Thursday, May 30, 2013

Thursday Trailer: Greater Treasures by Karina Fabian

Greater Treasures
A Dragon Eye Series
by Karina Fabian

Paperback: 130 pages
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform (May 1, 2013)
Amazon Link

Kindle Edition
File Size: 209 KB
Print Length: 45 pages
Sold by: Amazon Digital Services, Inc.
Amazon Link


Being a private detective in the border town of the Faerie and Mundane worlds isn’t easy, even for a dragon like Vern.   Still, finding the wayward brother of a teary damsel in distress shouldn’t have gotten so dangerous.  When his partner, Sister Grace, gets poisoned by a dart meant for him, Vern offers to find an artifact in exchange for a cure.  However, this is no ordinary trinket—with a little magic power, it could control all of mankind.  Can Vern find the artifact, and will he sacrifice the fate of two worlds for the life of his best friend?Blurb:  Being a private detective in the border town of the Faerie and Mundane worlds isn’t easy, even for a dragon like Vern.   Still, finding the wayward brother of a teary damsel in distress shouldn’t have gotten so dangerous.  When his partner, Sister Grace, gets poisoned by a dart meant for him, Vern offers to find an artifact in exchange for a cure.  However, this is no ordinary trinket—with a little magic power, it could control all of mankind.  Can Vern find the artifact, and will he sacrifice the fate of two worlds for the life of his best friend?

About the author:

Winner of the 2010 INDIE for best Fantasy (Magic, Mensa and Mayhem), Karina Fabian has imagination that takes quirky twists that keep her--and her fans--amused. Nuns working in space, a down-and-out Faerie dragon working off a geas from St. George, zombie exterminators—there’s always a surprise in Fabian’s worlds. Mrs. Fabian teaches writing and book marketing seminars, but mostly is concerned with supporting her husband, Rob Fabian as he makes the exciting leap from military officer to civilian executive, getting her kids through high school and college, and surviving daily circuit torture…er, circuit training.  Read about her adventures at   

Find Karina at:

WebsiteBlog / FacebookTwitter / Google +

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Book Review: Red Haze by Adrian Lilly

Red Haze 

Kindle Edition
Author: Adrian Lilly
File Size: 446 KB
Print Length: 238 pages
Simultaneous Device Usage: Unlimited
Sold by: Amazon Digital Services, Inc.
Amazon Link

Note: I received a review copy of this book free from the author, Adrian Lilly. The review posted below is based on my personal thoughts while reading the book.

Ratings: ★ ★ ★ ★   

My thoughts: 

Red Haze is the first book in the Toxic Friendship Series. The book opens with the death of one university student - Wes German. According to school officials and police report, Wes accidentally died when he stumbled drunkenly into a well. Case closed. 

Sara Murdock is an article writer for The Thunderbolt, the campus paper. While working on a new article about alcohol consumption on school campus, she discovered something that led her to believe that Wes' might have died on fraternity hazing, before the well accident. With the help of Curt, Wes' brother and her bestfriend, Marne Montgomery, they started investigating the university fraternity. And to make the story more complicated, Marne is dating Brad Rogers, the ringleader of the fraternity. 

The plot was pretty good. Impressed with the twists and turns, I thought I 'discovered the truth' after reading the first quarter of the story but it turned out there was something more in Wes' death. I found the investigation and the narration of the action scenes well-written. The characters are all likable, believable. While I enjoyed reading Red Haze, there was one that's bothering me until now. I was confused about who the main character is. Initially, I thought it was Marne as the book opens with Brad and Marne and the author's given a back story of Marne's past and then came chapter 3 or 4, Sara was introduced. She led the investigation and from there I think the main character here should be Sara. I don't know why the author wrote Marne's past but I have a theory that, maybe, Marne will be in book 2 of the Toxic Friendship series. 

Overall, it was an enjoyable read. Looking forward to reading more from the author, Adrian Lilly!

About the book:

Something sinister is happening at Grove University...

Some nights the woods on the edge of campus glow with a spectral, shimmering red haze. Marne Montgomery knows—she’s seen it.

She also saw a figure in the haze. He beckoned to her and then vanished.

Marne laughs off the incident until her roommate, Sara Murdock, shows her a picture of a student. The one Marne saw in the woods.

But he’s been dead for more than a year.

Suddenly, Marne and Sara are tangled in a secret that threatens their college careers—and their lives. Their only hope is to find the cause of the red haze…

Before someone else dies.

Red Haze is a haunting psychological thriller that hovers between the spectral and the natural, blurring the lines between remembrance and regret, dedication and obsession, justice and revenge.

