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Showing posts with label paranormal women's fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label paranormal women's fiction. Show all posts

Monday, March 25, 2024

Seven Strange Facts About Tracy Cooper-Posey + excerpt

Here are six out there, but absolutely true things about me…and one lie. Which one is the lie?

1. I grew up without television or a movie theatre…or a library.
I grew up in a tiny wheatbelt town in Western Australia, that had five houses, a wheat silo and a school. The school had three rooms and no library. It was my years in Cadoux that formed my reading habit. I read to tatters every book my mother managed to mail order from the nearest city.

Bonus weird fact:
The year I left Cadoux, the town was wiped out by a massive, record-breaking earthquake. I’m pretty sure the two events are not related…

2, I was the first licensed female cinematograph operater in Western Australia.
Fast forward a few years. That grand title has a shorter name: A film operator. I was the first female in Western Australia to earn her license to run a movie in a cinema or drive-in.

In those days, some of the bio-boxes could only be accessed by going through the men’s washroom! They were so not set up for women to run a show. 😊

3. I have written 200+ books under three different pen names
I keep lists – I have to, because I can never remember them all.

I’ve been writing for a few years. 

4. I met my future husband on the Internet when it was only two years old, and I moved to Canada to marry him.
I think we might be one of the first couples to meet online, it was that new.

Bonus weird fact: We have the same birthday, which is also the day we met, and our wedding anniversary.
 

5. I have bumped noses with a grey nurse shark 

When I lived in Western Australia, I was a keen scuba diver. The Indian Ocean is warm, and clear, and made for scuba diving. But one day I pushed myself up from the sea floor, over the top of a short reef…and the grey nurse was coming over the top of the reef from the other side.

I don’t know who was the most startled. The shark flicked its tail and took off. So did I.

I think I walked on water, getting back to the beach….
 

6. I have survived a civil war
For nearly two years, my husband at that time worked with a mining company who operated a copper mine on Bougainville, in Papua New Guinea, just three degrees below the equator.

We had been there just over a year when a civil war broke out between political factions vying for control of the country. They assured us that Australians working the copper mine were perfectly safe.

Until they killed an Australian.

We were evacuated off the island in 48 hours. We spent that 48 hours grimly packing up our houses, as the company assured us they would get our possessions off the island. We didn’t believe them, of course.

Weird bonus fact:
Our possessions, in a sea container, were dropped onto the driveway of our house in Australia, six weeks later. The books smelled of the jungle for years, after that.
 

7. I have kissed a king
A real, honest-to-goodness king. And that’s all I’ll say about that.

-------------

So, which one is the lie?

If you guessed the last one, you’re sort of right. When I kissed him, he wasn’t a king at the time. He was a crown prince.

I have newspaper reports to prove it. 😉


Tracy Cooper-Posey


Crossroads Magic (Witchtown Crossing Book One)
by Tracy Cooper-Posey
March 21, 2024
Genre: Paranormal Women’s Fiction, Paranormal Romance, Contemporary Fantasy
Publisher: Stories Rule Press
Amazon ISBN: 9781779431943
ISBN: 9781779432018
ASIN: B0CP3CKP12
Number of pages: 306 pages
Word Count: 74,000 words
Cover Artist: Dar Dixon, Wicked Smart Designs
I’m just an ordinary, middle-aged woman, and my life is falling apart….

When did I become such a cliché? I’m divorced, working a crappy job, living on next to nothing, and wondering how it all went so wrong.

Then it goes even more wrong. My grown daughter turns up after not speaking to me for two years, with stunning news of her own, and to cap it off, I’m summoned to a tiny, isolated hamlet in northern New York called Haigton Crossing, where my mother has lived for decades.

Haigton Crossing looks like a throwback to another time. For such a small place, it is stuffed full of secrets. The people there are different, including the town’s doctor, Benedict Marcus. And Haigton Crossing is way, way too small to host a murder….

This book is part of the paranormal women’s fiction series, Witchtown Crossing
1.0: Crossroads Magic …with more to come!

A Paranormal Women’s Fiction novel.



Praise for Crossroads Magic:

Love this new series. Once I started reading, I didn’t want to put it down.

Now I must wait for the next book which is pure torture.

Nice to read about a woman starting over after her daughter has grown.

As I adore everything Tracy writes...I am on cloud nine with the start of a new series.

It was wonderful to read a book about a woman who is closer to my age facing problems that I might actually have.

She explains the sights, sounds and smells in a way that makes you feel like you are there. I am eagerly awaiting the next book in this series!

What a delight! A heroine with some life experience, with real world problems.

A NEW Series From TRACY!!! EEEK!

Tracy's strong suit in her writing is her character development and knowing when a good twist and turn is needed to further captivate her audience.

An excellent beginning to what promises to be a most intriguing series, Crossroads Magic is a fascinating story in itself, though there are so many different directions this series could take.
Excerpt Chapter One
The only thing I was worried about as I headed back to my apartment building was the spot on the back of my hand where hot fat had left a burn the size of a nickel. Small, but mighty, the burn throbbed and ached, reminding me it was there. It was worse when the sun hit it, which it did frequently. It was one of those perfect, mild days in December, when you could actually see the sky over L.A. and it was blue.

