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Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Guest Author PW Creighton

Today I have the pleasure of having P.W Creighton
here at my blog during his tour for Nightfall.

After all the juicy tidbits about Nightfall there's a link for the 
amazing giveaway at the bottom, so make sure you enter!

Setting Nightfall
When I first came up with the story of Nightfall it began with the characters. I envisioned their style, attitudes and relationships long before I could think of where I wanted the story to take place. As the story came together the scenes just sort of fell into place.

Each scene required a certain tone and I envisioned a specific setting for the scene to take place but I still didn’t have an overall setting for the entirety of Nightfall. I only had pieces that I needed to assemble. I had Connor’s home, an old forgotten building, a house under renovation, a pizzeria and a closed down jail. All of these settings I had visited or experienced at some point. The most notable was certainly the closed down jail. In Windsor, Vermont there is an old former jail-prison that was closed in the 70’s that was subsequently renovated and turned into low-income housing. The structure remains fairly well intact including the old death row. This was one setting that I really wanted to feature in the story.

On the whole, there were a multitude of scenes but I still couldn’t decide on the definitive setting for the entire story. It wasn’t until I took a trip to Salem, Massachusetts that I found the elements Nightfall was missing.

Now, there have been countless stories that have used Salem as a setting, and it carries a certain cliché in the paranormal genre yet the reality of the Salem gave me a different inspiration.

Modern Salem is a bustling metropolis with the original founding buildings hidden at the center. It’s an interesting mix of historic sites and modern urban development. Through exploring Salem you could wander from historic sites to psychic and witchcraft shops, from pizzerias to True Blood-esque Witch/Vampire bars like Strega. In all, visiting Salem gave me a new perspective.

The classic idea of Salem is no longer valid, but all of the surrounding towns like Marblehead and Beverly carry that original New England Township feeling that most still associate with Salem. If I had not actually visited Salem, Nightfall would not be set in Doliber Cove. I would still be under the same impression as most about Salem and elements like sailing on the Massachusetts coast, quirky book shops, and mysterious bars would be absent.


By PW Creighton


Three years after everyone important to Connor Maitland was murdered by a fanatical cult he is still attempting to put his life back together. Accompanied by his ex-girlfriend and business partner, Alison Herne, he is making a living as a jack-of-all-trades running a security company, sailing charters, and even photographing weddings out of Dolliber Cove, Massachusetts. Connor’s world is finally coming back together until they find one of Alison’s ghost hunter friends murdered.

When a childhood love he thought was dead, appears on his doorstep during their investigation, Connor is forced to confront memories he convinced himself were the delusions of a man deep into grief. They are being stalked by a mysterious man who appears to know far too many of their secrets. After Alison is almost killed confronting her occult past, it is impossible for Connor to deny the connection between the cases. Someone is attempting to end Connor’s life and the lives of all those who surround him.

The crazed rantings of the murderous cult may be the key to his survival.

Book Trailer on YouTube:


                “Maitland, this is Tabitha. I know you’re not really into this stuff, but I think you might want to make an exception this time. Well, I’m out by Rockport off Old Cathedral with Camilla and Don, and I think we’ve got something for you. It’s…wait— What are—” The voice stopped. “End of new messages. If you would like to listen to your messages, press One.” An electronic beep sounded and the voicemail started again.

The taste of wet concrete and a throbbing headache made me roll onto my back and open my eyes to a dark mass overhead. It was too dark to make out anything more than vague shapes without a flashlight.

“Ow.” I managed to sit up while the wireless headset continued to repeat the voicemail in my right ear. A few feet away, my flashlight blinked at a stack of wet pallets. I reached across the concrete to retrieve the flashlight and twisted the end to get a steady beam. A quick survey of my surroundings revealed a number of pallet stacks, the red metal pipe-railing I had just hopped over, a pile of heavy rope tangled around my feet, and a lowhanging pulley block. This is why they say you should not be fussing with your cell phone when you investigate a potentially dangerous environment.

“Crap.” I scanned the floor for my lousy phone and found it lying with its touchscreen against the corner of a pallet. I shut off the voicemail and wiped off the grime to tuck it into my gray pea coat.

I forced myself to my feet only to stagger and lean on the nearest stack of pallets. Between the weather and that pulley, I would need a heavy dose of aspirin. I shook my head to clear my mind, but the phone screamed for attention. I groaned and hit the button on my headset.


“Everything is all set for you tonight,” a woman announced from the other end with a touch of nervousness. Her again.

