Monday, April 21, 2025

Interview - Haunting Joy by A.L. Hawke #SupernaturalRomance


Tell us a little about your latest or upcoming release.

Haunting Joy is a ghost romance about a man leaving a busy urban life to live in Plymouth Hill, a small town in the woods. He finds an amazing mansion owned by a former Hollywood pop/music star. But the house has more of a dark history than he first realizes. And when he realizes his love interest is a ghost, he finds that, not only his romance threatened, but so is keeping the house and staying in Plymouth Hill.

Have you ever based your book or characters on actual events or people from your own life?

No. They’re influenced, but none are ever actual people I know.

Is there a theme or message in your work that you would like readers to connect to?

All my stories are about the importance of companionship. Humans need love, whether by lovers or friends. My characters who have shunned this end up in their own hell. Those that realize this live happily ever after.

What would your readers be surprised to learn about you?

I’m more of a storyteller than a writer. It’s all about my characters. I play with the written word and poetry in my world building, but I feel like I’m much more of an entertainer than a poet.

When you’re not writing what do you do? Do you have any hobbies or guilty pleasures?

I write a lot. I also work on the publishing aspect of writing, which takes up a bunch of time—like working with narrators on audiobook versions, etc.

Is there a genre that you’d like to write that you haven’t tackled yet?

I’m fascinated by mystery/suspense. I think many of my books have aspects of mystery in them, but I’ve never written officially within that genre. I also like the idea of writing a romance devoid of fantasy. Maybe one day…

Of all the characters you’ve ever written, who is your favorite and why?

I like Cadence Hawthorne, the main character of my witch story. She’s kind, cautious and innocent. But I also like Elise in my science fiction duology. She’s the opposite, a complete bitch, sure of herself but still with some vulnerability.

If this book is part of a series…what is the next book? Any details you can share?

It’s not a series. To tell you the truth, I enjoyed writing a standalone novel this time. I like my share of series writing, but sometimes I enjoy starting a story and just ending it. But I did group Haunting Joy with two other of my standalone supernatural romances: Shades, Phantom Masquerade. All three are supernatural romances involving angels or ghosts.

What is next for you? Do you have any scheduled upcoming releases or works in progress?

I’m working on a prequel to the witch series. But I was working on this with Haunting Joy, so… we’ll see.

What book are you reading now?

I’m turning to the prequel to Hunger Games.


Haunting Joy
A.L. Hawke

Genre: supernatural romance
Publisher: Phantom Heart, LLC
Date of Publication: March 19, 2025
ISBN ebook: 978-1-953919-77-9
ISBN paperback: 978-1-953919-80-9
ISBN hardcover: 978-1-953919-78-6
ISBN audiobook: 978-1-953919-81-6
ASIN: B0DZMNPQHL
Number of pages: 204
Word Count: 53,000
Cover Artist: Mirella Santana

Tagline: Peace ends in the spirit of joy.

Book Description:

Alec was seeking a respite from city life. He thinks he has discovered it on Plymouth Crest, a manor overlooking the forest and a beautiful lake, golden in the sun. But Alec was warned the house is haunted by a murdered pop singer and Hollywood star.

Footsteps and howling winds soon disturb his sleep. One night, he finds an intruder, Joy, standing barefoot among broken glass in the kitchen. He chases her out. But she returns, enchanting him with laughter and boundless energy. It’s not long before Alec falls in love.

Joy ends when a belligerent character shows up and claims ownership of the house. Alec and Joy have a plan to evict him and bring some resolution to past horrors. If they fail, Alec’s dreams will crumble, and Joy might be subjected to a fate worse than death. But if they succeed, Alec and Joy might be separated forever—and so may end joy. To save Joy—and also have hope of being together—they need a bold plan, bringing them face to face with evils buried in the past, and finding a path to a shared future.

Amazon     BookFunnel


Excerpt:

With the sun’s rays shining between the green leaves of the trees surrounding the windows of his glass house, Plymouth Crest was enchanting. Gilded light shone through the leaves and branches creating yellow prism-like effects. And with all the green moss and thrush, it was enchanting—as if Alec lived in an English fae forest or Camelot, which he loved as a writer.

That was what happened during the day. But upon nightfall, all those large windows turned black. And then those same leaves and branches that covered the sunrays blocked moonlight. Then his house became very dark.

But not so quiet…

By the second week, he started hearing noises. At first, it was just stray creaks and cracks from the wood, and Alec figured it was simply the sound of an old foundation. But as time passed, he heard unexplainable things. Stray shouts and screams that sounded as if they were coming from the terrace outside. Doors opening and slamming shut downstairs. Kitchen cabinets left open. Plates and glasses being rearranged on the kitchen table. Doors left open all night. One morning, he even found the couch in the living room had been moved a couple feet. That was the creepiest. On yet another night, he awoke shivering. The glass balcony door of his bedroom was wide open. He was certain he had locked it.