Who am I kidding? The burn spot wasn’t the only thing I was worried about. If you were to ask me, I could rattle off a dozen major and minor problems, including the sumo-sized rat I suspect was trying to take up residence under my kitchen sink. But those were all chronic problems.

The burn on my hand was new and painful. I didn’t need new problems and was trying my best to ignore it until I could slather aloe vera gel on it. Marjorie, at the diner, had hacked off a leaf from the plant sitting in the pot outside the kitchen door when Deborah, the assistant manager, hadn’t been looking. Marj had wrapped the leaf in plastic. It was in my bag, along with the serving of pecan pie which Deborah had ordered the waitresses to throw out because it was too old. Three days old…there was nothing wrong with it, and it had more calories in it than the egg and toast I had lined up for dinner.

In this world that wasn’t the one I would voluntarily choose, today was turning out okay. Pecan pie, and Hobgoblin of History in my ears. I had been waiting weeks for book fifteen of M.K. Lint’s fantasy series. The library had doled it out to me yesterday and I was on chapter three. Harry the Hobgoblin was looking for the Fairy Eloise, this book; he’d lost her at the end of the last one, because he hadn’t closed the Doors of Eternal Flame in time and a demon had abducted her.

I like reading. I like it a lot.

My building was a white monstrosity that did nothing to enhance the L.A. skyline. The white had long ago turned to a stained, dull grey. Five years ago, a fire had broken out on the top floor and burned out a few apartments. The black smoke had billowed up out of the windows, staining the walls above them. The stains were still there and every time I saw them, I had to remind myself they were smoke stains, not black mould taking over the building. Black mould seemed more appropriate.

I turned off the audiobook, stashed my phone in my pocket and headed for the front door. I only used the front door when I came home from work. Usually, I used the side door, because it was closer to the bus stop.

There was another homeless person sitting on the front steps, leaning against the wrought iron bannister as if they couldn’t prop themselves up, their jean jacket pulled in tight. It wasn’t that cold, although this late in the afternoon, any warmth in the day was beginning to fade.
I swung around the homeless person’s worn boots, and up the steps, digging out my key.

“Mom?” The voice wavered.

I whirled, my heart rate climbing, to face the woman rising from the steps, a denial on my lips.

Blue, short, spiky hair. A nose ring. Black eye makeup that had run…or that she had been wearing for too many days. The black looked like bruises.

“Ghaliya?” I asked, for the high cheekbones, narrow chin and high forehead were hers. So were the blue eyes—even if they were blood shot. The next question was right there, behind my teeth. What the hell are you doing here?

Ghaliya pulled the jacket in around her once more. She’d lost weight since the last time I’d seen her…two years, two months and five days ago. And about thirty minutes.

“The super said you’d be home around now,” Ghaliya said. She bent and picked up a small black backpack that had been sitting under her knees and straightened.

Was it possible she’d got taller? She’d been an inch shorter than me. I didn’t think she was shorter than me anymore, and I am nearly always the tallest woman in the room.

I didn’t ask why she was here. That was obvious. She needed help.

I hefted my keys instead. “You’d better come in.”

About the Author:
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Tracy Cooper-Posey is the author of the popular Once and Future Hearts historical fantasy romance series, among others. She writes romantic suspense, historical, paranormal, fantasy and science fiction romance, plus women’s fiction. She also writes under the pen names of Cameron Cooper (science fiction) and Taylen Carver (fantasy). She has published over 200 titles since 1999, been nominated for five CAPAs including Favourite Author, and won the Emma Darcy Award.

She turned to indie publishing in 2011. Her indie titles have been nominated four times for Book Of The Year. Tracy won the award in 2012, a SFR Galaxy Award in 2016 and came fourth in Hugh Howey’s SPSFC#2 in 2023. She has been a national magazine editor and for a decade she taught romance writing at MacEwan University.

She is addicted to Irish Breakfast tea and chocolate, sometimes taken together. In her spare time she enjoys history, Sherlock Holmes, science fiction and ignoring her treadmill. An Australian Canadian, she lives in Edmonton, Canada with her husband, a former professional wrestler, where she moved in 1996 after meeting him on-line.

Tuesday, October 18, 2022

Book Review: Trouble Play: (Vista De Lirio Mysteries Book 3) by Elizabeth Hunter

Trouble Play: (Vista De Lirio Mysteries Book 3)
by Elizabeth Hunter
Oct 18, 2022
Pages: 284
Paranormal women's fiction for lovers of sassy women, psychic shenanigans, and lifelong friends.

This desert oasis has gone to the dogs, and things are about to get bloody! (Not the dogs though. The dogs are fine.)

Comedian Evy Lane thought she’d done it all, but taking on the role of mistress of ceremonies for the Desert Fancy Dog Show may be her most challenging gig yet. The locals are a menagerie of high-strung prima donnas, nervous Nelsons, and she’s not talking about the dogs!

When high-stakes competition leads to gruesome murder, she will need every telepathic power at her disposal—and every psychic friend she knows—to make this show go on. Pesky police detectives, dangerously attractive investigators, and a menagerie of our favorite Vista de Lirio characters make this mystery the most twisted yet!

