Author: Angie

Perilous Confessions The Possession Chronicles Book 1 by Carrie Dalby Genre: Supernatural Southern Gothic Family Saga

Their love brought scandal and demons. Lucy Easton, an aspiring novelist, will do anything to help boost her chances at publication—including betraying her family. But when she crosses paths with the charismatic Alexander Melling, her aspiration for success pales in comparison to the attraction she feels towards him. Alexander is a young lawyer from a powerful family, striving to free himself from his father’s shadow. The more time he spends with Lucy, the more desperate he becomes to shed the secrets of his past—a past which can destroy the both himself and the woman he’s falling in love with. While Alexander struggles with his past sins, Lucy must decide whether loving him is worth risking her own safety…and her heart. From gossip magazines to gleaming Mardi Gras balls, Lucy and Alex navigate the Edwardian era in the Deep South with both passion and guilt. Goodreads * Amazon

During the spring of 1906, Magdalene Jones is hired to be a companion to Ruth Melling at Seacliff Cottage, the Mellings’ second home on Mobile Bay. Magdalene’s simple country upbringing is no match for high society banter and a manor hour infested with demonic activity. Alexander, the Mellings’ bachelor son, and Magdalene find themselves oppressed by demons playing upon their lusts. Claudio De Fiore–a young Italian deacon training to become a priest–and newly arrived from Scotland, Douglas Campbell, seek to protect Magdalene from the evil within the walls but they themselves might be part of the trouble. Goodreads * Amazon

Carrie Dalby, a California native, has lived in Mobile, Alabama, since 1996. She’s published several non-fiction articles in national and international magazines, served two terms as president of Mobile Writers Guild, worked as the Mobile area Local Liaison for SCBWI from 2012-2017, and volunteers with Metro Mobile Literacy Council’s annual Young Author events whenever possible. When Carrie’s not reading, writing, browsing bookstores/libraries, or homeschooling, she can often be found knitting or attending concerts. Carrie’s two young adult novels are Fortitude(historical) and Corroded (contemporary). Fortitude is listed as a “Best History Book for kids” with Grateful American Foundation for its historical accuracy and being an engaging read for fifth through tenth graders. Her current project is a historical Gothic family saga for adults, The Possession Chronicles. The first book in the series, Perilous Confessions, released in January 2019 from Bienvenue Press and the second book, Murmurs of Evil releases June 11, 2019. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Pinterest * Amazon * Goodreads

Lucy knelt and stood throughout Mass, but her heart and mind were set on one person and it wasn’t the
Lord. Toward the end of the service, she removed her notepad and pen from her reticule, quickly
fingering Alexander’s handkerchief tucked inside. As reverent as possible, she made her way to the
portico.
“Taking notes on my church attending habits?” Alexander, dressed in a smart grey suit with a
coordinating derby, stepped out from between two of the monstrous Doric columns that flanked the front
of the cathedral.
“More like the lack thereof.” Lucy returned her items into her pouch and accepted Alexander’s arm.
“I was there, Lucy.” As they descended the steps, the smell of his sandalwood soap wafted over her like
the first smell of peppermint at Christmas—delicious and invigorating. “I sat a few rows back, making
sure you prayed when prompted, but I left twice as early to avoid any suspicion of us leaving together.”
They exited the wrought iron gate that enclosed the church yard and paused on the sidewalk.
“And just how discreet is strolling through town?”
“It’ll take the congregation a little while to catch up with our activities.” Alexander winked. “Would you
like me to walk you all the way home or bring you to my house where we can pick up an automobile?”
“I’m fine with the two mile walk. It’ll give us more time together, though I’m sorry we live so far out of
the way. My parents wanted a bigger lot than those in the city for all of us to run around freely when we
were young. But don’t worry about me, I planned ahead.” She stuck the toe of one of her sensible black
boots out from the hem of her dress.
“I’m pleased to know you aren’t a slave to fashion.” They went around The Cathedral of the Immaculate
Conception and headed west on the paved sidewalk on Dauphin Street.
“When dealing with clothes passed down from three sisters from the previous century, it’s difficult to be
picky.”
“You always manage to look beautiful, though I’ve often wondered why you don’t wear gloves like other
ladies. Did your sisters wear them all out?”
Lucy’s laughter rang like a silver bell. “I have several new pairs, but my mother gave up trying to force
me to wear them when I turned eighteen. I need my fingers free to hold my pen.”
Alexander smiled. “There’s nothing less personal than the touch of a gloved hand. I liked being able to
feel you last night.” He placed his right hand on top of hers on his arm, allowing his fingers to briefly
intertwine with hers. “I love how you shirk societal regulations, going to church gloveless and wearing
old boots under a fine dress. Things like that shouldn’t matter, though they are often all that are discussed
by women in your social circle.”
“My circle is smaller than most.”
“And that’s just the thing! It’s refreshing to see that you don’t fill your life with hollow relationships and
cram your calendar with worthless events. Lucy, I’m honored you allowed my foot in the door of your
cozy life.”
If they weren’t walking down the sidewalk midday, she would’ve kissed him. As it was, she waited until
they passed another couple walking toward them, Alexander tipping his hat and nodding to them.
“Your whole self is invited into my world, Alexander,” she whispered.

