic. It’s going to be a place where abused women and children who aren’t receiving the assistance they need from the system can find refuge.
What is your biggest secret?
At Nick and Sophie’s wedding, Alyssa took me aside, kissed me, and suggested we have an affair while her brother heads off to his honeymoon. She shocked me and now I can’t fight these feelings she’s unleashed. Nick can’t find out: he asked me to act like a surrogate big brother while he’s gone.
Oh, boy I’d say you’re in deep dodo, Brandt.
How about a little about At Last in Laguna!
Alyssa Morgan has secretly been in love with her older brother Nick’s best friend, Brandt Dempsey, since she was an awkward, lonely teenager. When she catches the bouquet at Nick’s wedding, she throws caution to the wind and propositions Brandt to a two-week fling. He’s tried to ignore how Alyssa has blossomed into a strong, talented, gorgeous woman because as his best friend’s baby sister, she’s off limits.
After they share a mind-blowing kiss, Brandt struggles to fight their undeniable chemistry. His tragic childhood scarred him, but he pushes it deep inside, only allowing the world to see a wealthy, carefree entrepreneur. Forced to work together on Brandt’s latest charitable venture, Brandt and Alyssa’s passion cannot be denied. Alyssa knows he’s the one. Can she convince him they belong together?
A sneak peek between the pages of At Last in Laguna.
What was his deal this morning?
She’d give him the cold shoulder if it killed her.
And it just might.
He’d rejected her, so why was he opening doors, hovering, and acting like a pest? Practically breathing down her neck. She could swear he’d sniffed her. Sniffed her. He couldn’t conceal his awareness. If he were so attracted to her, he would’ve agreed to her proposition, right? Since he’d shot her down in flames, he could at least have the decency to ignore her today. Rude, infuriating man.
Inhaling a deep cleansing breath, she forced herself to concentrate on the center. Sunlight streamed through the abundance of windows and along with the high ceilings imparted a feeling of freedom and space, perfect for the planned occupants. Because they’d decided to wait to obtain her input for the more specific room layout, the building’s interior remained a shell. She’d add to her brother’s amazing design and ensure Tearmann House’s beauty and serenity.
Serenity. What a concept. Ha.
You can find At Last in Laguna at:
Amazon, The WIld Rose Press, Barnes and Noble, Kobo and ibooks.
About the Author:
Claire Marti started writing stories as soon as she was old enough to pick up pencil and paper. After graduating from the University of Virginia with a BA in English Literature, Claire was sidetracked by other careers, including practicing law, selling software for legal publishers, and managing a non-profit animal rescue for a Hollywood actress.
Finally, Claire followed her heart and now focuses on two of her true passions: writing romance and teaching yoga. At Last in Laguna is the second book in her Finding Forever in Laguna series from The Wild Rose Press.
More about Claire:
Website: www.clairemarti.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ClaireMartiAuthor/
Twitter: @clairepmarti
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8203678.Claire_Marti
It was wonderful having you both with us today. Please feel free to stop by anytime. Congratulations and good luck with your new release At Last in Laguna!
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Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged At Last in Laguna, Claire Marti, Contemporary, Romance, Wedding by Tena Stetler with 18 comments.
Karilyn Bentley, Author of Demon Lore
Welcome Karilyn Bentley who joins our spooktacular Halloween celebration with a 99¢ Sale on Demon Lore! Book 1 of A Demon Huntress Series.
Pull up a chair, grab a drink of your choice from the cooler, a Chocolate Chip or Peanut Butter cookie from the plate, and let’s find out a little about Karilyn and her Demon Lore.
Tell us something no one knows about you. Once I read the Little House on the Prairie series as a child, I knew I wanted to be a writer just like her childhood idol, Laura Ingalls Wilder. It took over twenty years to make my dream come true but I finally got my chance after placing in The Wild Rose Press’s Got Wolf contest. Now I blend fantasy and romance mixed with a touch of funny.
Good for you!
I”ll take a moment here to review Demon Lore.
I love October and Halloween! So of course I had to read Demon Lore a book about magic, demons, evil, and weird. Demon Lore is funny, scary, crazy and snarky. Did I say I love snark? Well I do and Gin makes snark into an art form. In this story, Gin is an ER Nurse with empathic abilities. Her twin brother is Tonic who talks to ghosts. Who names their kids Gin and Tonic? Had a good giggle over that.
After hearing unusual sounds, Gin shoves into a hospital room where her doctor friend has sustained life-threatening injuries. When she floats through his mind she sees a bracelet that he refuses to let go, though it may cost him his life. Then suddenly the bracelet is in her pocket as the doctor is rushed to surgery. Should she put the bracelet on? Her twin has something to say about that. Who was that stranger with the dead black eyes? What Agency and who is Detective Smythe? I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you, and that would be a shame because you wouldn’t get to read this page turning tale!