“All right. We’ll check into that and then hit the place this weekend.” I swept the light across the stacks of pallets. Through one of the dirty skylights, I saw a flash of lightning. Can’t the weather ever cooperate?

“I can’t thank you enough.” Her voice trembled.

“Right, see you then.” I tapped the headset and rubbed my temple. The woman had been nothing but trouble since I had agreed to help her. I was not in the mood to deal with anyone indecisive enough to keep rescheduling a project because they were terrified by what I might find. When a client is constantly rescheduling a site analysis, it means one of two things: either they couldn’t afford the work or they were afraid I might find something illegal. Either way, the job had eaten up my time and my patience. I had more important issues than a simple security analysis.

I walked around a stack of pallets, stooped down and checked the strange scratch marks in the concrete floor. I focused my light on the corroded tin-and- wood wall ahead of me. Various bundles of rope and rusted tools hung from the exposed wall supports. Using the flashlight, I followed a taut rope to a large rowboat suspended from the rafters. Everything was damp and reeked of stale seawater. I followed the path between the stacks of pallets and stepped around the odd tool in my path. The winds rushed the structure; the walls creaked as waves crashed outside. I rounded another stack of pallets and spotted the doorway to the office. It didn’t bode well.

 As I approached, my light revealed the remains of a modified digital camcorder still attached to a tripod. I knelt down to check the camera only to find that even the hard drive was smashed to bits. Completely unsalvageable. I stepped past the remains and pushed open the worn, blue door. The office was in no better shape.

The office had not been used in years, but on the far side of the room were a couple of open cases of electronics. A battery-powered lantern flickered on the floor and illuminated the destruction with a pale fluorescence. Clumps of old tools covered the walls, and boxes left only a narrow path to a stack of old desks under a fenced window. Pages from a spilled file folder were strewn about the floor with various electronics.

It doesn’t take a professional investigator to recognize a crime scene, but a professional knows what to look for without compromising the scene. I craned my neck to look at the top of the equipment case that had been knocked on the floor. RPS. It was Tabitha’s, all right, but where were they?

I tried to spot anything that screamed out what could have happened with their investigation. Amateur investigators are prone to panic when they take on the wrong case, but professionals like Tabitha wouldn’t just abandon thousands of dollars worth of electronics. Mixed in with the equipment were a number of ritual tools for protection that included a silver dagger, several bundles of incense, and candles. What had they attempted to protect against? I pulled out my camera and snapped a couple of pictures of the scene before I switched to video.

 I shut off the camera and moved through the partially open exterior door. The winds rushed me and rippled my coat. The fresh air felt good but also unsteady with the storm that approached. Waves sloshed against the wharf on both sides under a thin mist. In the distance I could just make out a figure on the beach, rapidly moving away.

Tour wide giveaway is an autographed paperback version of Nightfall and a copy of Connor's pendant at the end of the tour.


a Rafflecopter giveaway

Sunday, July 29, 2012

Promotion for Salem VI

Former primetime 

television reporter John Andrews thought he’d lost 

everything when his wife died but as timeless 

bloodlines, first crafted during the Salem witch trials, 

are redrawn he realizes he has more at stake. Salem, 

Mass isn’t what it used to be—or is it?


Having stepped off the fast track of primetime network television news, John Andrews has chosen a quieter life as editor of Salem News, a small paper in a quiet New England town. Life is perfect until Andrews’ wife is killed in a tragic accident. After several years of trying to numb the pain with alcohol, Andrews is visited by the spirit of a long dead ancestor who opens a door to a shocking family history. After he experiences a surreal glimpse into the past, Andrews must confront the question of whether he is losing his mind or whether for several hundred years his ancestors have been engaged in a secret battle with a coven that worships Satan. Fueled by the need to understand whether his wife's death was really an accident or something far more sinister, Andrews, along with his beautiful assistant editor, risk everything to discover a truth so horrifying it threatens to destroy everything and everyone he knows and loves.

Pressque Publishing
July 19, 2012 (eBook)
September 28, 2012 (hardcover)
Purchase Links:

About the Authors

Jack Heath

Jack Heath is the host of NH Today, New Hampshire’s only live afternoon radio talk show, and cohost of Sport Legends of New England with Bob Lobel, which can be seen throughout New England on Comcast Spotlight. A direct descendant of Rebecca Nurse, the last person to be tried and hanged during the Salem Witch Trials, and Ann R. Putnam, one of her accusers, his first novel, Salem VI, is an altogether modern take on Arthur Miller’s The Crucible.

