Category: book tour

A romantic, erotic tale of a vivid portrayal of the quest for the inner

truth, empowerment and sexual liberation of Selene, a woman searching
for primeval abandon and reckless adventure.

Intelligent, a university graduate and a successful careerist, Selene
became
emotionally scarred by unhappy relationships. Riled and taunted
through the years by her former college roommate Janice, Selene gave
in to the long-term desire to ‘get one back’ at Janice by having
a passionate holiday encounter.

Immediately drawn to the sea and enthralled by its brutal yet sensual
waves,
Selene seduces a young boy on a deserted beach. Once she comes to
meet the mature and powerful Hudson, Selene finally begins to claim
her sensual destiny.

Through a slow process, accentuated by Selene’s shyness, introspection
and
circumspection, she embarks on a long and elaborate interplay of
leading on and rejection. The volcanic passion builds until there is
a blazing row. A possible drowning, the final ritual undressing at
long last, leads to the ultimate flowering of the woman Selene was
meant to be.

 

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Book Publications ‘Prickling Counterpoints’ (Selected Poetry & Prose),
Deadline Books 1998, ‘Romantic Undress’ (Erotic Poetry & Prose)
JazzClaw Publications 2000. Current romantica/erotica publications
are ‘Self’s Blossom’ (novella), and ‘Explorations’ (short story),
published by Devine Destinies; ‘Therapy Rapture’ (poetry,prose and
artwork) published by Rose Dog Books. Forthcoming are two short
stories, ‘My Dream of Madonna/An Ecstatic Rendezvous’, to be
published by XoXo Publishing.

Also recorded singer-songwriter: vinyl album, ‘Bricolage’

recorded by Billy Childish for Hangman Records 1992;

CD albums ‘Bacteria Shrapnel’ and ‘The Burglars of Britain’ (1998)

 

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Al was
born in Dublin, Ireland, but moved to Vancouver, Canada in 2009
with his wife and baby daughter. Now the proud (and active) father of
two children, Al pays the bills by working in his local library. Alis the author of The King is Dead, an epic fantasy novel recently
published by Bella Tulip Publishing. With his first novel under his
belt, Al plans to release at least one more in 2017, including a
series of short stories.

Al’s favourite genres are fantasy, science fiction and horror.

Al is a huge fan of mythology, and his future works will incorporate
different legends.

Al has a degree in Philosophy, with particular interest in Morality and
Philosophies of Freedom.

 

