Guest Post by Angela Brown

Beacon

Ripped Ties, Book 1

Angela Brown

Evernight Teen, Released Nov 21^st., 73K

Romance, Dystopian, Urban Fantasy, Interracial

Tsunamis reduced the USA into a shell of itself, called The Fold. Surviving humans and vampires joined forces to form The Colony, where registered citizens do as their told.

They donate blood quarterly and dream of being chosen as Attendees for the Jubilee celebrations, that is, everyone except Macie Breen. With high school graduation near, she’s anxious to ditch the rules in hopes of starting a new life with Thane, an unregistered and also her best friend.

Her hopes fizzle when Macie is selected as an Attendee, forever registered. Any future with Thane…impossible. Being chosen comes with another unexpected price.

Truths about The Colony blaze into ashes and lies when she discovers the vampires haven't kept their part of the bargain. Worst still, Macie’s life unravels as her stint in the city of Bliss forces her to face daunting truths about who, and what, she really is.

Buy Links:     Evernight Teen    Amazon    All Romance eBooks

Excerpt:

As promised, a tent hid in the darkest corner. I could barely make it out. Although my long sleeves kept me warm, the inside of the tent felt cozy, quaint and much warmer since it blocked out most of the wind.

“Didn’t think you’d make it.” He offered me a seat on a pillow. I thought that was nice, because I didn’t much like the idea of sitting on the ground.

“I try to be a girl of my word…I mean, when I can.” Breaking my promise about donating still irked me. All I could do was hope he understood. Although we never promised to share every little thing with each other, we practically did. Keeping the bike incident from him needled at my heart. I wanted to tell him, but I still didn’t know how to explain it.

“You’re right, Macie. We got different situations. I shouldn’t have asked that of you in the first place. I overreacted. I’m sorry.” He pulled his pillow closer and sat beside me. The tent grew warmer all of a sudden.

“Good. I’d hate to lose my only friend over something like that.” I tucked a few loose strands behind my ear. I had my hair down the way he’d said he liked it. That was important to me. He was important to me. Since the day he found me hiding in this very same spot, eight years ago––a little girl crushed, confused, and alone––he’d become so much more than a friend. I wanted him to know, so badly. But how to say it?

I checked out the rest of the tent. Small packs of smoked meat and cheese. Two solar powered holo-visors he probably bartered to get for us, green lit and fully charged. They probably had some cool movie from the banned list on them…hopefully a horror one. There was even a flower. A flower?

“Look, can I confess something to you?” His question pulled me from my little survey and stopped my heart. Maybe I wasn’t alone in feeling something special between us.

“Sure. Go ahead.” I gathered my hands in my lap to hide my trembles. I don’t know why I was so nervous. It was just Thane. Okay, so yeah, maybe that was why I couldn’t still my pounding heart.

He cleared his throat. “I’m not sure how you’ll take it.”

My body fought every command. Don’t look at him. That failed, as my gaze trailed the leanness of his arm. His skin held a soft glow, a moonlit cascade that clung to him like an aura. First time I noticed it.

Don’t stare at him. That failed, too.

He took my silence for listening. “I didn’t know what to expect when I first met you. You were so young, innocent, and beautiful.”

The air grew shallow. A breath stuck in my throat. Don’t look in his eyes. Quicksilver pulsed, radiating as I failed that command as well.

“We’re not kids anymore, Macie. You’ve learned what little The Colony had to say about the vampeer, wights and devil spawn. There’s something else they’ve hidden from you. From all registered citizens. I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time why we met. Just how special you really are. But you won’t want to be my friend anymore once you know the truth. Losing you would be…”

Words trickled from my mouth unfiltered. “I, what do you mean I wouldn’t…”

He turned to me, chewing his bottom lip. The last time he did that was the day I broke first blood.

We were playing at knight warriors, a favorite of ours since we were kids. I thrust my wooden sword forward. It clattered to the ground as I doubled over from a sharp spasm in my stomach. I tried to shoo Thane away, deal with the pain on my own. But, noticing the grimace on my face––I really tried hard to be quiet, but I cried out anyway––he wouldn’t have it. When he glanced at my yellow cargo pants, he chewed his bottom lip, eyes wide. My gaze trailed down to the bloody mess I’d become. My face couldn’t have flashed hotter if I set it on fire.

Now he was doing it again, chewing his bottom lip. What could he possibly have to say? He opened his mouth to speak when the tent flap ripped away. We jerked our heads around to face a tall being covered in shaggy, brown fur from scalp to hoof. A shadowy glow encircled it like a dirty aura. Two arms protruded from both sides. Jagged teeth crowded its mouth. Drool leaked down its chin. Reptilian eyes shone bright white with a red slit down the middle. One set of eyelids blinked side to side as the second set followed up and down. It snarled, spat and drooled some more. My bladder felt one moment away from losing it.

“Frag me,” I whispered, as my world collapsed into a nightmare.

Guest Post

Personal Paranormal Experience

Life has a few guarantees. One is the mystery of the unknown.