About the author:

Adrian Lilly is the author of the novels The Devil You Know and Red Haze: Toxic Friendships Book One. His third novel, The Runes, a werewolf-romance-murder-mystery thriller, will be out later this summer.

He is a fan of Gothic suspense movies and novels, which greatly influence his writing. Adrian's writing focuses on strong character development and the nuances of fear that build toward horror. The mansion in his first novel, The Devil You Know, was inspired by the grand mansions in the Victorian neighborhood where he lives.

Adrian writes novels, short stories, and poetry and has spent many years as a copywriter in the advertising industry. In addition, Adrian has directed two short films and co-directed a feature-length sci-fi comedy.

Guest Author: Erec Stebbins

An Invitation to Save the World: READER, a science fiction novel

Lying on the sands of Greece, I had an idea.  It was an idea for a book directed at my teen-aged daughters.  The heroine would be seventeen and go on a set of amazing adventures across the universe. She would literally save the world. Sounds fun, right?

So, I began “brainstorming.” A character came to life in my mind, spoke words in my head that I put on paper, told a story that became the book READER. And once the story was told, I suddenly had some serious questions I had to ask myself.

Here is what “I” wrote in chapter two: “On the cover of this novel is an author's name. He believes this story is full of his ideas, born of his own mind. It's not. I am writing it through him, reaching out, back through what you call Time, shaping his thoughts, convincing him of this reality.”

Hey, that’s pretty weird, right?

Of course, that my protagonist is claiming that I didn’t write the novel is a cute and fun way to play with ideas, no? Of course, it could never really be the case that my mind was being manipulated from the future in order to tell a story to the past!  Right?  Right?

The more I thought about it, the more worried I became.  How would I truly know if these were my own thoughts? If she had to power to shape minds, as she claims and describes in the story, then how would I know that my ideas did not come from a source outside myself?  

Those doubts made it important that I consider the tale my story was telling.  If it were just some random thoughts of a teenager-to-be of our future, descriptions of her day-to-day life, or future norms and technology, it wouldn’t have so much consequence.  I could relax.  Move on.  Write more books!

But that’s not the case with READER.

Ambra Dawn claims to be reaching back through time for the most important of reasons: to save humanity.  If there is even the slightest chance that this could be true, and not simply some recursive state my brain had spiraled into, I had to take her claim seriously. I especially had to do that because she is asking something of us, something that she claims just might save our world!

What is it she’s asking and saying? It took her an entire book to describe, so I can’t do it here.  Pick up a copy of READER – hardback, paperback, or the very affordable ebook version – and find out.

You just might save the world.

(Daughter of Time, Book 1)
by Erec Stebbins

Hardback/Paperback: 312 pages
Publisher: Twice Pi Press (May 5, 2013)
Amazon Link 


From the future, a final plea. Out of the past, a last hope.

From the author of THE RAGNARÖK CONSPIRACY comes a science fiction adventure unlike any you have ever known. 

She was a VICTIM: enslaved after her parents' murder. She was made a MONSTER: deformed, modified against her will. She became a MESSIAH: opening the Orbs and leading a galactic rebellion. Share the cosmic quest of seventeen-year-old Ambra Dawn, Reader, and the most unbelievable step in the adventure - will be your own. 

"Promising newcomer" -Library Journal
"A monster new talent" -Allan Leverone, author of The Lonely Mile

Follow Erec Stebbins:

Sunday, May 26, 2013

Book Spotlght: Rosalind Scarlett's CAITLIN

Book I of the Anam Céile Chronicles

Author/Publisher:  Rosalind Scarlett
Release Date:  March 17, 2013
Pages: 294
Amazon Link


A Love which Transcends Existence . . . 

It is the year 1702. Aislinn, the daughter of a sheep farmer in western Ireland, is a tenacious redheaded lass who has NO intention of ever settling into the dutiful roles of marriage and motherhood demanded of her by her father. The only thing she has ever wanted is to pursue her dreams of being a professional fiddler, and that is fully what she intends to do - with or without the blessing of her family.

Nevertheless, all that, and so much more, is about to change when she is unwilling persuaded into participating in her older cousin's girlish, traditional Celtic love spell to see the face of the lad she will be destined to marry. Aislinn doesn't take it at all seriously, until that night when she dreams of a handsome dark-haired lad - just as she was told would happen.

Falling for some charming lad was never part of her plans. Only now, Aislinn cannot seem to shake her obsession with him - nor does she want to! And though she never looks back after he comes into her life, things seem to do anything but fall beautifully into place.

The vision of Donovan wasn't the only vision that Aislinn had ever experienced. She had always felt out of the ordinary somehow. She just didn't know why -yet.

