Showing posts with label Contest. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Contest. Show all posts

Thursday, December 1, 2016

12 Days of Giving





Join Lia Davis and guest authors as they wish you a happy holiday season!

Authors will pop in through out the day they are scheduled on and post a giveaway.


Lineup of Authors (subject to change).

12/1
S.L. Stacker
AJ Anders 
Danielle Annett
Vella Day​
Ruchi Kalra​
Shannon Nemechek​ 
Louisa Bacio​
C.E. Wilson
Katherine McIntyre
Jennifer Purdy​

12/2
S.L. Stacker
Vella Day
Ruchi Kalra
Nicole Morgan
TL Reeve
C.E. Wilson
Alex E. Carey
Jennifer Purdy 
Piper Davenport

12/3
S.L. Stacker
Christa Ann
Elizabeth Raven
Vella Day
Lyn Forester
Jennifer Purdy 
Tabitha Conall 
Dianna Wyles

12/4
S.L. Stacker
Christa Ann
Vella Day
M.E. Rhines
Lyn Forester
Sheena Binkley
Jennifer Purdy
Savannah Verte 

12/5
S.L. Stacker
Julie Morgan 
Nicole Morgan
T. A. Moorman (ME!!!)
Gracen Miller
Katherine McIntyre
Sheena Binkley
Jennifer Purdy 

12/6
S.L. Stacker
Elizabeth Raven
TF Walsh
Julie Morgan 
AJ Anders 
Danielle Annett
Georgia Lyn Hunter
Jennifer Loring
TL Reeve and Michele Ryan
Jennifer Purdy 
Sadie Grubor

12/7
S.L. Stacker
Julie Morgan 
Nicole Morgan
Jennifer Loring
Gracen Miller
Jennifer Purdy 
LK Shaw​
Tabitha Conall
Dianna Wyles

12/8
S.L. Stacker
Ruchi Kalra
TL Reeve
Louisa Bacio
Georgia Lyn Hunter
Anna Lowe
Alex E. Carey
Katherine McIntyre
Jennifer Purdy 

12/9
S.L. Stacker
Ruchi Kalra
Layna Pimentel
N kuhn
Gracen Miller
Jennifer Purdy 
Piper Davenport
Jeannette Keats
Sadie Grubor

12/10
S.L. Stacker
Christa Ann
Layna Pimentel
Lyn Forester
DJ Shaw
Jennifer Purdy 
Tabitha Conall

12/11
S.L. Stacker
Christa Ann
Layna Pimentel
Danielle Annett
TL Reeve
Kerry Adrienne
Jennifer Purdy 

12/12
S.L. Stacker
Elizabeth Raven
Savannah Verte
AJ Anders 
Shannon Nemechek 
T. A. Moorman (ME!!)
TL Reeve and Michele Ryan
Deena Remiel
Jennifer Purdy
Sadie Grubor

Tuesday, May 26, 2015

Spotlight: Secret Voices


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Title:   Secret Voices
Series:  The Spirit of Destiny Series, Book 3 (Standalone)
Author:  Lynn Donovan
Published:  March 31st, 2015
Publisher:  AltWit Press
Genre:  Paranormal Mystery
Recommended Age:  13+

Synopsis:

The voices in Keisha’s head know where her fiancĂ© has been left for dead, but who will believe her?

Keisha Moore has a secret which has been kept hidden her entire life. But when her fiancĂ©, Clifford Valdez, disappears and the authorities dismiss it as lovers’ remorse, she has to tell somebody. Can she make anybody understand the four voices in her head are real, and they know where Clifford has been taken? How can she save the man she loves without revealing her deepest secret?

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | GoodReads

Excerpt from Secret Voices by Lynn Donovan:

No Word from Clifford

At six oclock Keisha pulled left-over muffins from the display case and sacked them up for the freezer. Clifford hadnt called or texted all day. A gnawing sensation burned in her stomach. Where was he? She scanned the street through the bakerys plate-glass windows. Every call to his cell phone had gone to his voice mail. Another call to the office itself reached the new receptionist, Gloria, who had seen him come in after his morning classes, but hadnt seen him since. But of course, according to Clifford, she was so overwhelmed learning his old job, Santa Claus could have come in and she probably wouldnt have noticed. Keisha had asked for his voice mail and left a message.

An empty feeling stayed with her as she locked the front door and exited out the back.

Deidres voice sounded muffled and sing-song. An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. Tit for tat and all of that.