Did I mention the fork, spiked-tongue demon she may have the hots for or the sexy guardian that may or may not be a good guy? Just a few questions you’ll find the answers to in Demon Lore.
I loved A Demon’s Lore and look forward to finishing the rest of the series.
Okay, here we go with the Speed Round (one word only answer): Yep, I know torture for a writer!<evil laugh>
Favorite movie: Star Wars series
Favorite book: Fires of Winter by Roberta Gellis
Last book read: Illumination by Susannah Sandlin
Favorite color: Green
Stilettos or flipflops: Stilettos
Coffee or tea: tea
Ebook or audiobook or paperback: ebook or paperback
Pencil or pen: pen
Favorite song: Demons by Imagine Dragons
Streak or not: NOT!
Favorite dessert: cherry cobbler
Favorite junk food: anything with chocolate in it
Favorite thing to do to relax: read
Champagne or gin: champagne
Paranormal or Historical: Paranormal
Wonder Woman or Top Model: Wonder Woman
Favorite TV show: Supernatural
Hot or cold: Cold
POV: First
I’d die if I don’t have: my cell phone
Review or Not: Review
Please tell us a little about Demon Lore
Gin Crawford has enough problems dealing with her empath abilities. Finding out she’s the world’s newest demon-slayer is the last thing she needs. Unfortunately, when she slips on a mysterious bracelet she is given no other choice. On the plus side, her new gig comes with Tall, Dark and Handsome, a mage who may or may not have her best interests at heart. Thrust into a power-play between good and evil, Gin must choose a side before she becomes the next victim in the ongoing battle.
A peek between the pages of Demon Lore
“Let’s take you to a room.” Laura rises, pulling on my hand. “I think you’re in shock.”
Yeah, ya think? But the shock she thinks I’m in is not the only shock I’m experiencing. Not only am I dealing with the emotional trauma of seeing my friend shot and lying in a pool of his blood, but a million questions about the shooter rush through my mind. Who was that evil man? Why did he want Will’s bracelet? Really, what was so important about a bracelet? Couldn’t he have just broken into Will’s house and stolen the thing instead of shooting Will?
I rise to my feet, my head swimming, and put hand out to T for support. He grabs my palm and squeezes, and instantly I feel better. Laura grabs my other arm and together we walk down the hall toward an empty room.
Something rattles in my pocket, hitting against my work cell phone, a metallic clink. Odd, nothing but the phone should be in my pocket. I shake loose of Laura’s grip and stick my hand in my scrubs.
One phone. One…I pull the object out and stare. Gulping in a deep breath does nothing to calm my speeding heart. My stomach makes a pit and shoves my body into the gaping maw.
“What’s that?” Laura and T ask simultaneously.
Silver links shift, catching the light. Something’s carved into the metal, words, runes, a recipe for disaster, who the hell knows. I’m too busy staring at the thing as if it’s going to bite me. Which, judging from what happened here today, it very well might.
How the hell did it get into my pocket?
Will’s special bracelet lies in my palm, the links glowing under the florescent lights and the cold bite of metal against my skin makes me…happy.
Demon Lore can be found at:
Where to find Karilyn:
Website: www.karilynbentley.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/KarilynBentleyAuthor
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/karilynbentley1
Blog: http://plottingprincesses.blogspot.com
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4051943.Karilyn_Bentley
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/karilynbentley
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/ba_0Rf
It was wonderful having you with us today. Please feel free to stop by anytime. Good Luck with Demon Lore and your 99 cent SALE!
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Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged Demon Lore, fantasy, Karilyn Bentley, Paranormal, Science Fiction, Urban Fantasy by Tena Stetler with 12 comments.
Alexandrea Weis, Author of Damned
Give a warm welcome to Alexandrea Weis, author of Damned, book one of the Blackwell series released October 3, 2017!
Pull up a chair, grab a drink of your choice from the cauldron, a Bat Wing Chocolate Chip, Pumpkin or Peanut Butter cookie from the plate, and let’s find out a little about Alezandrea and her book Damned!
Alexandrea, what is the paranormal lure of New Orleans?
There are cities that conjure tingles when referenced for their mystique and romance. London, Paris, and New York all bring a smile to the faces of many, but for me, nothing can compare to the sultry breezes and intriguing architecture of New Orleans. Steeped in history, mystery, and a whole lot of sin, it is one of the most original spots on earth. Where old-world blends with modern day, the people, atmosphere, and culture are like no place else. It’s this exotic blend that makes the town such a worthy backdrop for my novel Blackwell. Despite time and the advent of technology, there is a rhythm in New Orleans that seems impervious to change. What was true in the time of Magnus Blackwell is still true today.