Her father never misses an opportunity to rebuke Aislinn for her peculiarities. He accuses her of being a changeling of the sidhe, the dreaded faerie folk of Ireland that delight in causing mischief for decent folk like him.

Perhaps, she is.

Fact is, for most of her life, Aislinn has been tormented by strange visions. And now, every one of them is about to manifest themselves to her.

Just when all Aislinn believes she wanted is right within her grasp, she awakes in a strange bed in a castle surrounded by Vampires and the commanding presence of a striking man with an otherworldly attraction.

She has no idea of his intentions, but from the shivers surging down her spine she is certain she's about to find out.

Everything is about to change . . .

She finds herself heaved into a world of secrets, violence and lust so powerful; it will either consume her or destroy her.

The thing is, Aislinn has no earthly idea of who or what she actually is. To discover the secret for herself, she will embark on a quest which will test her strength and devotion more than she could ever have imagined.

But first, she'll have to lose everything!

Cailín (which is the Gaelic word for 'lass/girl') is the first book in the Anam Céile Chronicles, a series which centers around true love, soul mates, self-discovery, loss, vampires, lust, and the faith in reincarnation set in the lush backdrops of rugged Ireland, beautiful, culturally rich Florence, Italy and Morocco, amongst others.


Buzzing with a sense of euphoric vitality I was, every nerve excited, every hair rising.  All the buzzing sensation rushed through me body to this area as steadily he stroked upon it with intent.  I felt a building of sensation, as though I was floating to ever higher elevations.  I sensed the summit was nearly within me grasp, when me ears abruptly detected something outside of meself, reverting me attention to the physical realm of the chamber about me.  Swiftly, his hands retreated from me, leaving me body crying out at the desertion.

Just then, the door opened and in strolled a woman of perhaps thirty pushing a cart.  

Oh, ‘tis the chamber maid.  

Lovely, smooth olive skin had she, her sleek dark hair pulled up into a twist, and kind eyes.  An unassuming sensuality there was about her.  I clung the sheet about me once more, ashamed by me nakedness, and yet at the same time I was intrigued by her in ways which made me all the more starkly aware of it.  

To the bedside she did push the cart, glancing up at me with her large, dark eyes edged by thick dark lashes.  Straightaway, me mind began wandering.  

Oh, deliciously plump lips she has.  Oh, that I could feel them upon mine . . .  Her soft hands traveling under this sheet, gliding over me body, fondling me breasts in admiration . . .  unwrapping her gown so that I may caress hers, as well . . .  Her tongue . . . 

The sound of a clink roused me away from the rather suggestive musing of me mind.  Something was knocked over on the cart, where there was bread and wine, and two substantial old goblets.  I lifted me eyes up past the enticing glimpse of cleavage to which they had been affixed, to see her lingering there, staring at me as though in a trance.  

She poured the dark wine into a goblet.  Bending forward, she reached her slender arm out in offering to me, granting me a more generous view of her breasts.  

After avidly taking them in fer what was, I was certain, much too extensive to be considered appropriate, I blinked hard and timidly lifted me eyes up to look upon her face through me eyelashes.  It was diamond shaped and most lovely.  

Surprised I was to realise that she seemed to delight in me eyeing her in that way, as she was gliding her tongue lightly across her lips, causing them to glisten with wetness, whilst gazing deeply into me eyes.   ‘Twas far too evocative to have been an oversight.

Me pulse began to quicken.  The buzzing sensation in me traveled down me to awaken me in other ways, which I found delightfully pleasant.  Thoughts I never dreamt I would consider whirled through me mind at the mere presence of this woman.  

What is happening here . . . to me . . . ?  Why does she stare at me so?  ‘Tis as though she knows what I am thinking.  Could she be thinking the same?  Oh, that we could explore those musings together . . .

“The candles now please, Sivaara,” Voljidaar ordered, an insinuation of amusement evident in his tone.  Her seductive expression changed to one of foreboding, and I wondered what it could mean.  

Sivaara . . . hmm, what an unusual, yet lovely name . . .  

Candles?  Is there not already a sufficient amount of morning light pouring in through the window?  There is something quite peculiar about this place.  I only wish I knew what ‘twas . . .  

Reluctantly she turned from me and walked out into the room.  Me mind distracted fer a moment as I examined the allure of her gait.  I had not noticed before that at eye level every couple of metres, there were substantial iron candleholders placed all along the walls.  

Sivaara walked up to the first one and lit it with a small torch that she had collected from Voljidaar on the way.  Then she proceeded to go around the room, lighting each one.  Over a dozen there must have been!  