With so many things in our lives that don’t fit into some snug easy-to-categorize box, it’s no wonder that we are intrigued by things we simply cannot explain. For example, do ghosts really exist? Are their spirits lingering in the plane of the living having difficulty transitioning to the next phase after life? I haven’t had a personal paranormal experience. But…

***My mother, God rest her soul, died in the fall of 1996. I was barely into my sophomore year at University of Memphis - TN when her passing occurred. To say losing her triggered years of subpar living I oft wish to wipe from my memory is an understatement. However, one thing that will remain in my memory is returning home one evening to find a woman sitting on the porch, her leg bopping nervously. I had little to no regard for the woman because she’d accepted moving into my mother’s bedroom, sleeping (whether sex was involved or not, I didn’t care) in my mother’s bed with the person who was supposed to still be grieving for my mother since she’d barely been gone a month.

I asked, “Why are sitting out here?” Mind you, sarcasm dripped from every word. I didn’t care, was just curious because it was kind of chilly out.

She looked at me with shifty eyes, her leg still bouncing like it had its own agenda. She looked away then answered, “I can’t go back in that house, in that room. Your mama’s there.”

*cue the Twilight theme song*

I just had an older cousin who was close to my mother tell me she’d had a long conversation with my mother a couple of days after she died. And another relative mentioned my mom visiting with her for a little while. So when this lady says this, I’m no longer curious, I’m seriously intrigued.

“Why you say that?” I ask. 

She folds her arms like she’s finally cold, leg stuck doing its nervous jig. She looks at me with wide eyes. “She’s in there. I know it. I was wrong. I know. I shouldn’t’ve come here but I was desperate. I needed a place for me and my babies, just for a bit. But your mama, she let me know it’s time to go. That lamp had no good reason to move ‘cross that dresser. It shouldn’t’ve broke on the floor. I’m sorry. We leaving. We leaving tonight.”

I scoot on past her, go inside and see that she has, indeed, packed her and her kids things. I can’t help myself, so I slip down the hallway and open my mother’s door. The lamp is broke to pieces like it was slammed hard against the carpeted floor. There’s no other soul in the house, at least none living.***

If that had happened to me, I’m sure I’d be making my way out of the house as well. Just as ghosts can’t be pinned to one generic box, there are other things in life we may find difficult to explain.

For the main character in my novel, Beacon, she has an uncanny ability to heal and experiences something in the first chapter that leaves her questioning who, or what, she really is.

Author Bio:

Born and raised in Little Rock, AR, Angela Brown now calls Central Texas home. She's a lover of Wild Cherry Pepsi and chocolate/chocolate covered delicious-ness. Steampunk, fantasy and paranormal to
contemporary - mostly young adult - fill her growing library of books.

Mother to a rambunctious darling girl aptly nicknamed Chipmunk, life stays busy. Her favorite quote keeps her moving:  "You may never know what results come of your action, but if you do nothing there will be no result." ~ Mahatma Gandhi. She's released Neverlove and They All Fall Down of the Shadow Jumpers series, Frailties of the Bond and Atone of the NEO Chronicles, and BEACON, a YA urban fantasy dystopian published by Evernight Teen publishing.

Contact links:
e-mail: tomewriter@gmail.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AngelaLBrownWrites
Twitter: https://twitter.com/ALBrownwrites
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6476148.Angela_Brown

*****

Giveaway:  $25 Evernight Teen Gift Card

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Virtual Book Tour and Guest Post: Devils in the Dark

Devils in the Dark

(The Devil in Miss Drake's Class, 1)

Marcus Damanda

16+ / horror/paranormal/27K

To most of the Facebook 15, bullying Audrey Bales was just a game—until two deep cuts with a Swiss army knife changed everything forever. Audrey didn’t want attention anymore. After five weeks at Fairview High School, Audrey wanted to die.

The doctors did the only thing they could with her: they put her away.

But in Fairview, Virginia, the nightmare is only beginning. The chat session had not gone unobserved. The Facebook 15 have drawn the attention of an ancient evil that lives only to punish those who would prey upon the weak.

They are the ghosts of 1,000 dead children—1,000 suicides—and their master…

Their master likes Audrey Bales.

Buy Links:     Evernight Teen    Amazon

Excerpt:

Underneath the blackened veil of her powered-off monitor, the comments kept coming, kept taunting her.

The observer had stopped watching. He leaned back in his chair, head upturned to the ceiling, eyes closed, still eating. The overripe apple had a worm in it, and he sucked it down.

He projected his sight outward, miles and miles from his little home. He didn’t know where he was anymore.

Somebody’s house. An empty room. A closet.

Here he first saw the girl, the one they were tormenting. Her Facebook icon had shown only a skull and crossbones. In real life, she might have been pretty, if she had not worked so hard to hide it.

Familiar too. Something in her eyes and her lips.

She was close, very close, to a bad decision.

She was imagining the ghost of her brother and talking to it, opening boxes that contained his possessions. She listened to him speak words the observer could not hear. Oh, he wished he could. From this distance all he could hear was the pain inside of her, the loneliness, screams within whispers. An oncoming storm.

It made him angry on her behalf.