As days passed, the noises only grew louder. One night a wooden chair tipped over downstairs in the dining room. Then another night, a plant was thrown from one of his tall cabinets in the foyer into the living room.

He began to not sleep. He didn’t believe in ghosts, but he couldn’t deny the noises.

Tonight, for hours, he had just stared at the white ceiling over his bed in silence. He had stared long enough for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. And after a while, the darkness made the faint moonlight that shone through openings in his dark mahogany velvet curtains seem bright.

His body jumped. His muscles reacted mechanically before he recognized the noise. It was glass shattering. Something had broken into pieces downstairs. It was so loud that he leapt out of bed and his hands scrambled along the walls to switch on the light. But the light wouldn’t switch on. That was weird because his old clock on the nightstand still read one-thirty-two in red digital letters, and the clock didn’t have back-up power. Electricity was another quirky thing about his house.

He opened the drawer in his nightstand by the bed. In his old house, he had always left a small flashlight by the bed. But the flashlight wasn’t there. It was probably still in one of the boxes in the garage. And he had left his cellphone downstairs.

There was more opening and closing of cabinets and drawers. This time, it wasn’t just stray noises, it seemed to be every few seconds. This didn’t sound like the usual cracks and creaks of some phantom haunting his place. He was worried there was an actual intruder.

He rushed along the inner balcony. Most of his downstairs could be seen from here, but his furniture—his couch, end table, and chairs—were cast in shadows by moonlight.

“Who’s down there?” Alec cried. “Show yourself.”

He was answered by another crash. That made him move faster, darting across his dark, empty living room and running straight to the source of the noise—in the kitchen.

He was wearing only underwear and felt a breeze before seeing the open kitchen door. After doors being left open frequently over the past week, he was sure he had checked the lock on this door before going to bed. He rushed over to shut it.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was home.”

Alec whirled around. That made the intruder on the other side of the kitchen island cover her mouth and snicker.

They stared at one another. Then she drew the apple up to her nose.

“What are you doing here?” Alec snapped.

“Eating an apple.”

“No, what are you doing in my house?”

 

About the Author:

A.L. Hawke is the author of the bestselling Hawthorne University Witch Series. The author lives in Southern California torching the midnight candle over lovers against a backdrop of machines, nymphs, magic, spice and mayhem.

 

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Friday, April 18, 2025

Release Day Blitz Dark Shadow of Guilt by TM Smith #Romantasy #PNR #Fantasy


Dark Shadow of Guilt
Winged Assassin Series
Book One
TM Smith

Genre: Fantasy/Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
Date of Publication: April 18, 2025
ISBN: 978-0-3695-1163-8
ASIN: B0F2XZZ55K
Number of pages: 377
Word Count: 96,146
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Book Description:  

Dominion, a guilt-ridden Immortal who is the black-winged assassin of the OneCreator, rescues Madeline, a mortal who has been thrust into a world she never existed knew. Kidnapped, she was brought to Angor in OneWorld and tortured. As her path intertwines with Dom’s, she grapples with her evolution and newfound gifts. 

Theirs is a tale of doubt and forgiveness, forbidden love, sacrifice, and conflict that threatens the existence of OneWorld. 

Packed with puzzling occurrences and twists and turns, this is a story that will mesmerize readers from start to finish. Amidst chaos in OneWorld, their love is put to the ultimate test against looming threats that threaten the fabric of existence.

Amazon       Apple      Smashwords      BN      Goodreads      Books2Read

Excerpt:

 

Madeline dragged a fork through her potatoes, eventually shoving a bite into her mouth. When she finished chewing, she broke off a piece of crisp bacon and popped it in, licking her lips. “I was thinking about going home, but when you came into the kitchen, I realized how much help you need around here. You probably don’t pay enough attention to yourself. Like eating regularly. Your laundry. Cleaning house. I could organize stuff. Take care of your place.” She winked again. “And you.”

She tilted her chin, a strand of hair feathering across her cheek as she slipped him an irresistible smile. He followed the sweep of her tongue across her lower lip again.

Damn. Things were taking a definite turn toward strange.

Finished, Dom pushed his plate away. He gripped the handle of his coffee mug, taking a sip. Good. Brewed just right. He cleared his throat, searching for something to say. Conversation wasn’t part of his skill set.