What? Are you drunk, Deidre? Keisha drove home without the radio on. She wanted to be able to hear her phone chime when Clifford called.

How could I be drunk?

Dont know. How can you talk to me in the first place?

Point taken.

Somebody needs to shut up! Abbie jeered in a sing-song imitation.

Shell figure it out eventually, Deidre replied back but still in the sing-song tone.

Its not your place! Abbie sang.

What? Keisha turned onto her street.

Silence.

What will I figure out eventually?

Silence.

You guys make me so mad, sometimes. Keisha shoved the front door open and stomped into her house. This was another gift from Rose after she married Zeke, the deed to Roses parents house. Keisha let her purse drop onto the bench in the mud room, the entry area of the house, and hung up her coat. Glancing at her phone again, with no text reply or missed calls, she decided to call Pastor V.


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About the Author:
Lynn Donovan spends her days chasing after her muses, trying to get them to settle down and behave long enough to write down their words and actions. The results have produced short stories published in anthologies: The Clockwork Dragon, Different Dragons II, and Supernatural Colorado. Lynn’s full-length novels include The Wishing Well Curse, Thorns of Betrayal, and Secret Voices. She has also published Rocking Horse Shadows, and Christmas Grace, Signing Seeds. Other stories are hovering out there somewhere, so keep a look out for Fertility Pirates, Echoes from the Loft, and White Blossom Cottage.

Lynn enjoys reading and writing Christian, Paranormal, and Speculative Fiction. But you never know what her muses will come up with for a story, you could see a novel under any given genre. All that can be said is keep your eyes open, cause these muses are not sitting still for long! Oops, there they go again…
Giveaway Details:
There is a tour wide giveaway. Prizes include the following:
Print copy of The Wishing Well Curse, Thorns of Betrayal, and Secret Voices. (1 winner US only)
a Rafflecopter giveaway
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Monday, May 25, 2015

Guest Blog: The End? Really? by Marcia Colette

Stricken
Alexa York 
Book 2
Marcia Colette

Genre: Urban Fantasy

Publisher: Purple Sword Publications

Date of Publication: 5/6/2015

ISBN: 
ASIN: 

Number of pages: 167
Word Count: 66,020

Cover Artist: Traci Markou

Book Description:

Personal tragedy convinces half-werewolf Alexa York to get away to the town of McCormick, Pennsylvania where she's charged with protecting Dr. Aiden Joss, physician to the supernatural community. Not only does she need the money, she needs the distraction. Unfortunately, she gets it in spades when Joss's personal issues and a myriad of dangerously sick patients make her new job nearly impossible. 

A mysterious disease is running its way through the New York Order of the Amazons and leaving bodies in its wake. The same warrior who had chosen her clan over Joss has asked for him help. Even though the disease is real, Alexa has reason to believe his ex's sincerity is not.

Given the other numerous problems she has to deal with that are outside of her job description, Dr. Joss might be the biggest threat to his own safety. But, protecting him comes first. That’s difficult to do when his efforts to find an antidote put everyone in his remote clinic in danger, including Alexa. 

Available at Purple Sword

Excerpt: Chapter One

Present day. 

I stood on the porch of Dr. Aiden Joss’s luxurious home irate as hell. Someone was supposed to meet me at the airport in Philadelphia. I ended up having to take a cab because all of the rentals were booked from the only airport about twenty-five miles from the small town of McCormick, Pennsylvania. The taxi driver must have mistaken me for an oil baron with the fare he charged. He ended up having to leave me at the front gate because the intercom was busted. Thankfully, being a human hybrid had its advantages. After tossing my duffle over the ten-foot wall, I followed by leaping over. Some security. 

The downpour turned my black, wavy hair into thick tresses snaking down my neck and upper back. Sadly, my duffle bag was just as pitiful as I looked, since it wasn’t waterproof. I’d exercised more care when picking out my purse and laptop bag. 

The front door opened. A tall, bulky man who looked like he missed his calling as an NFL linebacker stood against the golden glow of the interior. His face was criminal-hard, though something in his dark eyes said otherwise. He wore a white shirt and jeans with a brace around his left knee. He blinked. 

“Oh, boy.” He hurried to unlock the storm door and let me inside. “You must be Ms. Alexa York.” 

I struggled getting past him with my wet duffle, carry-on and my drenched clothes clinging to my cold body. “I am. I take it the phones don’t work around here.” 

