GtPGKogPYT4p61R1biicqBXsUzo" /> Google+ I Smell Sheep: Bewitching Book tours
Showing posts with label Bewitching Book tours. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bewitching Book tours. Show all posts

Monday, December 7, 2020

Paranormal mystery author Melanie Snow: Winter Solstice Almond Butter and Gluten-Free Cookies for Dogs + giveaway

Winter Solstice Almond Butter and Gluten-Free Cookies for Dogs 
A Winter Solstice celebration is not complete without some magical and delicious treats for your canine familiar. This recipe is Addie’s favorite and Sarah in The Spellwood Witches series often bakes extra. This way during the solstice festivities, all the canine pals in her and Addie’s life have some treats as well. 

When you feed your dog treats it is important to choose healthy and real ingredients. If you can get organic and fresh. I don’t recommend additives like artificial colors. If you would like these cookies to be festive, you can add some lightly browned rolled oats which adds a pleasant touch. Or using cookie cutters you can cut them into stars and bones, etc.

These cookies are fun to make. With prep and cooking, it will take about one hour and forty minutes. This recipe yields about two dozen cookies.

Ready to conjure up some Winter Solstice Almond Butter and Gluten-Free Cookies for Your Canine familiar?

Here are the ingredients to get started.

Ingredients 
2 ½ cups organic almond flour
2 large eggs
2 TBS of egg white
½ cup organic canned pumpkin
2 TBS unsalted almond butter (crunchy or smooth)
½ tsp salt
½ tsp ground cinnamon
@¾ cup of uncooked oatmeal (for decoration)

Directions 
Step 1
Preheat oven to 350 degree F (175 degrees C)

Step 2
In a large bowl whisk together the flour, eggs, pumpkin, peanut butter, salt, and cinnamon (minus the oatmeal and egg white). You want to make the dough workable, but it should be on the dry side and stiff. If it is too dry, you can slowly add water. Then roll the dough until it is ½ inch thick. Use cookie cutters to express the magic of the Winter Solstice, such as pine cones, stars, and bones.

Step 3
Bake in your preheated oven until hard, which is about forty minutes.

Note: 
If you want to add a healthy decoration to your cookies try this. About five to eight minutes before they done, open the oven and brush the cookies with egg whites. Then lightly sprinkle with uncooked oats and cinnamon. Watch them closely so they don’t burn.

There you have it. As you celebrate the Winter Solstice with your doggo familiars make sure you have some of these delicious Winter Solstice Almond Butter and Gluten Free Cookies for Dogs straight from the magical recipe book of The Spellwood Witches.

Tail of a Feather (The Spellwood Witches Book Three) 
by Melanie Snow
10-6-20 
Genre: Paranormal Cozy Mystery
Publisher: Spirit Paw Press, LLC
ISBN: 978-1-7324375-8-6
ASIN: B08K4S9D9T
Number of pages: 225
Word Count: 44644
Cover Artist: Molly Burton
A witchy sleuthhound. An enemy from the past. A threat to everything she loves…

Can Sarah stop the mayhem of Witchland before it is too late?

A mysterious portal. Eight crows with a message. A missing police chief.

Sarah Spellwood feels she maybe too late to save her beau, the handsome police chief Eli Strongheart, from disappearing from Witchland forever. But with the wisdom of eight crows, she and her collie sidekick, Addie, focus on their mysterious task ahead. Yet time is running out and the tension rises when they discover there is more to the mysterious portal than they expected.

As the clues fly, Sarah is shocked to learn that Madras Spellwood is trying to get back into Witchland to take over its beauty and magic. But Sarah and Addie are vowed defenders of the forest, and they will not let Madras succeed, or Eli get away.

Can Sarah save Eli and beat Madras at the same time?

Tail of a Feather is book three in the magical Spellwood Witches cozy mystery series. If you like paranormal puzzles, charming canine companions, and a bit of flirty romance, then you will love Melanie Snow’s crafty quest.

Buy Tail of a Feather and take flight into the magical world of Witchland today!


Chapter 1 
Sarah snuggled into her jacket and relished the slight sting of the cold on the tip of her nose. Autumn was washing Witchland in rich oranges, browns, and yellows, and little frost crystals coated the ground in the morning. The scent of pumpkin pie and pumpkin spice espresso treats wafted continuously out of Javacadabra, where Susie and Karen worked tirelessly to delight the taste buds of the town with the help of their familiar, a talking white cat named Zeva. 

Holding her tea latte between her palms to warm them, Sarah kept pace with Eli as they began the trek up the Mount Katribus trail. Sarah’s canine familiar, Addie, padded along at her side. “I wonder why I love autumn so much.” Sarah sighed contentedly. 

“Because you’re a witch,” Eli teased, his gorgeous blue eyes twinkling as he smiled at her. 

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and she snuggled in close. Addie looked up at them, love in her soft brown eyes. “I must say your warmth for each other is keeping me warm,” Addie joked. 

Though Eli couldn’t hear her, he was starting to get to know the loyal collie mix well, and he asked her, “Where is your boyfriend, Kelvin, huh, girl?” 

Addie barked happily when she heard the name Kelvin. “He’s in the woods, hunting rabbits,” she answered, which Sarah repeated to Eli so he could hear. 

“Girls always love the bad boys. Or, in your case, the bad wolves,” Eli said. 

“So Jenna did the rounds this morning? There’s no sign of Madras?” Sarah asked as the trail they were walking on began to incline up the mountainside. Eli Strongheart was the police chief of Witchland, and Jenna Mora was his deputy. 

“Not a sign,” Eli replied. “Tonight is my turn . . . I imagine these woods make you a bit nervous now, don’t they?” 

Sarah shrugged. “Not at all, actually. I love the woods so much that I won’t let my wicked great-great-great-whatever-aunt ruin them for me. Besides, I feel so much more confident knowing that I defeated her. That she’s banished for good.” 

