Saturday, October 21, 2017

Avenging Kiss by Karen Tjebben Tour & Giveaway

Psychological Romantic/Suspense
Date Published:  December 2016

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Some sins cannot be forgiven. Those must be avenged.

When Aditya Chopra stumbled upon the decimated camp, she vowed to hunt down the men who killed her sister. The stench of burnt flesh and the taste of death in the air haunt her dreams and power her lust for vengeance. She will show no mercy.

The men of Savage Security served their country. They’d done their time in the sandbox and now enjoy their peaceful lives in the States, far from the death and mayhem of war. Will living in peace blind them to the dangerous threat that’s poised to strike?

About the Author

Karen Tjebben lives in central North Carolina with her wonderful husband, twin daughters, and two hamsters. When her girls left for kindergarten, Karen discovered that she needed to fill her days with something, and that was the beginning of her writing career. She loves to create worlds filled with unique characters that she hopes will delight and raise goose bumps on her readers. In her free time, she enjoys traveling with her husband and seeing the world through her daughters' eyes.

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The Book Knights by J.G. McKenney

YA Fantasy
Date Published: July 5, 2017

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When her parents are condemned to death by Morgan Fay for the crime of reading, Arti Penderhagen becomes a fugitive. Hunted by Mordred, the sadistic police captain who recites poetry to enhance his physical strength, Arti escapes to the Isle of Avalon, a sanctuary for outlaws. There she meets an old librarian named Merl who tells her about the Grail Tome, an ancient book in Morgan Fay's possession that can alter the course of history. Can Arti steal the book in time to save her family?


The fire crept across the floor, devouring paper and carpet, gaining momentum as it spread. A thick, black smoke filled the room, rolling over itself like a storm cloud, ravenous flames growling hungrily as they climbed. A moment later, there was another sound: a deep, drum-like thudding, barely audible above the burning tempest. A lower section of the shelf separated from the wall, and a row of hard covers slapped the floor. More books cascaded to the carpet, and a groping hand emerged.

The girl coughed violently, retching as she labored to breath amid the thickening blanket of smoke. She squeezed out from behind the book case, reaching back to pull a duffel bag from the cavity, pushing aside the dish, cup, and utensils her father had cast into the void in the rush to hide her. The bag held provisions, preparations made for a day they prayed would never come.

Making sure her vidlink was in her pocket, she lifted the hood of her sweatshirt and with eyes clenched shut, crawled across the floor, dragging the duffel bag. Scalding heat seared her throat as she gasped for air, her face and hands feeling like they were on fire. Gulping a mouthful of acrid smoke, an intense wave of nausea washed over the girl, and she fell against the wall of books. She was helpless now, certain she was going to die.

As the firestorm raged, her mind floated away from the horror. She was a young child again, sitting on her father’s lap, following his finger as it traced words on the page. She giggled and squirmed with excitement as the story unfolded, peeking ahead, eager to find out how the tale would end. Her mother leaned toward her from the adjacent chair, her smiling face awash in the light of the reading lamp. This is our secret, Arti. You can’t tell anyone. She could hear herself answer, I promise.

When the story was done, she reached across with her tiny hand and closed the book’s cover. She smiled up at her parents expectantly, waiting to say the ritual words together. And they lived happily ever after.

From somewhere in the cloud of her delirium, Arti Penderhagen heard the books on the shelves call to her, drawing her back to the present. Words echoed from their pages, guiding her hand along their bindings, showing her the way out.

About the Author

J.G. (John) McKenney is a writer and teacher. His first novel, EON'S DOOR, received the 2012 Reader Views Reviewers Choice Award, and was also a finalist for the Eric Hoffer Award.

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Reading Addiction Blog Tours

Friday, October 20, 2017

Blackmoore By Marcus James Haunted Halloween Spooktacular & Giveaway

The Blackmoore Legacy
Volume 1
Marcus James

Genre: Gothic horror/paranormal romance/
M/M romance/supernatural

Publisher: Candiano Books

Date of Publication:  06/08/2017

ISBN: 1547266651

Number of pages: 416
Word Count: 127,046

Cover Artist: Ransom Graphics

Tagline: The Devil shall come for his witches...