Madeline scooted closer, thigh to thigh, a hand caressing his shoulder, floating down to clasp his bicep. “Don’t you like having me here? I could be very convenient to have around.”

When her breast brushed his arm, his heart pounded against his ribs. She was coming on to him.

Dom escaped her grip and moved out of boob range. “Be careful, little female.”

As she leaned close, her whispery breath puffed across his ear. “I’m not so little.”

“Uh-huh.” He swallowed hard. What the hell was she doing? She’d gone from scared to distrusting to cautious acceptance. Now this? Was this typical human behavior?

She inched nearer again, heat radiating off her body. He never turned down an offer from a female, and this one was cooking more than breakfast. But Dom was cautious. He didn’t like not knowing the game.

Madeline tilted into his chest and crushed her lips to his.

To hell with caution.

Not about to allow her to control the situation, Dom yanked her onto his lap, her legs straddling him. He took over, forcing her mouth open and caressing her tongue with his. As she melted against him, his cock got with the game.

 

About the Author:

T. M. Smith is the award-winning author of the Blood Coven Series paranormal romance novels and the spin-off Blood Coven World novellas. Her current release is a new romantasy, in the Winged Assassins Series, Dark Shadow of Guilt. She draws upon her imagination to craft stories about strong women and powerful but flawed men in a richly detailed magical world. After retiring from a career as an educator, Smith settled in to write something more creative than lesson plans on split infinitives and inner-school memos on noise in the hallway. She is now living in the Pacific Northwest with vampires, demons, ylves, mages, and winged beings who keep her awake at night with their tales of love and adventure.






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Thursday, April 17, 2025

Green Tips With Eli Rainwater #GreenTips




I have always been a big advocate of reducing one’s carbon footprint, and as a writer living on a budget, I often look for ways to cut back on energy bills, clutter, and trash in my home. Here are some of the things that work for me:

Utility Bills

I have a gas furnace that I keep between 65 and 68 degrees in the winter. Since I’m hot natured, I can always bundle up when it gets chilly. In the summer, I keep my blinds down and partially opened so I get natural light but still block the sun. I also signed up for my power company’s energy saver program and installed a smart thermometer to help regulate the temperature more efficiently. 

Check with your utility company for savings programs and offers. For instance, mine gives away a case of energy saving LED lightbulbs to new customers and sells additional cases at a high discount. In three years, I haven’t made a dent in the original box. 

Water

I am lucky enough to live in a city that’s surrounded by agriculture, so I can get mulch at a better cost than from a typical garden center. Mulching your garden helps reduce evaporation and cuts down on how often you need to water your beds. Showering uses less water than a bath, and I set my washer machine to detect the load so that I don’t overdo it with the water when I do laundry.

Appliances

Service your appliances regularly, especially ones that use water. A dirty washing machine clogged with pet hair uses more power and water than a clean one. Replace or clean filters monthly to improve performance, and don’t overload your dishwasher, washing machine, or dryer. When it comes time to replace your appliances, do your research! Look for energy efficient models that offer energy rebates and can be easily cleaned and maintained. Televisions, refrigerators, ovens, microwaves, all have made great strides in power efficiency.

Plastic and Paper Waste

I try to buy as little plastic as possible since not all plastic or cardboard can be recycled, especially if it has food particles or any kind of residue on it. Fortunately, more options are becoming available to us. An internet search pulls up many options for making your own laundry detergent, soap, and shampoo. Balls of wool work as well if not better than dryer sheets. Vinegar is an excellent cleaner and can be purchased in bulk or in glass jars, which are much easier to recycle. 

Food Waste

I’m also lucky that my city has a food waste program. They provide participants with a bin for food, paper, and compostable waste that goes to a compost center. From here, the compost is used on the city’s green spaces and surrounding  farms. Even if your city doesn’t have a comparable program, you can probably find a composting company who will take away your food waste and compost it for you. You can also invest in a compost bin from your local gardening center. Compost can be put back into your own yard or shared with your neighbors and reduces landfill waste. 

From making your own clothes to thrifting to buying in bulk, you can find ways to reduce your carbon footprint. Your efforts don’t have to cost a lot, and can often reduce your household expenses too. We’re facing a global crisis, and it’s up to us to do whatever we can to help.    




Welcome to Jessie’s
The Witch’s Bar Chronicles 
Book One
Eli Rainwater

Genre: Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Eli Rainwater Books
Date of Publication: August 8, 2022
ISBN: 979-8-218-05342-0
ASIN: B0B8YMLBRM
Number of pages: 340
Word Count: 82.981

Cover Artist: Photo by Juliana Finch

Tagline: A vampire, a ghost, and a fairy walk into a bar

Book Description: 

When Jessie, one of the oldest and most powerful witches in the world, joined the Witch Council over a thousand years ago, she was embroiled in politics, saving the world, and trying to keep the supernatural world a secret from humans. 