A mischievous smile lit his face as Lucy gave him a look that communicated she wanted more of the
passion he’d spoken to her about. He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “Soon.”

Follow the blitz HERE for exclusive content and a giveaway! a Rafflecopter giveaway

Soul Survivor Prequel to the Spirit Shield Saga by Susan Faw Genre: YA Fantasy

An ancient feud that spills from the realm of the Gods. Four desperate agendas that cross the line. And a boy with a mysterious box is the world’s only hope.

Helga, demi-goddess of the underworld has but one true desire, a young man named Genii. But Genii belongs to her sister star gazing sister, Artio. Obsessed with possessing Genii any way she can, Helga sets herself against her siblings. The vicious rivalry sets brother against sister and flesh against spirit, as they battle each other for ultimate control of the souls of the dead. Helga summons a great evil, spawn of the underworld, which left unchecked, will sweep all life into the depths of the underworld, where Helga rules supreme. In the epic battle that ensues, only one will be left standing, and if it is the wrong one, how will the world survive? Download this tale of love, jealousy, and magic, today, and dive into this award-winning epic mythology fantasy series! **Get it FREE!! **Add to GoodreadsAmazon * Apple * B&N * Google * Kobo

Seer of Souls Book One of The Spirit Shield Saga

“A Rip-Roaring Series Opener!” – Kirkus Reviews The time for hiding is finished. The dead are restless. Fate and destiny collide. Twins Cayden and Avery Tiernan have grown up in isolation on the fringe of the realm. Gifted with forbidden skills, they hide their growing magical powers. Ancient prophecies speak of the ones with the power to depose the queen. To protect her throne, Queen Alcina scours the land for evidence of magic, while the darker force she serves threatens the land with chaos. She is not the only huntress however. Primordial seekers discover the twins first but before they can escape, the death of a queen’s guard puts the entire village in jeopardy. To save their town, the twins flee, only to be dragged toward an unknown destiny. Guided by her gift, Avery senses lies and treachery where others see only truth. Dare she trust her instincts? For Cayden, an irresistible voice whispers to him. Does it belong to the souls of the dead and are they calling him home? Buy Seer of Souls and plunge into the first book of the Spirit Shield Saga today! Add to GoodreadsAmazon * Apple * B&N * Google * Kobo

Soul Sanctuary Book Two of The Spirit Shield Saga

A temple awakened. The forbidden mountain stirs. The dead are missing. Snatched from her home by a Primordial Seeker, seventeen-year-old Avery is imprisoned by the people she intended to serve. In a desperate bid for freedom, she escapes, only to find herself racing against time to save those who seek to use her. Driven by jealousy, the lust for power and the stain of ancient crimes, conflicting factions struggle to gain control of the magic of a Spirit Shield. Avery must dodge all who cross her path, for each group vies to control her actions. Aided by the mythical creatures of her native land, she discovers that a true Spirit Shield is much more than a simple priestess. She must fight for control of the souls of the world, and in doing so must face her worst fear of all: family. Purchase the next exciting chapter in this must read epic saga, today! Add to GoodreadsAmazon * Apple * B&N * Google * Kobo