Book Description:

Welcome to South Hill, a neighborhood of wealth, secrets, gracious Victorians, and austere manor homes overlooking the port of Fairhaven and the dark waters of Bellingham Bay. Seventeen year old Trevor Blackmoore has lived here is entire life, shunned and feared, along with the rest of his clan, by the elitist and superstitious families that surround them and who regard the Blackmoores as the devil's concubines.

As a young clairvoyant dealing not only with the dark secrets of his family but also with his homosexuality-two things which have made him an outsider-he struggles to find normalcy. Trevor's life is made extremely difficult by his tormentors and former childhood friends Cheri Hannifin, Greg Sheer, and Christian Vasquez; the school gods of the prestigious Mariner High School. His only saving grace is Braxton Volaverunt, a captivating young man with secrets of his own.

A diabolical plan sets in motion a chain of events that will fulfill the doomed prophecy of the Blackmoore family. A centuries old curse comes to an end, releasing an ancient and bloodthirsty evil, set on wiping out the family, and Trevor learns that he is at the center of it. Realizing that he is all that stands between this darkness and his family's survival.

"2017 E-Festival of Words award winner for Best Literary Fiction"

The last rays of light pierced through those familiar parted drapes, rich and green, the light like a beam, piercing the air of a particularly dim room, particles of dust visible in the bright intrusion, causing Trevor’s eyes to squint closed, the corners of the lids creased, lines running together. He hated reflecting on the school day, hated having to reflect on the people there—the same people that had played in his backyard all throughout childhood, those same people who now looked down on him and considered him to be nothing more than an infringement on their privileged world.
He closed his eyes, ignoring the gentle brush of vibrating air, hot and somewhat moist, caressing his forehead. It was simply Jonathan, his childhood friend, the only one who continued to stay by his side, the only one to truly know Trevor inside and out. Like all things in one’s secret world, everything breathes the air of your own life.
He drifted back into dreams: dreams made of memories, dreams of a time when Trevor belonged, dreams made strictly for childhood.
“...Three, two, one, ready or not, here I come!” Little Trevor Blackmoore opened his tiny lids, his delicate lashes fluttering like moths’ wings, adjusting to the bright summer light, standing in his back courtyard, the red flagstone reaching from one end to the other, leaving no room for grass. On the flagstone were two black wrought-iron benches and three sets of black wrought-iron tables, with four chairs each, decorated with tiny white candles inside little glass candle-holders, the Fourth of July party preparing to start.
Kathryn was inside of the house, most likely in the sun room chatting with friends, all of them with drinks in hand, laughing and speaking of adult things while their children played hide-and-seek in the back. Four maple trees reached out strategically in the back, no more than twenty feet in height, and strung about with Chinese lanterns; no doubt someone was hiding behind the trees.
Trevor was determined to catch one person in particular: Christian Vasquez, who always made it to home base, which was the carriage house along the road, now his mother’s secret place, a place that was secured with three padlocks, a place that Trevor had only seen once and could only vaguely remember.
It was a place that had smelled wonderfully and sat illuminated with firelight, a place of plaster eyes, and a place that filled him with fear and peace all at the same time. A strange combination that was often confusing, even now, even though he at this point was intimately aware of the mirrored world, the place of trance-words and things named Jonathan—the most familiar place in all the world.
‘I know where they are...’ he said to Trevor in the secret language of the mind, in the voice that only Trevor could hear, touching him with the flesh that only he could feel.
“Where’s Christian?” Trevor was scanning the courtyard, trying not to look conspicuous, wanting to be as nonchalant as possible, well aware of the danger of people knowing too much of him. He felt that vibratory hand graze his shoulder and grasp his arm, directing it to the appointed area just behind the drapery of Virginia creeper along the thin wood fence, slowly rotting away with erosion and the growing weight of the plant.
‘There....’ Trevor nodded casually and made his way between the trees, running lightly along the flagstone, his little tennis shoes tapping on the brick, seeing the others pop out of hiding. Cheri Hannifin brushed past him in her blue jumper and brown pigtails, giggling inanely to herself. Little Greg Sheer was not far behind, wearing a pair of jean shorts and a black t-shirt with the Batman emblem on the chest, his golden hair bright like the sun, and his blue eyes were not unlike his mother’s: steely and cool.