TROUBLE PLAY is the third book in the Vista de Lirio series, a new paranormal mystery series by Elizabeth Hunter, bestselling author of the Elemental Mysteries, the Glimmer Lake series, and The Irin Chronicles.


Palm Springs is already full of rich and sometimes snobby people, but when the Desert Fancy dog show comes to town, the town has more than enough suspects when people start dying. Evy has been hired to be the mistress of ceremonies, and she’s not sure she’s up for the challenge but is determined to give it her best.

John Marcos, the chief of police in Palm Springs, wants Evy to use her telepathy to help him find the killer. Still, Evy is determined to keep taking her anti-anxiety meds that keep all the inner monologues in the brains of the people thinking of them but when does Evy ever get what she wants?, Rafe, a new character in the series brings some mystery, sexiness, and possibilities to town for Evy, but she’s one for fun, not necessarily something more than that.

One thing I like about this series that Hunter has been doing is that she focuses on a specific character and goes more in-depth, but the characters from the previous books are still there, making me smile every time.

Review: Double Vision: (Vista De Lirio Mysteries Book 1)
Review: Mirror Obscure: (Vista De Lirio Mysteries Book 2)

Getting 5 sheep 





Denise B

About the Author:
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Elizabeth Hunter is a contemporary fantasy, paranormal romance, and contemporary romance writer. She is a graduate of the University of Houston Honors College and a former English teacher. She once substitute taught a kindergarten class, but decided that middle school was far less frightening. Thankfully, people now pay her to write books and eighth-graders everywhere rejoice.

She currently lives in Central California with her son, two dogs, many plants, and a sadly dwindling fish tank. She is the author of the Elemental Mysteries and Elemental World series, the Cambio Springs series, the Irin Chronicles, and other works of fiction.

Monday, November 1, 2021

Excerpt: A Paranormal Women's Fiction (Midlife Supernaturals, Book One) by T.J. Deschamps + giveaway

Eastside Hedge Witch: A Paranormal Women's Fiction: (Midlife Supernaturals #1)
by T.J. Deschamps
October 31, 2021
Genre: Paranormal Women's Fiction
Twenty years ago, I stole something that could win the war between Heaven and Hell. Don't get me wrong, I'm no do-gooder. I wanted to rule everything with the King of Hell. However, I have serious qualms with killing 8 billion people in order to get what I want. He didn't. Irreconcilable differences, right?

So, I did what any witch would do. I faked my death and hid out in the Seattle suburbs, living as a mundane. Stay at home moms are practically invisible here!

I had a good thing going until a hellhound showed up on my morning run. Guess you can't thwart the devil's machinations and get away with it forever. Time to come out of the supernatural closet and save the world. Again.


EXCERPT:
Chapter 1
No one expects to run into a hellhound on their pre-dawn run in the Seattle suburbs, not even me, and I’ve had a long history with the stinky mutts and their master. I stop dead in my tracks, my heart thudding faster than the beat in my earbuds. After pressing the bud in my right ear, the music ceases. Ambient noise filters in.

Luck is on my side, sort of, as I am downwind of the monster, not the other way around. The reek of sulfur was what had given away the hellhound circling my neighbor’s begonias long before I spot the glowing red headlights where eyeballs should be. Besides the glowing red eyes, there’s no mistaking the hellhound for a lost pooch or a coyote on the prowl. The arch of its back reaches about as high as my chest, and I’m about 5'6", not tall but not short either. It’s three times as wide as my hips, and I’m, as my daughter’s generation puts it, “thicc.” Under a sleek coat of slate-gray fur, sinewy muscles ripple. Even without looking inside its muzzle, I know viscous slobber covers several rows of razor-sharp teeth. But what really gives away the doggo is not a helpful Lassie are the shadows, darker than dark, swirling about the killer canine.

Those shadows will suck you into a whole new world. Somewhere you don’t want to take a magic carpet ride, Aladdin, not one little bit.

Too busy sniffing at my neighbor’s hedges, likely distracted by a bunny, the hellhound doesn’t even realize I’m there. I don’t mind if the demonic beast eats Peter Rabbit, the circle of life and all that, but I sure as hell mind if the hound tries to devour me, or worse catch me up in those swirling darker-than-dark shadows forming around him.

My stomach knots with unease and I bite my bottom lip to keep from crying. I’d grown complacent over the years since I left Hell. I want to stomp my foot and cry out that this isn’t fair. I’d gotten away from His Creepiness and all his bullshit evil machinations a long time ago. I have a nice, albeit bland, life in the suburbs. I’m on the freaking Parent Teacher Student Association!

I give up my pity party. I am a middle-aged mom, not sixteen. I’ve known for a long time that life was never going to be fair, as life never is when someone has way more power than you have.

I’d grown complacent, but like all middle-aged mothers, I still came prepared. I’d thought I was safe from Hell, but the world is filled with a lot more things that go bump in the night than hellhounds. I ease off my backpack.

My kid likely thinks I carry around weights, tasteless nutrition bars, and a water bottle like a normal person. The water bottle is the only true part. What I do have in my bag stops all kinds of monsters from devouring me while I get my heart rate up to “cardio” on my smartwatch. I push aside ash and rowan wood stakes, a silver dagger in its sheathe, a jar of cream to distract fae—not that the high fae courts are even allowed on Earth after the angels kicked them out, but the tiny low fae love the stuff and keeps them on your side.