He returned his gaze to the real world of his apartment. The five of them were still chatting, their cruel banter punctuated by internet abbreviations and emoticons, calling for Audrey-Bear to say something, say something….

More joined the chat.

He shook his head.

You deserve to die, he thought. All of you.

****

Audrey returned to her bedroom and closed the door. This time, she broke a house rule and locked it. She put the blanket back in place and thumbed the monitor back on.

It was nearly one in the morning, yet the number of people on Cody’s page had tripled. Stranger still was the activity coming through on her end.

She gazed in bewilderment.

Benny Talbot has sent you a friend request.

Heather Roberts has sent you a friend request.

Ally Watson has sent you a friend request.

Gabriel Daniels has sent you a friend request.

Eleven requests, all kids from school. Most of them had sent her personal messages too. Some were fake-friendly, some openly mocking. Most pretended to rally in her support, as if they had somehow stumbled upon this Internet lynching by accident, all at the same time, and were offended by it. A virtual party had gathered in Cody’s little corner of cyberspace, and Audrey was the game they were playing.

Had Maggie called or texted them all out of bed?

“Creative,” she said. “You’re really good at this.”

She wasn’t crying anymore. In fact, she was perfectly calm. With the ghost of her brother standing by her side, she set his old Swiss Army knife—he’d gotten it for Scouts, before he had quit—next to the keyboard.

Click Accept, her brother said. For all of them. Now, before they give up and start to log off.

She accepted them all, and the result was chat room bedlam. The comments came faster than she could read. Evidently this was the very height of hilarity.

And, naturally, as soon as she had accepted them all, one-by-one, they unfriended her, and posted.

Just kidding!

Sry! Changed my mind!

What an idiot!

Inspired, she clicked the Like button over every comment. Then, ignoring the perplexed responses to that maneuver, she got to work.

She retrieved the gym shirt from under her bed. Most days this particular item of attire would have remained a crumpled ball in her P.E. locker after school, but she’d had to wear it all day, and so it had come home with her.

“Turn your head, Alex,” she said, as if he were really there.

And as if he were really there, he answered. Not looking, not looking.

Once she had the shirt on and smoothed it out, she sat back at her desk, got out her cell phone, tied her hair in a tail, and took a picture of herself.

****

When the first picture appeared on Cody’s page, the observer knew exactly what was coming. He’d seen it before. The details differed each time, but the common threads were easily picked out: theatrics, spite, spectacle—and from the other end, disbelief. Then there would be panic, frantic attempts to undo the damage, and afterward, there would be remorse.

From most of them.

The picture was off-center. The girl was smiling, posing. The mascara tracks on her face looked like war paint.

Val: OMG, she’s postin selfies!

Cody: Give us a twerk, emo.

How they didn’t see what was coming, the observer could not fathom. But that was part of the pattern too. Bullies, as a rule, didn’t get it until it was too late—for the victim, or less frequently, for themselves.

The observer was truly torn. On the one hand, if she went through with it, she’d set him free. He had made contact with her, though she didn’t know it, and he was the oldest within the host. After many, many years, it was his turn, and he would finally learn what lay beyond this purgatory. But on the other hand, he felt bad for her. He really did.

“Let’s go,” he said to the screen. The suspense was killing him. “What’s next, Audrey?”

A second picture came up even as the first was being liked and shared by nearly everyone on the page. This one silenced most of them.

Audrey was holding an unfolded pocket knife against her cheek with one hand while the other took the picture, still smiling, tilting her head.

At first, the only comment came from Maggie: Drama. Whatever.

Audrey responded: Stick around. This is for your benefit.

Everything slowed down, then. Time rolled out like an empty rug, the Facebook page inert and dead. Minutes passed with nothing.

Then, Val: Audrey?

Still, nothing.

Val again: Audrey, don’t be dumb. Come on.

Five minutes became ten.

Maggie: She went to bed. She wants us to worry all night. As if we would.

After fifteen minutes of relative inactivity, the final picture appeared.

*****

Author Bio:

Marcus Damanda lives in Woodbridge, Virginia with his cat, Shazam. At various times throughout his life, he played bass guitar for the garage heavy metal band.

Mother’s Day, wrote for The Dale City Messenger, and published editorials in The Potomac News and The Freelance Star. Currently, while not plotting his next foray into fictitious suburban mayhem, he spoils his nieces and nephews and teaches middle school English. 

Find Marcus Damanda here:

Website: http://www.marcusdamanda.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MarcusDamandaAuthor?ref=hl

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MarcusDamanda

Guest Post by Marcus Demanda

The Idea Behind The Novel & The Perfect Dream Cast

DEVILS IN THE DARK, and the trilogy it launches, was written shortly after an agent rejected my work, saying, “You’re a talented writer. I might sell you, but I won’t sell your vampires.”

It’s the first non-vampire book I’ve written in ten years, and my goal in its composition was simple: tell a story no one has ever heard before. I knew it would be a horror story, and I knew the target audience would be older teenagers—but at the outset, that’s all I had.

Real-life issues with family, along with similar issues I have to deal with as a teacher, led me to the idea of cyberbullying being at the story’s core. What if a kid was driven nearly to suicide? And what if that kid had unknowingly attracted the attention of a thousand ghosts that really had, as children, taken their own lives?