But he could care less about either one of them. Trevor only wanted Christian, and with his specter’s help he was going to get him.
The air smelled of the sea and barbequed meat from the back kitchen, as well as from the fire pits in the surrounding yards. The collective clouds of smoke and the fragrance of charred flesh filled the warm summer air and carried itself on the cool breeze. Trevor crept behind the carriage house.
“I found you, I found you!” he called repeatedly, his little index finger pointing at the little Hispanic boy crouched behind the green and rope-like plant. A little smirk spread across his face, followed by a wink, and then he was off, both boys laughing as Christian made his way to home base, confident in his success and spotless hide-and-seek record.
Trevor watched as the vibratory form of Jonathan moved in front of the little boy and stood his spectral ground, pulling energy from Trevor as well as the earth, making himself as firm as possible, causing Christian to run right into his phantom gut, bringing the little boy to a halt and not allowing him to move.
For a brief moment Trevor just stared, fearing that Jonathan would become visible to the others. Normally he looked like nothing more than the heat that vibrates from metal, looking wavy and somewhat like gas, but in this new solidity Trevor feared discovery. He realized rather quickly that no one could see him, so Trevor ran.
“You’re it!” Trevor declared, placing his hand on Christian’s shoulder, causing the boy to look at him in brief disappointment, but like all things with children, this disappointment was passing. The four children continued to play, as other kids began to arrive.
Trevor’s cousins and fellow classmates from Lowell Elementary arrived, ready to join the existing game or form a new one altogether.
Trevor was wary of Jonathan’s presence, knowing that he wasn’t the only one who knew about spirits. In fact, it was a well-known thing in his family, and his cousins had their own strange secrets much like Trevor, but completely individual in their form.
The soft whisper of his name forced Trevor back into the present.
The light of day was fading fast, and his room was becoming darker by the minute, and Jonathan was growing desperate, commanding attention. The curtains were pushed open by male hands, visible in the dark; in fact, all of Jonathan was visible in the dark.
Standing at a steady six feet and three inches, dressed in a tweed suit made of shadow, a strong face with prominent cheekbones stared out on the front lawn. Translucent white skin, like well-polished marble, big oval black eyes deep and endless, absorbing all of the light, his dark hair well-groomed, styled much like Trevor’s and making this specter, this familiar, look incredibly beautiful, sharing secret desires with Trevor Blackmoore, desires named sinful by any God-fearing human being. Thankfully Trevor had no fear of God; in fact, God was a foreign concept to Trevor.
‘You need to be dressed for dinner....’ His voice always seemed like a whisper, trailing off, and never with question. That was one of the things Trevor adored about Jonathan.
 “I know.” Jonathan nodded and went to Trevor’s closet, pulling it open and removing a crisp white shirt and fine black slacks draped over a wood hanger, laying it before Trevor on his bed. The spirit went to his chest of drawers and pulled out a pair of white briefs and his black dress socks, laying them out atop the shirt and slacks.

Trevor stood and lifted his shirt from off his head, his nipples becoming erect at the moment of Jonathan’s touch, those spectral hands moving along his body, those ghost-lips upon his flesh, slowly moving down his chest, trailing along defined abs and pulling open his jeans. Trevor’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as his exposed body found its way back onto the mattress, indulging in the familiar routine.

About the Author:

“Some writers have great ideas, but fail with the delivery. That is not the case for our author. He has clearly developed his craft and whittled it to perfection”-Wesley Thomas, bestselling author of Nightmare Fuel

Marcus James is the author of five novels, including The Blackmoore Legacy series. He has contributed to a dozen anthologies from Alyson Books, has been a featured writer for the Seattle Gay News, is the host of Brews and Books at Ravenna Brewing Co. and is host of Queerly Spoken. When not writing he’s cooking, drinking champagne like water, and watching horror films with his husband and their Staffordshire terrier, Nikita. He is 32 years old and lives in Seattle.