Among these contents, I retrieve a container of Morton salt, tear off the sticker, and flick the spout with my thumb. My stomach dips when the friction causes the metal of the spout to squeak against the cardboard of the container.

My gaze still on the hellhound, who is still tearing up my neighbor’s garden, I exhale in relief.

With great care, I pour the salt in a circle, whispering the words I’d learn by rote. I’d learned them in another tongue but say the spell in English—a focus, the actual words don’t matter. The intention does. The power comes from within me, as it does all witches. I contain a metaphorical light inside that can blaze with the brilliance of a thousand suns, or so my mother said.

Mom was more poetic than I could ever be. She read Ralph Ellison, Alice Walker, and other greats of the twentieth century. I read comics and listened to Biggie and Wu-Tang Clan. She belongs to a coven. I am a lone witch, living a continent away from the women who raised me. Generational disconnect happens to the supernatural, too. Especially when your mother gave you to a fallen angel as a tithe when you were only a teenager.

When I’m done with the setup, I return the salt to my backpack and steel myself for what’s to come next.

I whistle. The first comes out dry and soundless. I moisten my teeth and try again. A shrill sound, loud enough to wake the dead let alone the neighborhood, departs from my lips.

The hound pauses the search for the rabbit, lifting its head. Alert. The beast’s nostrils flare as it sniffs the air. Red glowing eyes lock onto me.

Yeah. That’s right. I’m much better prey.

A low growl emits from the beast’s throat. Claws the length of my fingers click on the sidewalk as the hound stalks forward toward me.

Inside, I’m quaking with fear. I have not done this spell in a long time. If something happens to me, my daughter will have no one. I push that out of my head and plant my hands on my hips.

“Go tell your master take the hint and leave me alone.” I point as I speak, not intending a literal destination but a general begone direction.

The idiot looks where I pointed.

I roll my eyes. Hellhounds are not like Earth dogs. They have no instinct to protect, but they have the same instinct to hunt and follow signals. When the evil pooch realizes his master isn’t there, the predatory red gaze narrows on me, but it doesn’t move.

Doubt and confusion sets in. I’m not sure why he’s not pouncing and dragging me back with him to Hell nor ripping me to shreds. Am I not its target?

I curse under my breath.

I clear my throat. “Also, tell him stalking is a little gross and so creepy that he’s still got a thing for a me. I made it pretty clear I didn’t want to be with him anymore.” I throw up a hand and shake my head. “Wait. Why am I telling you? You’re too stupid to deliver a message.”

I spin on my heel like I’m going to walk away. Part of me wants to run. Wants to lure this beast away from my home, my kid.

The movement triggers instincts. In my peripheral, the monster snarls and lunges.

My heart leaps into my throat. The creature is doing exactly what I want it to do, however, a massive hellhound is launching in my direction. That and swirling magic that promises to rip me from everything I love to carry me to my least favorite ex scares the bejesus out of me.

After a moment of frozen terror, my brain revs into gear. I find my voice, murmuring the final words of the spell. A silly little rhyme stammered more than said—but stammered with intention!

The ground shakes beneath my feet, rumbling like a thunder cloud. Within the salt circle I’ve created, a swirling vortex appears. Fire erupts from the center, but I don’t feel the heat. It’s all contained by the salt I bought in a three-pack from Costco. The beast snarls and whines but cannot escape the flames toasting its flesh.

Oopsy. I’ve opened a portal to a less hospitable part of Hell. Guess this hellhound won’t be delivering my message.

I murmur another spell, voice still shaking. The swirling vortex sucks the hellfire and burning beast down like a flaming turd down a flushed toilet.

As I’ve said, I’m no poet.

The portal between worlds vanishes, leaving behind my salt art.

Sweat cooling on my body and adrenaline waning, all I want to do is go home and shower, but I need to clean up the salt first. If I left it, Seattle’s infamous constant drizzle would wash the salt into the neighbor’s yard and kill all the plants.

Television and movies with demon slayers never mention that salt will kill plants if absorbed into the ground. The ostensible heroes walk away from their salt circles, leaving a destructive mess, not caring whose yard they’ve destroyed, but I do.

As I sweep up the salt circle with a pocket-sized dustpan and broom, dumping the contents into a Ziploc bag, a sadness envelops me. I’d found safety and community on the Eastside—albeit while pretending I was something I was not. I don’t want to move again, but I have to.

The thing is, you don’t just leave my ex and get to live happily ever after, not after he’s shared his ambitions. Not after he’s named you his Harbinger of the Apocalypse. I’d only deluded myself that I could.

His Creepiness had once said that he’d tear the heart out of anyone whom I loved more than him, so they’d know how he felt. I used to think of the declaration as terribly romantic, instead of simply terrible. I certainly loved my daughter more than I ever loved him. Would he kill her or try to use her for the purpose he wanted to use me? New fears arise.

With the salt all swept and bagged up, I head to my house with a heavy heart. The life I’ve built here on the Eastside is over, and I have to break that, and so much more, to my daughter.