Oh, yeah, I thought. Let’s go with that.

If I could cast THE DEVIL IN MISS DRAKE’S CLASS, the whole trilogy, as a movie, I'd love to see Maisie Williams in the role of our bullied hero, Audrey Bales, and Thomas Brody-Sangster in the role of Jack Maddox, master of the thousand ghosts. I know those are both GAME OF THRONES choices, but honestly, that's who I see. Williams has the full range of pathos and spunk in her acting repertoire, and Brody-Sangster conjures mystery and dread like he simply sweats it out on a hot day.

In a few years, I imagine Shailene Woodley would be old enough to play the relatively young teacher, Miss Drake. She’s the most popular teacher in the school, even though there are secrets and dark shadows in her past, and I can totally see Woodley pulling off both of those character aspects in her performance.

Give me the old, creepy rock star Meatloaf to play the equally creepy Mr. Downing. Meanwhile, Amandla Stenberg would be absolutely terrific as Monica Adams.

In my fantasy world, I'd take Linda Blair back to her 13th birthday and ask her to play Gale Hastings. Such possibilities, both with her sweetness and her ... other side.

A guy can only dream, you know?

***Giveaway:  1 ecopy of Devils in the Dark to a lucky commenter on any of the participating blogs.  

Virtual Book Tour & Guest Post: An Absence of Light

An Absence of Light

Meradeth Houston

Paranormal/Suspense/Romance

Evernight Teen/80,000 words

Blurb: 

Leah’s always seen the shadow creatures. She thought she was immune to their evil—until now.

 She’s walked into a massacre, stolen a BMW, and is running from the law for a crime she didn’t commit. Nineteen-year-old Leah’s life just went from mildly abnormal to totally crazy at lightning speed. But no one will believe that the shadow creatures are framing her for the murder, because she’s the only one that can see them. At least that’s what she thought.

 When Leah stumbles across a group who share her ability, she discovers they have something she doesn’t: a way to fight back.  

 When the group offers to teach her how to kill the shadow creatures, Leah jumps at the chance. But something is brewing with the creatures. They’re tracking down the hunters like there’s no tomorrow. Leah suspects that maybe there won’t be, and it’s up to her to make sure tomorrow comes. Because she’ll do anything to stop the shadows, including risking her life—and the life of the one she loves—to keep the world from being lost to darkness forever.

Buy Links:     Evernight Teen    Amazon

Excerpt:

A creeping tingle of coldness wound around my ankles. Something lived in there––the same things that took away my family and had stalked me for most of my life.

I didn’t have a name for them. In my head, I called them the Shadows: inky, black creatures that avoided the light, like I avoided the dark. They did things. Things that made monsters like Hitler look warm and fuzzy—or at least, less homicidal.

How they did it confounded me, but they had the ability to influence the darkness in people, to make them do terrible things. The Shadows got something from it, as if they fed from humanity’s malevolence. I’d tried to learn more about them since I realized no one else could see them, but they didn’t exist in any book, Web page, or library.

The only thing I could conclude was that they were otherworldly evil, pure and simple.

It didn’t help that lately the Shadows had been more focused on me. I’d seen more in the last few months than I had in my whole life, and they had been acting stranger than normal. They were up to something.

Plotting how to kill me, and everyone I love. I’d been so stupid not to figure that out.

As if hearing my thoughts, the Shadow sensed my presence. It crept forward to the mouth of the alleyway, a darker blotch of oily blackness that moved of its own volition. A fine tendril rose from its black mass, reminding me of a periscope on a submarine, searching.

“Crap.” I glanced around for the best way to escape. No way I could outrun the thing.

The Shadow moved into the open. Skirting the light, coming ever closer. Picking up speed. I had to get away. Now.

My heart began beating double-time and my feet froze to the ground.

A part of me wanted to step on it, like a giant slug, but it wouldn’t do anything. They couldn’t be killed that way.

I would give anything to know if I could get rid of them, to wipe them from the face of the earth. But they didn’t die. Didn’t disappear. Didn’t leave me alone.

There was nowhere to hide. They’d kill me. Just like they did my family.

Glancing at the car in front of me, my panicked laugh caught me by surprise.

Another entry for my rap sheet.

Careful to keep in the light, I hurried around to the driver’s side. Scooping up the keys, I threw myself behind the wheel. My fingers trembled as I shoved the key into the ignition.

The Shadow lurked near my door. I spared it one glance before the engine caught with a merciful roar and I slammed my foot on the gas.

The tires squealed and a trail of smoke hid the Shadow. The snaking chill, as I always felt from them, gave way and I knew I had left it behind.

There would be more, though. There were always more.

Author Bio:

I've never been a big fan of talking about myself, but if you really want to know, here are some random tidbits about me:

~I'm a California girl. This generally means I talk too fast and use "like" a lot.

~I have my doctorate in molecular anthropology. Translation: I sequence dead people's DNA and spend a whole lot of time in a lab, which I love.

~I've been writing since I was 11 years old. It's my hobby, my passion, and I'm so happy to get to share my work!