Eli smiled. “We always try our best to keep these woods safe. Even the greatest demon witch of all time can’t defeat our team.” 

“So . . . I was thinking. I invited my parents to my house for a little dinner in two days. Would you like to join us?” Sarah went on. She had felt slightly apprehensive about inviting Eli, since they were a new couple. The last thing she wanted to do was scare him off. But she knew in her heart that Eli was in it for the long haul, and that made it easier to come out and say things, even things that made her nervous. 

“Of course,” Eli said, looking slightly taken aback. “Any weird quirks I should prepare for?” 

“Um, definitely don’t talk politics with my dad.” Sarah laughed. “It could get pretty heated. Also, let’s keep the magic talk to a minimum.” 

“I thought you told them that you’re practicing witchcraft?” Eli said. 

“I did. But it’s a touchy subject. You know that my father tried so hard to put distance between himself and the Spellwood legacy.” Sarah shrugged. “They’re accepting, but I just don’t want to make them super uncomfortable.” 

“I think you should just be yourself,” Eli said gently. But then he added, “Although, I probably wouldn’t talk about witchcraft to my mom, either. She’s probably a far worse denier than your parents.” 

“Well, my parents don’t deny it. They just don’t practice it. The last time was at my aunt Beth’s when we visited her, right before she passed away and I started seventh grade.” Sarah suddenly stopped in the middle of the trail. Addie, who was wandering slightly ahead, turned back and looked at her expectantly. “Let’s go visit Aunt Beth’s. I haven’t been able to bring myself to go since I moved here,” said Sarah. 

“Your aunt Beth’s house? Well, sure,” Eli said, again taken aback. He laughed as they changed course and began to walk toward the small goat farm Beth Spellwood ran. “I love how spontaneous you are.” 

“I haven’t seen her farm in so long, and I really miss that place. That was where I first discovered I had powers, and I was very close with my aunt.” As Sarah attempted to remember her way through the maze of trails to the farm she had not visited since she was twelve, she regaled Eli with tales of Aunt Beth, including Aunt Beth’s talking pet goat. 

“So that was the original Addie,” Eli commented. 

“Hey! No one is like me,” Addie protested. 

“That is true. You are one unique dog,” Sarah assured Addie, who blinked at her happily. 

They finally broke through the tree line and came upon a fence, which was sagging with the weight of the ivy growing on it. It enclosed a generous pasture with a goat shed in the center of it. Now, in place of the milk goats Aunt Beth had raised, there were two cows chewing cud listlessly. Beyond that, stood the modest farmhouse where Aunt Beth had lived, and where she and Sarah’s father had grown up. Smoke curled from the chimney. 

“So many memories.” Sarah exhaled, feeling both joy and sorrow at the sight of her long-gone childhood. “I hope the family living here is happy.” 

“Too bad we can’t go inside,” Eli commented. 

“I suppose we could always knock and ask.” Sarah shrugged. She glanced at Eli, and when he agreed, she led him around the fence to the front door of the house. “Ah, I forgot about this knocker,” she said, tracing the bronze gargoyle knocker with her fingertip after knocking. “I always thought it was so cool, but now I realize how out of place it was against this modest little house.” 

A woman carrying a baby on her hip opened the door. The minute she saw Sarah, her face softened in recognition. “You must be the little girl in all of those photos we found in the attic,” she cried. “Beth Spellwood’s niece?” 

“Yes,” Sarah said happily. “You found pictures?” 

“Well, yes, we did, and we have them. We tried to send them to family, but we couldn’t find an address. Come on in!” The woman stepped aside and ushered Sarah and Eli into the house. “Oh, hello,” she greeted Addie, also welcoming her inside. 

“Puppy!” several kids cried as they flocked around the dog. Addie rolled on the floor and showed her belly happily as the kids scratched it. 

“My kids love dogs, as you can see.” The woman laughed. “I’m Meg, by the way.” She set the baby down and shook Eli’s and Sarah’s hands as they introduced themselves. Then she excused herself to retrieve the pictures. “You can take a look around, if you want,” she called over her shoulder. 

Sarah stepped into the kitchen. “The cauldron is gone.” She sighed, noticing the open fireplace with its hanging cauldron was now replaced with an oven. The fridge was also new and covered in kids’ art, with none of the strange recipes and spells that Aunt Beth kept on it. 

Eli placed a comforting hand on her elbow. “You can’t expect it to be the same.” 

“I know. It’s just so different.” Sarah sighed, breathing in the smell of the macaroni bubbling on the stove for lunch. “Well, actually, it seems like a happy home, and I’m just glad these people love it.” 

Meg reappeared with the photos. “Here you go!” 

Sarah smiled as she sifted through them. “That was my goat!” she cried, showing Eli the photo of the black-and-white goat hanging his head over her shoulder. 

“You were cute,” Eli said. “So many freckles.” Teasingly, he touched her cheek, pretending to count the freckles she still had. 

“She sure was,” Meg said, nodding her head in agreement. Then she added in an undertone, “Do you want to go upstairs? I have to ask you about some things about this house . . .” 

Sarah and Eli followed Meg up the narrow staircase to a landing. Meg paused in front of a door. “Um, I hate to mention this, but . . . I know the reputation of Lativia Spellwood.” 

Sarah smiled and nodded. “That is my ancestor, and the founder of Witchland.” Then she narrowed her eyes knowingly. “Let me guess, weird things happen around this house?” 

“Yes, well, Neil and I don’t—well, we didn’t believe in that stuff. Not at all. But after moving here . . .” Meg bit her lip, looking nervously from Sarah to Eli. 

“We don’t think you’re crazy, don’t worry,” Sarah assured her. “Weird things happen in Witchland, and especially in this house. It did house three generations of witches.” She and Eli exchanged knowing glances and then laughed, sharing memories of the many magical misadventures they had been on together in their efforts to protect Witchland from both Madras and greedy developers. 