About the Author:
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T.J. Deschamps lives in the Pacific Northwest of the U.S. with her three teens, two cats, and a tortoise. She loves to read, write, dance, and lift weights--not at the same time, although that'd be cool to see.



Virtual Book Tour - October 31st - November 12
October 31 - RABT Book Tours - Kick Off
October 31 - Triquetra reviews - Excerpt
November 1 - I smell sheep - Excerpt
November 2 - Nesie's Place - Excerpt
November 3 - Novels alive - Excerpt
November 4 - Girl with pen - Excerpt
November 5 - Liliyana Shadolwyn - Spotlight
November 5 - On a Reading Bender- Review
November 6 - Jazzy book reviews - Interview
November 7 - Readers alley - Excerpt
November 8 - Chapters through life - Spotlight
November 9 - Book junkiez - Excerpt
November 10 - Novel News Network - Review
November 10 - The Faerie Review - Spotlight
November 11 - Jav bond blog tours - Review
November 12 - Valerie Ullmer - Excerpt
November 12 - RABT Reviews - Wrap Up

Giveaway
$20 Amazon Card

Tuesday, August 17, 2021

Book Review: Beguiled (Betwixt & Between Book 3) by Darynda Jones

Beguiled (Betwixt & Between Book 3)
by Darynda Jones
February 22, 2021
Pages: 372
A Paranormal Women's Fiction with a bit of class, and a lot of sass, for anyone who feels like age is just a number!

Newly indoctrinated witch, Defiance Dayne, discovers there’s more to life after forty than she'd ever imagined possible. Especially if one is a charmling, one of only three in the world, with enough magics to make her a target for every power-hungry warlock out there. When one of them sends a hunter to town, she knows it’s time to take her talents seriously before the hunter takes her life.

She decides she has three things to do before she can die. Find out who killed her beloved grandmother, teach her BFF the finer points of spellcasting before she blows up the world, and figure out how serious her relationship with the Adonis living in her basement really is. If it’s heading in the direction she’s hoping for, she can die happy. Though, admittedly, she’d rather not. Die. Happy or otherwise.

None of that will matter, however, if she can’t figure out how to foil the supernatural assassin who’s been sent for her. Until then, it’s business—and hopefully romance—as usual. Now if she can only figure out how to tame a lacuna wolf.


Defiance has accepted that she is one of only three charmling’s in the world, and even though a hunter is after her, she will stop at nothing to find out who killed her grandmother. She figures if she doesn’t die trying to solve this mystery, she will also teach her bestie how to cast spells and figure out her relationship with Roane or at least figure out if they have a relationship.

As Defiance and her band of misfits start investigating who killed Ruthie, more and more things that do not add up start happening, such as how someone is able to continuously access the house even though it is guarded, and everyone is on high alert.

Jones's writing is so easy to read that this is another series that is a hit!

Review: Betwixt (Betwixt & Between Book 1)
Review: Bewitched (Betwixt & Between Book 2)


Getting 5 sheep





Denise B

About the Author:
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NYTimes and USA Today Bestselling Author Darynda Jones has won numerous awards for her work, including a prestigious Golden Heart®, a Rebecca, two Hold Medallions, a RITA ®, and a Daphne du Maurier, and she has received stellar reviews from dozens of publications including starred reviews from Publisher’s Weekly, Booklist, and the Library Journal. As a born storyteller, Darynda grew up spinning tales of dashing damsels and heroes in distress for any unfortunate soul who happened by, annoying man and beast alike, and she is ever so grateful for the opportunity to carry on that tradition. She currently has two series with St. Martin’s Press: The Charley Davidson Series and the Darklight Trilogy. She lives in the Land of Enchantment, also known as New Mexico, with her husband of almost 30 years and two beautiful sons, the Mighty, Mighty Jones Boys.

Friday, April 23, 2021

Paranormal Fiction Author Jennifer L. Hart: What is Paranormal Women's Fiction anyway? + giveaway

What is Paranormal Women's Fiction anyway?

It's a tale as old as time, muffin-topping out of its skinny jeans and needing an extra cup of coffee to make it through the day. It's a woman who loves the hell out of her family but craves adventure and romance and all the fixings.

It’s Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, Supernatural Cozy Mystery, and Women’s Fiction all tossed into the crockpot together until the flavors blend and harmonize into something amazing and tasty.

For me, it was a reason to get out of bed in the morning after my beloved beagle died. Sharing Joey's and Robin's story gave me something to look forward to. It was a way to tell a story about and for a group of people who are often taken for granted, women over the age of 40, a group I now belong to. The mom expected to be chef, chauffeur, to make doctor's appointments while scrubbing the toilet all without a thank you.

It's my way to add a touch of magic into the ordinary and a dose of badly needed fun into the world.

Had you heard about PWF? If so, have you read any of the books?

Book 1 Over the Faery Hill
I scrolled down through the listings, many of which were seasonal and wouldn’t start back up until spring. All of the nearby ski resorts were full up and things like ziplining and rafting were definitely warm weather-based. Plus, with my bum wrist, it wasn’t like I could tackle anything uber physical.

Story of my life.