John Thompson

John Thompson spent twenty-five years as an investment banker in New York before retiring to write full time. He is the author of the Brent Lucas trilogy, The Girl from Felony Bay, and coauthor of Salem VI. He lives with his wife and daughter and divides his time between Charleston, South Carolina and Hawley, Pennsylvania.

Saturday, July 28, 2012

Guest Author Kirsten Weiss

Today I have the pleasure of having author Kirsten Weiss here
at my blog while on tour for her book The Alchemical Detective.

Kirsten is giving away two copies of The Alchemical Detective (Kindle or Nook),
so make sure you comment for a chance to win.

Thanks for being here today and thank you so much for your the topic of your blog today! :)


Gritty Shades of Fae
Kirsten Weiss
The fae’s skin shimmered, flowed, gray as a stormy sea. “I want to dominate you.” 
A confident smile ghosted his lips.
 “Then we’re at an impasse, because I want to rip your wings off.” Riga’s expression grew stony.  “On second thought, you’d probably enjoy it.”
His smile slipped.  “You disappoint me.  I thought a woman like you would be… less conventional.”
“You think dominating women is unconventional?  Societies have been doing it for thousands of years.  Now move away from that door before I start removing your soft dangly bits.” 
I made it through the first seven chapters of 50 Shades last weekend, then gave up and wrote my own antidote to it.  This isn’t a criticism of 50 Shades – obviously, the author is doing something right and I’d love to have her sales.  The heroine just didn’t click with me, and I got bored. 
Maybe I’m overly sensitive to the whole domination thing after my time in Afghanistan, where floggings were not only accepted but encouraged.   But give me a kick-ass paranormal heroine any day – a woman who has the brains, the guts, and the heart to hold her own against the bad guys (and who doesn’t put up with manipulative crap from creepy stalker millionaires). 
In my paranormal fiction, I like to read about women who can…

·         Throw down.  Ashley Parker, the zombie hunter from Plague Town, fights because there’s no one else to do it.  Riga Hayworth from the Alchemical Detective is a damned good martial artist.  She doesn’t go looking for fights, but she’ll do what it takes to win them – including play dirty.  In Charlaine Harris’s Southern Vampire novels, Sookie Stackhouse isn’t particularly skilled at hand-to-hand combat, but she’ll fight to save herself and others.  The vampire Pam in the same series is positively terrifying.

·         Think.  Kick-ass heroines don’t make stupid or irrational decisions to drive the plot forward.  They use their brains.  No tripping over tree roots in high heels! One of the disappointments for me when the Southern Vampire series was translated into True Blood, was that the Sookie character became the least interesting person in the show, and the plot is often driven by Sookie doing something dumb.  Urgh.  I hate that!  It’s very un-kick-assy.  There will always be consequences to the actions of a kick-ass heroine, but her actions should be logical.

·         Mouth off.  Kick-ass heroines also have some sass.  They’ve got the courage of their convictions, and while they can be circumspect when they need to, they’re not afraid to voice their opinions and tell it like it is.  And they don’t let anyone push them around.

·         Save themselves.  Sookie usually gets out of her own messes.  Ashley saves others.  Riga saves herself, though she’s happy to let others do the heavy lifting when they offer.  Pam the vampire doesn’t want or need anyone’s help.

·       Use their hearts as well as their magic.  These heroines have heart. They care. Even Pam, who’s utterly ruthless, will lay down her life for her maker, Eric.

So who are your favorite kick-ass paranormal ladies?

The Alchemical Detective
By Kirsten Weiss
Book Two in the Riga Hayworth Series

Genre: Paranormal Mystery
Date of Publication: May 31, 2012
ISBN:  978-0-9855103-1-2

Number of pages: 289
Word Count: 75,000

Purchase Links:  Kindle

Book Description

A psychic has been murdered in an occult ceremony and the police pay a visit to Riga Hayworth, metaphysical detective.  But this time, she’s not a consultant on the case, she’s a suspect.
There’s a storm on the horizon.  Riga’s lost her magic, and has come to Lake Tahoe to recover and spend quality time with her new love.  But life for Riga is never that simple.  A psychic’s been murdered, and the police believe Riga has a connection to the crime.  They’re right.  And if that’s not enough, Riga is drafted as the host of a reality TV show about the local lake monster, and her niece is rejecting her metaphysical abilities.  Juggling demons, daimons, and angry tarot card readers, Riga must catch a killer before she becomes the next target.
The Alchemical Detective is a paranormal mystery that explores a world of alchemy and the imagination.