~My other passion is teaching. There's nothing more fun than getting a classroom of college kids fired up about anthropology!

~If I could have a super-power, it would totally be flying. Which is a little strange, because I'm terrified of heights.

WEBSITE, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, and of course her blog!

Guest Post for An Absence of Light

Writing Scary

Thanks so much for hosting me today! So, today, I thought I’d talk a little about writing a scary book, because An Absence of Light is a little scary. Not you’ll-have-to-sleep-with-the-lights-on scary, but still, a bit frightening at points :-).

Truth be told, I never thought I’d write anything scary. I’m a total scaredy-cat when it comes to books that have things that go bump in the night. I once started writing this half funny, half creepy ghost story about La Llorona haunting a Target store (haha, yeah, I know, silly, right?), and I got so scared I had to stop writing it. My husband forced me to go see Paranormal Activity with him, and I didn’t sleep for a week. Seriously. (He did feel bad about that…but not enough to try and get me to go see the next film. Sigh.)

Anyhow, An Absence of Light is on the scarier end of the spectrum, which is kind of a little new for me. It’s definitely leaning toward the thriller side of things, with a splash of sci-fi, but still, creepy killer aliens? They’re in there. And they’re not nice. Which I completely had a blast writing about. Sometimes letting lose with a seriously freaky creature that subscribes to a very different moral code can be really freeing. I love getting to stretch my writing muscles, and creating the world and aliens in Absence allowed for that. 

The other thing is that there isn’t a ton of suspense in Absence that we see in, say, Signs (another movie that scared the snot out of me—didn’t help that I lived on my family’s farm surrounded by corn fields when I saw it). Hitchcock is another master of the suspenseful scary. In a lot of ways, it’s that build up, the not knowing, that’s the frightening part. Or, at least it is for me. In Absence, we always know who the bad guys are, and we know what they look like, but it’s the build up to what they’re doing that’s the freaky part. (Or, I hope it is!) The not knowing comes in the form of whether or not Leah and her crew can stop the aliens, and if they’re all going to survive. Hopefully it’s the kind of suspense that will keep you reading, though maybe with the lights on ;). 

So, I’m curious: what is it that makes something scary for you? And what’s the freakiest movie you’ve ever seen?

Me? What I fear the most is for something to happen to one of my children that I cannot fix. You never know true fear, nor other emotions that you will feel so strongly you would think you had the heightened senses of a vampire, until you become a parent.

Freakiest movie?! Come now, love, that there is a fully loaded question. Also depends on what type of "freaky" you're referring too. One must be careful when phrasing those sorts of questions to me. Muahahahahaha! SMOOCHES!

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Guest Post on Sexy Villains by Catherine Stride

DORIANNA

Catherine Stine

Contemporary/Paranormal Teen Romance

Released October 24, 2014

Internet followers, beauty, power. It all sounded good. Until it transformed into a terrifying reality Dorianna couldn’t stop. 

When her father is jailed, her mother ships Dorianna to her aunt’s house. Dorianna yearns to build a new identity, but the popular Lacey bullies her—mostly for getting attention from her ex, Ander.

Ander takes Dorianna to Coney Island where Wilson, a videographer, creates a stunning compilation of her. She dreams of being an online sensation, tired of being plain and lonely, and vows she’d give anything to go viral. Wilson claims he’s the Prince of Darkness and offers her the beauty and fame she's dreamed of—warning her that a pledge has its downsides.  Dorianna has no idea of how dire those consequences might be.

EVERNIGHT TEEN     AMAZON

Excerpt:

On the way to my new school, I catch a glimpse of my face in a shop mirror. Even though I hate mirrors, I force myself to look. No one needs to remind me I’m plain.

Leaning forward, I examine my pale skin with its tracery of blue underneath. It looks like granny spider veins. And I never smile all the way. That would expose my wonky teeth—one front tooth slightly over the other. 

My hair’s limp, but it’s auburn with peachy highlights. I’ve got that going for me, at least. Lifting up a lock, I admire its warm glow in the September sun. And there’s still a hint of eagerness in my eyes––they haven’t knocked that out of me. It’s hope, whispering, “Maybe this place will be different. Maybe they won’t walk past me as if I’m floating dust.”

I’ve been here in Brooklyn for four days, shuffled away from family chaos to my Aunt Carol’s house. She’s nice so far, but I don’t really know her. It’s too bad we could never afford to fly east for family reunions. I do know she’s a fundraiser for a public radio station, and owns one floor in a brownstone. And that she eats vegetarian, and neatly folds the nubbly throws on her earth-tone Pottery Barn couch.

And she’s the sister of my screw-up father.

I’m not sorry I left Wabash. School there was a train wreck. It got so lonely, watching the reigning couples kissing their way down the halls. I wanted someone’s arms around me, too, or at least another good friend after Jen. But it wasn’t meant to be, after gossip spread that my father was sent to jail for committing moral turpitude. My mom took to her bed, and I took over. We were struck with loss and horror and shock all at once. Mom needed me last spring. I tried to help in any way I could, until she insisted that I needed a total break from the family. Or was it Mom who needed the break?