“Oh, good. I wasn’t sure where you stood with all of that.” Meg laughed nervously and gathered her hair into a ponytail. “Well, you see, we took the master bedroom here and . . .” She opened the door and pointed within. 

Sarah stepped into her aunt’s old bedroom. As if she were a child again, she could remember the four-post bed that took up most of the space, and the rolltop desk where Aunt Beth sat to pay her bills and write letters. Though the décor was different, the atmosphere of the room still felt like Aunt Beth: calm, sweet, earthy, loving. Tears welled up in Sarah’s eyes. 

“We keep cutting them back.” Meg led them to the window, where several flowers emerged from the wooden frame, vibrant and colorful. They were growing without soil and without water. “We’re not really sure how they keep growing.” 

Sarah touched one of the blue flowers gently. “My aunt Beth loved her flowers, her garden, her goats. She was part of nature—so it seemed.” She turned to Meg. “These are enchanted flowers that she grew because she thought they were pretty. The only way to remove them would be to break the enchantment.” 

“Oh.” Meg looked worried. “I have no idea how to do that.” 

“I can bring some friends of mine by who can do that. If you don’t mind, can I have them?” Sarah imagined planting them in her own room and always having a piece of Aunt Beth near her. 

“Of course! I would hate to kill them, but it’s just, well . . .” Meg shrugged haplessly. “Not our choice of décor. I hope that doesn’t offend you.” 

“I get it.” Sarah nodded. “It is your home now.” 

“Um, there’s one other thing.” Meg led them into the bathroom next and pointed to the blue tiles over the clawfoot bathtub, where Sarah had spent many afternoons pretending she was a mermaid in a frothy ocean of soap bubbles, with an army of rubber duckies to do her bidding. 

Sarah smiled softly as she ran her fingers along the porcelain of the tub, entranced by her memories. Eli watched her, vicariously enjoying her reminiscing through the expressions on her face. 

Meg turned on the shower. Gradually, words began to form across the tiles as the steam started to bloom from the water. Sarah squinted and realized that it was a spell for making the room smell like roses. Just as soon as she read the spell in her mind, the bathroom flooded with the flowery scent. “Aunt Beth’s scent,” Sarah murmured. “I always just thought it was a perfume.” 

“It’s strong, like Margaret and Hua’s greenhouse,” Addie complained, backing away toward the door. 

“Any way you can break this enchantment? We love this scent, but . . .” Meg again looked hapless. 

Sarah acquiesced and said a quick spell to erase the enchantment. 

Spell be gone, 

You have grown wan. 

You have done well, 

But it’s no time to dwell. 

Instantly, the words began to unfurl and stretch until they made a popping sound like bubbles and ran down the walls in streams of black ink. Then the ink grew clear and disappeared. The rose scent began to gently fade. If only I could capture that scent in a bottle, Sarah thought. I have to enchant my bathroom to do that so that I can always smell Aunt Beth’s rose scent. 

“I’m so sorry, and thank you so much,” Meg said profusely as she showed them out. She handed Sarah the pictures in a bundle. 

“Thank you for letting us inside and these pictures. I’ll definitely treasure them. I’ll come back with my friends, Margaret and Hua, later. They will transplant the flowers for you and remove the enchantment,” Sarah promised. 

As she, Eli, and Addie walked back into town, Sarah sighed. “It’s so hard to let go of the past and watch things change. I sure miss my aunt Beth.” 

“Can you visit her, you know, in that ghostly clearing?” Eli inquired. He was referring to the place where ghosts communed with Lativia Spellwood’s ghost on the top of Mount Katribus. 

“She moved on to the other side,” Sarah said sadly. Then she interlaced her fingers with Eli’s and cuddled against his muscular shoulder. “I miss her, but I know she’s in a good place. And I’m very happy with how my life is now. I can only embrace the present.” 

Eli kissed the top of her head, and Sarah felt happy. “I think Aunt Beth would have adored you,” she told Eli. 


About the Author:

Melanie Snow is the pen name for Wendy Van de Poll, a bestselling author, pet loss grief coach, and animal medium. She is the author of The Spellwood Witches, a paranormal cozy mystery series.

Her books weave together positive magic, snarky forest faeries, and insightful animals with fun and eclectic humor. True life adventures and intuition are woven into her stories laced with unbridled imagination.

She has been followed by wild wolves in minus 60 degrees, hissed at by a mama bobcat, and played ball with a wild owl—among other animal encounters.

Tour Giveaway


Sunday, December 6, 2020

Excerpt: Mystic UnRealized by S. Peters-Davis + giveaway

To save humankind from an apocalyptic Troll take-over, an unrealized Mystic and a brand-new Dragon changeling must bond and share their Magick.

Mystic UnRealized

by S. Peters-Davis
November 2020 
Genre: Fantasy Romance, New Adult
Publisher: BWL Publishing, Inc.
Cover Artist: Michelle Lee
EPUB 978-0-2286-1563-7
Kindle 978-0-2286-1564-4
PDF 978-0-2286-1565-1
Amazon Print ISBN 978-0-2286-1566-8
B&N Print ISBN 978-0-2286-1567-5
ASIN B08LSVM1VZ
Number of pages: 185
Word Count: 54,420
To save humankind from an apocalyptic Troll take-over, Sky, an unrealized Mystic, and Rune, a brand-new Dragon changeling, must bond and share their Magick.

An adult fantasy romance of a present-day tale with Mystics, Dragons, Fey, Trolls, and Magick, and the prophecy that draws them all together.



Excerpt: 
Rune’s Point of View 
“She drank from the Pool of Wellness,” I announced and stepped closer to the pearly-scaled giant. The magick of Azuron’s breath slithered inside my nostrils and mouth, leaving me light-headed. 

“And?” Azuron’s deep, raspy voice, sharp and impatient, rumbled off the stone walls. 