Now supernaturals are out in the open and a tentative alliance between the fae, cryptids, humans, and witches is underway. Jessie finally gets to leave the intrigue and drama behind to own a bar in a small town north of Atlanta where the most annoying thing on her plate is making sure the vampire groupies don’t wind up as someone’s dinner. 

Then a gargoyle is killed in her bar. It‘s not just any gargoyle though– he was the secretary for the European cryptid ambassador to the Alliance. Finding herself in the center of an international– and interspecies– nightmare, Jessie has to rally her allies to stop a power-hungry cabal from starting a war and destroying life as she knows it.

Author Website      Amazon      BN     Apple     Smashwords     Kobo


Excerpt:“No one will ever love me again. I shall die alone with naught to mourn my passing.”

Jessie MacCaverty stopped wiping down the bar top to raise an eyebrow at the chestnut curls belonging to the adorable and devastatingly handsome yet extremely annoying, melodramatic vampire who flounced through the door in a swirl of early autumn air and leaves before dramatically collapsing on a stool in front of her. Her bartender and apprentice Caroline rolled her blue eyes before going back to pouring beers for the amused regulars at the other end of the bar.

“Get your head off the bar. I just wiped that spot,” Jessie tucked a long, silver-gray curl behind her ear, completely unsympathetic to her friend's plight, whatever it was this time.

Nicodemus shot up on the stool, outrage and wounded betrayal reflected in his honey gold almond shaped eyes. The younger of two vampiric siblings, he was as beautiful in death as he had been in life as a long dead king’s military advisor and member of a noble family.

“You! You who are supposed to be the one I hold most dear, the most treasured of my bosom companions, have you no mercy on my poor soul? My wounded heart?”

“Not when you start talking like the bastard child of a Hallmark card and Harlequin romance, I don't.” Jessie was extremely unimpressed-- and unsympathetic.

“So be it,” he huffed, slumping back down to prop his elbows on the oak bar top that had been lovingly polished over the decades until it gleamed forever. “Take away my poet's soul. See if I care.”

Jessie beamed. “See, isn't that better? Now, do you want a drink while you calmly and sensibly tell me what's going on without all the histrionics?”

He scowled before relenting. “Fine. But none of those weird, fruity, sweet things the kids are drinking everywhere! Those colors should never have been put into anything consumable,” he shuddered in disgust.

“Caroline, make him a Manhattan, will you?” Jessie called over her shoulder.

“Sure thing, boss,” Caroline replied cheerfully, tossing her long, blonde, curly ponytail over her shoulder as she deftly flipped a martini glass over and grabbed the bottle of rye.

Nicky studied Jessie as she settled down next to him. She was tiny. Long gray curls framed a slightly oval shaped face, high cheekbones, and huge, piercing blue eyes. She lived for broken in jeans and obscure band or bar t-shirts that were so soft and well worn, they were one stitch away from falling apart. Like all witches, she stopped aging in her mid forties and was eternally in that stage of beauty when the laugh lines enhanced the late summer glow of youth.

“Now. What happened this time?” she asked, settling in for the long haul.

He heaved a melancholy sigh that sounded like it came from his toes. She resisted the urge to follow Caroline's eye-rolling example.

“I thought I met the one. He was so perfect. The gargoyle of my dreams!” Jessie choked on her tea.

“I'm sorry, the what of your dreams?”

He looked affronted. “Gargoyle! I told you about him last week!” ”

Jessie barely managed to hide a guilty look. To be fair, when he started on the love interest du jour, it could get a little... repetitive. It wasn't her fault if it was easier to tune him out and concentrate on inventory. Bits and pieces of his hours-long recitations of adoration started to come back to her.

“Oh, right! That gargoyle!”

Jared, Jessie's other apprentice and barback, a tall, young man with impeccable style and skin the color of dark chocolate and who had lined up a promising career in role playing game production, stopped with the ice bucket in midair to stare at Nicky.

“Dude! How does that even work?” He demanded, fascinated.

“Well, if you must know,” Nicky drew himself up haughtily, “Gargoyles are only stone by day when they revert to their... less attractive but more widely known visages.”

“So, what, at night they're hot?” Sometimes talking to Jared was like talking to the blunt side of a hammer and about as subtle.

“If you must put it that way, yes, they can be. Are. Usually are.” Nicky would have blushed if blood pumped through his veins. Jessie realized that he hadn't fed recently. He must really be enamored with this guy.