Irritated, I snapped the laptop shut and stared out the window, massaging the ache in my wrist more out of habit than any real pain. My mother was right. At my age, not knowing what I wanted to be when I grew up was just plain sad.

Maybe because the one thing I had truly wanted to be had been taken away from me at sixteen. My gaze fell on the 1st place ribbons, the trophies and newspaper clippings on the built-in bookcase across the way. Artistic gymnastics, first place. Six years running. A photo of me in midair, doing a back handspring off the balance beam. The headline read—Local gymnast is heading for Olympic glory.

It had been more than hope though. It had been my whole life for as long as I could remember. Fate might as well have minced up to me, cracked her gum in my face, and said, “Sorry, Joey. No gold medal for you. How about a lifetime of scraping by instead?” I’d been groping for a purpose ever since.

***

“Diet. Starts. First. Thing. Tomorrow,” I huffed as I slogged ever upwards. My Olympic hopeful self would have kicked my middle aged-kiester if she could see my sorry state. I was breathing so hard that I didn’t notice the point when I crested the hill. I did however notice when the road came to an abrupt halt by dead-ending at a massive oak. I paused and took in my surroundings.

“Hello? Is anyone here?” I scanned frantically for any signs of human habitation but nothing. No vehicle, no cute little cottage, or newly finished mansion. At that point, I would have given my left boob for the dreaded yurt.

Was that want ad some sort of joke? If so, it might prove to be deadly.

“What sort of sick bastard—?”
“Hey, what’s all the shrieking about?” A male voice said from above me.

I craned my neck and locked gazes with a pair of brilliant blue eyes for the second time that day. “Robin Goodfellow?”

“In the flesh.” He smirked as though it was some sort of joke. He stood on a platform that jutted out from the trunk of the tree about thirty feet above my head and was leaning over the railing, peering down at me.

“Joey Whitmore, right? The woman who wants to change October 3rd, 1996. What are you doing here?”

Odd that he remembered the date. Then again, meeting me was probably the strangest part of his day. “My”–behemoth gas guzzler—“car died.”

“I recall.” The lines around his eyes crinkled with amusement. “You look cold. Hold on a sec, I’ll be right down.”

“Okay,” I said because really, what else was I going to say?

The sound of footsteps came from inside the tree. And then a door shaped like an upside-down acorn that I hadn’t even realized was there swung inward. He appeared, silhouetted by an amber glow. “Come on in.”

Something was unsettling about Robin Goodfellow. He seemed amused like there was a private joke and he was the only one in on it. Deep-seated instinct warned that I would be an idiot to trust him.

***

“So, you admit you want to kiss me then?”

I didn’t see any point in denying it. “Yes.”

He unfurled from his casual pose and stalked closer. “And what makes you think I want to help you?”

“Because you could have been curb-boosting me all day. You gave me little trips around town and stayed with me, even when I lashed out at you. And you defended young Joey when I would have made verbal mincemeat out of her. I think you are invested in the outcome of my journey. I think you want me to succeed.”

He shook his head. “Lamb, you are delusional. I live only for the bargain, whether it succeeds or fails.”

“Then why do you want me to kiss you so badly?” I held my breath, waiting for his answer.
His eyes glowed in the dim light. “I couldn’t say.”

I wondered if that meant he didn’t know. At first, I thought he just wanted to push my buttons, to make me squirm since that was the fae prince’s MO. But I was beginning to believe that Robin was hanging around with me, not because I was one of his bargain biddies, but because he actually liked me.

Over the Faery Hill (Magical Midlife Misadventures Book 1)
by Jennifer L. Hart
October 26, 2020
260 pages
Genre: Paranormal Women's Fiction
A mountain of regrets. A bargain with a mischievous faery. Could tinkering with her past create a better future?

Joey Whitmore longs to escape her dead-end world. Facing a midlife crisis at age forty-two and still living with her mother, getting fired from yet another job is the proverbial last straw. So when a fae trickster in human guise offers a chance at changing her history, she figures there’s nothing left to lose.

Though skeptical of his magic, Joey accepts the sly prince’s enchanted hourglass and begins a reckless journey back in time. But as she tries to act as her own fairy godmother and reverse her mistakes, her blundering interference causes a chain of catastrophic consequences.

Will Joey’s attempts to alter her deadbeat destiny end up erasing her entire existence?

Over the Fairy Hill is the first entry in the Magical Midlife Misadventures paranormal women’s fiction series. If you like relatable characters, paranormal twists, and laugh-out-loud humor, then you’ll love Jennifer L. Hart’s endearing tale.
Buy Over the Faery Hill to grant a bag full of dubious wishes today!

**On Sale for the month of April – only $2.49!!**

The Fae Side of Forty (Magical Midlife Misadventures Book 2)


About the Author

USA Today bestselling author Jennifer L. Hart writes about characters that cuss, get naked, and often make poor but hilarious life choices. A native New Yorker, Jenn now lives in the mountains of North Carolina with her imaginary friends. Her works to date include the Damaged Goods mystery series and the Magical Midlife Misadventures.