Soul Sacrifice Book Three of The Spirit Shield Saga

The underworld writhes. Terror unleashed. Souls enslaved. The Spirit Shields with memories returned are plunged into a conflict older than mankind. The pending battle pits family against spirit and flesh. The godlings face off for ultimate control of the souls of the dead, each with their own agenda, for there is no love lost between these siblings. Helga, goddess of the underworld, tightens her hold on those who hold the key to ultimate victory. Meanwhile, Avery struggles to convince her sister Artio that unless they become allies they will fail in their misaligned quest. Cayden, with the aid of Brimstone, struggles to fulfill a destiny prophesied since their original deaths long ago. Can four warring siblings find peace and forgiveness? Or will they battle to the end of the world, sacrificing all living souls in the conflict? Don’t miss the exciting conclusion to the Spirit Shield Saga! Purchase your copy today! *Winner, Dante Rossetti First In Category, Chanticleer Reviews (2018)* Add to GoodreadsAmazon * Apple * B&N * Google * Kobo

Get the Box set here and save!! Amazon * Apple * B&N * Google * Kobo

Winner of the Dante Rossetti Grand Prize for Best Young Adult Fiction of 2016 (Seer of Souls, Chanticleer Reviews) and First in Category, Dante Rossetti Best Young Adult Fiction of 2017 (Soul Sanctuary, Chanticleer Reviews) Susan loves to bring new worlds and fantasy adventures to young adults and inspire them to join her on her make-believe journeys. She is actively crafting stories that sing in your memory. You can find Susan at www.susanfaw.com, on twitter @susandfaw or on Facebook at www.facebook.com/SusanFaw. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

Follow the tour HERE for exclusive excerpts, guest posts and a giveaway! a Rafflecopter giveaway

Darkness and Blood by Steve Haberman Genre: Thriller

There are letter bombs. There are car bombs. And in Steve Haberman’s DARKNESS AND BLOOD, there is a file bomb, ultra top secret information so horrifying in its content that an unintended recipient, after downloading it, dies from a heart attack? The south of France, past midnight. An American intelligence officer, accompanied by several bodyguards, has secretly flown in from London, with some terrible news. The news is for a friend, a very ex-intelligence agent, hiding out in an ancient farmhouse. A mutual confidant, a retired MI5 analyst, he explains, has suffered an odd cardiac arrest and died. To compound the mystery, just before the death, three men had entered the deceased’s flat. Two of them ranked high up in British domestic intelligence; the third–from the CIA or MI6?–was an unknown. Minutes later, presumably after their old friend had passed away, those three fled his flat and disappeared into the London night. So sets in motion with this strange night tale thriller, DARKNESS AND BLOOD, The unnerving, all-too-real sequel to THE KILLING PLOY. Sometimes being overly suspicious can keep you alive. Add to GoodreadsAmazon * Apple * B&N * KoboOn Sale now for only .99 cents!!

Murder Without PityAmazon * Apple * B&N

A University of Texas graduate, Steve Haberman pursued legal studies at UCLA before embarking on a career as a legal assistant. Profitable stock market investments made travel abroad possible, and he has since visited Europe extensively and frequently, including London, Paris, Prague, Berlin, as well as Milan and Budapest. Many of these feature as settings in his two e-book novels. “Murder Without Pity,” a murder mystery with tragic echoes from the past, occurs in Paris. “The Killing Ploy” (with heavy overtones of “fake news” before that was topical) is set partially in several Continental capitals. His two works in progress, “Darkness and Blood,” the sequel to “The Killing Ploy,” and “Winston Churchill’s Renegade Spy” also use foreign locales. He is presently planning another three month trip abroad for research on a fifth thriller, this one set in the post World War II apocalyptic ruin of the German capital. Website * Twitter * Amazon * Goodreads