Being king wasn’t exactly as Eric had imagined. His memory of his parents was
more akin to dreams than solid points of reference, but he had been very young
when they died, a mere six years old, and was now entering his fortieth year.
The
succeeding thirty-four years became increasingly boring and frustrating in equal
amounts. While dealing with affairs of state was hardly something a
heartbroken
child should have to deal with, as the years went by, Eric had received no
training in what should have been important matters, and instead, considerable
efforts were made to keep him from attending to what was his kingdom.
Eric’s ministers were no doubt enjoying their own power, and there were
rumours around the castle and even down in the city that they intended to
usurp
him in the name of democracy. While Eric actually appreciated the idea of
democracy―thankfully he had been well schooled in other areas―what his
“advisers” were practising hardly fit in with the dictionary definition of the idea.
They preferred lining their own pockets and favouring the wealthy over those
less fortunate. There was no doubt that his father, who had come from a long
line
of respected regents, was turning in his grave with regularity.
Eric, however, failed to replicate his father’s charisma and steely will that had
benefited the kingdom greatly when it came to matters of diplomacy or trade
negotiation. Whereas the mighty King Cedric had had his finger in all the
country’s pies, running it as he saw fit―which had been admittedly
effective―Eric had been hampered by his advisers from an early age, and by
the
time he was old enough to sit in court, he had been roundly discouraged for so
long that he did as he was told.
Of course, this bothered Eric, who didn’t want to hand his beloved kingdom
over to a bunch of charlatans. He still occasionally tried to join in on matters of
state, but he was talked down at each attempt. With a lot of time to spare, Eric
spent much of his time reading and often talking late into the night with many of
the respected academics in the kingdom. The great minds supported the king,
but
all felt he needed to show some resolve in order to take the seat of great
prestige.
While his intellect was admirable and matched many of his predecessors,
there was one area where Eric surpassed not just every regent who had sat on
the
throne before him, but possibly every person who had ever resided in the
kingdom: combat. Eric had been born at a time of great turmoil, as border
battles
were an almost daily occurrence. Perhaps being born practically with a sword
in
his hand helped, but Eric had grown up in a time of relative peace. Yet his
acumen with a sword, bow, or any other weapon one could name waspeerless.
The king trained daily for most of the morning and reached the stage where he
could take on six soldiers while wielding just a knife, yet come out victorious
with nary a bruise. While some opined that his soldiers went easy on him, Eric
suspected that some of his more enthusiastic opponents were in fact assassins
sent by his ministry. Regardless of popular opinion, any combat veteran could
tell that the king’s ability to parry and strike bordered on superhuman, and if
there was one person who could spar with him for more than a minute, they
had
yet to make themselves known.
Spending his day reading and training had given Eric a keen mind and a body
to match, and he could have had his pick of brides had politics not reigned
supreme. Instead, Eric was wed to Catherine of Genovia. They had managed
to
consummate their marriage on their wedding night but never shared his bed
again. While court talk should always be taken with a pinch of salt, rumour had
it that Eric’s bed was the only one she refused to share as she ingratiated
herself
with the castle staff.
Eric was no fool, and he knew that being royalty often led to a loveless
marriage. He could handle her frosty personality, but she refused to bear him a
child, which put his royal line in jeopardy. Not only did she refuse him sex, but
she worked hard to make sure that no one else could bear him a bastard child
to
interfere with whatever nefarious schemes she had cooked up. Ending the
marriage was no option, as Catherine’s father was a proud man who would
have
sought revenge with his seasoned army, something the peaceful Etruvians
could
not boast. So, Eric had to grin and bear it. He continued to perfect his skills and
his mind in the absence of other ‘activities.’
Tiring of beating on his generally incompetent soldiers, Eric decided to seek
greater challenges, and at night he began to sneak down to town to try and
help
stem the spiralling outbreak of crime. While the army was essentially the militia
too, some of the senior officers were well catered to by crime lords who
seemed
to wield far more power than the king himself.
Dressing in dark clothing―not that he’d be recognised―Eric roamed the
town taking on thieves, rapists, and the other types of scum who had flourished
in the once proud city. Used to picking on hapless citizens, these criminals
were
no match for Eric, and he quickly earned a name for himself as a vigilante. This
reputation earned him the respect of the honest people in the town, but the
criminal gangs and the militia worked hard to trap him, both of whom saw a loss
of profit courtesy of Eric’s crime fighting.

Villains came out in greater numbers, at least as great as they could without
being too obvious, yet Eric still sent the lucky ones running. With this
mysterious vigilante roaming the streets and upsetting the criminal apple cart, a
plan needed to be hatched to end his threat, and for the first time in his life, Eric
was able to bring people together to agree on one thing―the vigilante needed
to
be dealt with.

 

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Skylar McKinzie lives in
the small town of Screven, Ga. When she’s not writing,she’s cooking, baking, reading, and spending time with her family.
She also loves long walks and sitting by the bonfire in October,
which is her favorite month of the year.

She writes horror and paranormal romance. She is working on her next
novel due to be released by the end of the year.