However, it’s the darker side of the Big Easy that makes it a pivotal part of Magnus Blackwell’s world. Ghosts, voodoo, and eclectic people have persisted in New Orleans almost as long as the city has been in existence. Murky myths add to its allure and make it a thrilling spot to set any literary adventure.
Famous as the most haunted destination in the United States, residents of New Orleans are as accustomed to ghosts as those in Los Angeles might be to smog, traffic, and noise. The ethereal is woven into the fabric of the dreamy iron balconies and shuttered doorways. Complaints of unintelligible voices, screams, footsteps, and unexplained knocking are as common in early morning banter between neighbors as cordial greetings. When you live in the French Quarter, hearing, “my ghost kept me up all night,” is the norm. Perhaps this is why spectral visitors are just as much a facet of life as red beans and rice on Mondays. And with the rise of haunted tours, ghosts are now big business. Taking what was once an inconvenience and turning it into a cash cow. But ask any of the locals if they would be happier relieved of their supernatural visitors, every single one of them would say no. New Orleans wouldn’t be the same without its ghosts. For those who love the city, it’s reassuring to know you never have to leave it.
Unlike other cities where the topic of voodoo was spoken in hushed whispers, New Orleans readily embraced the religion. The blending of the African and Catholic customs reached its zenith along the Mississippi River. Because of voodoo’s influence in the Crescent City, words such as gris-gris, ju-ju, and voodoo doll were introduced into the American vocabulary. Even famous practitioners of the art became legends. Marie Laveau is still regarded by many as the queen of voodoo. Her annual St. John’s Eve ritual performed on the banks of Bayou St. John continues to this day. And even though her religion has become more commercial that practical, the essence of it adds an air of enchantment to those tightly packed Creole cottages along St. Anne Street. And some insist, on a cold day when the light is right, you can see the regal figure of Ms. Marie strolling along the cracked sidewalks of The Quarter and keeping an eye on her hometown.
Probably the most memorable part of any visit to The Big Easy is the numerous encounters with its Bohemian inhabitants. Their unique character embodies all that is inviting about New Orleans. From quirky traditions to flamboyant celebrations, everything this town encompasses comes alive in its citizens. When life and death are celebrated with the same exuberance, one can’t help but be enchanted. There is something about the people that gets under your skin. A haven for writers, poets, artists, and musicians, the creative pulse resonates through every cobblestone of Jackson Square. Maybe this is why New Orleans has been the setting for so many great stories. Like a heady gumbo, it stirs the soul. Reason enough to make it one of the settings in my book.
There are many delights and a few dangers in New Orleans, but despite everything, it is a place where the impossible can seem probable. I can think of nowhere else to set the dark and sinister tale of Blackwell. It is a bastion where lost souls can find rest, forbidden religions can influence a culture, and people are encouraged to march to a different drum. All that is extraordinary defines this fabulous city, and all who embrace it are touched by magic.
Lexie awoke with a start from a sound sleep. Gaping into the blackness of the strange bedroom, she discovered the storm had abated and she detected the creaks and groans of the old house. Then a crack from the floorboards made her flinch.It came from Will’s side of the bed. She reached out to shake him, but he didn’t move.
“Will?”
She received a muffled grunt.
Another crack in the floor, but this time it happened right next to her side of the bed. An odor lingered in the air.
Is that coffee?
A column of light glittering to her left made Lexie’s mouth go dry. The oddity soon took on the shape of a man.
His strong frame, long arms, and tapered hands came into view. Good-looking, despite the cruel curl of his lips, his chiseled features, and engaging eyes, made her insides tingle. But when the cut of his old-fashioned red vest, long black coat, and white ascot tie took shape, Lexie understood this wasn’t some hazy fantasy. She didn’t fantasize about men from another century.
Lexie clutched her bedsheet as a fearful scream rose in her throat.
“Please, my dear, don’t bore me with your petty shrieks,” the figure said, his tone condescending.
Like a lightbulb getting enough electricity to reach its wattage, his image brightened, bringing out his details. Lexie scrutinized the buttons on his coat, the fine craftsmanship of his high black boots, and grasped the identity of her visitor.
Then a loud pop rang out, and he was gone. It happened so fast, Lexie questioned if it had happened at all.
“Welcome to Altmover Manor, Ms. Arden.” She recognized the voice of the apparition. “I hope you enjoy your stay.”
This time, Lexie did not hold back her scream, and as she opened her mouth …
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Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged Alexandrea Weis, Damned, Paranormal, Romance, Supernatural Thriller by Tena Stetler with comments disabled.