About the Author:
Kirsten Weiss is the author of two paranormal mysteries available on the Kindle: the urban fantasy, The Metaphysical Detective, and The Alchemical Detective.  She is hard at work on the sequel, The Shamanic Detective. 
Kirsten worked overseas for nearly fourteen years, in the fringes of the former USSR and deep in the Afghan war zone.  Her experiences abroad not only gave her glimpses into the darker side of human nature, but also sparked an interest in the effects of mysticism and mythology, and how both are woven into our daily lives.
Now based in San Mateo, CA, she writes paranormal mysteries, blending her experiences and imagination to create a vivid world of magic and mayhem.
Kirsten has never met a dessert she didn’t like, and her guilty pleasures are watching Ghost Whisperer reruns and drinking good wine. 
Read a sample chapter of her books or check out her blog at  You can follow her on Twitter at!/RigaHayworth

Thursday, July 26, 2012

Guest author M.M Shelley

Today I have the pleasure of having MM Shelley here on the blog
during her tour for Mishap & Retribution.

After the book info I'll be posting information for a great giveaway...


HI Everyone, I’m M.M. Shelley and I would like to thank Jacqueline for having me as a guest. So please pour yourself a cup of your favorite Latte and if you’re at work, hang up your “On Break” shingle as we take five.

            I may love writing young adult fantasy and Sci-fi, but it doesn’t mean that it’s my first love. Growing up I stirred more towards mysteries written by the great Agatha Christie and the clever Edgar Allen Poe. Slowly but surely I found authors like Johanna Lindsay and Julie Garwood and those two quickly became some of my favorite authors. Sure you might wonder, what an interesting mix of authors, but really isn’t a good book defined by losing yourself in the story?

            I enjoy mixing a good mystery with romance and sometimes paranormal romance. That I’ve found myself reading books by Dianne Day and Heather Graham who also writes under the name Shannon Drake.

            What I like about the young adult genre is that everything is new, exciting and the characters are always rushing, in a hurry and are willing to hold on tightly to what they want regardless of the consequences. There is an innocence that at times can be heartbreaking and enduring.

            With the young adult genre there is more room for possibilities as they are ready and willing to believe in the possibilities of what we all enjoy; intrigue, magic and most importantly, love. 

            With my book, Mishap & Retribution I focus on the suspense, and the intrigue, what will one do for the ones they love? Sometimes the answer is not what you may always expect and that’s what I enjoy about writing young adult; is that you learn to expect the unexpected.

            So who are some of your favorite authors? I’d love to hear from you!

Mishap & Retribution
By M.M. Shelley
Mishap Series/Book 3

Genre: YA/ Fantasy/ Sci-Fi
Number of pages: 302
Word Count: 56,662

Blurb/Book Description:

At the Dawn of Time a curse against Man was made and only Death will satisfy it. 

The year is 2045 and twins Grasiella and Tatiana who are Cinerian, Fae and Human must choose a side and may find themselves on different sides of an ancient war.

With Tatiana trapped in the Fae realm and learning what life has been like, she has found herself bonding with the Fae. Grasiella seeking the whereabouts of her twin has come to a crossroads of her own. 

Separated and neither knowing the fate of the other, each make their way to an uncertain future.

Death has swept across the Hawaiian Islands and the cost of peace may be too high.

About the Author:

M.M. Shelley is a storyteller, word smith and dreamer. She has traveled the world extensively in search of the magic which is often overlooked in every day life. M.M. Shelley is a native of southern California, and a student of mythology from which she gets much inspiration.

Author web links:

In addition to the big draw (below) the author is also generous enough to give away an e-copy to one lucky person from the comments today!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Saturday, July 21, 2012

Award and release date!

I woke up and realized it was Saturday.  I'm not sure where the rest of the week

This past week was yet another busy one for me with the release of Dream Visions
and finalizing the paperwork etc.. for Animal Heart.  It will be released November 1st
by Eternal Press.

I also received word that Twice Cursed was a finalist in the International Digital Awards!

Overall another 'win' week for me.

Coming up in the next week:


On Thursday here at my blog

On Saturday I'm over at

Also if your making your rounds on the blogosphere stop by  on Tuesday where I'll have
Kathleen McFall and Clark Hays

and on Saturdays I'm over at
for Scrumptious Saturday.