He took my stuff and set it aside. “The power has been flickering all night. They just got the lights back on about three minutes ago. The phone is Internet, so when the power goes out, everything goes out.” 

I unzipped my sodden jacket. “I get it. No phone, no phone calls. Which is why I was stuck at the airport.” 

He sighed. “Again, my apologies, ma’am. With so much going on, I only had a chance to worry about one thing at a time.” 

I glanced at him before answering. So much going on? The house was quiet and not a soul in sight. What could’ve possibly had him too busy to pick me up when he knew I was coming? Heck, I was here to be his replacement while he was on the mend. If he didn’t want me here, forgetting me at the airport or not sending a car to pick me up worked in his favor. 

He offered his hand to me. “My name’s Sammy. I’m Dr. Joss’s med tech and assistant.” 

“Med tech?” I looked him up and down. “But I thought you were his—” 

He chuckled. “I’m really his assistant. I’m only his bodyguard when I have to be. And given the kind of world that lies beyond those gates, I find myself playing the latter more often.” 

I closed my eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry if I sounded a little crotchety, but—” 

Sammy waved a large hand. “No need to apologize. I’d be a lot more than pissed had I been in your shoes. Speaking of which, let me show you to your room so you can get some dry clothes on.” 

Snorting, I glanced at the puddle forming around my duffle. “Dry clothes, huh. That would be nice.” 

“No worries, Ms. York. I’ll find you something.” 

“It’s Alexa, by the way.” Those close to me called me Lex. We weren’t there yet. 

“Alexa, then.” 

My room was upstairs on the second floor along with five other bedrooms. Every piece of furniture was stained pine and sitting against light blue walls. Thankfully, I had my own private bathroom. When I looked out the bathroom window, light was coming from the woods somewhere behind the trees where it shouldn’t be. 

I sure hoped Dane had told me everything I needed to know about this so-called mission. I would hate to learn something the hard—painful—way. Though that would never be his intention, I also knew his idea of what information was important to know was different from mine. 

Had it not been for Wesley Dane, a full-blooded werewolf friend of my family, I wouldn’t be here to play bodyguard for one of his closest friends. It wasn’t the thousand dollars a day, tax-free money for my services that had brought me here. I needed the distraction more than anything. 

“So, how much do you know about me?” After snuggling into a thick, warm robe I found hanging on a hook, I dried off my hair with a towel and opened the bathroom door. 

Sammy was still there, though keeping his distance by waiting in the hall. I thought it was weird, but whatever, seeing as this was more his house than mine. “Enough,” he replied. “You’re half-werewolf, which is extremely rare. You’re also married, which means either your husband, who’s a full-blood, or Dane is going to tear Dr. Joss apart if anything bad happens to you. Although, that sort of defeats the purpose of you being the doctor’s bodyguard.” He half-smiled. 

“Are you expecting me to be torn apart?” 

“No.” He chuckled. “But I expect you’ll be put through the wringer.” 

Guest Blog:
The End? Really?

Many authors look forward to typing those words "The End" at the end of their manuscript. The story is over, all loose ends (for the most part) are resolved, and the hero and/or heroine are happy for now. I've always imagined my favorite authors sitting back with a huge smile on their faces and thankful that Fate is on their side, as they've met their ferocious deadline. 

The end has never been "The End" for me. That doesn't mean I don't so things like celebrate my accomplishments in some minor way. I always treat myself to a few days of rest before I start that next story or I have that dessert I normally don't eat. After slaving over a book that has most likely taken me from an emotional high to an emotional low and back to that high again, I deserve something to regain my sanity, right?

For me, even though "The End" has come, it doesn't mean I stop thinking about a story. Thousands of questions bombard me. Do I want a sequel? Do I want to make this a series? Do I want to leave it at one book and explore a spin-off world? Stricken, though you might think it’s a first book, is actually a second book in my Alexa York world. Stripped was published by a different publisher back in 2009 (I think), so this second book is a long-time in the making. That wasn't planned—I swear. And if you're really curious, there was another book that featured Alexa York that was released back in 2006, which was my very first contracted book. That one is in the process of being rewritten for submission to my publisher for a re-release (fingers crossed my editor likes it). Let's face it. I'm Alexa York's biggest fan girl. If all goes well, there will be a fourth book, too. In fact, I'm in the process of writing a story for Alexa's sister Genevieve that will also be an urban fantasy with romantic elements. And thanks to Stricken, I'm toying with the idea of a spin-off series. 