It felt as a prelude to some type of ritual; yet what, I could not fathom.  Then me mind shot in dread to me dream again, and I stiffened against the thought.  

No, it cannot be!  I will not allow it to occur!

When all the candles in the chamber she had lit, Sivaara paced toward the one small window and drew a heavy velvet drape across it, thus obscuring any possible sign of the daybreak outside.  The candles lit the room enough, yet not as brightly as the morning sun had moments before.  Me mind was scrambling, still seeking to understand what the purpose fer it could be.

Sivaara turned and stared at me longingly as though it would be the final time she would have the chance to do so.  I did hope it would not be . . . 

“Thank you, Sivaara, that will be all,” Voljidaar coolly dismissed her.  She unwillingly tore her concerned eyes from me, looked down, and pushed the cart out of the chamber, closing the door behind her.  I squirmed, quite displeased to see her depart, and yet still bemused by me unforeseen response to her.  

Stunned I was, me head clouded with confusion.  I had an overbearing intuition of aiteacht.  And yet still, I was feeling increasingly overwhelmed with the intense desire surging through me body.  Yet also, I felt an ominous premonition that I just could not place.

Is it created from the humming, or just intensified by it?  

I was finding it more difficult to think clearly with each passing second.  I sought the face of me captor, riveted.  

How could it be that his very presence is causing me to feel in ways that never I have before, not even with me Donovan?  

I felt sickened by the impact of this truth.

Just then, Voljidaar turned his head slightly toward the door and called out something in a language I did not understand.  Not a second later, a man and a woman donning nothing save fer their flowing, dark cloaks entered the chamber.  Their eyes zoned in on me in a flash, staring into me with a look that I cannot begin to explain and had never witnessed before.  It both frightened me and exhilarated me, and I had not the slightest idea why. 

Voljidaar simply waved his hand toward me and they began approaching me menacingly.  Me eyes flared and I thought to scream, yet me throat seized so that not a sound materialized.  ‘Twas as though I was frozen against me will as I sat there so vulnerable, feeling as would a cornered animal.  

As nearer to me they drew, me initial alarm was superseded by an intense intrigue of them, and I relaxed, permitting them to come closer, examining them.  Even under the soft glow of the candlelight, I could view them adequately to distinguish their atypical characteristics.  Their pale skin had an underlying shadow, their eyes were uncannily colourless— yet captivating somehow— and behind their pale lips as they pulled them back in a smile, they revealed their gleaming sharp teeth.  

Involuntarily I shivered. 

The male— although still pale— clearly was of a darker origin, hailing from somewhere exotic, as was evident in the almond shape of his colourless eyes.  High cheekbones he had, a feature I had not before witnessed in a man.  His black hair was longer than ever I had seen upon a man and extraordinarily beautiful, flowing over his shoulders and midway down his back.  His sculptured physique ‘twas impeccable, that of a statue those would worship of a God.  He seemed as would a warrior.  His face appeared young, yet somehow did not correspond to the astuteness contained within, obviously being well beyond the years he appeared to have.

The female, by contrast, was the fairest woman ever I had seen, her silky hair white as her skin, flowing down to her hips.  So slight in stature she was that she appeared as though she were scarcely an adolescent, her face angelic and childlike.  Her pert breasts appeared as though they were just embarking on their swell to ripening, and her nipples, too, were neutral in tone.  Beneath her flat abdomen, there was but a scant patch of white fluff crowning her mound of flesh.  

The two of them together did compose a bizarre picture.

Overpoweringly they gazed into me eyes— mesmerizing me— and instantly all traces of fear in me dissolved, leaving in its wake only desire.  All I wanted, the only thing in the world that mattered in that moment, was to give meself to them, in every way imaginable.  Whatever they wanted from me, I wanted them to take it, to take everything of me.  I was begging them with me mind, with me body.  

Come and take me!  I offer meself to you!  Please take all of me!  

And I perceived they understood.  

But did I? 

Little did I understand, however, what they would take from me.  Nevertheless, me mind belonged to me not any longer.  They had totally possessed me and I would do anything fer them.  

Without a single thought, I had dropped the bed linens to which I had been so desperately clinging, along with any concerns of protecting meself.

Gloriously, they realised me at last, reaching fer me with their hands, their eyes continuing to dominate me.  The female flung the linens the rest of the way off of me as the male put his hands upon either side of me ribs and pulled me effortlessly to the edge of the bed to face them.  

On full display I was fer them, eliciting them to moan with appreciation.  Their hands they were chilled as death as thoroughly they glided them over the contrasting warmth of me nude body, absorbing every millimetre of it, sending me into a slow frenzy.  I squirmed as their hands rapidly slithered to areas of me body that I had so yearned to be touched by another.