“Did he ghost you?” Caroline asked with a sympathetic glance. “No offense, Charlie!”

“None taken.” Charlie was the bar's resident ghost. When Mary Jo Sutton, who was still the town’s most beautiful and seductive succubus at the age of fifty, had propositioned him in the bathroom, he had neglected to mention that he had a heart condition. He swore the resulting heart attack was worth it. She still felt guilty about the whole thing.

“Ghost me? Ghost me??” Nicky was stunned, floored, flabbergasted that anyone could even consider such a thing. Jessie gave in to the urge to roll her eyes. Trying to hold back was exhausting.

“Focus!” she slapped her hand on the bar harder than she planned and instantly regretted it. “Where were you supposed to meet?”

“Well, here, tonight actually. I wanted him to meet you.”

Jessie blinked at him.

“So you're telling me that you just waltzed in here and immediately went into hysterics without even bothering to see if he was here first? I mean, we're not exactly balls to the walls over here, but it's not like we're dead either! No offense, Charlie.”

“None taken,” Charlie replied with a burp. One of Jessie's neatest (in his opinion) little pieces of spellwork involved creating a mug that acted as a portal that gave whatever it contained the ability to exist on the spiritual plane. At the moment, that happened to be beer. No one was entirely sure if the belching was necessary, but not even Jared was willing to ruin Charlie's contentment by asking and possibly ruining the experience.

Nicky looked faintly abashed. “I don't see him though! That's understandable, right? I mean, I even came late on purpose!”

Jessie dropped her head in her hand and shook it with the long suffering patience of one who realized a long time ago that their friend genuinely did not have a clue how personal relationships should go.

Nicky squirmed on his stool.

“Well... it seemed like a good idea at the time. But he didn't stick around, so it doesn't matter! And besides, I was only about fifteen minutes late!”

Jared shook his head as he walked toward the back to put away the ice bucket.

“Man, even I know better than that, and I can't keep a girl around to save my life. No offense, Charlie.”

“None taken,” Charlie replied with equanimity. He had never realized how many turns of phrase involved life or death until he himself switched from one side to the other.

“Hey, Jared, check the bathroom for trash and toilet paper on your way back, please,” Jessie called before turning back to the matter at hand.

“Admittedly, I don't really remember seeing a stranger hanging around tonight. What does he look like? And what’s his name? Also, have you tried calling him or do you have a picture, she asks, knowing that of course you didn't, you just immediately broke down into hysterics and started talking like you came off the cover of the best selling romance novel of the decade?”

Now Nicky rolled his eyes. Jessie felt herself get twitchy as she resisted the urge to pop him on the arm.

“I do not talk like that,” he protested.

“Well, no, not when you remember what year it is,” Jessie replied. Nicky pulled out his phone.

“His name is Warsaw, and unfortunately, I can't take a picture. Gargoyles turn into stone in front of a camera,” he showed her a picture of him kissing a stone... lion? dog? on the cheek while gazing coquettishly at what was obviously a phone camera perched at the end of a selfie stick.

“You carry a selfie stick? Of course you do. Why do I even ask?” She snorted in amusement.

Caroline snickered, grabbing the phone,“You're such an adorable couple! Do you think your kids would have your eyes or his density?”

“Ha ha!” Nicky glared as he snatched the phone out of her grasp. “You're so funny.” He tried-- and failed-- to regain some control of the conversation. By this point, Caroline was giggling uncontrollably, and Charlie laughed himself through his stool.

“Okay, okay, let's calm down,” Jessie grinned. “Try to call him. See what happens.”

“Fine, if it will get you all to stop cackling like a pack of hyenas,” Nicky huffed as he hit a button and held the phone to his ear.

“Wait, did you hear that?” Caroline switched from hilarity to alert in seconds. Jessie was way ahead of her.

She met Nicky's eyes with a growing sense of dread. Out of nowhere, a phone had begun to ring, a muffled sound that could only come from behind a closed door.

At the same time, they heard Jared's scream and the thud as he fell over backwards, scrambling away from the bathroom. Inside was a lifeless body that once belonged to a shy, love struck creature who had, for one brief, shining moment, thought he could have everything his heart, which would never be stone, had ever longed for and found in the deep, deep love of a whimsical, sometimes overly dramatic, slightly narcissistic vampire.


About the Author:

Eli’s love for reading started at an early age when her mother taught her to read almost as soon as she learned to talk. She discovered the fantasy genre and fell hard for it when her brother let her sit in on his D&D sessions and then lent her his collections of Dragonlance and David Eddings books while he was away at college.