Jacqueline Paige
Step into a world of magic and passions. . .
All Things Paranormal

Monday, July 16, 2012

Promotion for Murphy's Law

Murphy's Law book Cover copy.jpg

Murphy’s Law
By  R.S. Emeline

Genre: Romantic Suspense

Purchase Link: smashwords 

Blurb/Book Description: 

Alexis MacGuire is just like other college students. She goes to class, eats pizza, and holds down a job. The difference is, her job could get her killed.

As the unluckiest member of a family of elite assassins, she spends her spare time jetting from one country to another neutralizing scum the government doesn’t want to be attached to--often in unconventional and unplanned ways.

When she receives an email exposing the secrets of her last job she enters into a game of cat and mouse with someone known only as the Hunter. With the help of her brother, her best friend, and an FBI agent who makes her heart skip beats, she must find the Hunter before he destroys everything and everyone she loves. 

Excerpt Murphy’s Law
I was close to where the car was hidden, and I could see the flames rising in the dark behind me.  Lights strobed from the emergency vehicles, as they tried to control the blaze.  I took a deep breath and walked into the clearing where the car was parked and looked around.  No car. 
“What the Hell!” I stomped my foot on the ground and let out a feral growl. 
All the markers were where they were supposed to be.  White paint on the ground.  Black X on the tree.  Empty dirt road.  I checked the time.  If I didn't get back to my hotel in the next hour I wouldn’t make my flight. 
I looked down at the ring I wore on my right hand.  Two simple silver bands surrounded a Celtic design wrapped around my finger entwined with a shamrock and a blood red stone in the center.  Each person in my family had a similar ring.  Each designed the same, only the stone was different.  We never took them off, because to take them off could mean our deaths. 
The rings were our safety nets.  The one way we could protect ourselves when an assignment didn’t go right, when we were in danger, or in my case when I was stranded because some little punk ass stole my car.  I twisted the Celtic band, enabled the tracking device and notified my brother of the S.O.S.  With a sigh, I climbed into the tree and waited to be rescued.  Again.  

Author Bio: 

R.S. Emeline grew up in the sogginess of Washington State where she nurtured her love of writing with dark teenage poetry. Today she spends her time in the perpetual dryness and sun of the California desert. She lives there with her husband, the Marine; her niece, the Artist; her daughter, the Munchkin; and two animals--King Furry and Mistress Meow-- who are the true rulers of the roost.
Author web links: 

Sunday, July 15, 2012

Dream Visions release day!

Book II in the Hidden Senses Trilogy is available as of today!

Dream Visions
What price will they pay for the abilities they don’t want?
Paranormal romantic suspense
Felicity has spent her life alone, moving from one place to another hiding a part of her no one has ever been able to accept, not even her own family.
For as long as she can remember she’s had dreams that lead her to a person that’s somehow connected with her.  There are no answers or cures only misery for her when she can’t get anyone to believe her.
When a child reaches out to her, frightened and in the hands of strangers she forgets the reasons why she shouldn’t tell anyone and goes to the police.  She finds herself sent for a court ordered psychiatric evaluation.
It’s not the first time, it won’t be the last.  She packs up once again, ready to move as soon as she’s done with another so called doctor.  From the moment she steps into the office everything changes and she finds nothing she expected.
Can the child be found before it’s too late or is she facing heartache again?

Sitting on the tiny bed, hugging his knees as tightly as he could against his chest, his eyes darted around the room. It was so dark and so quiet here--he just wanted to go home and see his mom. Someone would come. Someone always did in the movies...
A creaking noise made him gasp, he quickly looked towards the door. Pushing himself back further into the musty corner, he watched and listened.
When it creaked again, he grabbed the thin blanket and dropped to lie down on the bed, squeezing his still damp eyes closed tightly.

Felicity blinked a few times and looked down. She was standing at her kitchen counter, hands grasping the edge so hard her knuckles were white. Sighing, pushing the straying blonde hairs away from her face her hand vibrating.
Closing her eyes, she took a calming breath. “I wished you would show me where sweetheart.” Whispering out loud made her feel better, even knowing he would never hear her.
Rinsing her hands under the cool water, she patted some against her sweaty brow. Drying them quickly, she looked around for a moment trying to recall what she’d been doing before the vision blocked out the rest of the world.
The kettle began to whistle, startling her. Unplugging it, she shook her head. It could have been worse, you might have been cutting vegetables or something else that could result in coming out of it injured.
If there was one thing she was thankful for it was, that when it happened her body froze-- and the usually prevented her too many serious injuries. Of course, it made life more complicated when it came to things like being in public or driving, both of which she tried to avoid.
Taking the cup of tea, she went over to the desk and pulled the tattered notebook from the drawer. Wanting to record every detail before she forgot any of it, she began jotting it down. Taking her time, she wrote carefully, making sure she described every little thing, even going as far as the crunching sound the old rusty cot frame made as the little boy moved.
Closing the book, she glanced at the stack of sketches briefly before she returned the book to the drawer and closed it.