“Meet a Rogue at Midnight” By Gina Conkle Blog Tour & Giveaway

Meet a Rogue at Midnight 
(Midnight Meetings Series, Bk #4)
By Gina Conkle

A Saved Scoundrel…

Jonas Bacon Braithwaite wants to make peace with his grandfather before departing England. Once Nottinghamshire’s favorite trouble-maker, he’s since become an upstanding man of honor. But, the lushly curved thief hiding in his bedchamber makes him think twice about one last conquest.

A Stubborn Siren…

Livvy Halsey bristles at life’s rules. Always has. Sneaking into the Braithwaite house to reclaim a treasured family heirloom is one way she upends the conventional life that awaits her. Duty demands she marry. But what harm is there in having a little fun with her childhood friend before the Twelfth Night ends?

And Twilight Temptation…

Stolen kisses fan hot flames. Surprising passion intertwines with friendship…but will it be enough to last forever?

(NOTE: This book will be a full novella. Please ignore the page count listed on Amazon.)

Available for purchase at


“He is a fine man, but I’m unofficially betrothed,” she said, speaking above the clamor.

“It’s a business arrangement. My family duty. Friendship is all that Jonas and I have.”

Humph! Did the good Lord put Adam and Eve together for commerce?” The proprietress fisted the rag on her hip. “A business arrangement makes cold comfort in your bed. A woman should count herself lucky to marry her best friend.”

“But Jonas doesn’t want to stay in Plumtree.”

Mrs. Bainbridge groaned. “All men need their minds changed. It’s the first lesson of marriage, luv. Convince your blue-eyed pirate to stay, and if you can’t, go with him.”

She balked. “Leave Plumtree?”

“Come now, you’ve never been missish. There’s a whole world out there. You ought to know that from helping your father.”

True. She was bold in every other aspect, yet when it came to Jonas, her heart thudded and her legs stuck in place. Behind her, the room was cleared. Fiddle music hummed the first notes of a reel. Shoes scraped the floor as men and women lined up.

“Do you want him?” Mrs. Bainbridge asked.

“I do.”

“Then don’t stand there like a lost lamb.” The proprietress shooed her away. “Go after him.”

She rushed to the door and snatched her cloak off the hook. Throwing open the door, horses and humble dog carts cluttered the village road outside. A few coachmen tarried in the cold, hands cupped over their mouths. The skies were clear, a thousand stars glimmering from heaven.

Where was he?

She ran to the middle of the road and spun around. She hadn’t asked how Jonas came to the inn. By horse? One of the carts? Or did he borrow the Captain’s flat cart once used to deliver furniture?

Hooking the frogs under her chin, she called out to the coachmen. “Pardon me, gentlemen, have you seen a tall man in black exit the inn?”

“A big gent.” The coachman tapped his ear. “Had a gold earring right here?”

“Yes, yes! That’s him.”

A lanky arm stretched to the east end of the road. “He went that away, miss.”

She barely said her thanks before grabbing handfuls of her cloak, her legs pumping hard.  She sprinted up the road, leaping over deep ruts. Tight stays manacled her ribs. There was nothing lady-like and proper about her mad dash through Plumtree. The main road curved east with a fork heading north to Halsey and Braithwaite land. She took the northern turn, and it was there she spied Jonas, his stride eating up the road. Blast it, but he was fast.

“Jonas!” she yelled, her run easing to a trot until she stopped.

He halted his progress and slowly, slowly turned around. Her feet were made of lead, and her heart lurched. Lungs billowing, she let go of her cloak and smoothed it if only to occupy her hands. Jonas stayed put, all six feet and several inches of him. The brim of his hat shaded his face, yet she felt his blue-eyed gaze rake her from head to toe.

A shiver skipped her spine.

Was it possible a man’s hostile stare could stop a woman in her tracks?

Midnight Meetings Series

About The Author

Writer of Viking and Georgian romance, which makes for interesting characters in my head. I grew up in Southern California and despite all that sunshine; I love books over beaches and stone castles over sand castles. Now I live in Michigan with my favorite alpha male, Brian, and our two sons where I’m known to occasionally garden and cook. Living in where there’s snow is the perfect excuse to lose myself in reading and writing.