Whilst still roaming their hands over me, in unison, they both landed at me chest, each bringing their stunning face nearer to me breasts.  I writhed at the contact of their oddly cool mouths upon the soft flesh of me breasts, heaving me tender upright nipples into their greedy mouths.  

Me desire was granted as they each suckled away upon them robustly, stimulating me, taking over me mind.  They lingered as that fer several moments, as I moaned with more pleasure than ever I thought I had known.

While the young female remained there nuzzling at me breast, the exotic male began to slowly move down me body, trailing kisses down me torso, upon the delicate skin of me belly, and down to me aching flesh below.  

How I craved to feel his mouth there!  His tongue lighted upon it ever so momentarily, sending me into an ever maddening frenzy.  

It only left me frustrated, me flesh now throbbing, and in the very next moment his face had turned to the side to burrow into the softness of me thigh.  He began nibbling lightly and then suddenly I felt something pierce into it.  

As he did, his eyes went black as night. 

Just as the woman from me nightmares!

At the same time, the female had moved her mouth up along me neck, nuzzling at the base of me throat, biting into it at precisely the same moment as he.   I gasped from the surprise, rather than from pain, and then promptly I cast out any inhibitions and received it agreeably.  

I did not recoil in the least when they sank their teeth into me flesh, instead all I felt was an indescribable euphoria, as me blood they summoned forth.  And honoured I felt to surrender it to them.  I could feel it rushing through me veins up me body into their needing mouths.  Gradually I felt the buzzing that had been present diminishing, and yet the throbbing sensation it had affected in me tender flesh still remained unbearably perceptible.

As they drank from me so insatiably, I writhed under their mouths, yet ‘twas in ecstasy rather than pain, wishing it to go on as that eternally.  In that moment, I would have given them anything they wanted— had they started consuming me flesh until nothing of me remained, I would have been overjoyed fer the occasion to please them.  

Their hands, still roving all over me, progressively were heating until at last, they were as me skin.  Within me the sensations were building slowly, exquisitely— eluding to the promise of the most rapturous of pleasures.  

Being lured into a euphoric dreamlike state I was, everything else around me fading away.  I forgot where I was, me previous concerns, and who might be observing me in this act of total relinquishment of meself.

All too abruptly ‘twas interrupted.  

“Cease!”  I faintly heard Voljidaar effectively command.  

Grudgingly, they stopped their vigourous sucking upon me throat and thigh, lapping at the blood still oozing from me wounds, snorting and grunting as hungry animals.  Left lying there I was, sprawled out and whimpering, vexed at the revocation of the source of me powerful euphoria. 

“At once!” he commands again.  I had not noticed him during any of that, standing so near us, observing shamelessly, his shockingly enlarged flesh straining through his trousers. 

Dejectedly, the vampires backed away from me, their ravenous dark eyes still feasting upon me, their hands, their mouths abandoning me.  Disappointingly, me sensations descended just as rapidly as they had soared moments before.  

I noted that, albeit still pale, their flesh ‘twas less dull grey of tone— it actually had some hint of a glow, their lips and nipples a pale pink, their skin then warmed.  Furthermore, beneath their skin, I could see their veins were expanded and pulsating, filled as they were with me bequeathed blood.  

“Recede from us now!” Voljidaar declared severely, his eyes never leaving me.  

In a flash they disappeared from the chamber.

I gazed up at him and his glare darkened to something quite sinister.  It unearthed me, and the fear rushed back in as though it had never departed.  I wondered whether all of this was merely prelude to the dreaded performance from me dream.  They served only to get me so delirious with pleasure so that he could easily take over.  He knew I would need to be outside of me own mind to accept him blitzing me with his monstrous form.  

Voljidaar knelt down beside me, and once again I felt the hint of the humming moving throughout me.  Then he did shock me by leaning his face toward me carefully— I could detect a subtle groan beneath his breath— and stretching his tongue out to lick up the length of me neck, lingeringly tasted the remnants of me blood trickling down.  Inhaling in very slowly, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back sensually fer an exaggerated moment with a long moan.  

Not understanding any of this, I stare at him in disbelief.  

What is this madness that is happening here?! 

Coming back to himself, suddenly he lifted his head back up and held up his finger.  “And now, I have an offering for you!” he announced and exited the chamber briskly. 

Me mind still reeling from all that had taken place, I scrambled to regain it, resolving to put an end to whatever it was that I did not know was going on in this strange place, with this very strange man…  Still, it resumed its wandering, betraying me.  