I’m going to suck it up. I am. If she needs the break, she can have it. Maybe I need one, too. I’m determined to pump myself up to face a different army of kids.

Ambling down Montague Street, past the cute boutiques, I soak in the balmy September sun and survey my new stomping grounds. These Brooklyn streets are as delicious as strawberry shortcake. The narrow shops are a wonder of necklaces, handmade with glass bits and bottle tops, and leafy bracelets fashioned from green computer chips.

The caffeine-laced scents wafting from the cyber café draw me in. As I walk by, I sneak looks at the lean, fox-quick boys with scruffy hair, low-slung belts, and tees that read Neon Pandas and Oubliettes of Onyx. Bands I’ve never heard of, since out in Hoosier Land they mostly play country music.

I smile, picturing myself talking to a slinky boy who makes me my very own playlist—he’d call it Songs for a Brooklyn Beauty. A girl can dream, right?

Turning down Court Street, a woman breezes past me in a black jumpsuit. Another dramatic beauty in thigh-high boots floats by, with two dachshunds tugging against their pink leashes. As I glance back at her, I imagine her working as a Broadway actress, dancing across a stage in those fancy boots.

Just then, one of her dogs works free of her grasp, and streaks into the street. “Hey!” I call. “Hey, pup!” I dash after it, grab the pink leather strap, and coax it back toward the curb as a bakery van careens around the corner, the driver pounding on his horn.

The booted lady runs over to me. “Thanks so much!” she says, breathless.

“Happy to help. Couldn’t let your sweet dog be hit.” Our eyes meet as I hand her the leash, and her smile touches me. I watch for another moment as she walks demurely on.

Everything here vibrates with possibility, if I block out my dread of school. It’s my chance to figure out who I want to be, which I couldn’t quite do back home. I can’t wait to let my old, stale-kernel life rot on the vine, and start over.

Reading the sign on a red colonial stone building, I sway with sudden trepidation: School. Ivy sprints up its scholarly walls, and its walkway is marked with marble planters. Each one bursts with purple chrysanthemums, as if this is the cheeriest high school ever. I’m here, no turning back. Look, you’re smart, I tell myself, you tested in and even got a scholarship here. Maybe private school kids are easier on new students. Unlikely, but I’ll give it my best.

Guest Post on Sexy Villains

I like my villains smart, sexy and devious

by Catherine Stine

I like handsome, hot villains. And I tend to like them almost better than the good guys. They need to be every bit as shrewd as the heroes. Because if they’re not, it’s too easy a struggle to overcome them, and we want the battles between protag and antag to be hard won, bloody, and brimming with breathtaking plot twists.

Why sexy, you ask? The real question should be, why not? All the more intrigue and eye-candy to capture your imagination! The hero shouldn’t hog all the good looks and muscles. Besides you never know when a bad guy might turn into a flawed yet alluring anti-hero and actually win over the fair lady’s heart. Sexy rogues abound: the Joker from Dark Knight, Loki in Thor, the Avengers; Khan in Star Trek into Darkness and Alex De Large in a Clockwork Orange. The list goes on and on.

From the very early days of badassery, both real and fictitious villains like Dracula, Jack the Ripper and Blackbeard the Pirate were outsmarting god-fearing folks all around them, and doing it with magnetism and edgy swag. Here’s a telling quote about piracy from the Smithsonian:

“Out of all the pirates who trolled the seas over the past 3,000 years, Blackbeard is the most famous. His nearest rivals—Capt. William Kidd and Sir Henry Morgan—weren’t really pirates at all, but privateers, mercenaries given permission by their sovereign to attack enemy shipping in time of war. Blackbeard and his contemporaries in the early 18th-century Caribbean had nobody’s permission to do what they were doing; they were outlaws. But unlike the aristocrats who controlled the British, French and Spanish colonial empires, many ordinary people saw Blackbeard and his pirates as heroes… fighting a rear-guard action against a corrupt, unaccountable and increasingly tyrannical ruling class.”

Part of the allure is the vigilante or outlaw aspect—the baddie gets to do all immoral, outrageous things and totally get away with it, at least for a while. Often the villain truly thinks he’s doing a service—like Dexter, ridding the world of even worse killers, or Robin Hood, stealing from the rich to spread the wealth around. Another part of the allure is a villain’s pure audacity, and let’s face it—his fabulous capes, scabbards, leather boots and gold earrings! Outsmarting someone this devious takes masterful strategy and is not for the faint at heart. 

In my YA horror, DORIANNA, the villain is Wilson, a tall, raven-haired stranger who claims to be none other than a Prince of Darkness. He’s also a videographer who, in minutes, edits a compilation of Dorianna so supernaturally beautiful it has her gasping. He paints his nails black, wears Victorian style silk shirts, and black skinny jeans to show off his long legs, and um, impressive physique. The possible tip-off to his degenerate side is his necklace with its mournful, spooky glass doll face staring out. Well, also his top hat and Voldemort cape he favors when the boardwalk in Coney is windy. Here’s a short excerpt showing just how charismatic he is to Dorianna:

As I watch the video compilation, what really throws me is that Wilson has magically changed me out of my school clothes—the pencil skirt and simple top—and into a yellow fringe bikini, barely covering my thighs. 