You can find Gina at


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Thursday, October 19, 2017

Flesh by Laura Bickle Tour & Giveaway

Laura Bickle

Genre: YA Horror

Date of Publication: September 19, 2017

ISBN: 9781537857992
ASIN: B074XBJ697

Number of pages: 307
Word Count: 76,573

Cover Artist: Danielle Fine

Book Description:

The dead are easy to talk to. Live people, not so much.

Charlie Sulliven thinks she knows all the secrets of the dead. Raised in a funeral home, she’s the reluctant “Ghoul Girl,” her reputation tied to a disastrous Halloween party. But navigating her life as a high school sophomore is an anxiety-inducing puzzle to her. She haunts the funeral home with her parents, emo older brother, Garth, their pistol-packing Gramma, and the glass-eyeball-devouring dachshund, Lothar.

Chewed human bodies are appearing in her parents’ morgue…and disappearing in the middle of the night. The bodies seem tied to a local legend, Catfish Bob, who has resurfaced in the muddy Milburn river near Charlie’s small town. When one of Charlie’s classmates, Amanda, awakens in the cooler as a flesh-eating ghoul, Charlie must protect her newfound friend and step up to unravel the mystery…and try to avoid becoming lunch meat for the dead.

Pronoun          Amazon          iBooks

BN          Google Play      Kobo

Glittery Ghoul Donuts
By Laura Bickle

When I saw vampire donuts come across a friend’s Facebook feed, I knew that I had to give them a try. I’ve had my own share of Pinterest disasters, to be certain, but I think this is something I can handle. The worst thing that could possibly happen would be that I’d have a dozen mangled donuts, right? I could eat all the evidence before anyone was the wiser.

1.         I gathered my materials. I picked up a dozen glazed donuts, a bag of plastic vampire fangs, and a package of candy eyes. For fun, I got some edible glitter. I originally thought I might make sparkly vampire donuts with silver glitter, but decided to get green so that the completed creatures would remind me more of ghouls.

2.         I squished some vampire fangs into the donut holes to make mouths.

3.         Then I added the candy eyes. They stick very well into the donut glaze.

4.         Then I dusted the donuts with edible green glitter. I was pretty pleased with my green choice…they seem particularly monstrous.

5.         And ta-da! A horde of flesh-eating ghoul donuts!

I’m counting this as a Halloween craft win. Do you have any Halloween crafts you’re going to make this season? Any raven wreaths, bat cookies, or carved pumpkins on your agenda?

About the Author:

Laura Bickle grew up in rural Ohio, reading entirely too many comic books out loud to her favorite Wonder Woman doll. After graduating with an MA in Sociology – Criminology from Ohio State University and an MLIS in Library Science from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee, she patrolled the stacks at the public library and worked with data systems in criminal justice. She now dreams up stories about the monsters under the stairs, also writing contemporary fantasy novels under the name Alayna Williams.

The latest details on her work are available at:

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Delightfully Witchy by Acacia K. Parker Tour & Giveaway

Delightfully Witchy
A Delightfully Witchy Novel
Book One
Acacia K. Parker

Genre: Paranormal Romance /
Action and Adventure

Publisher: Parker Publishing

Date of Publication: 9/14/2017

ISBN: 978-0-9989444-4-9

Number of pages: 417
Word Count: 135,000

Cover Artist: Acacia K. Parker

Tagline: Not everyone is good at being a witch.

Book Description:

Looking for true love? Having dreams you need to recall more clearly? How about that pesky curse that just won’t go away? Let Delightfully Witchy Herbal Shop conjure up the perfect charm for you!

Meet Emerson Harper—herbalist, shop owner, witch—exceptional at the first two, not so much on the last. She finds there are perks to living a quiet life, especially when those perks involve Lincoln Summers walking into her shop asking for a rare Stone. Powerful, wealthy, and famous, she finds it hard to resist selling him what he seeks when those dazzling blue eyes of his linger a little too long.