You see? There's really no true "The End", as I suspect is true with other writers, too. Ideas are always churning and molding in our brains until we finally have a chance to put fingers to the keyboard. Series like Women of the Otherworld by Kelley Armstrong took thirteen books. Charlaine Harris's Sookie Stackhouse series is another one. Kim Harrison is still forging ahead with The Hollows, thank goodness, though I'm a few books behind and desperately need to catch up. How long has Harry Dresden been around? Woohoo!

Sure, there comes a time when an author has to put "The End" on a series. But as long as readers keep reading, it'll be a while before we authors truly stamp "The End" on our books. As a reader, too, I’m extremely grateful for that. 

Thanks for indulging me!



About the Author:

Author Marcia Colette didn’t discover her love for reading until her late teens when she started reading John Saul and progressed to works by Bentley Little, Stephen King and Laurell K. Hamilton. Her reading tastes convinced her to write paranormals where curses cause people to shift into spiders, psychotic and telekinetic mothers are locked away in attics, and murderous doppelgangers are on a rampage. Let's not forget about the hunky werecheetah coalitions who live throughout North Carolina. As long as she can make it believable, that's all that matters.

Born and raised in upstate New York, Marcia now lives in North Carolina with her mom and beautiful daughter. They’re not raising zombies in the backyard. There aren’t any hellhounds living in the den, only a rabbit and a cockatiel. So where she gets her ideas is as much a mystery to her as anyone else.

The best place to find her--when she's not stirring up trouble--is on her blog where she loves connecting with readers.

www.marciacolette.com

http://marciacolette.wordpress.com/

http://twitter.com/MarciaColette

https://www.facebook.com/marciacolette

http://www.goodreads.com/marcia_colette



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Thursday, May 14, 2015

Blog Tour: Clearer in the Night



Clearer in the Night
By: Rebecca Croteau

Cait’s used to being an outsider. The odd girl out, the one with the alcoholic mother. The one whose sister and father died. The one who might just have telepathy. These things she could manage, could hide just enough to get by. Now a werewolf’s bite forced her outside the whole human race.

Two men -- the one night hook-up who shows up at her hospital bed, and the rescuer worker who may be following her -- seem to know more about her condition than she doe … and about this strange world of magic she’s pulled into. As Cait plunges into this darker reality, painful secrets of her past are churned up and she’s forced to confront her new identity. Torn between the between the sweet and too-hot-to-be-true Eli and possessive, darkly sensual Wes, Cait must decide whom to trust and which side to choose... before it’s too late.

Buy Links:
Amazon   iBooks   B&N   Kobo   Google Play


Excerpt 

“You shouldn’t have gone. You should have stayed where I could see you.” She was twisting the hem of her cardigan in her hands. The buttons hadn’t been done up right. Her eyes were wide, staring.

“Mom,” I said, approaching her like I approached a kid crying at drop-off time—hands out, and with a soft smile. “I’m sorry you were scared, but I just went for a run, and then I went into town to check in with Sarah, and make sure everything was okay.”

“You could have disappeared. Just like them. Vanished, no trace, and everyone thinking you’re dead.”

I stared at her for a long minute, then reached out a hand and put it on her arm. She jerked it away, and the pictures rattled on the wall again. “Mom. Dad and Sophie are dead. They died when Dad drove his car into the lake.”

She gave me a look of pure and total disgust. “Their bodies were never found.”

“Because our lake is silty and impossible to search. When you swim, you can’t even see your feet at the end of your legs. The coroner said that there was no sign that anyone got out of that car alive, Mom. They died. A long time ago.” I put my hands on her, and she shrugged them off, harder.

“That’s because someone stole them from us, Caitlyn. I thought you knew that. No wonder you’ve hated me all this time. You thought I drove them away, but they were stolen. Stolen from us.” She was smiling now, earnest and lit up from the inside. My stomach, however, was in knots.

Author Bio


Rebecca, Ree to her friends, lives with her family in the wilds of New England. She is owned by two cats, and enjoys discovering the various ways that one can enjoy string. She is fueled by coffee, and strong autumn breezes.