Eli wrote short stories and poetry in school, but like so many of us, she never really pursued her passion as an adult. Then, COVID hit. After two years of being in “go mode” while she managed a pub, she spent a week reading in a yurt in the mountains. When she came home, she wrote and self-published her first book.

Now, Eli gets to write stories she loves and travel to conventions and events where people are nice enough to let her talk about her books and the world she created for hours on end.









Giveaway 

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Tuesday, April 15, 2025

Release Day Blitz The Third Ring by A. N. Horton #UrbanFantasyRomance


Juggling Kids and Writing

I have two under 4; one 3 and one 1, as well as a full time job so I am very busy. But even moms who have as much on their plate as I do find time for relaxation. Some watch tv at the end of a long day, some read a book or meditate. I write. It’s a hobby that brings me joy and has developed into a business as well. For a long time, I had horrible imposter syndrome. I didn’t think I was good enough to actually publish a book and call myself an author and, if I’m being honest, even thinking about doing so made me a nervous wreck. Putting something I’d worked so hard on out there for public consumption and criticism felt impossible and I worried that it would affect my mental health if I did. But I took the leap and never looked back.

I prioritize my children. Writing is for nap times and nights and early mornings. It’s my me time, what little of it I have. But I’m also blessed with a job that allows me to work from home. I get to see my kids learn and grow in real time. I get to play with them and teach them and hug them all day and I’m so very lucky to be able to do so in a world where a dual-parent income is practically a requirement. 

It’s a balance that is certainly hard to maintain, and some days are more difficult than others, but my dad used to always say that nothing worth having was ever easy and I’m finding that rings true the older I get. Being a mom is hard, working full time is hard, being an author is hard, but I love it all. So I make time for work so I can build a life for my kids that they deserve. 
And I make time for writing because I deserve some of that joy too.

Where there’s a will, there’s a way, as they say. And though most days feel like there aren’t enough hours within them, I know I’m constantly doing the best I can and will continue to do so for my family, my mental health, and my readers.


The Third Ring
The Sanctum Series
Book One
A. N. Horton

Genre: Urban Fantasy Romance
Publisher: Veil and Valor Books
Date of Publication: April 15, 2025
ISBN: 979-8-9911249-6-6 
ASIN: B0DY949XBH
Number of pages: 404 Pages
Word Count: 112,000
Cover Artist: Adrian Păsărin

Tagline: Ten Trials. Two Oaths. One Chance.

Book Description: 

To Adrian, the gods were never anything to be worshipped, just tolerated. But in the walled city of Sanctuary, whether through the religious fervor of the elite or the quaking fear of the poor, the Geist have always been served. And now it's Adrian's turn.

Born into power and raised for greatness, Dante stands for everything Adrian has come to despise, but he may be her only hope of survival. When the two of them are bonded against their will and forced to compete together in the Trials, the god's ancient gauntlet of physical brutality and psychological torture, they have no choice but to set aside old prejudices and work together. Navigating religious zealots, a patriarch intent on breeding the pair for power, and the increasingly obvious cruelty of the gods, Adrian must come to terms with the fact that, whether Culled or Championed, we all serve the gods in the end. And, for her, betrayal has always been waiting just around the corner.

Book Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XcZCgrRLlGQ

 

 

Excerpt:

 

I was in a vast, open chamber. The walls were made of solid, smooth gray stone, almost the color of charcoal, with thin veins of white running through them at odd angles. That singular, faint light shone down on a massive hunk of porous stone which took up most of the room. I approached it slowly, in awe of the size. I’d always thought the Oath Stone was small, something you held in both hands while reciting some vow the attendants guided you through or had written on the walls.

I glanced around. There were no words. Not on the walls, not on the floors, not even on the stone itself. There were no words written anywhere, no instructions, no Oath. I spun around again and again, searching in vain as my panic rose to the surface.

How do I know what to say?

How pathetic. Utterly, depressingly pathetic. How was I ever to make it past a single Trial if I couldn’t even figure out how to take my Oath?

My palms itched. I scratched them with my fingernails as I walked toward one of the walls. I narrowed my gaze, trying to discern a pattern in the white lines running through them. There was nothing.

I huffed, my nails continuously running back and forth on the sensitive skin of my palms. But the more I scratched them, the more they burned. I switched to rubbing them as I approached the stone. I leaned down, staring at the hunk of porous stone, tilting my head side to side as I inspected the bumps and crevices until I hissed—the burning in my palms had become an inferno.

Frantic, I held up my hands, expecting to see inflamed skin, a rash even, but they weren’t even red.

Still, they burned.