His cave had become my home away from the Shadowed Realm, but it always took a few minutes for me to absorb his magick. I shook my head in an attempt to gain balance, the tip of Azuron’s tail wrapped around my waist, holding me steady. Moments passed until my world righted itself. Maybe this dizziness had something to do with the addition of Sky’s energy. Her natural beauty had stunned me at first with those startling blue eyes, long lashes, full lips, and that head of soft, dark, unruly curls she’d attempted to tame in a ponytail but cascaded like a waterfall to her shoulders. 

“Well?” Azuron studied me, drawing me closer with his tail. Moistened heat from his breath coated my face. Its magick ignited my voice. 

I hoped he hadn’t just read my mind, assessing Sky’s beauty. “As you said it would happen, her eyes glowed, silver blue, like yours. The moment I saw them, I knew she was our Mystic and had arrived just like you and Mother claimed would happen. The time must be right for the prophecy to unfold, but I can’t help questioning it.” 

“How so?” 

“She’s clueless to her power, doesn’t trust me, and she closed her eyes when Mayapple appeared on my shoulder. She’s not ready, which makes me unsure of my ability to get her there.” 

“I never said it would be easy, and I never said it would be up to you alone. Lucy’s ability to mentor Sky became limited due to interference from Sky’s mother, Jeana. And then Sky’s been away for the past four years gaining academic knowledge. I spoke with Lucy last night, in the UnShadowed Realm. Lucy said Sky’s father had stayed with her while she attended college. It seems Sky arrived here heavily burdened not wanting to leave her father alone.” 

“I noticed she has trust issues. She kept looking around as if expecting someone to jump out or something. I barely retained her attention.” 

“You’ll figure it out. If anyone can help Sky gain trust, it’s you, my young protégée.” Azuron coiled his bulk and lowered his head over his forearms. “Time for meditation, which means it’s time for you to go explain things to Myarna. Your mother will be anxious to know what you’ve discovered.” 

“I’m sure you’re right.” 

I left Azuron and clung to his confidence in me. After all of the prophecy preparation, will the world of humans even come to an apocalypse? I couldn’t imagine what would create the end of humanity.

About the Author:

BWL Author Page-FB-Twitter
LinkedIn-BWL Publishing Inc.  
BWL Blog
S. Peters-Davis writes multi-genre stories but loves penning a good page-turning suspense-thriller, especially when it’s a ghost story and a romance. Paranormal suspense-thriller romances are her favorites. When she’s not writing, editing, or reading, she’s hiking, RV’ing, fishing, playing with grandchildren, or enjoying time with her favorite muse (her husband) in Southwest Michigan.

For a current listing of her books and buy links, check her author page below.   

Holiday Giveaway 
Holiday Extravaganza Giveaway
$20 Amazon Gift Card from Laura Bickle
2 $15.00 Amazon Gift Cards from Tena Stetler
$20 Amazon Gift Card from S Peters Davis
$10 Amazon Gift Card from Brooklyn Ray
3 $5 Amazon Gift Cards from Melanie Snow
$15 Amazon Gift Card from Barb Jones
Signed set of Blood Prophecy signed paperbacks from Barb Jones
A prize pack from Kim Richards featuring a Warrior necklace, an Amazon woman on horseback pin and an embroidered bookmark.


Monday, September 24, 2018

Excerpt: Malevolent (A Kendra Spark Novel Book Two) by S. Peters-Davis + giveaway

I Smell Sheep will be hosting many stops on Bewitching Book Tours Hanuted Halloween Spooktacular.
Take a look at all the spooky books, read the excerpts and enjoy little surprises from the authors as well as a hauntingly good giveaway! 

Halloween Short Story:
Soren’s Calling 
By S. Peters-Davis
The tree, miles inside the dense Michigan forest, billowed with majestic energy, same as it did fifteen years ago. I’d sensed its power even then, at ten years old. Something marked in my memory like a reoccurring dream called me back to this place.

I touched the kaleidoscope of bark, reveling in its swirls of uneven texture, and swore it shivered. Or was I vibrating to its high frequency? Excitement and exhaustion sliced through me. “Hello, old friend,” I whispered.

A sudden heaviness settled into my body and eyelids. I dropped my backpack and leaned against the tree, bending until I rested on the ground. The sketch book. I pulled it from the pack and thumbed through the pages of my drawings. There he was. I want to see you again.

My eyes closed of their own volition, sending me into the darkness of deep sleep.

* * *

Breaking branches, rustling leaves, and a thud on the ground next to me startled my mind to consciousness. I jumped to my feet, the sketch book landing with Soren’s page open. I glanced at it for a second before scanning the area and seeing nothing. Then…he stood in front of me.

“Soren?”

His violet-rimmed dark eyes studied me. He’d grown in stature, still long-limbed with clawed hands and feet. His shoulder-length silver hair was drawn away from his sculpted face by a couple slender braids. He sniffed the air and his mouth opened showing long incisors.

“It’s me, Becca.” I reached my hand toward him and he jerked back, snarling, the talons on his fingers displayed in full. The hair across the nape of my neck snapped to attention, reminding me of the graphic way he’d stopped a wolf from attacking us years ago.

Maybe this wasn’t Soren. I lowered my gaze to the drawing at my feet. He stepped closer backing me against the tree, his thin brows pinched together as he studied the drawing. He looked back at me, wide-eyed, and planted his hands on both sides of my head. Somehow, we fell inside the tree.

We plummeted into a wind tunnel. His arms locked around me as he spun my body around until our heads were up and our feet were down.

What the heck just happened? I didn’t recall this part.

Warm shimmering light surrounded us, making the violet color of his eyes opalescent as we free-fell in this make-shift elevator of air.

“Becca,” he whispered and nuzzled my neck. “You came back.”

My eyes moistened. “Soren, I’ve missed you.” His earthy cocoa-spice scent doused my olfactory in memories. The three days and nights we’d spent together, climbing the tree, finding mushrooms, swimming in an icy pond, enjoying campfires…until my parents found me wandering the forest alone.