Author Links
Pinterest: ReeCroteau
Google+: ReeCroteau
Twitter: @ReeCroteau


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Tuesday, May 5, 2015

Guest Post and Spotlight: 2 Worlds 2 Men


BLURB:

Jocelyn and Neely are having a perfectly pleasant dinner at the Sheep Heid Inn when it happens: Jocelyn suddenly finds herself sitting across the table, not from Neely, but a strange man dressed in medieval garb. This man is no apparition. His eyes, the deepest brown, clearly look on her in intimacy; his touch causes her pulse to rise.  Jocelyn realizes two things: from his clothes, he is clearly an aristocrat, and that she, Jocelyn Stewart, seems to be in some sort of romantic relationship with him! Minutes later Jocelyn returns to Neely, in the present day, weak and terrified. Together they begin to unravel the forgotten past and find themselves facing the reality of medieval Scotland. A strange world steeped in folklore and superstition; where life begins and often ends with the sword. 

As Jocelyn travels back to medieval times she learns that the man she keeps seeing is no other than Sir Colin Campbell of the powerful Campbell Clan. When Jocelyn is with Colin, she wants never to leave his side; then she returns to the present and cannot imagine herself with anyone but Neely. Jocelyn struggles with a choice. 

Which man will gain her heart when both offer such different love? She is in love with two different men in two different worlds.


Excerpt:

Jocelyn looked around for the driver who was supposed to be waiting for her arrival with a sign. She had hired someone to pick her up because, as an American and first-time visitor to Scotland, she had figured it would be less stressful.

She didn’t see the driver anywhere; then, just as she started feeling nervous, she saw a man holding a sign with her name on it. And what a man he was! He was broad shouldered, strong and had dark brown hair with reddish tints. He exuded masculinity like some cologne, and even across the airport, she thought she could smell it. Smoothing her unruly hair, she started to walk over to him.

The man, seeing her approach him, took a step toward her. “Are you, Jocelyn?”

When he spoke her name, she found herself frozen in place unable to respond. She’d heard this voice before; she knew this voice. This man spoke her name exactly like the dream she had had all those years ago! She had been stirred awake in bed by a voice of a man, who spoke her name with a Scottish accent. His voice was gentle and low; as if he wanted to gain her attention, but not cause her alarm. Jocelyn had clutched the sheets to her chest and stared out into the darkness of her bedroom almost feeling his intimate presence beside her. She lifted her hand up to her ear having sworn his warm breath had brushed her skin. Jocelyn remembered she had turned her head, anxiously, toward the pillow next to her and almost thought she would be looking into the eyes of a stranger; yet she had not been frightened. This man, his voice, somehow comforted her.

Now, she stood in the airport and caught her breath as she faced the man before her. Her eyes searched his face for something; though what it was she wasn’t sure. Jocelyn felt her heart beating so fast she was certain the man could hear it as memories flooded her mind of that night so long ago when he or someone spoke her name in the darkness. Was that the reason for her vacation to Scotland? Was she unconsciously trying to find the man?


“Have you always been a fan of Paranormal?” 
By Joy Frawley

As a kid I remember being inspired by Paranormal stories, such as C. S. Lewis’s The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. I was totally smitten with the idea of walking into a wardrobe that led to another world filled with strange creatures and adventure. What child wouldn’t want a talking lion as a friend and protector? However, I had no idea that one day I would write my own Paranormal adventure with Two Worlds Two Men. 

For me, the attraction with Paranormal stories is that we can be transported into a completely different realm. There are no limits or boundaries to imagination. When we read a standard modern day story we can somewhat predict what kind of lifestyle the characters live such as housing, foods, and the workplace. We often have those same habits or features in our own lives. When reading Paranormal the reader breaks free of probabilities or the ability to necessarily know what is going to happen next. In Two Worlds Two Men the reader goes back and forth between modern day Edinburgh and medieval Scotland. Most of us, myself included, do not have firsthand experience in the lifestyle of a woman in the medieval Highlands so that aspect alone leaves the reader somewhat uncertain what features he/she will read next. I find that exciting. Paranormal is fun on both sides, both as a reader and a writer, because our imagination is one of the most unique aspects of humanity. Having an outlet like Paranormal books gives us all an opportunity to stretch that imagination to whatever limits we allow ourselves. What do you feel like today? A bit of futuristic space travel or maybe a trip back to King Arthur’s court? Whatever your poison may be you can rest assured you will find that passion quenched in a Paranormal book. 


AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Joy Frawley is an author and writer of the upcoming romance novella; Two Worlds, Two Men due to release on October 2014 by Resplendence Publishing. Joy lives in beautiful Traverse City, Michigan relishing in living the life of the classic “townie” with her two dogs Piggs and Diggs. 