Chapter 1

THE MIDNIGHT INTRUDER

Pablo de Silva, ex-CIA agent, awoke from the restless sleep of a man on the run. Had
he heard a noise somewhere outside his farmhouse? Intel operatives had found his hideaway to
kidnap him back to his former boss? Terrorists, avenging the killing of their leader, had tracked
him down? Or a jealous husband set on murdering his wife who had fled his beatings and who
lay just as uneasily beside him.
“Qu’est-ce que c’est?” she asked in a whisper. What is it?
He whispered back, “Je ne sais pas.” I don’t know, and he put a finger to her lips. He
listened a moment longer in the absolute stillness of the country night, trying to place the sound.
After a moment longer, sure now he had heard something, he patted her warm naked thigh; stay
here, his intimate gesture implied.
He leaped from their bed and tiptoed to the room’s threshold. A dash across the darkened
living room, and he stood at one of the two windows that overlooked the dirt drive. He knelt,
feeling the cold wooden floor on his knees, and, nudging apart the curtains, peered out.
Squinting past the crack in the partly opened wooden shutters, he saw nothing except the
thick blackness of night. He heard only the same sound that kept him tense, a mechanical rattle.
It came from a car, he saw at last, headlights out, its menacing silhouette looming closer to the
end of his farmhouse’s drive. He realized they didn’t have time to flee or for him to search for
his 32 cal revolver.
“It’s Robert, I know it is. He’ll kill us both, Pablo.”
Pablo glanced over his shoulder. “Stay in our bedroom, Gabriella.”
“He’s that kind of husband. He’s crazy with jealousy.”
“Just do as I say, dammit, and lock the door.” Pablo peeked out through the curtains
again, ending further discussion. Only one car, not several. Parked about ten feet from the stone
steps leading to his front door. Three men in silhouette in the car; a fourth in darkened outline,
above average in height, stepping out. Four men in one vehicle, not a convoy bringing a snatch
or kill team. More than likely Gabriella’s husband with his armed investigators had somehow
found them out.
The man passed in front of several cypress trees bordering the drive, and Pablo
silently cursed losing sight of him. He pressed his ear against the paneled oak wall, straining to
hear through the thick wood. “I’ll do the front,” the man called out to his companions. “You guys
check around back. The barn especially. Search everywhere.” Or did he say, “Search for that
pair?” Pablo pressed his ear hard against the wall.

“You sure we got the right farmhouse?” an accomplice, younger sounding, asked. “With
all these weeds, the place looks pretty abandoned.”
“It’s not abandoned, trust me. It’s exactly where someone wily would hide out.” He
paused, muttering about the damn cold and the damn mud. In that moment Pablo believed he had
heard that soft voice before. Then saw he had forgotten to turn the locks, and his thoughts were
on the impending attack.
A heavy tread, heel, toe, heel, toe, now inches from the front door. A man not afraid to
make his presence known especially with backup. The intruder nudged the front door open,
waited a moment as though appraising the darkened inside for any unpleasant surprises before
chancing a foot in. In the near darkness Pablo heard something uttered, but the intruder was now
fully inside the living room. He threw the man against the oak panel wall. He jerked back his
own arm to ram his palm up into the intruder’s chin to snap his neck.
The man thrust an arm in front of his face to block the blow. “Hey, stop, wait! Don’t.
It’s me for fuck’s sake, Stuart.”
A slice of light from the bedroom opposite the living room caught the man’s craggy,
lined face and the mass of unkempt brown hair. “Bishop?” Pablo heard a metallic click. He
looked sharply over to the bedroom doorway. “No, no, no, don’t shoot. It’s not your husband. I
know him.” He released his grip on Stuart’s blazer. “Christ man, why the hell didn’t you call
out?” He flicked on the row of brass ceiling lamps to be sure of the man’s identity.
“You must have been too keyed up and not heard me. Get a phone, so I can call next
time and avoid getting killed.” He sagged against the wall, a hand over his chest as though to
catch his breath, while he closed his eyes.
“You alright?”
Stuart, his eyes still closed, managed a slight nod. “Yeah, yeah, sure, don’t sweat it.”
“You certainly are.”
“Just give me a minute, will you. You gave me the scare of my life. I’d forgotten how
quick you are.” He fluttered his eyes open after a further moment, inhaled deeply before pushing
himself upright, and extending a hand in greeting. “There now, back among the living.” He
swung back and forth the front door, its undersurface scraping against the wooden floor. “Half
the world’s major cops and intel boys want Mr. Man-on-the-Run dead or alive, and you leave a
door unlocked? You’re getting pretty careless in your middle age.”
“I must have been tired, when I returned from hiking and forgot.”
“Shame on you, Pablo. With what you’ve been through, you should know better.”
Stuart glanced out beyond the front door to the dark and gave a flick of his head. “Guys, I found
him. Come on in.”
Two men in overcoats, one barrel chested and with bulldog jowls, the other sharp
faced and hollow cheeked, trotted heavy booted up the steps into the living room, leaving muddy