Jacqueline Paige
Step into a world of magic and passions. . .
All Things Paranormal

Friday, July 13, 2012

New release, updates and more!

This week has been a blur for me.  My job was a week of disasters -
from the A/C dying to the computers going down, and phones and ...
but on the writing front it was a great week, so I'm chalking it up as
a 'win' over all! 

Sunday Dream Visions will be released at Class Act Books (Amazon 
will follow within a few weeks later).  I'll post the links and excerpts on
Sunday when everything is live.  

I've been busy getting things organized for the release ( a huge thank you
to Bewitching Book Tours, without Roxanne working hard I'd be sitting here
holding my book wondering what to do.  Check out the first issue of 
Bewitching Book Tours Readers Magazine for some great books and
authors and more!)

With Roxanne taking care of all that for me, I've been working at getting the changes made to the book that comes after Dream Visions in the Hidden Senses Trilogy - Inner Reflections. As well as working on the edits for the fourth book in the Magic Seasons - Autumn Dance.


This year has been a marathon for me so far. Constant edits and revisions for so many
books at the same time I'm lucky I remember my own children's names most days.
You'd think I would take a much need breather now that I'm nearing the end ... four out of
six releases for 2012 completed ... but no I can't do that!   Yesterday I just received word
that the first book in my new Animal Trilogy will be out late fall/pre-holiday season. So keep 
an eye out for updates on Animal Heart.

Annnd (if you're an editor pretend that word only has one 'n') also I've been asked to do a few minor revisions to After the Silence to get it reader ready - of course I agreed to that too!

I'll rest in 2013 - maybe.

Don't forget to enter the Magic Seasons contest, there's still two and a half weeks until the second draw takes place!

Last on today's update... I find myself without my main Beta Reader. *sigh* She is due to have a bouncing baby boy in the next week or so (I hope for her sake its only a week) and has decided that she probably won't have the free time to read through my stories for a while.

So, if you're one of those people that think "Why didn't they do that?" while reading a story, then you may be the person I'm looking for!

I like feed back, what works, what doesn't, where it rambles too long or not long enough and to even suggest a 'what if' from time to time.  "It was good." is not feed back!!  Sometimes my eyes can't see what my own writing lacks.  

You don't have to be a writer or editor, just someone that loves to read and has an opinion.
If you're interesting in having the opportunity to read new stories before they're even published, drop me an email and tell me who your favorite authors are (just to see if we have something in common...) and I'll send you a sample to see if we'll fit together.

Please place BETA in the title so I don't lose your email along the way!


Jacqueline Paige
Step into a world of magic and passions. . .
All Things Paranormal

Thursday, July 12, 2012

The Flower Bowl Spell by Olivia Boler


Journalist Memphis Zhang isn’t ashamed of her Wiccan upbringing—in fact, she’s proud to be one of a few Chinese American witches in San Francisco, and maybe the world. Unlike the well-meaning but basically powerless Wiccans in her disbanded coven, Memphis can see fairies, read auras, and cast spells that actually work—even though she concocts them with ingredients like Nutella and antiperspirant. Yet after a friend she tries to protect is brutally killed, Memphis, full of guilt, abandons magick to lead a “normal” life. 

The appearance, however, of her dead friend’s attractive rock star brother—as well as a fairy in a subway tunnel—suggest that magick is not done with her. Reluctantly, Memphis finds herself dragged back into the world of urban magick, trying to stop a power-hungry witch from using the dangerous Flower Bowl Spell and killing the people Memphis loves—and maybe even Memphis herself.