Buy Links:




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Saturday, April 18, 2015

Artist Spotlight: Eric Armusik

Self Portrait by Eric Armusik

Eric Armusik and his beautiful wife Rebekah Armusik have been one of my greatest inspirations that made me pick up art and writing once again. Now I am asking you to pick up your phone and/or mouse and vote for his dark and fabulous artwork in an online self-portrait contest. 

As most of us in this culture know, many artists and authors who delve into Gothic works are not Gothic themselves. This dynamic duo are indeed the genuine thing. So please show your support and help his dark light shine.


Artist Bio:

Born in 1973, fine artist Eric Armusik grew up in the northeastern coal region of Pennsylvania. Once one of the largest coal mining operations in the county, his hometown was a landscape riddled with the depressions of post-industry. In contrast to the blight was a diverse ethnic community strong in faith. What the community lacked in public art and museums it made up for it with churches on each city block. It was there that Eric had his first experiences with art, staring at the walls and ceilings at church on Sunday. The traditions and academic realism of Catholic religious paintings and artwork made a permanent impression that continues to influence his work today.

From an early age it was evident that Eric had artistic talents and at the age of 10 he won an art competition "Why I love living in the Wyoming Valley" that included students from all of the surrounding schools and his drawing of the Swetland Homestead was exhibited in the Franklin First Federal Building in downtown Wilkes Barre. His talents continued to win him numerous competitions and in 1990 he was awarded for his Contribution to the Arts by Wilkes University where he attended their Upward Bound program. In 1991, Eric attended Pennsylvania State University, where he earned a B. F. A. in painting, with and a minor in an art history focusing on Baroque art. In 1995 he received the Margaret Giffen Shoenfelder Memorial Scholarship for the Arts and finished his art history minor abroad for a semester in Todi, Italy. During his art classes there he drew from original paintings, architecture and sculptures by the old masters such as Michaelangelo, Bernini, Caravaggio, Rubens and Donatello. The rare opportunity to study masterworks by Baroque painters Caravaggio and Artemisia Gentileschi had a profound effect on the quality of his work and focused the inspiration he experienced as a child. After years of learning the techniques of the old masters Eric honed his skills at the Philadelphia studio of renowned international realism artist and portrait painter Nelson Shanks, Studio Incamminati. Today Eric's paintings have established him as one of today's strongest purveyors of traditional figurative painting. In 2010 he won the Chairman's Award for the Sixth International Art Renewal Center competition out of 1700 submissions from over 30 countries worldwide. Eric conducts several workshops in traditional painting each year and has attracted students from around the world that come to study with him.

Eric's work has been featured in such galleries and museums as the Salmagundi Art Club and the National Arts Club in New York; Allentown Art Museum; Philip and Muriel Berman Art Museum, Ursinus College; Monsoon Galleries; Hoyt Institute of Fine Arts; State Museum of Pennsylvania; and Reading Public Museum to name a few. In 2003, Eric was selected to represent the United States in Florence, Italy at the Biennale Internazionale Dell Arte Contemporanea where he exhibited several of his paintings. His paintings are in the permanent collections of Howard Tullman, The Trenton City Museum, Lehigh Valley Hospital and several churches private collections worldwide. His artwork has been prominently featured in publications like The New York Times, Wall Street Journal, Chicago Tribune, American Artist Magazine, American Art Collector, Victorian Homes, Old House Journal, and ArtMATTERS.

Eric is married to his soulmate, Gothic novelist Rebekah Armusik , and they have three beautiful children.


2 WAYS TO VOTE: 

1)  Click the link: http://bit.ly/1NKCu02
Check your inbox or junk mail folder to confirm the vote - VERY IMPORTANT or the vote does not count!!!

Or if you get an error for any reason there is a little more indirect way to vote but it works:

Then hit VOTE NOW
Scroll down and enter "armusik" in the search window
Vote for my painting
Check your inbox or junk mail folder to confirm the vote - VERY IMPORTANT or the vote doesn't count!!


WORKS OF COLLABORATION OF THIS DYNAMIC DUO
Covers by Eric combined with the darkly talented words of Rebekah.





Thursday, April 2, 2015

Book Blast: Charlatan's Magic

CHARLATAN'S MAGIC
by Patrick Bran

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BLURB:

Love, Trickery, Murder. All are abundant in the Jewel City. Ben is a schemer and a pickpocket. He knows the city well...and he is torn. Does he betray the woman he loves? Does he have a choice? Will he follow his heart, firmly in the grasp of the beautiful Athena, or give in to the unsavory life he knows?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Excerpt Two:

Athena ran for the door, aching to be on the other side where it could hide her. They would hear her weeping for certain. She rushed through and slammed it shut, just as the pain in her eyes became too much to bear.