foot prints in their wake. Both had short hair, cut military style. Stuart didn’t introduce them;
neither did they. They glanced only a minute at the figure in the bedroom doorway before going
into a routine, all business. The sharp featured one dropped into a crouch next to curtained
windows near the front door, binoculars trained out into the night. His companion stepped heavy
footed to the back of the farmhouse, also gripping field glasses.
Stuart kicked shut the door, turned the three locks, yanked the door knob several times
with showy concern for safety. “I think we have security now. Hopefully anyway. Hell of a way
to treat someone, who got your ass out of Vienna.” An attempted joke, a bit of a smile.
“I thought you were someone else.”
“Who, the Germans invading France again? Pity whoever he is, if he ever shows.”
Stuart looked around the living room. “Cozy place you got. Sure beats hiding out in a damp cave
by a long shot.”
“It was till you showed.”
“Mum’s the word, Pablo. Promise, don’t worry. I won’t tell George about your bolt-
hole.”
“Let’s hope so. And I call it a farmhouse.”
“Fine, a farmhouse. A remote one, too. Once we left Arles, it took ages to find. Exit
this autoroute. Take that back road. Follow that Centre Ville sign. Pass that vineyard. You’ve got
a real talent for disappearing.”
“Can you blame me?” Stuart Bishop was a CIA bureaucrat with refined tastes, Pablo
reminded himself. London theaters. Paris and Milan art museums. The idea of country living
seemed foreign. “The provençal isolation helped my dad forget the headache running his hotel.”
He glanced across to the bedroom’s doorway and noticed Gabriella still pointed the 32 cal
revolver shakily at Stuart. He motioned to lower it. “Ca va.” It’s okay.
“Who’s the dark haired beauty?” Stuart tugged out a monogrammed white
handkerchief from his breast pocket and used it to beat away dust from his jacket and pants.
“A friend.”
He glanced with a raised eyebrow at Pablo. “Some friend. A Juliette Binoche look-
alike in a negligee.”
“Her name’s Gabriella, Stuart. Her husband’s a bigwig Paris politician, who’s had one
too many affairs. She wants out. He threatened to find and kill her, if she gets divorced. She’s
leaving anyway. We thought you were him when you showed.” He had had enough polite small
talk. “What’s this about for crying out loud? You got scared? You have any idea how you
scared us? You know what time it is?”
“Something bad’s happened in London,” Stuart said, ignoring his complaint. “Maurice
is dead.”

Pablo felt a sharp stab of pain in his stomach. “He’s what?”
“Yeah, I know, it’s hard to believe.”
Stuart’s face was as grimly serious, he noticed, as his must be hearing the news.
“Dead, Jesus, Maurice?”
“I can’t believe it myself, but I heard it briefly on the BBC London news, and that’s not
the half of it. I’m very sorry. He was a good and honorable man in a sometimes rotten
profession. A rarity these days, considering who’s running MI5’s shop. We’ve a big problem on
our hands….

Follow the tour HERE for exclusive excerpts and a giveaway! a Rafflecopter giveaway

Annabel Lee:The Story of a Woman, Written By Herself by Christopher Conlon Genre: Historical Gothic

Everybody knows Edgar Allan Poe’s “Annabel Lee”—but who was she really? In this haunting and evocative novel, Christopher Conlon (“one of the preeminent names in contemporary literary horror”—Booklist ) imagines a life for one of literature’s most renowned characters. Hers is a chronicle even more thrilling, doom-haunted, and tragic than Poe himself could have conceived, for here Annabel Lee tells her own story in her own words…for the first time. Add to Goodreads Amazon * Google * Smashwords