An offering?  Whatever does he mean?

Saturday, May 25, 2013

Guest Author: Chris Dietzel

Everyone has a time in their life when they look back on all the decisions they have made, when think about how their time was spent, when they analyze all the things they might have done differently over the years. This self-examination is the foundation for my debut novel, but it’s also what drives me to write in the first place.

We are raised to believe anything is possible, but somewhere along the way we lose the innocence behind that belief and begin to think that our childhood dreams are foolish. Writing novels was my dream. But for a while, after college, I didn’t even entertain the idea as a possibility, let alone consider it as something urgent I needed to be doing. I did what I thought I was supposed to do: I fell in line and worked long hours in a corporate job.

But a fear followed me. Would my life be spent doing something because I felt I had to do it or because it was my passion? Each time I was stuck in rush-hour traffic, a little voice would ask me how much I would regret it if I never tried to achieve my dream. It’s true that real life inspires fiction: my fears are the same thoughts that plague the protagonist in THE MAN WHO WATCHED THE WORLD END, as he looks out of his home at a neighborhood of empty houses.

That was nine years ago. It’s been a long journey since then, but I’m happy in the knowledge that I’m doing what makes me feel fulfilled. And I’m proud of my first novel, the story of a man at the end of his life, plagued by the decisions he has made while mankind slowly disappeared around him. It hasn’t been easy following my dream, but it’s been worth it.

The Man Who Watched The World End

Author: Chris Dietzel
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing
Length: 254 pages
Amazon Link (Paperback)
Amazon Link (Kindle)


The end of man was not signaled by marauding gangs or explosions, but with silence. People simply grew older knowing a younger generation would not be there to replace them. The final two residents in the neighborhood of Camelot, an old man and his invalid brother, are trapped in their house by forests full of cats and dogs battling with the bears and wolves to eat anything they can find. As the man struggles to survive, he recounts all the ways society changed as the human population continued to shrink. The Man Who Watched The World End is the haunting account of a man who has witnessed the world fade away. It is also a story about the power of family.

For more information about Chris, please visit: 

Thursday, May 23, 2013

Featured Blogger for Follow Friday!

Yay!!!  Thank you to Rachel of Parajunkee's View and Alison of Alison Can Read for making me one of the two featured bloggers in FF this week!

Q:  The #FF is 150 weeks old! And we want to hear from you! What would you change about the hop? What do you like about it? Or just suggest a question to be used for next week!

Wow 150 weeks old! Almost 3 years! Congrats Rachel and Alison!! Changing the hop? Hmm honestly, I can't think of anything to add because the hop is perfect for me. And it happens every Friday - Sunday, the perfect time for working bloggers, like me! 

Happy Friday!

Hardbound Giveaway Winner : Alan St. Jean's OinkADoodleMoo

Alan St. Jean's OinkADoodleMoo


Confirmation email sent, please reply with your mailing details. 
If you didn't win, you may join another giveaway (book below) HERE.

Thursday Trailer: Reader (Daughter of Time Book #1) by Erec Stebbins

Daughter of Time, Book 1
by Erec Stebbins

Hardback/Paperback: 312 pages
Publisher: Twice Pi Press (May 5, 2013)
Amazon Link 

From the future, a final plea. Out of the past, a last hope.

From the author of THE RAGNARÖK CONSPIRACY comes a science fiction adventure unlike any you have ever known.

She was a VICTIM: enslaved after her parents' murder. She was made a MONSTER: deformed, modified against her will. She became a MESSIAH: opening the Orbs and leading a galactic rebellion. Share the cosmic quest of seventeen-year-old Ambra Dawn, Reader, and the most unbelievable step in the adventure - will be your own.

"Promising newcomer" -Library Journal

"A monster new talent" -Allan Leverone, author of The Lonely Mile

Follow Erec Stebbins:

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Paperback Giveaway: The Age of Desire by Jennie Fields

by Jennie Fields

For fans of The Paris Wife, a sparkling glimpse into the life of Edith Wharton and the scandalous love affair that threatened her closest friendship.

They say behind every great man is a woman. Behind Edith Wharton, there was Anna Bahlmann—her governess turned literary secretary, and her mothering, nurturing friend.

When at the age of forty-five, Edith falls passionately in love with a dashing younger journalist, Morton Fullerton, and is at last opened to the world of the sensual, it threatens everything certain in her life but especially her abiding friendship with Anna. As Edith’s marriage crumbles and Anna’s disapproval threatens to shatter their lifelong bond, the women must face the fragility at the heart of all friendships.