We never went to that forest again for our spring mushroom hunts.

All this time I thought the tree and Soren were figments of a child’s wild imagination. I returned to the forest in hopes of finding the tree, where I’d first fallen asleep so long ago. I lifted my head away from Soren’s shoulder to study him closer. His face appeared more human. The fangs had receded. His ears lost their pointed tips and his nose wasn’t so snout-like.

The tunnel opened into a vast terrain of vegetation, thistle huts, pools, gardens; a whole underground civilization. Our descending slowed until our feet rested on solid ground.

“Where are we?” My focus went ballistic, attempting to take in everything at once.

Soren tapped my chin, closing my mouth.

I laughed. “We didn’t come here as kids. I would have remembered it, especially the trip down.”

“No. Our kind never brings humans here.” He grabbed my hand.

No humans? My stomach roiled and my knees shook then folded. The whole falling through a tree into another world of beings wasn’t connecting inside my brain. A living nightmare might work as not one human knew where I’d gone, too hard to explain a child’s quest.

“Becca, you must stand, now, or everyone will know.” He pulled me up and wrapped an arm around my waist. “We must hurry.”

I jerked to a stop. “I don’t understand. Why did you bring me here?”

“Shhh. No scene. Come now.” His nostrils flared and he eyed the gathering crowd. “Explain in a moment.”

A pack of wolves came to mind. My stomach flipped a couple more times at their red eyes, flaring nostrils, and growing fangs and claws.

Soren yanked me along a narrow grassy path, the others followed on our heels. Their snarls and growls closed in. Soren lifted me in his arms and ran toward a large round hut. He pushed through the fabric-like doorway into a cool dimly lit room. Not one of the creatures entered after us.

“They want to hurt me. Or eat me. Why did you bring me here?”

He set me on my feet and motioned for me to sit on the cot in the center of the room. Then he slid my sleeve above my wrist, his fingertips touched two small scars. “Those are what called you back. I marked you long ago, as you slept, with the intention of giving you another that bonds. It is why we were attacked. Spring is our season to bond, no matter what age, we bound our mate and when the age is ripe, like now, we mate for life.”

“Instinct brought me here? You told me humans aren’t allowed.” My heart beat into my ribs so hard my body moved to its pulse. A mix of emotions swept through me in a shiver.

“There are no humans here, only our mates and us.” His face morphed, fangs extended.

“No.” My voice a mere whisper as he pushed me back and his fangs sank into my neck.


Malevolent (A Kendra Spark Novel Book Two)
by S. Peters-Davis
August 10, 2018
Genre: Supernatural, Suspense-thriller, Romance
Publisher: BWL Publisher
ASIN: B07G36D3JC
E-book length: 150
Print length: 195
Word Count: 57,500
Cover Artist: Michelle Lee
Trafficked girls marked to lose their souls by a malevolent supernatural entity require someone with explicit abilities for their rescue. Will Kendra be able to save them?

Kendra Spark, suspense-mystery writer and communicator with the dead, signs on to the next FBI Special Task Force case, trafficked girls that are marked to lose their souls.

Jenna Powers, ghostified criminal analyst, sticks close to the case as she and Kendra are also marked by the same malevolent supernatural force.

Derek Knight, lead FBI Agent on this case, learns of the malevolent entity and the deeper paranormal realm of danger.

Kendra’s unfiltered feelings for Derek struggle to take a backseat, and as the menacing threat grows more intense, so does her passion for Derek.

Derek faces uncertainties he’s never dealt with in his past, like malicious entities and the loss of his heart to love. How can he protect Kendra against forces he can’t see?

As boundless supernatural danger intertwines with the future reality of the trafficked teens, Kendra and Jenna realize only they can shoulder the rescue by calling in a voodoo priestess…



Excerpt:
Kendra Spark’s point of view:
We left in silence, and during the whole drive to Derek’s place, neither of us said a word.

As soon as we drove into his driveway and parked near his garage, outside lights popped on, streaming through the window and shining across Derek’s face. He turned to me and said, “So what did you not tell Jackson?”

“You gotta hand it to him, our Derek is a pretty receptive dude.” Jenna snickered from the backseat.

“I didn’t tell him about Buster, the malevolent spirit from the hotel. He’s also known as a soul-sucker.”

“What does that mean?” Derek’s back went rigid straight.

“It means those girls don’t know anything about their abuse because their souls are no longer inside their bodies. The soul-sucker absorbs them as his energy source.” There was no way I would tell him females were his favorite meal, or young girls were like a euphoric dessert. “Bertellia’s prostitutes’ souls have taken up residence inside the empty bodies of the teen girls. They are using them like a vessel.”

Derek’s eyes widened to the size of half-dollars. “Are you saying prostitutes live inside those kids?”

“Exactly.”

Derek climbed out of the SUV, and so did I. He went to the back and hauled out my luggage.

“I’m having a hard time wrapping my brain around this, Kendra,” Derek stated. “It sounds like something only a fiction writer would come up with as an explanation.”

Wow, what a blow, as if he stabbed a sharp blade directly into my heart and twisted it a million ways at once. Heat blasted across my face and scurried down my neck. Maybe I shared too much, too soon. I didn’t need him doubting me, nor did I need the hurt and frustration sweeping through me right now.

“How does this guy take their souls?” He stared at me, his startling blues went stormy. “Are you telling me this thing we dealt with inside the hotel room could have taken your soul? Or Jenna’s?” He hissed an exaggerated breath, dropping his gaze to the ground and shaking his head.

“Wow, keep it coming, Derek.” Jenna stepped next to me, punching her fists at him like a boxer on steroids. “Now what are you going to tell him? Hopefully, the truth. That both of our souls are marked by that soul-stealing freak for his consumption.”

That wasn’t what I would share with Derek, considering his acknowledgment of what actually happened in the hotel room. He had some understanding of the danger.