Giveaway
$25 Amazon gift card,
Autographed hardcovers of both books
– 1 winner each!!
Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

Thursday, October 15, 2020

Halloween Spooktacular: Fantasy author Louisa West: What is Paranormal Women’s Fiction, Anyway? + giveaway


What is Paranormal Women’s Fiction, Anyway?
A conversation with Louisa West.

Buffy. Sookie Stackhouse. Elena Gilbert. Bella Swan. If you know one or all of these characters, then there’s a pretty good chance that you like to read paranormal romance. These women range between being kick-ass, plucky, and just plain special—but there’s another thing they all have in common: really hot supernatural love interests. I’m the first to admit that there’s nothing I love better than a Buffy re-watch, or curling up with a Charlaine Harris novel to whittle my time away in a land where Eric Northman exists. But as I get older (sigh), I find myself wanting more out of my paranormal romance.

I want to relate.

I want to feel as though my real-life struggles of bills, and raising a child, and the body-image issues I have are real for the characters I’m reading as well. I want to be able to laugh because I’m not the only one who has problems with her neighbors, or can never fold a fitted sheet (that’s another kind of witchcraft, friends!), or because sex after twenty can sometimes be a little awkward and hilarious at the same time. Life after 35 just gets even more real. At best, you start thinking about long-term plans for your retirement. At worst, you need to be careful about how many cups of coffee you have before you drive to the grocery store fifteen minutes down the road.

Paranormal Women’s Fiction is a rising genre thanks to the collective efforts of a group of women known colloquially online as ‘The Fab13’. The genre touches on what it’s like for ‘mature’ heroines to get by in a modern world, with all the hurdles that life throws in their paths. These women are dealing with issues like divorce, potential homelessness, toxic relationships, and other really gritty, grown-up stuff. But the sparkling platter that these themes are served on comes in the form of literal magical circumstances, witty one-liners, love interests that are hotter than Hades and women who are empowered to not only move forward but to do so while coming fully into their own power.

Typically, the heroines of these books are over forty. It’s kind of that golden age where you’ve lived enough of life to know what’s what, but also you’ve seen enough to know that you just don’t have the time or energy to put up with any more crap from anyone. It also means that you’re probably not as perky or unwrinkled as you once were (if you are, leave your skin-care and exercise routines in the comments below!). For me, reading these books and getting to know these women who not only face who they are but fly that Older and Fabulous flag proudly has been an absolute joy.

So it made sense that my next series would be written in the same vein.

The main character in my Midlife in Mosswood series is Rosemary Bell, a thirty-nine year old mom who finds the courage to finally leave a toxic relationship. While she’s petrified of starting over again, Rosie and her young daughter Maggie soon settle into the slow rhythm of life in a small town. Rosie is resilient hard-working, and desperate to raise her daughter right. She’s also emotionally damaged, untrusting, and determined to hold everyone except Maggie at arm’s length. Throughout the series Rosie must face not only her past with her ex, but also her family history. She learns how to be a better mom, and how to navigate the challenges of living in a small town when you’re obviously different and more than a little out of your depth. And she also finds a way forward for herself, finding out that she’s actually a witch and that there’s possibly and handsome Irish witch King in her future.

The Paranormal Women’s Fiction genre has set up new expectations for books about older women written by older women. I’m thrilled to be part of it!

by Louisa West 
September 30, 2020
Genre: Paranormal Women’s Fiction 
ASIN: B087KYLF3N 
Number of pages: 170 (eBook) 
Word Count: 50,000 
Cover Artist: Louisa West 
She thought the thriller part of her life was behind her. But when the man she’s falling for has a sinister secret, she’s no longer sure whether he’s a trick or a treat. 

Rosemary Bell is a witch for Halloween… and every other day of the year. And that’s not even the weirdest thing about her life. Her ex-husband is a turtle, her daughter Maggie's new best friend is an imaginary kangaroo, and the guy sleeping on her couch is a King—as well as her fated lover. 

Just as she’s starting to fall for Declan, Rosie gets spooked by a revelation that leaves her wondering whether she is really meant to be his Queen. And as a new houseguest quickly proves, promises don’t always mean forever. When a sexy choir girl arrives in town with her eyes set on Rosie’s King and crown, she will have to decide for herself what her destiny is, and soon. 

Struggling between caring for Declan and caring for herself, Rosie has better luck advising her friends what to do about their love lives than tending to her own. But when Maggie goes missing on All Hallow’s Eve, Rosie is forced to admit that jealousy’s a witch - literally! 

The Good Witch meets Hocus Pocus in this short novel about stepping into new shoes, choosing who you’re going to be, and never letting fear decide your fate, even on Halloween. 

Jealousy’s a Witch is the second book in the heartwarming new Midlife in Mosswood series by Louisa West. Available exclusive to Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited. 
 
Excerpt – Jealousy’s a Witch 
The sounds of the hot summer afternoon seemed dulled by the arrival of Tammy. She looked sheepishly between Declan and Rosie, her knuckles tight around the laundry bag of clothes she held like Santa Claus’ sack over one pudgy shoulder. 

“I hope I’m not imposin’,” she said softly, even though it was clear that she knew she was. “Only that...well!” Unshed tears suddenly welled in her eyes, and she tried a combination of blinking and fanning her wedding-ring devoid hand in front of her face to stop them from falling. 