Christopher Conlon (b. 1962) is best known as the editor of the Bram Stoker Award-winning anthology “He Is Legend” (Gauntlet/Tor), a tribute to author Richard Matheson which was reprinted by the Science Fiction Book Club and in multiple foreign translations. His novel “Savaging the Dark” was included in Booklist’s “Top Ten: Horror” for 2015 (starred review) and acclaimed by Paste Magazine both as one of the 21 Best Horror Books of the 21st Century and as one of the 50 Best Horror Novels of All Time. Two of his earlier novels, “Midnight on Mourn Street” and “A Matrix of Angels,” were finalists for the Stoker Award, and he has written numerous collections of stories and poems along with two full-length stage plays. A former Peace Corps Volunteer, Conlon holds an M.A. in American Literature from the University of Maryland and lives in the Washington, DC area. Website * Blog * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

I heard Mrs. Krasnoff cry out. One of the men shouted. I rushed to Mother. It all
happened in an instant—she whirled to face me and I saw the knife plunge down in a flash. A
indescribable pain erupted in my shoulder, between my collarbone and the base of my neck, like
nothing I had ever felt. I heard screaming and knew it was my mother’s. I knew also that as
quickly as the knife had sunk into my flesh it had been pulled clear again. The world tilted. I felt
myself falling—saw blood flowing across my shoulder and chest—I collapsed onto the floor.
The pain immediately became something more akin to a numbness, a strange lack of feeling, as
if I were disconnecting from my body and looking down upon it as a separate being. I felt that I
was part of another world even as I was there, on the floor, with my eyes open, watching as the
men rushed at my mother. There was the sound of glass shattering as she hurled the doctor away
and his back crashed into a kitchen window. Sheriff Wyre reached for the knife in her hand, but
was a moment too late. She plunged it into her own heart—deeply, I saw—more deeply than I
would have imagined possible, so deeply that nothing but the knife handle could be seen, the
knife handle in her hand now covered in a copious, flowing river of blood. There was a terrible
silence as Sheriff Wyre backed away in shock and all expression died out of my mother’s eyes
and she fell forward, the knife being plunged ever more deeply her body as she collapsed onto
the floor directly beside me, her empty and now lifeless eyes only inches from my own. I heard
screaming then, but whose it was I did not know. The sound seemed to fade away and I heard it
as from far away, down a long empty canyon. The world darkened as I heard hurried shufflings
around me, felt hands touching and pressing around my neck. I could not move. I stared
helplessly into my mother’s dead eyes and the world turned white—then gray—then black.
I believe that at that moment I died. The sounds around me were remote and I felt myself
suddenly dematerialize—become lighter than air—float free—and somehow was witnessing the

scene from above: Mrs. Krasnoff rushing to us with towels in her hands, the doctor frantically
applying the towels to me and trying to stanch the flow of blood, the sheriff asking, “Do I take it
out? Do I?” and the doctor saying, “Yes, yes,” and the sheriff wrenching the knife from my
mother’s heart, blood burbling forth then as from a cauldron, soaking her nightgown, his hands,
the floor, my dress and hair. Then higher—as if I were suspended in the sky now, past the ceiling
and roof, looking down at the top of the house which was now somehow transparent, and seeing
them working desperately to save us, or rather to save me—I saw the sheriff give up on Mother
and turn his attention to the doctor and his young emergency patient. They worked and worked
and somehow, though I was far above in the sky, I felt them maneuvering my body this way and
that, felt the hard press of the towel against my neck, heard the doctor say, “Annabel, are you
there? Can you hear me, child? Try to respond. Can you speak? Can you squeeze my hand?”
And just then I realized that my left hand was within the doctor’s big palm and I slowly forced
movement through my fingers, enough that he said, “She is alive. Keep the pressure on the
wound, sheriff. Hold it as tightly as you can. Mrs. Krasnoff, more towels, please, or cloth,
whatever you can find. And water.” After a moment, more quietly, “I think her artery is all right.
If that is so, she may live. She may just live.”

Follow the tour HERE for exclusive excerpts, guest posts and a giveaway! a Rafflecopter giveaway