“So, what can stop it?” Derek spoke through clenched teeth, bringing me back to his previous questions. He was already overprotective, but what could he possibly do to protect us from Buster?

How would I respond? Clueless as to the extent of Buster’s abilities, but I was sure about what Grandma Ellie said, he could steal Jenna’s and my soul. Plus, a strong intuitive feeling told me in order to destroy that beast we would have to get up-close and personal with it.

“I’m sure I’ll find answers in Grandma Ellie’s journal. It’s the research I told you I still needed to do. I’ll require specific supplies and chants, and maybe someone else’s help.” Someone that knew about malevolent spirits and what it took to destroy them because right now I hung totally out of my realm. I needed to find Buster’s vulnerability, his number one weakness, his achilleas heel.

“All this supply stuff and chanting, that sounds like pagan lore. Are you a witch, Kendra?” He rolled his shoulders and his furrowed gaze melded into mine.

“I like to think of myself as a spiritualist.”


About the Author: 
Website-FB-Twitter
BWL Author Page
GoodReads-LinkedIn
BWL Publishing Inc.
S. Peters-Davis writes multi-genre stories, but loves penning a good page-turning suspense-thriller, especially when it’s a ghost story and a romance. When she’s not writing, editing, or reading, she’s hiking, RV’ing, fishing, playing with grandchildren, or enjoying time with her favorite muse (her husband) in Southwest Michigan.

She also writes YA paranormal, supernatural novels as DK Davis.

Giveaway 
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Friday, March 4, 2016

Guest Post: Ten Reasons Authors Should Go On A Virtual Book Tour By Roxanne Rhoads + giveaway

Ten Reasons Authors Should Go On A Virtual Book Tour

By Roxanne Rhoads

1. Going on a virtual tour can help you network with bloggers, readers, reviewers, other authors and publishing professionals. You can build a professional network of contacts through a tour.

2. A virtual book tour can help build your author brand and platform.

3. An online tour can vastly expand your online presence and visibility as an author. The more you and your book are mentioned online, the more hits readers will find when they Google you.

4. You can target niche reader markets. Does your book feature food, crafts, or secondary topic that can be built upon for marketing purposes? Make sure that in addition to the normal book blogs and genre blogs that several of your tour stops are on targeted blogs for food, recipes, crafts or a side market that fits your niche. For instance, Juliette Blackwell’s Witchcraft Mysteries could be featured on sites that cater to vintage clothing or San Francisco because both of those feature heavily in her cozy mystery series. Melissa Bourbon’s Dressmaking Mystery Series could be featured on a sewing blog. Find your niche and target it.

5. A tour can build your mailing list and increase your social media following. Include links to your newsletter sign up page and all of your social media profiles so readers can easily follow you.

6. A virtual tour can direct traffic to your website. Make sure your website is up to date and full of content for readers to explore.

7. Expose your book to readers around the world. Many tour companies have book bloggers in numerous countries. Your book can be showcased around the world 24/7.

8. You will have the chance to interact directly with readers via live chats, Facebook events, and comments on blogs and websites.

9. Most blogs archive their content; this means it does not get deleted. Your tour stop will remain online indefinitely for readers to find.

10. A virtual book tour can increase book sales.


Secrets of Successful Virtual Book Tours Quick Tips for Authors Guide
by Roxanne Rhoads
Are you considering a virtual book tour?

Not sure where to start or exactly what an online tour will entail?

Roxanne Rhoads, book publicist and owner of Bewitching Book Tours, shares her virtual tour expertise in this Quick Tips for Authors Guide.

Secrets of Successful Virtual Book Tours will guide you in utilizing the best marketing tool available- a virtual book tour, which can create online exposure for your book, jumpstart your book sales, help build your author brand, and expand your network.

In this guide you’ll learn:
· what you should do before a tour
· the components of a great author website
· the best social media outlets for authors to utilize
· tips for building your author brand
· how to write great guest blogs
· what to expect from an online book tour
· the secrets of successful book tours
· how to schedule your own virtual book tour
And you’ll receive in-depth details about what to do during a virtual book tour to guarantee success. 



About the Author:
Roxanne Rhoads has been working in the world of online book promotion since 2005. She has worked as a freelance writer, author, book reviewer, book blogger, editor, self-publisher and book publicist. She has a unique advantage of knowing how multiple sides of book publishing and promotion operate. 

Roxanne understands how book bloggers work and what they want to make their jobs easier while also understanding that authors need promotion to be streamlined, easy, and less time consuming. 

Roxanne shares some of her knowledge in her latest release, Secrets of Successful Virtual Book Tours.
Tour Giveaway:
Bewitching Book Tours' Release Day Blitz or Cover Reveal (winner's choice)
ebook copy of Secrets of Successful Virtual Book Tour


a Rafflecopter giveaway

Goodreads Book Giveaway
Secrets of Successful Virtual Book Tours by Roxanne Rhoads

Secrets of Successful Virtual Book Tours

by Roxanne Rhoads

Giveaway ends March 28, 2016.
See the giveaway details at Goodreads.
Enter Giveaway

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

The Characters’ Court: Miranda Stork (Conner: The Athol Trilogy #1 book tour) + giveaway

Author Miranda Stork takes her Muse to court...and they air some dirty laundry!
“Order in the court. Order in the court!”

The vast courtroom falls silent as the judge peers over her glasses towards the two parties glaring at one another before her. Drawing in a deep breath and pursing her thin lips, she nods over to the first one, a woman with dark hair and glasses lopsidedly arranged on her nose. 
“Now, you were saying, Miss Stork?” 


The author in the glasses sends a spiteful sneer in the direction of the mist-like woman standing on the podium to the right before replying, 
“Thank you, your Honour.” Jabbing a finger to the accused, she adds, “This…muse has plagued me long enough. She turns up when she feels like it, she takes long holidays without telling me, and to top it off…” A deep, dramatic breath. “She drinks all the milk from the fridge, leaving just that trickle so she never has to buy some more!” 