Declan looked from Rosie to Tammy and then back again, as though trying to weigh up how useful he might be in a situation like this versus how much damage he might cause by way of a poorly timed and probably inappropriate joke. “I think I better check on the painting crew,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck as he took off for less emotional turf. 

Rosie crossed over to the table, set down the potato salad she had been carrying. “Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll pour us some lemonade,” she suggested. Tammy nodded mutely, swiping at the tears now streaking down her face. Two sips of lemonade seemed to give her the confidence she needed to carry through with the story. 

“I’m so sorry to barge in on y’all like this,” she sniffled, “but I didn’t know where else to go.” 

Rosie thought back to the day Tammy had rolled up to the cottage as part of Prissy’s entourage. She had seemed like the only genuine woman out of the three. Rosie had felt terrible when Tammy had seen her husband Terry making a pass at her the day he’d come out to the cottage to ‘offer his services’ as a handyman. She hadn’t seen her since that day, but it didn’t look like things had improved for her any. 

“You don’t need to apologize,” Rosie told her, “so let’s get that out of the way right-quick. We’re havin’ a cook-out, and you’re officially invited.” 

Tammy offered a weak smile in return, sipping her lemonade. “Thank you.” 

Rosie smiled back. “You’re welcome. Now,” she added, glancing up at the cottage. “I feel duty-bound to tell you that at any minute we’re likely to be infiltrated by a rush of starving teenage boys, an Irishman with a huge appetite, a girl who can put away three hotdogs in one sitting, and a turtle that—” 

“—a turtle?” 

“Long story,” Rosie grinned.

About the Author:
Author by day, Netflix connoisseur by night. 

Louisa likes Pina Coladas and gettin’ caught in the rain. Determined to empty her brain of stories, she writes across several genres including fantasy, speculative fiction, contemporary and historical fiction, and romance. 

She lives in Mandurah, Western Australia, and drinks more coffee than is good for her. When she’s not writing or researching projects, Louisa enjoys spending time with her family, and Harriet The Great (Dane). Hobbies include playing video games, watching copious amounts of tv, and various craft-related initiatives. 

She strongly believes that the truth is still out there. 

Spooktacular Giveaway 
1 ‘Midlife in Mosswood eBook pack including a copy of New Witch on the Block (book 1) and Jealousy’s a Witch (book 2) 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Wednesday, April 8, 2020

Book Review: Betwixt (Betwixt & Between Book 1) by Darynda Jones

Betwixt (Betwixt & Between Book 1) 
by Darynda Jones
February 16, 2020
Pages: 233
A Paranormal Women's Fiction with a bit of class, and a lot of sass, for anyone who feels like age is just a number!

Divorced, desperate, and destitute, former restaurateur Defiance Dayne finds out she has been bequeathed a house by a complete stranger. She is surprised, to say the least, and her curiosity gets the better of her. She leaves her beloved Phoenix and heads to one of the most infamous towns in America: Salem, Massachusetts.

She’s only there to find out why a woman she’s never met would leave her a house. A veritable castle that has seen better days. She couldn’t possibly accept it, but the lawyer assigned to the case practically begs her to take it off her hands, mostly because she’s scared of it. The house. The inanimate structure that, as far as Dephne can tell, has never hurt a fly.

Though it does come with some baggage. A pesky neighbor who wants her gone. A scruffy cat who’s a bit of a jerk. And a handyman bathed in ink who could moonlight as a supermodel for GQ.

She decides to give it three days, and not because of the model. She feels at home in Salem. Safe. But even that comes to a screeching halt when people begin knocking on her door day and night, begging for her help to locate their lost objects.

Come to find out, they think she’s a witch. And after a few mysterious mishaps, Dephne is beginning to wonder if they’re right.


In a new series by Darynda Jones we are introduced to Defiance Dayne a fiery, sassy woman who has had better days. After her ex-husband and mother-in-law take everything from her in the divorce, she has nothing to lose when she is contacted about inheriting a house in Salem, Massachusetts. When she arrives in Salem to meet the realtor, she is surprised by how many people know her and how many people fear the house as well.

Defiance, better known as Dephne is an incredible woman filled with an unknown strength. She has no faith in herself and doesn’t see what others see in herself which is something I think that many women today feel. The characters are relatable and the kind you’d love to have in your inner circle. I look forward to seeing what comes in the books to come in this trilogy.


Getting 5 sheep





Denise B


About the Author:
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NYTimes and USA Today Bestselling Author Darynda Jones has won numerous awards for her work, including a prestigious Golden Heart®, a Rebecca, two Hold Medallions, a RITA ®, and a Daphne du Maurier, and she has received stellar reviews from dozens of publications including starred reviews from Publisher’s Weekly, Booklist, and the Library Journal. As a born storyteller, Darynda grew up spinning tales of dashing damsels and heroes in distress for any unfortunate soul who happened by, annoying man and beast alike, and she is ever so grateful for the opportunity to carry on that tradition. She currently has two series with St. Martin’s Press: The Charley Davidson Series and the Darklight Trilogy. She lives in the Land of Enchantment, also known as New Mexico, with her husband of almost 30 years and two beautiful sons, the Mighty, Mighty Jones Boys.