Told through the points of view of both women, The Age of Desire takes us on a vivid journey through Wharton’s early Gilded Age world: Paris with its glamorous literary salons and dark secret cafés, the Whartons’ elegant house in Lenox, Massachusetts, and Henry James’s manse in Rye, England.

Edith’s real letters and intimate diary entries are woven throughout the book. The Age of Desire brings to life one of literature’s most beloved writers, whose own story was as complex and nuanced as that of any of the heroines she created.


Penguin is giving away two paperback copies of THE AGE OF DESIRE. This is open to readers and bloggers from the US and must be 18 years old and above.
To join the giveaway, just leave a comment with your email. Extra points will be given to those who will follow Bookingly Yours and share this post thru Facebook and Twitter with the link/s included in the comment section. Giveaway ends on June 5 and winners will be announced shortly thereafter.


Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Guest Author: Brian Sfinas

Writing The Sexual Adventures of Time and Space

First off, it’s not erotica. I can’t tell you how many reviewers have sent responses to my query letters saying “Our site does not accept erotica”. I feel as though in the 21st century, the phrase “Don’t judge a book by its cover” is pretty universal. It makes me wonder how Burroughs got people to take a look at The Naked Lunch and how many kindly old reviewers were disturbed when they sat down to read the friendly-seeming Fifty Shades of Grey. The Sexual Adventures of Time and Space actually refers to an extended metaphor that runs throughout the narrative, and it takes the whole book to explain.

So what is it about?

Lucid dreaming. More specifically, it’s about a group of twenty-nothings that become obsessed with pursuing dreams in which they are in complete control. The allure of unlimited happiness and the ability to escape from the stresses of their waking lives compel the friends to find ways to extend their lucid experiences. This leads them to the drug sodium thiopental, which is the first of the three drugs administered during a lethal injection in the United States. Using this chemical to medically induce themselves into comas, the group thinks they have found the ultimate recreational experience.

Believe it or not, tragedy strikes. Romance, revenge, friendship and the purpose of human existence are all discussed at length in the 38 excerpts from the journal of Michael Thorn. He chronicles not only his own life, but also the lives of those around him. To some degree, he is providing a first-hand commentary on middle class life in 21st century America and urging an apathetic generation to not settle for complacency. 

If you’re looking for a book that will have you captivated from the first sentence to the last page, look no further than The Sexual Adventures of Time and Space. Only $4 on Amazon!

The Sexual Adventures of Time and Space

Author: Brian Sfinas
Kindle Edition
File Size: 350 KB
Print Length: 153 Pages
Amazon Link 

Or you can read more of my writing at :

Sunday, May 19, 2013

Book Spotlight: Larry Rodness' PERVERSE

by Larry Rodness

Paperback: 356 pages
Publisher: Itoh Press (December 2, 2012)
Language: English
Amazon Link

Kindle Edition
File Size: 534 KB
Print Length: 193 pages
Publisher: Itoh Press (December 31, 2012)
Sold by: Amazon Digital Services, Inc.
Amazon Link


A supernatural fiction about a teenage Goth named Emylene Stipe who finds a charcoal sketch in an antique shop. When she brings it home an image of a young girl appears in the sketch and then materializes in her apartment. Emylene introduces this girl whom she nick-names ‘Poinsettia’, to the local Goth crowd and the two become fast friends. But Poinsettia has an ulterior motive for her sudden and strange intrusion into Emylene’s life which causes the young Goth to question her whole belief system.


The next day during her lunch break, Emylene returned to the antique shop to find the sketch sitting there on the dusty floor, leaning against the grimy picture window. She looked at it more closely this time. The artist had framed the winter scene by drawing a weathered old wooden fence that zigzagged from the foreground all the way to a line of trees that met the horizon. In the center of the sketch stood the subject of the picture, a great cypress tree surrounded by a blanket of pristine snow. Aside from that there was nothing distinctive about the picture at all except that Stelio seemed captivated by it. And yet the more she looked, the more Emylene felt a strange emotional tug. The sketch was serene and unsettling at the same time, evocative but distant—just the right mix of perversity for the heartsick Goth.

Her mind firmly made up, Emylene pushed open the paint-peeled door that creaked as if it objected to the intrusion. The air inside hung heavy with the smell of melancholia. The items on display, not so much antiques as other people’s castaways, were piled haphazardly onto shelves and tables in no particular order. This was not so much a store as a graveyard, a tomb for forgotten relics and memories. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Emylene sensed an air of gloom emanating from the shopkeeper himself who was behind his counter, staring sour-faced at her. He was a tall, gaunt man in his late sixties with wispy grey hair who had lived in the district for over thirty years and suffered them all— the druggies, the hookers, and the hustlers. He took one look at Emylene and made up his mind about her before she said a single word: Goths. If they were so in love with death, why didn’t they just slit their wrists and let the rest of us get on with our own miserable lives? Nevertheless, Emylene greeted him with a cheery hello.