“It’s all so stupid,” she sobbed. “Just a long day.”

There would be more of the same tomorrow. Sometimes it got to be too much. When father was alive there was always someone there to take on the burdens. She loved her brother, but Nikolas was not that man.

She thought of Ben, the stranger sitting with Nikolas in the other room. It was his tune on father’s lute that had brought the tears. For a moment she thought she might look over and see father sitting at the hearth. She had glanced that way, but of course…

The two were not so similar. Ben was tall and thin where her father had been stout. Nikolas got his boisterous laugh from father, yet she doubted Ben could speak above a whisper. It must have been his kind eyes that brought on the memories.

Athena struggled to control the sniffling aftermath of her tears. She felt an itch in her ear, a soft sound she couldn’t make out through the door. Was it music? Yes. She opened a crack and listened. Her eyes closed as she leaned her head against the doorjamb. She could almost see Ben’s fingers on the strings. He had merely been toying with the instrument before. He had been holding back.

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Bio:

Patrick Bran spent much of his early life moving around. He traveled from the Middle East to Antarctica by way of the US Army. When he returned home to Washington State, Patrick quickly began what would become a lifelong involvement in theatre. His work in stagecraft eventually took him to Washington DC, where he built scenery for a nationally-renowned regional theatre. When progress demanded it, Patrick left the scene shop and took the reins of the theatre's young web presence, a job he has been doing for more than a decade. Patrick still lives in Washington DC with his wife and two daughters. He writes fiction and gets his best ideas from ancient history, myth and the legends of the past.



Links:

Twitter: @PtkBran

Amazon Buy Link: http://amzn.to/1BxFHOu


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Tuesday, February 3, 2015

Virtual Book Tour: Heir of the Dog

Link to follow tour: http://bippityboppitybook.com/heir/ 

Title:  Heir of the Dog 
Series & Number (or Stand Alone): Black Dog # 2 
Genre: Urban Fantasy 
Heat Level (sweet to erotic): sensual 
Author: Hailey Edwards 
Pages or Word Count: 213 
Publisher: Self-Published 
Publish Date: 30 January, 2015 
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BLURB:

When the wrong fae answers her summons, Thierry finds herself saddled with a royal pain bent on making her life difficult. Well, more difficult. Her ex is back in town, her best friend is heartbroken and to top it all off, the Faerie High Court has issued her a summons.

Black Dog is missing, and the only hope of negotiating a truce between the light and dark fae vanished with him. Eager to avoid another Thousand Years War, the High Court reached out to the one person they believe can track him down–the daughter who shares his curse.








Quinn’s startled bellow when my magic threaded through his veins to his heart was deafening.

My ears rang as much from his screams as the collapse of his charm. Moonlight filtered through the fading tendrils of darkness, casting faint light between the squat buildings sandwiching the alley. 

Glittering bones, each one picked clean and most gnawed to splinters, littered the street. Tossed aside like trash to rot among the wet newspapers and crumpled soda cans. Hard to know who or what left those behind. They weren’t troll kills. That much was for certain. They weren’t fresh kills, either. 

Trolls were opportunistic. The odds Quinn had squatted in another fae’s territory were high. Yet another use for that blackout charm. Tack it up, say a Word to activate it, and the charm did the rest. 

Power that rich could make any spot with a kernel of darkness blossom into an abyss.   

One corpse, the girl whose disappearance tipped off the conclave about our rogue troll problem, sprawled in a heap of broken limbs. The toothpaste trick didn’t work as well on humans as it did on fae. Poor kid. I hated breaking bad news to parents who actually cared whether their children lived or died.

The troll’s wheezing forced my attention back to him. Enough stalling. Time to finish this.

“By the power vested in me as a marshal of the Southwestern Conclave, I condemn you to death for your crimes against humanity.” I gritted my teeth until my jaw ached and braced against the coming pain. “Your soul will now be extinguished and your remains claimed by the Morrigan, as is your right as a subject of House Unseelie. If you have sworn fealty to another deity, and if you wish your remains to be an offering to them, speak their name now or forever hold your peace.”

I took his silence as consent and willed a pulse of magic through the runes contacting his skin. A heartbeat later, searing heat cut across my jaw, a scalpel-sharp ache zigzagging past my temple and over my scalp. Razors slashed under my skin with every wicked slice my magic dealt O’Shea.