An immediate protest boils up. How dare he virtually strip me. But as I stare longer at the image, I realize how stunning he’s made me. This is no porn slut image. This is the masterful, painstaking work of a cutting-edge filmmaker, amplifying tenfold the glory of his muse.

“You like?” Wilson asks, clicking stop.

Muse—I roll the word silently in my mind, taste its honeyed essence. All the concerns that crowded my mind minutes ago drift off. Things like morality and conscience seem like dirty rain clouds bumping by. Life is good, I am awesome, and Wilson’s video kicks serious butt.

Placing my hand on his long, curiously delicate fingers, I whisper, “Am I your muse?” I remove my hand only when it starts to heat up, and before he gets the wrong idea that I want more. 

Or do I?

He shifts slightly in his chair, in order to line his eyes up with mine. “You could say that you’re my muse,” he admits. In his gaze, I know I could have him right now, in this room, as easily as he’s captured me on video. I could rip off his shirt and run my hands through his forest of hair. Plant a firm kiss on his lips and force them open. His tongue would taste of smoke, of musk, of infinite need. For that second, I see past his charming façade into the hunger, lodged in his soul. A lonely, desperate soul that seems to have lived for centuries, yet not quite at all—stuck in some netherworld where a virus might exist.

It takes real effort to pull away. But I have to. This is dangerous, this audacious forgetting. 

Bad guys are masters of deception, manipulation, and pure wickedness. That’s why, when the good guy finally triumphs, we truly admire and love him.

Who’s your favorite baddie and why? Do you think villains are sexy?

My Answer: Too many to name! And of course! What a silly question to ask me Muahahaha! ;-)

Author Bio:

Catherine Stine’s YA novels span the range from science fiction to dark fantasy to modern horror. Her futuristic thriller, Fireseed One was a finalist in YA and SF in the USA News International Book Awards and an Indie Reader Approved notable. Its companion novel, Ruby’s Fire was a finalist in the Next Generation Indie Awards. She also writes new adult fiction as Kitsy Clare, and her Art of Love series (Model Position and Private Internship) is about Sienna’s artistic perils in NYC. Her YA paranormal, Dorianna is her new YA horror from Evernight Teen. Catherine’s love of dark fantasy came from her father reading Edgar Allen Poe to her when she was a child. She was also addicted to science fiction as a teen. The freakier the better! She teaches workshops in writing speculative fiction and is a member of RWA, SFWA and SCBWI.

Subscribe to Catherine’s newsletter: http://catherinestine.us6.list-manage.com/subscribe?u=1fe566b1e53f7d3e95b7443e4&id=93554d599e

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Blog: http://catherinestine.blogspot.com/

Website: http://catherinestine.com

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1018139.Catherine_Stine

Amazon author page: http://www.amazon.com/Catherine-Stine/e/B001H9TXJC/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1412807948&sr=8-1

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Book Blitz: Sanguinary

A Night Shift Novel

Only fifty years left before vampires rule the world.

When Dallas police detective Cami Davis joined the city's vampire unit, she planned to use the job as a stepping-stone to a better position in the department.

But she didn't know then what she knows now: there's a silent war raging between humans and vampires, and the vampires are winning.

So with the help of a disaffected vampire and an ex-cop addict, Cami is going undercover, determined to solve a series of recent murders, discover a way to overthrow the local Sanguinary government, and, in the process, help win the war for the human race.

But can she maintain her own humanity in the process? Or will Cami find herself, along with the rest of the world, pulled under a darkness she cannot oppose?

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Forthcoming October 8, 2014

Order on Kindle:  http://www.amazon.com/Sanguinary-Night-Shift-Book-1-ebook/dp/B00MR5VGV8/


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My Top Five Favorite Vampire Books/Series

A Guest Post by Margo Bond Collins  

1. The Coldest Girl in Coldtown by Holly Black http://www.amazon.com/Coldest-Girl-Coldtown-Holly-Black-ebook/dp/B00BAXFB3C/

I loved Black’s short story of the same name and was initially a little disappointed to discover that the novel was not, in fact, a continuation of the same story but rather a new story set in the same world. But that disappointment quickly disappeared as Black’s novel drew me in. The vampires here are horrifying—and being the single (potential) exception to that rule makes the love-interest vampire equally terrifying and attractive, adding up to the kind of vicarious adrenaline rush that draws me to vampire tales in the first place.

 

2. Sunshine by Robin McKinley http://www.amazon.com/Sunshine-Robin-McKinley/dp/0515138819/

I re-read this book every year or two—I just finished the latest re-reading in November. McKinley does a beautiful job of setting up a world that is almost, but not exactly, like our own. The eponymous protagonist almost seems to ramble sometimes, but the voice is perfectly her own and the things she reveals about herself are beautifully woven back into the plot. Also, the vampires are creepy as all get-out!  