Prologue
1692: Discovery, Massachusetts
The growl from the other side of the door had spurred Faith into action like
nothing else could. It wouldn’t be long before they came for her, because of
what
they thought she was. Granny had warned her about going out during the hunt,
but she simply wanted to, no, had to see him one more time. She knew it was a
risk. She knew the magistrate watched her and her family, searching for any
excuse to accuse them of witchcraft. She reached down to stroke the agitated
wolf at her feet. Faith knew she should send him running into the darkness but
was unable to bring herself to part with him before she had to. “Shh, Wolfe.”
She
rubbed his soft fur to quiet him.
Maybe Wolfe reacted to the growl from the dogs outside, or perhaps, he
innately knew the mob was coming for her. Whatever the cause, his reaction
galvanized her, and she tore the house apart, looking for a place to hide the
book
that would condemn her and her sisters. Wolfe padded behind her, growling
occasionally, as if to remind her the men grew closer. Faith turned to see her
sisters, Chasity and Hope, standing in the doorway.
“Did I not tell you to run?” Faith quickly gathered some potions, vials, and
other essentials they would need, putting them hastily into a bag. With their
flowing black hair and blue eyes, they appeared identical to Faith, another mark
against them as far as the town was concerned. Three babies, born at once, all
resembling the same person, had to be witchcraft, didn’t it?
“Run!” Faith tossed the bags at the young women. She knew she caused the
hunters to come for them. If only she hadn’t gone to see him, if she had simply
listened to her granny. She darted after her sisters and Wolfe, out the back
door
of the huge house, understanding she would never darken its doors again.
Fleeing through the woods behind her former home, Faith heard the rapid
breathing of her sisters running beside her, and the padded footsteps of Wolfe
as
he led them to where their only salvations lie. Their lovers waited to spirit them
away from this place, away from the ignorance consuming this town. The six of
them would leave to a new land and begin again, somewhere they weren’t
feared
and wouldn’t be put to death for being different.
Faith sighed with relief when she saw horses ahead. “We’ve made it. It will all
be okay now,” she whispered, turning to her sisters as she stopped to pat the
top
of Wolfe’s head. She looked up in shock as the magistrate came out of the
darkness.“Did you really think we would let three witches descend on the world outside
of Salem? There’s no telling what kind of disaster that would cause,” the
magistrate said, his razor-sharp eyes full of hatred.
Faith watched in dismay as her sisters were grabbed. She tried to go to them,
but was stopped as hands gripped her arms from behind. To no avail, Faith
struggled to let herself free.
“But, how…” Tears filled her eyes when they stepped out of the shadows.
“You! You betrayed us,” she murmured, tears falling as she was led to one of
the
three stakes erected. She had failed to see them when they’d burst into the
clearing.
The wide-eyed terror on the faces of the sisters she swore to protect prompted
Faith to reveal their true nature. Flames licking toward their feet, the smell of
burning material in her nose, she started to chant, her sisters’ voices soon
adding
to the incantation.
As the fire rose to meet their feet, their voices grew louder and Faith saw the
townspeople fidget as their nerves got the better of them. She looked directly at
the family who betrayed them, the family she, no they put their entire trust in.
The birthmark on her shoulder stung, and the rain fell.

 

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Winner of Best Paranormal Fantasy by Virtual Fantasy Con Book Awards

2017

Casey and George are traveling around Japan’s notorious suicide forest
when
they see something move in the tree line and Casey can’t shake the
feeling that someone has been following them.

Later that night, Casey wakes up to find a woman in their room. After
breaking free of the woman’s entrancement, Casey wakes George, who
convinces her it was just a dream.

George has been acting off since their visit to Japan. Now they’re home,
the
worst happens and George is killed in a freak accident.

It’s one year later and she’s about to leave her small hometown, Pleasant
Springs – in hopes that her nightmares would end. Since his death,
her dreams have been haunted by a mystery guy who is hellbent on
causing her pain, but, before she makes it to the airport, Casey is
kidnapped and taken to the hotel from her nightmares.

She is plunged into a creepy world filled with the supernatural,
underground cities, and sick games.

Her mystery guy tells her he is trying to save her from the others.
However, her ex – George could be behind her kidnapping in the most
sinister way.

Nothing is as it seems in the dark world of the Stalkers.

 

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When she’s not writing, she’s traveling, reading (paranormal, fantasy and
horror being her go to genres) and designing covers for Dark Wish
Designs.

 

 

 

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Amy Coleman on a mission to find her son, the only problem was–up until

two days ago she never knew she had a child.