What Lincoln failed to mention, however, is someone evil is looking for the Stone; a witch who now has Emmie in his sights. Luckily, Emmie made more of an impression on the sexy stranger than she realized, and when he comes to her rescue she finds herself suddenly pulled into Lincoln’s world of dark magic and buried secrets.

In the fight to reclaim their lives—and save the world from a deranged witch hell-bent on destruction—Emmie is thrust into a journey of mystery, peril, and self-discovery, only to learn that sometimes . . .

All magic needs is a little push.


I awoke screaming and scared, feeling like I was locked in that trunk again, bound and unsure of the outcome. I was dazed. I knew I was awake, but it was still hard to tell what was real. I felt the mattress underneath me, and the clothes that smelled of spices and were faintly musky and sweaty. There was a light beside the bed I could turn on to show that I was perfectly safe. None of that mattered, though, because I was frantic, tears falling down my face, trying to get out of the confined space that had me caged in.
Someone was talking to me, calmly and evenly. Whoever it was grabbed my arms and lifted them, moving me so my back was to a chest, clearly not my sister’s. I yanked my arms to get free, but whoever had me was too strong, the voice continuing to speak, telling me I was all right, that I was safe, and there wasn’t anything to be worried about.
“Emmie, it’s just a dream, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Lincoln. It was Lincoln’s voice that finally trickled through, and I realized where I was. He had his arms wrapped around me, holding me still so I wouldn’t hurt myself—or him, for that matter. My head was somewhere near the crook of his neck as I craned it back, looking up at the black ceiling, its endless depths forbidding and ominous. Tears fell, my breathing was labored, and my heart raced. He never moved, even as my legs kicked the blankets away, hating myself for allowing this to happen.
When I finally got myself to calm down, Lincoln turned me and without a word pulled me into a hug. I wrapped my arms around his waist, listening to his heartbeat as it hammered violently in his chest. With his head resting on mine, I barely felt the stubble scratching at my forehead, abrasive but welcome.
“You scared me.” His voice was throaty, like he’d just woken up himself. “Are you okay?”
“I think so,” I managed to say, pulling back, noticing the light on the nightstand was on, dim in the darkness. “I’m so, so sorry. That was—”
“Expected . . . considering.” He shrugged, his hand on my shoulder as I wiped the tears off my face.
“I guess it’s a good thing I don’t sleep naked,” I giggled, trying to lighten the mood.
“I think that depends on who you’re asking.” He smirked.
And I blushed, of course. I was feeling all warm and cozy with his hand still on my shoulder and then I noticed he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Good Lord. Trust me, it was everything I ever thought it would be. No, it was definitely better. He was perfect; chiseled chest, washboard abs, thick arms, and a dark line of hair leading from his belly button until it disappeared underneath his pajama pants. I’m pretty sure if I kept looking I was going to start drooling, literally, and that would be . . . just no. 
“What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing! It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing,” he said, raising his brows.
“It’s not important,” I answered nervously, biting my lower lip.
“Are you sure?”
“Yep.” I nodded. “I’m sure.”
“Ok.” He squeezed my shoulder lightly.

About the Author:

Acacia has been what some may call a "gypsy" for most of her life. With her father serving in the Air Force for twenty years, she's enjoyed many different homes in many different states, with a decent portion of her life lived overseas in Germany. Always one to be creative, she has been drawing since she could write, and writing has become a passion of hers since her teenage years where she discovered she loved telling stories and creating eccentric characters.

Currently residing in Phoenix, AZ with her husband Shawn and their two golden retrievers, Boomer and Sookie, the duo find any excuse to enjoy the weather (when it's permitted), and you can often find the them scuba diving (their favorite place is the Florida Keys), hiking, visiting one of the many beautiful lakes Arizona has to offer or finding winding, dirt roads to discover. Unfortunately, it's not all fun and games. A good chunk of Acacia's time is taken up to complete her Bachelors in Business Management at Grand Canyon University - although procrastination does ensue.

In her writing adventures, Acacia hopes that one day her stories may inspire others to follow their dreams - no matter how crazy they may seem.

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