Horrified gasps fill the air from the crowd behind, and the judge scowls once more. “Order! My god, I’ll hold this whole court in contempt if I have to.” As the chatter simmered down to hushed whispers, the judge leaned in towards the two women before her, giving a conspiratorial wink. “I wouldn’t really. I just always wanted to say that.”

A look passes between the muse and the author, a shared arched eyebrow.

“Miss…er…Muse? You may speak.”

The mist-like woman draws another puff from her long cigarette, before dropping it to the podium and stamping on it with her stiletto, folding her arms over her chest. “It’s just Muse. And my author has no appreciation of what I do. I need to take long holidays and drink copious martinis. Wait—she didn’t mention the drinking. Er, forget that. Anyway, she’s a slave-driver! When we work together, she expects me to work from 6am until past midnight some days, with no breaks! And I give her some amazing storylines.” Twisting around and narrowing her eyes at the author, Muse spits, “I gave you the best storylines of your life. You’ll never get better than me, honey.”

The author gives a laugh, covering it with an awkward cough at a look from the judge. “Yeah, okay. ‘I’ll never get better’. Unless I get drunk, fall over, and spew out whatever crap comes into my head!” Waving her arms around frantically, the author continues in a mimicking voice, “Oh, oh, how about a girl who goes to a new school and finds out all the others are mutant-ghost-cannibals!? Remember that one? Or how about the ghost who lived off onion rings? Or the talking dog in the—”

“Your Honour, she is twisting this,” Muse interrupted, pouting over to the severe lady behind the judge’s pedestal, giving a casual shrug. “Yeah, so maybe some of my ideas weren’t that great. But I gave her, um…the reaper guy? On the motorbike? And, and the demon who’s plagued by evil shadows? Those were pretty good.”

“You know, that’s not the point,” the author fires back, pulling up the slipping waistband of her pajama bottoms, the typical uniform of her career. “You give me the idea, two sentences, and then fudge off! Then you come back for the last stages of editing, and expect me to give you all the credit!”

“What, not even a mention at the end?”
“Yeah, that would be appropriate. I’ll just put half a word on the last page. You’ll know what it means.”
“Yeah? Well let’s see what happens without your precious coffee. Your Honour, she’s a caffeine addict!”
“She’s a drunk!”
“She watches Friends while writing!”
“She makes me rewrite entire passages at 3 in the morning!”
“She—”
 


“Enough!” The judge shouts over the two squabbling parties, rubbing tiredly at her temples. “I can’t believe this. I thought I was going to be presiding over murder cases and stuff. Maybe like ‘A Few Good Men’, but without the armed forces. Instead I’m helping a woman in her pajamas and a drunk ghost settle their differences.” Sighing loudly, the judge lays her hands on the desk and raises her head, glaring over her spectacles at Muse. “Look. You both make good points. Miss Stork is quite right—you should be around more. I cannot put a book in your care when the court does not know if you will be around to see it grow up!” Twisting back to the author, the judge adds, “And Muse also makes a point—that book is half hers, even if she is a lazy drunk SOB.”
“Hey!”
The judge raises an eyebrow. “It’s true, honey, live with it.” Muse gives a shrug before nodding reluctantly. The judge leans forward and clasps her hands together. “Here’s my verdict. Muse, you will make an effort to visit the books more often, and to help out Miss Stork with their upbringing—er, their editing. Miss Stork, you will stop drinking so much coffee and listen to your muse when she comes at odd moments.”

The author and Muse glare at each other, mumbling under their breath, but they both nod before stepping down from the podiums and shaking hands. The judge stands up, rolling her eyes. “Finally.” Looking down at the clerk below, she asks, “So, what’s the next case?”

“Um…a character is suing his author for not giving him enough love scenes.”
“For crying out loud. I wish I was a judge in a James Patterson novel.”


Conner (The Athol Trilogy Book 1) 
by Miranda Stork 
Genre: Paranormal
Publisher: Isara Press
April 19th, 2012
ISBN: 978-1482795585
ASIN: B007VZO792
Number of pages: 297
Cover Artist: Miranda Stork
Erin is a young psychologist, with no time for anything but her work, and unable to remember anything about her past. She leads an uneventful life, but a lonely one, in which she secretly wishes for a soulmate...

Conner is an unusual patient who approaches her, thrusting her into a strange world of darkness that runs beneath our own. He believes himself to be a creature of legend-a werewolf. But he also draws Erin with a roguish charm, and an irresistible feeling that seems to bind them together...

Conner desperately tries to save her from an unknown evil that pursues her with a relentless passion that crosses centuries, an evil that once took her very soul away, somewhere in Erin's lost memories.

As she becomes more entwined in a series of events that will remind her of who she really is, will she make it away from the oncoming darkness unscathed...?


Reviewers Love Conner
"5 stars! One of the best novels I have read all year!" --Nicole Hill, Author of Legacy Forgotten, 5 Stars

"You are hooked whether you like it or not! A great read." --Maxi Shelton, Author of Sold Into Marriage, 5 Stars

"'Conner' took me on a wild, fantastic and exciting ride!" --Trish Marie Dawson, Author of 'The Station' Series, 5 Stars

"Conner is a must read for all werewolf fans. It has a fresh spin on wolves, and I thought it was great." --Fictional Candy, 4 Stars

Excerpt: 

Erin tossed and turned. Her bed sheets were tussled up, one pillow lying on the floor as she shifted her limbs in anguish. She was not sleeping well tonight. 

...Something raced towards her, crashing through the branches and leaves. She was sobbing and running as fast as she could, but she was cold and wet, and her feet were cut and bleeding. Her clothes hung off her, soaked until they became dead weights. 

A small clearing lit with brilliant sunshine danced in front of her, teasing her with the sight. She ran towards it, trying to scream for help, but her mouth was full of cotton wool, and no sound came out. 