I wake from a light doze, no more than ten minutes. Outside, the sun has barely shifted. Cooper lies by my side watching me, a smile on his lips, his eyes a little confused with love.
“Time for the sunset now?” I yawn.
“Yes, by all means. The sunset.”
He rolls to the edge of our bed and I watch him walk out the door to the bathroom. I hear him turn on the shower and start to mumble-sing “Toréador” from Carmen, his favorite shower song.
Cooper knows about my Wiccan upbringing and refers to me and Auntie Tess as the Asian Pagan Invasion. I’ve even shared tales of some of the more far-out stuff, like the green glow that would suddenly emanate from candles when our former coven would chant around a pentacle circle. But we don’t talk about fairies. Or inanimate objects coming to life. I tried to once, and he told me I had a very active imagination as a child, a sure sign of greatness of mind. Who am I to argue?
Besides, I knew he’d say something like that. Cooper is supportive and easy to read. It’s why I chose him. But he’s not able to handle the fact that my imagination only gets me so far. For reasons I don’t even understand, I can see and do things other witches can’t, things you read about in fairy tales. Only two others know about me. One is Auntie Tess, yet we never talk about it. Something stops me from sharing too much, and something stops her from asking. The other person—well, we haven’t spoken in a long, long time.
I study the ceiling, my old friend. There’s a crack that’s been there forever, before I moved into this place. I’ve never liked the ceiling light fixture and pretty much ignore it, even though each time I pass a lamp store I study the possibilities. Cooper tells me to wait until we buy a place of our own. But I doubt we’ll ever leave this apartment. Still, that lamp with its 1950s design of starbursts and boomerang angles just does not fit with the Edwardian crown molding and—
Something behind it moves.
My breath catches. I blink. What could it be? A mouse? A giant spider? Something small. Something that darts. With wings.
A face peeks over the rim of the lamp. As I sit up it ducks away, disappearing from my view. I feel something, almost like a raindrop, hit my belly, and I jump low into a crouch. Slowly I stand up on the bed, trying to balance on the lumpy old mattress. I reach for the lamp. I’m too short.
“Did you just spit on me?” I holler. “What do you want?” And where, I wonder, have you been?
Footfalls pound down the hall. Cooper stands in the doorway of our room, dripping wet and naked. He looks me up and down. The shower is still running.
“Why are you yelling? What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing. There’s something there.”


I point. “The light. The lamp.”
For a second, I don’t think he’s heard me. He continues to stare at me like maybe this is the moment where he sees the truth about me and it all ends between us. It’s only a fraction of a second and then he steps onto the bed—he’s a good foot taller than I—and unscrews the knob that holds the shade in place. Carefully, he removes it before peering inside. He raises his eyes to me.
“You’re right. There’s something here.”
I open my mouth but don’t say what I’m thinking: Are you magickal after all? He pauses, making sure I’m ready. I nod. He holds the shade toward me like—I can’t help thinking with a wee shiver—it’s a sacrifice.
Inside are bits of asbestos. Dead flies. Lots and lots of dust.
“Oh,” I say. “Oh.”
“Confess.” He wipes the dripping water from his wet hair out of his eyes. “You just wanted me to pull the ugly lampshade down. Am I right?”
I look up at the glaringly bright lightbulbs in their sockets. There’s a hole next to them—a swallow could fit through it, or something of that ilk.
“Yeah, big C,” I say. “You caught me.”
“You are a piece of work, Memphis Zhang.”
“You mean a control freak.”
Comme tu veux.”
Cooper goes back to the bathroom. He turns off the shower and I hear him toweling off. I stretch out on the bed and study my bod. The spot where I felt something drip on my skin is dry, clean as a whistle. Cooper comes back into our room and starts to dress.
“What did you think was there, anyway?” he asks.
I raise my hands in a helpless shrug. “A squirrel?”
He snorts. “A squirrel.”
“Yeah, you’re right. That’s crazy talk. It was probably a fairy.”
“Or the ghost of Columbus.”
“Ha ha.”
Yet, I know it was a fairy because he smiled at me.


"Olivia Boler's The Flower Bowl Spell is a genre-bending ride with sexy rock stars, Californian witches, children with potentially otherworldly gifts, and the occasional fairy. But it is also a story of identity, of the sometimes warring facets that make and shape a human being. Beautifully written, witty, and brimming with both ordinary and fantastical life, The Flower Bowl Spell will charm readers everywhere." -- Siobhan Fallon, author of You Know When the Men Are Gone

Author Bio 

Olivia Boler is the author of two novels, YEAR OF THE SMOKE GIRL and THE FLOWER BOWL SPELL. Poet Gary Snyder described SMOKE GIRL as a "dense weave in the cross-cultural multi-racial world of complex, educated hip contemporary coast-to-coast America...It is a fine first novel, rich in paradox and detail."