I hated this part, the severing of a soul from its host, the trimming away of the fat of life and the cauterizing of immortality. Fae were built to weather eternity. Few grasped true death in any context.

But we were all tangles of muscle and bone, flesh and blood, heads and hearts, weren’t we?

We could all die if the time was right. Sometimes we did even if it wasn’t.

I held O’Shea’s terrified gaze while the top layers of his skin peeled away from muscle like ripping off an old bandage. I owed him that. I was ending a man’s life and could damn well look him in the eye while I did it. The vicious teeth of my magic savaged his soul, rent the tatters of his self and devoured it whole. 

Pleasant warmth suffused my limbs, sating the darker part of me who stared at carnage a little too long, watched each death a too closely and enjoyed a soul-induced high just enough to shove me spinning down a shame spiral only one person could stop. 

I wish Shaw was here.

No. No, I didn’t. Sure he might pull me out of my guilt tailspin, but that meant talking to him, and if he got me on the phone, I knew what he would want to talk about. Us. Except there was no us. Not anymore. 

The troll’s pupils had faded to milky white. He was an empty shell suspended by an intricate web of misery. Magic knifed under his flesh, jolting his corpse, seeping out his pores until his skin released with a wet kiss of sound and puddled at his ankles where the pinky-white folds withered into a dried husk. 

What remained was a meat and bone sculpture of troll musculature ready for disposal. Time to ring the dinner bell.

Before gloving my hand, I tugged a quarter-size silver medallion from my shirt by its chain and palmed the cool metal. Rubbing a rune-covered thumb across the triskele stamped into its center, I summoned the Morrigan.

A breeze smelling of wood smoke and embers ruffled my hair. A pulse of black magic beat in the air before me. The ball of swirling mist drifted on the breeze. That…wasn’t right. 

A carrion crow swarm that blotted out the sky then swooped to encircle an offering in a cawing black feather tornado complete with glowing ruby eyes? That was more her style.

This was something else—someone else. But who had the balls to claim her feast in their name?

I lowered my hand to my side where its luminescent threat remained visible.

“You summoned the Morrigan.” A thickly accented voice throbbed across my skin.

“I did, and you aren’t her.” The cadence of those words shivered through me. “Who are you?” 

“Whoever you want, a stĂłr.” His chuckle was worse, all buttery rich and inviting. Dangerous.

“I’m not your darling.” I raised my left hand. “By whose authority have you answered my call?”

A moment of silence passed. “I am the Morrigan’s son.”

“The Raven,” I breathed. 

Her son and heir, Raven, an Unseelie prince. A prickle of unease quivered along my nape. A prince in the mortal realm. What on earth had lured him here? And did the conclave know? They had to, right? The prince must have used a tether to get here, and for visiting dignitaries, that required permission from the Faerie High Court on his side and the Earthen Conclave on this one. 

Straightening my shoulders, I gestured toward the body. “Then you are welcome to your feast.”

“Who do I owe for this offering?” Amusement throbbed in that nebulous swirl of magic.

“Thierry Thackeray.” Not my Name, but a name nonetheless. 

“Tee-air-ree.” He dragged out each syllable as if savoring the sound on his…well, he had no lips in this form.

“Let me grab this…” I knelt and rolled up the troll’s skin, “…and I’ll leave you to it.” Tucking the proof of death under my arm, I saluted the magic blob. “Enjoy your feast.”

Eager to put Raven behind me, I turned on my heel and strode toward the mouth of the alley, tugging my glove back in place. His mother tended to rip off limbs and gnaw on them like chicken wings instead of, oh, I don’t know, someone’s arm. I shuddered and kept on walking. However her son chose to dine, he was doing it alone. 

“I will savor every bite.” His voice dogged my heels. “Go bhfeicfidh mĂ© arĂ­s thĂş.”

Until we meet again.

Heir of the Dog: Copyright © 2015 by Hailey Edwards used with permission.


Author Bio: 

A cupcake enthusiast and funky sock lover possessed of an overactive imagination, Hailey lives in Alabama with her handcuff-OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA carrying hubby, her fluty-tooting daughter and their herd of dachshunds.

Her desire to explore without leaving the comforts of home fueled her love of reading and writing. Whenever the itch for adventure strikes, Hailey can be found with her nose glued to her Kindle’s screen or squinting at her monitor as she writes her next happily-ever-after.


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