“Hey there. The picture in the window, the one with the tree? How much?” she asked.

“It’s not for you,” he replied with a trace of a European accent. 

“Maybe it is.”

“Why? Why would you want it?”

“I dunno exactly,” replied Emylene. “It just kinda speaks to me.”

“Really. And what does it say?”

“It says… ‘I’m lonely, I need a friend, a nice place to live.’ So, how much you want for it?”

The storeowner stared at Emylene at first with curiosity, and then with disdain. “A million dollars,” he replied. “You got a million dollars? If not, don’t waste my time.”

Emylene offered her prettiest smile while she lifted the picture from the floor and eyeballed it like an appraiser from Sotheby’s. There was nothing particularly artsy about it. The dust covering the frame and glass told her it had probably been lying around for months, if not years. Artistically, the scale was tipping more towards ‘garbage’ than ‘antique.’ 

“I don’t have that much, but I’ll give you a hundred,” she offered.

“You really want it? Tell you what. You come back here tomorrow…”

Emylene knew what was coming next.

“…dressed from head to toe in white. You wipe all that black polish off your nails and the paint off your face, and you come here dressed like…”

“…like a little lady?” asked Emylene.

“Yes, like that, and she’s yours.”

Emylene put the picture down where she found it.

“See you tomorrow then,” she sang as she left the shop.

Although she had never met this man before Emylene knew him all too well. Her parents had taught her early on that whenever people were confronted with something odd or strange, they generally went into “fear mode.” This man was afraid of something and desperate to keep control of his domain. To do that, he needed to demystify Emylene bydegrading and shaming her into showing that beneath all the make-up and the gear, she was as dull and ordinary as he was. Emylene needed to show him that she was a grown-up, and no one was going to push her around. Both were in for a shock.The next day Emylene returned to the store as requested, wearing the only white dress she owned and treasured—an exact replica of the bridal gown Miss Lucy was buried in, after Dracula turned her into a vampyre. When Emylene stepped across the threshold of the store, she looked more frightening than she did in anything she had worn in black, and the look on the store owner’s face instantly faded to the same pallor of white as the dress. As Emylene approached him she slowly opened her hand.

The owner drew back, fully expecting to find a beating heart pumping away in her little
palm. Instead there were five twenties. He hesitated a moment, wondering whether to deny her the purchase and shoo her out, but instead, he scooped up the bills. Emylene took the picture and exited the store. Not a word was said between the two. After she left, the owner crossed himself, and then oddly, tears began to roll down from his eyes. When Emylene returned to her apartment, she hoped to find another note tied to a black Bacarra rose, which signified that Stelio was back in town. She was anxious to surprise him with the sketch, but there was nothing waiting for her. 

The next morning she looked again. Still no rose or note. A week went by without any contact from Stelio, which frustrated Emylene to no end. Whenever she dropped by his shop, she was told he was away on business. Was he avoiding her? Had he grown tired of her? Never, she told herself, how could he? Perhaps his wife found out about them.

In the meantime Emylene looked around for just the right place to hang the sketch. There really was only one place for it. A nail went into the plaster with two bangs of a hammer and the picture was hung upon the wall opposite the main door of the apartment so that it would be the first thing she’d see upon entering, and the last thing upon leaving. That done, Emylene took a moment to appreciate her new acquisition. Ignoring the slap-dash method with which the simple brush strokes were applied, she concentrated on the basic elements of the scene—a rickety wooden fence that zigzagged all the way back to a line of trees in the distant horizon. A few wavy strokes indicating a blanket of unblemished snow, and of course, the lone Cyprus that commanded center stage. So simpatico did she feel to the tree that, for a moment, Emylene fancied the artist must have had her in mind when he drew it—two lone entities against the world. That was all and yet, there seemed more although she couldn’t put her finger on what, exactly. Perhaps it was in the hastily drawn strokes that she had all but ignored until now. What was the artist’s intention? Was it just plain laziness or was there a sense of urgency? But then, because even Goths get hungry, Emylene stripped off Miss Lucy’s bridal gown and bounced downstairs to grab a sub.

It was 8:15 when she returned. When her world changed. When the glorious mystery of the picture began to reveal itself. When she gazed upon her new treasure and noticed for the first time footprints in the snow that were not there before.

 Amazon Link Paperback
Amazon Link Kindle Edition

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