3. Quiver by Holly Luhning http://www.amazon.com/Quiver-Holly-Luhning-ebook/dp/B005BTJUHE/

Unlike most of the books I read, Quiver is not speculative fiction. It’s a psychological thriller about obsession—specifically, obsession with Elizabeth Bathory, the psychotic sixteenth-century Hungarian countess who bathed in the blood of her (many!) victims in an attempt to make herself younger. Luhning’s depiction of a dissatisfied academic pulled further into a world of horror and intrigue is both compelling and unsettling. So this isn’t really a “vampire” novel in the strictest sense—but it draws on vampire mythology in interesting ways.  

4. Guilty Pleasures (Anita Blake, Book 1) by Laurell K. Hamilton http://www.amazon.com/Guilty-Pleasures-Laurell-K-Hamilton-ebook/dp/B0030MTPU6/

This was probably the first book I ever heard called a “urban fantasy”—though the term Hamilton used for it was “paranormal mystery.” In the early novels of this series, Anita Blake, is based more on the gritty noir detective than the romance heroine. Though the series shifts toward the erotic later, the early novels are still among my favorite paranormal mysteries/urban fantasies.

5. Skinwalker (Jane Yellowrock, Book 1) by Faith Hunter http://www.amazon.com/Skinwalker-Jane-Yellowrock-Book-1-ebook/dp/B002AU7MSG/

This series has landed on my favorite vampires and my favorite shapeshifters lists. I’m a fan of shapeshifter novels in general, and of this series in particular. I like Hunter’s twist on the shapeshifter standards—in these novels, Jane shares her body and her consciousness with a big cat she calls Beast. Watching the two of them negotiating their shared life is almost as much fun as watching them work through whatever mysteries and problems come their way because of Jane’s job as bodyguard to vampires.

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About the Author:

Margo Bond Collins is the author of urban fantasy, contemporary romance, and paranormal mysteries. She has published a number of novels, including Sanguinary, Taming the Country Star, Legally Undead, Waking Up Dead, and Fairy, Texas. She lives in Texas with her husband, their daughter, and several spoiled pets. Although writing fiction is her first love, she also teaches college-level English courses online. She enjoys reading romance and paranormal fiction of any genre and spends most of her free time daydreaming about heroes, monsters, cowboys, and villains, and the strong women who love them—and sometimes fight them. _____________________________________________

Connect with Margo
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/author/margobondcollins
Email: MargoBondCollins@gmail.com
Website: http://www.MargoBondCollins.net
Blog: http://www.MargoBondCollins.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MargoBondCollin @MargoBondCollin
Google+: https://plus.google.com/116484555448104519902
Goodreads Author Page: http://www.goodreads.com/vampirarchy
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/MargoBondCollins
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/mbondcollins/

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Sign up to join the Sanguinary Blog Blitz:
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Guest Post: The Secrets About the Horror Genre

The Secrets about the Horror Genre 

About The Unholy 

"A young curandera, a medicine woman, intent on uncovering the secrets of her past is forced into a life-and-death battle against an evil Archbishop. Set in the mystic land of Aztlan, the Unholy is a novel of destiny as healer and slayer. native lore of dreams and visions, shape changing, and natural magic work to spin a neo-gothic web in which sadness and mystery lure the unsuspecting into a twilight realm of discovery and decision." 

Guest Post 

The greatest secret about the horror genre is that it is so multifarious and multiparadigmatic that it defies description. You get S. King with increasingly rich stories as he is ageing, a man who not only has lived and knows horror, but knows longing and love as is evident in his more mature stories written over the past few years especially Lisey’s Story. Then at the other end of the spectrum you get the rough and wild bad boy of horror, Edward Lee. The guy has some seriously demented characters that never ever can be redeemed. I mean what kind of character is the main character in Portrait of a Psychopath as a Young Woman? 

Horror is such a varied genre. In The Unholy you get more of a classic good guy and bad guy scenario but played out on a supernatural venue featuring the mythopoeic realm of Aztlan. This is a cultural realm with deep spiritual meaning for the mestizos of New Mexico. This is a story of church politics, culture, misogyny, and the struggle to find a sense of self within this multifarious and tormented drama. I don’t think anything short of a horror story (I won’t clean it up at this point by calling it a psychological thriller) could convey the terror of conflicting energies of culture, church, abandonment and the desperate need for courage in a world that seems like it has gone to hell in a church pew! 

I love horror and I love horror because it is so multifaceted, rich, and into extremes that pop out the realities behind the scenes of everyday life. That’s the secret of horror…it’s into extremes so as to express truth…if you got something to say, an old professor of mine used to quip, why not exaggerate to get the point across. Horror does that. The Unholy does horror and goes to extremes to pop out the reality behind what is observable.

About The Author:

Paul DeBlassie III, Ph.D., is a psychologist and writer living in Albuquerque, New Mexico who has treated survivors of the dark side of religion for more than 30 years. He is a member of the Depth Psychology Alliance, the Transpersonal Psychology Association and the International Association for Relational Psychoanalysis and Psychotherapy. Dr. DeBlassie writes psychological thrillers with an emphasis on the dark side of the human psyche.

Book Information
Name: Paul DeBlassie III
Book Title: The Unholy
Genre: Paranormal Thriller
Publisher: Sunstone Press

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