Life for Amy is not worth living anymore. She was brutally attacked,
and
that nightmare of an abandoned child is seeping into her reality.
There is only one person who can stop her mission for death, a fallen
Angel by the name of Stephen. However, what Amy doesn’t realise is
falling helplessly in love with this Angel will just lead her down a
dark and deadly path and right smack in the middle of an Angelic
War.

After spending seven years on a self-destructive path of abuse, she will
start to unravel the secrets and lies of that awful night she was
attacked sending her world upside down. When Amy uncovers what really
attacked her that night, she will also have to face the painful
reality that she is a mother because of it.

The Angels try with Heavenly influence to blocking any memory from
her,
she still must find her son before her attacker Solas does and
sacrifices him in a bid to open the gates of purgatory.

 

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K.M.Hager lives in Devon with her family. When she’s not being a mother or a

referee to her two children, she tries to get on writing her Tears of
the Fallen series.

 

It’s only when we get to meet death personally and stare into its darkness that
we
will ever really feel the raw emotion and fear that the darkness brings in the last
fleeting moments of our lives. We all think about it and sense when it’s coming.
But like most unpleasant thoughts, we disregard it, choosing to ignore the
niggling doubts our instincts are so desperately trying to warn us about.
So when I walked home that night and took my usual route across the isolated
beach, I felt danger was coming. My body tried to warn me that something
wasn’t right.
Why didn’t I listen to it?
The hairs on the back of my neck began to stand up in protest. Fear travelled
through my veins and pumped its poisonous venom straight into my heart. The
panicked beats of my heart drowned out the sounds of the crashing waves as
they pounded the shore. I was too late. I was nearly at the other end, and it
would
have been quicker to keep moving.
The clouds were closing over me, and the sun was far out into the distance,
ready to rest its tired head for the night. There would be no point in turning back
now. So I lunged forward toward the exit. I desperately tried to get to the stairs
so I could take the last step from the cold, wet sand and onto the familiar stone
of safety. But as I placed my left foot on the step and relaxed my body, I felt a
sharp pain at the side of my head. A strong, cruel grip wrapped itself around
the
top of my arm, and my feet left the safety of the ground. I flew across the sand
through the cold air and landed directly on a rock. The pain was crippling and
rendered me semi-unconscious. I was unable to focus on any object or stand
up
and run from whatever force of nature had tried to take my life. I lay there for a
minute and tried, frantically, to muster the energy so I could escape the
situation.
I needed to get home. The blood from my head trickled down the side of my
face, and I needed help. My eyes tried to adjust back into focus and looked for
someone to come to my aid, but I could see no one.
As I lay on the dampness of the sand, I looked into the night sky. I watched
with panic as dark shadows emerged and hovered over me as if they were lost
souls that danced over my vulnerable body. At that moment, everything stood
still. Time and existence froze as I looked upon the lost souls that waited
eagerly
to take my life. A life I hadn’t yet lived. I was only sixteen, and there was so
much left to do: finish my exams and smoke weed. Kiss Peter Jackson, the
high
school hunk. Or even make love.
Then all my thoughts were gone. All that was left was acceptance that it was
my time. There was no way out of it, so I closed my eyes and accepted my fate.
“Oh, come on. It’s no fun if your eyes are closed.” I jumped. My heart leapt
straight out of my chest and slammed back inside me.I looked up toward the shadows that had formed a ring around me. They
danced delicately over my body, and in the centre was darkness, a shadow that
had crept out from the night and lingered over me. A dark energy had my wrists
and pinned me to the ground, leaving me paralysed. I stared up at the
silhouette,
and I watched with terror as the monster shifted, forcing an impression of a
human face while he tried to form in our realm. My alternate perception showed
me his true form.
His head shook erratically from side to side. He had me distracted. Within an
instant, he had successfully transcended and he was sitting down on top of me.
All I could see was his deep, penetrating eyes. They seemed almost hypnotic,
but
were filled with sin. They were soulless and without a touch of humanity. He
was the Devil on his darkest day.

 

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