Behind her, the breathing and snarling became louder and louder until it filled and echoed in her ears. Frantic, she looked around for somewhere to hide, but all she could see were trees—no, wait! There was a small hut! 

Crying with happiness, Erin sprinted towards it, but she was knocked flying by something large and dark. 

She turned to stare, and backed away in panic. An eight-foot black creature with burning amber eyes glared at her. 

“You must never go inside! NEVER!” 

Erin shot bolt upright, cold sweat dripping from her forehead and running into her eyes. She took a deep breath shakily, and snapped her bedside light on, the reassuring light flooding her bedroom. 

“Oh, Erin,” she murmured to herself, wiping the sweat from her brow with a shaking hand. Glancing around her warm, safe bedroom, she relaxed and breathed in deeply. She felt stupid for taking in Conner’s stories so much. She glanced over at the clock and groaned at the early hour. 

Still trembling, she slid out of bed and reached for her pink silk dressing gown. She pulled it on with a wide yawn, shaking her head to wake herself up before making her way downstairs. Her wool carpet felt rough and very real beneath her bare feet, the perfect antidote to help bring her back into the real world. Traipsing through the silent house, she pattered through into her kitchen. 

Snapping the fluorescent above on, Erin waited as its humming light came to life, allowing her to see the small kitchen, blinking at the brightness. Its tiled floors and white walls stung her sleep-deprived eyes for a moment, but Erin shuffled across the tiles to open one of her maple cupboard doors, feeling her way around the kitchen table in the centre. The door squeaked in protest on its hinges as she reached inside to take out a glass. Her eyelids heavy, she paced over to her kitchen sink, and ran water into the glass. The cool water filled up with a gurgle that only made her thirstier. 

A quick movement in the shadows outside of her kitchen window caught her eye, and she darted her head up for a look, scanning the blackness of her small garden. Her heart thudded into life, hammering against her ribs in a warning staccato. Squinting harder, she leaned against the glass, her breath steaming the reflective surface up. Nothing moved, not even a wind danced across the stalks of grass outside. 

“It must have been a cat or something,” Erin muttered to herself. She turned away from the window, scooping up her glass once more to take a sip, when she thought she heard a thump from outside again. It was quiet, so quiet she wondered if it had simply been the pipes all along. Her skin prickled as she listened intently, so intently that the next thump against her kitchen wall brought a sharp gasp from her. 

“Alright, what the hell is that?” Erin said aloud, more bravely than she felt. She slammed her glass down on her kitchen table, the clanging noise serving only to heighten the tension. Stories about women who lived alone and ended up as a victim raced through her brain. Shaking those thoughts from her head, she slowly made her way towards the back door. Her head ached with the pressure of her pulse against her temples as she took a deep breath and unlocked her back door, flinging it wide open. As she gazed out, her eyes adjusting to the meagre light from behind, her throat dried with panic. She didn’t expect to see anything. Maybe teenagers messing around. But not this. 

Standing less than six feet away from her door was a large, black wolf-like creature. It stood on four paws, but two glaring eyes focussed on Erin, very human and aware. It rose up slowly onto its back feet as it continued to stare at Erin, daring her to defy it standing there and dismiss it as shadows. 

Erin froze for a second, the blood draining from her body in an icy rush. The wind blew between her and the creature chillingly, echoing the dream-like state she felt. Her tongue was dry and swollen—even if she had tried to call for help, her throat would never have formed the words. The creature moved a fraction forwards, and her sense of self-preservation snapped back into life as she moved, swiftly slamming the door shut. She fumbled hurriedly with her lock, and stepped backwards towards the hallway, switching the fluorescent off by accident as her hand slid along the wall. She tripped over a chair leg, unable to see in the dark, and cried out as she hit the hard floor. 

Shaking and winded, she crawled backwards to the hallway, hitting the far kitchen wall instead. Sobbing noiselessly, she reached up onto the top next to her. She moved her fingers gingerly until she touched one of her kitchen knives, left on the top from when she had made her dinner. There is no way on Earth this is real. I’m still in my nightmare. I’m still in my nightmare. I’m going to wake up in a moment. Clutching the knife to her chest, she swallowed back a cry, glancing back towards the kitchen window. What if there are more of them? 

Outside, she heard the creature breathing heavily, snarling and snuffling at her doorstep. Erin yanked her knees up until she was in a foetal position, tirelessly glancing between the door and the uncovered window. Hours passed, until eventually she heard the creature padding off, her head swimming with fatigue. Erin stayed up for what felt like hours, listening for the creature coming back, eventually falling into an uneasy sleep. 

About the Author:
Pinterest
I'm Miranda Stork, and I'm addicted. Addicted to writing and reading books, anyway. And chocolate, but that's another issue - no interventions, please.

I live in the middle of a forest in North Yorkshire, spending my spare time as the wild woman of the woods, scaring small children and upsetting the sheep. On the days that I feel like being civilized, or I haven't got any unicorns to ride, I sit down and pour the tumbling thoughts in my head out onto digital paper. Mainly the thoughts and characters come out in paranormal form, with a good smattering of romance, because everyone likes a good cuddle. But you can also find strong elements of thrillers, myths, and even dystopia amongst the pages of all my novels. I've wanted to write books ever since I first realized that fairytales were not the newspapers of the fairy kingdom, but the imaginings of actual people who wanted to tell fancy made-up stories to other people. From that moment, I was hooked.

Why do I write? Good question. It might be easier to just keep the stories in my head, or even just to write them for myself. But I want to share them. There is no greater delight for a writer than when a reader devours your book, and declares, "Something in that novel resonated with me. And I want MORE." So grab your lucky clover and a baseball bat (there's some nasty paranormal creatures where we're going), eat the cookie with 'eat me' tagged on it, and enter through the tiny door into the world of Miranda Stork...



Tour giveaway 
5 audiobooks, to be downloaded from Audible.co.uk or Audible.com (winner will be given a coupon with the necessary code for downloading a free copy).

a Rafflecopter giveaway