Flooded with an overwhelming compulsion to find relief from the cool surface of the Oathstone, I reached out and pressed my palms flat against the massive rock. The burning stopped, the itching soothed. I closed my eyes and took a breath.

Then I heard it. A faint voice in the back of my mind getting louder and louder…

I jerked back in surprise, but the moment my hands left the stone, they began to burn even worse than before. I hissed and stared at them again. I still saw nothing but my own skin. Shaking, I reached for the stone again.

The moment flesh met rock, the voice returned. I twitched, uneasy, but concentrated, frowning and pressing my eyes shut tight as if that would help me hear it. It spoke in a whisper and cycled through its message before I could finally make out the words.

“Repeat after me.”

I again startled. The words echoing around in my head were coming from my own voice. I tried to pull my hands from the stone, but I couldn’t. My palms were fused to the rock.

“I vow to obey the tenets of the Trials.”

I hesitated. Did I truly want to go through with this? As confident as I’d been this morning, as resigned to follow through with Darius’s last wish of me, this was…something else entirely. Something I hadn’t expected.

“Make your Oath,” my own voice hissed at me.

“I-I vow…to obey the tenets of the Trials,” I repeated. It seemed to be my only way out of here.

“I shall not speak of my experiences in the Trials, neither now nor upon their completion,” my voice whispered, then waited for me to repeat before continuing. “I shall use my blessings in service to the Geist. I shall seek to keep all knowledge and capability given as a result of my success between myself and my partner. I shall train my body, mind, and soul to be a proper reflection of the holiness of the Geist. For the duration of my candidacy in the Trials, I forfeit all worldly obsessions and submit myself to the will of my gods.”

Again, I hesitated. It seemed a lofty price to pay in honor of a friend I’d never see again. A friend the Geist had stolen from me. The thought of Darius, in this moment of all things, was like a punch to the gut. But it was a reminder as well: I wouldn’t be swearing it for them. So I took a deep breath and made my Oath. The words turned bitter on my tongue.

 

About the Author:

A. N. Horton is a two-time award-winning author living in Nashville, TN with her husband, children, and moderately chunky Corgi. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, baking more cookies than her family can eat, and plotting crimes against her characters. Best known for crafting characters that steal her readers’ hearts as much as they shatter them, A. N. Horton is a cross-genre writer focused mainly on fantasy and romance.


 
 

 
 






Thursday, April 10, 2025

In the Kitchen with Marty Roppelt - Recipe for Easy Beef Stroganoff #InTheKitchen #Recipe #EasyBeefStroganoff


I do the cooking at home, and my wife is glad of it. Becky claims that if it’s got more than three ingredients, she can’t do it. That’s not quite true; she makes a great tuna noodle casserole.

But “Happy wife, happy life.” And we’re happy.

One of my favorite recipes is one I learned from my mother, who probably learned it from a can of Cambell’s soup. It’s so easy, and is great comfort food.


EASY BEEF STROGANOFF


NEEDED:

1 large pot (Dutch oven size)
1 saucepan (4 quart)
1 colander/strainer

INGREDIENTS:

1lb. ground beef
1 can Cambells Golden Mushroom soup
1 envelope onion soup (can be Lipton or store brand)
16 oz. semolina large shell noodles (can also be bow-ties or even linguine)
6-8 oz. sour cream

INSTRUCTIONS:

1- In the large pot, brown the ground beef

2- While the beef is browning, boil roughly 3 ½ quarts of water in the saucepan (almost but not quite full, really)

3- When the beef is browned, add the dry onion soup. Mix with the beef.

4- Once the onion soup is mixed with the beef, add the Golden Mushroom soup and 1 soup can of water. 

5- Stir. Cover and reduce heat to simmer. Stir occasionally to keep mixture from sticking to the bottom of the pot.

6- Boil the noodles to package instructions in the saucepan.

7- Once the noodles are boiled, strain them in the colander/strainer. 

8- Add sour cream to beef and soup mixture. Don’t add more than 8 oz. That would kill the taste.

9- Add noodles to the beef – soup – sour cream mix. Toss until well mixed.

SERVES 6-ISH


I’m aware that several companies dealing in the noodle trade have kept or increased prices while reducing the package size. It’s hard to find noodles that come in the 16 oz. size any more. I think the going size is 14 oz. That’s fine—you’ll have more sauce to enjoy.


Last Words: A Supernatural Murder Mystery
Hanson and Brewer Murder Mysteries 
Book One
Marty Roppelt

Genre: Mystery / Supernatural / Horror
Publisher: Dragon Breath Press
Date of Publication: February 7, 2025
ISBN: 979-8985349580 
ASIN: B0D184PVWZ 
Number of pages: 151 
Word Count: 36,241
Cover Artist: Christopher Chambers

Tagline: Some cases cut deeper when the dead refuse to stay buried

Book Description: 

Last Words: A Supernatural Murder Mystery follows Chicago police Detective Myles Hanson as he navigates a world of crime and unsettling revelations. After a nighttime raid on a drug lab ends in a deadly shootout, Myles is convinced to transfer to another unit. His first case in Violent Crimes is unlike any he’s faced before. Maria Peski, a midwife with a quiet life, is savagely murdered.

But that’s not the only mystery haunting him. Myles begins experiencing chilling visions and inexplicable phenomena. He begins to hear the final words of the dead, fragments of unfinished thoughts from those who have passed. As the voices reveal clues no one else can uncover, Myles teams up with his streetwise and relentless partner, Tank Brewer, to piece together the secrets that the dead have left behind.

When a second murder rocks the city with startling similarities, Myles is increasingly pressured to accept that some clues lie beyond the realm of the living. As the line between the supernatural and the real begins to blur, Myles and Tank must untangle a web of deceit, violence, and spectral warnings before the killer strikes again.

Amazon     BN     Apple     Kobo

 

Smashwords     Everand     Fable

 

BOOK TRAILER: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/lU-_D-vPnRU



Excerpt:

Myles paused at the glass doors to the Area North police station. He checked his watch. Then he turned away from the entrance, paced roughly fifteen feet, added several more steps and lit a Marlboro Light. He pulled his jacket collar up to block an unusually crisp September breeze.

A long strip of grass punctuated by an occasional shrub next to the building attempted to soften the structure's strictly functional design. In the courtyard, a few trees stood guard along with a twisting metal sculpture. But the shades in all the windows were drawn, keeping the occupants' minds focused on their tasks. The parking lot spread far in every direction. Several squad cars waited there for their officers to climb in and begin their patrols.

Taking in his surroundings, Myles shook his head. The Nineteenth District Patrol station held more appeal to tourists to Chicago than did this location. A block west of the Nineteenth on West Addison Street sat a busy elevated, or "L," train station, over a century old and still flaunting its original grid of iron spans and frames in the open. Another block further west, Wrigley Field, home of the Chicago Cubs, buzzed with activity during home stands. Across from the Nineteenth on Addison, a row of shotgun style houses butted up against each other like a knot of sentinels standing shoulder to shoulder. Some bore brownstone façades, some red brick. A thin sheen of grime, car exhaust mostly, the grit of a busy city, covered them. All the dwellings needed power washing or sand blasting.

He knew that locale well, and it charmed even him.

But no tourists visited this spot, the Area North station's locale. A massive tan and brown brick building, Area North dwarfed the Nineteenth. Built in a commercial and industrial zone, the station resembled a Big Box store in spite of the unnaturally planted greenery. If not for the fleet of squad cars in the sprawling lot, visitors might enter the north side's police nexus expecting to buy a hot air fryer or bed linens.

Myles nodded to himself. Area North was all business.

From the corner of his eye, in the window nearest him, Myles spotted the reflection of two women, one short and slight, the other tall and slender. They approached from the parking lot arm-in-arm. The window distorted their shapes, giving them a hot August day shimmer. Their pale complexions suggested a summer spent together indoors. They both dressed for summer, each wearing tie-dyed blouses but no jackets, immune to the cool day. The shorter one put Marla Hines in mind. He recalled how she used to chide him whenever he sneaked out of the Organized Crimes building for a quick smoke. As the pair neared him, they opened their mouths, Myles assumed, to berate him.

"Sorry, ladies," the smoker said. "I'll just put this out." He turned in the women's direction.

They were gone.

Frowning, he swung his head around, scanning the area. Nothing. The parking lot lay empty of everything but vehicles. Two uniformed cops exited the building. But no one passed them heading in.

"Come on, Hanson," he muttered.

He stubbed the cigarette out on the heel of his shoe, deposited it into a nearby trash can and entered the station.


About the Author:

Marty Roppelt lives in Wauconda, Illinois, with his wife Becky. Born and raised in Cleveland, Ohio, his family roots stem from Transylvania. Yes, THAT Transylvania, from where his parents emigrated in the mid 1950's. So of course, Marty enjoys writing in the supernatural / horror genre. In addition to his first novel, Mortal Foe, he has written a series of short paranormal Christmas stories to raise money for St. Herman’s House, a homeless shelter in Cleveland. He also has featured stories in anthologies, Tales from the Dragon's Lair and Holiday Hearth. Marty and Becky enjoy quiet time together with their cats Nala and Malik.