A freelance writer who received her master's degree in creative writing from UC Davis, Boler has published short stories in the Asian American Women Artists Association (AAWAA) anthology Cheers to Muses, the literary journal MARY, and The Lyon Review, among others. She lives in San Francisco with her family. To find out about her latest work, visit

One winner will be drawn from comments to receive a copy of The Flower Bowl Spell

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Guest author Danica Winters

Today I have Danica Winters stopping by on her tour for
Curse of the Wolf.

Danica will be giving away an ecopy to one lucky person today
that leaves a comment.


The Writer’s Golden Rule

A friend of mine, who is a fresh writer, asked me a question the other day.  She wrote, “I want to write a [review] on a published book…The thing is, it is kind of negative.  Can I do this?”

I am of the solid belief that if you are a writer, you shouldn't put down other writers.  We know more than anyone how hard it is to create.  I've had a negative review by another writer and, with the publishing world being as small as it is, I had the unique chance to meet him.  It was very uncomfortable, but after some small talk, he apologized saying he was sorry he had written the review—he was having a bad day.  Since then he has tried to take down the review, but once something is in place it is almost impossible to make it disappear.  Unless you are sure you will feel the same way in five years, you should hold back. 

That being said, you should give an honest review—it will help the author to see the weak and strong points in their writing.  However, it is a thin line between helpful criticism and negativity.

Writers are prolific readers.  We will read books we will not like, we will read books that we love, but we must remember to treat all other writers with the same level of respect in which we wish to be treated. 

Too often I see writers, so absorbed in their own grandeur, that they begin knocking other writers down.  Writing is a person struggle, a battle against life, a battle against self-doubt, and an occupation that requires a tremendously thick-skin, but one does not need to have other’s egos to become major antagonists in the war that rages within. 

If you feel that you must say something negative, send the author a personal message—your opinion does matter and it may help strengthen the writer.  It is easy in the Facebook age to be discreet and respectful.  Most importantly, please listen to our Mother’s advice, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”  

Curse of the Wolf
By Danica Winters


For cursed, shape-shifting Veela, Gloriana, following her heart and giving her body to sexy, tortured werewolf Alexander means one thing-he will die and it will again be her fault.

Once only a man, Alexander finds himself scarred by the memories of his former life and the deceptions and lies that surround him. When a glimmer of light breaks the madness, he must let go of his misguided preconceptions and the hatred that consumes him.

On a mission for blood, they find unity in their desire for revenge, but are driven apart by their pasts. Traveling the darkest paths and fighting the very people they think they can trust, they draw closer to one another's hearts and further into danger.

Will the curse prove to be unstoppable... or is there hope in forbidden love?

          CHAPTER ONE
In her human-like Veela form, Gloriana Canis was at a distinct disadvantage. Her feet pounded against the ground as she ran, she crashed through the underbrush, and tripped upon the branches that reached up to snatch her legs. With a muffled growl, she paused as she forced her body to shift into her more powerful wolfen shape.
Dashing after the intruders, she silently passed beneath the low lying branches and bounded over the roots. Her paws silently ab­sorbed the sounds as the ground blurred beneath her. She saw none of the pack that had invaded her territory, so she lifted her snout and sniffed.
The scent of the gray Werewolf was a mix of triumph, malice, and anger, but there were no traces of fear.
He’s a fool. The thieving Were should feel fear above anything else—because I soon will be upon him.
When she found the beast, she would tear at his soft flesh…the least vital parts first. Before she finished, he would undoubtedly cry for mercy, but no matter how hard he cried, or how desperately he pleaded, he would find none. The man had tried to steal Bal­dur’s Vitam Aeternam, the ring of eternal life, from her. The ring was the final memento of Baldur’s existence, of their fight for love against all odds and the curse that had taken his life. The Were who attempted to take it from her would have no easy death.
Deeper into the woods, the scent of the gray alpha Were less­ened and was replaced by the musky scent of the brown beta she had seen circling the alpha.
Her strides grew more rapid. She was close.
Weaving around a boulder, her body collapsed as the ground gave way. Her paws clawed at the soft earth, desperate to stop the fall, but the dirt crumbled beneath her touch. She yelped in fear as she clawed, but it was too late. Her body flipped into the earth’s open maw.
The stakes ripped into her soft flesh. Hot, searing pain invaded her body.
Howling, she tried to leap, struggle—anything to free her
body—but the motions only drove the stakes deeper, worsening her agony.
A fire burned deep in her flank and she caught the scent of blood on the stakes that now were wedged in her flesh. Hydra blood.
The venom pumped through her veins, she could taste the acrid poison in her mouth. Slowly her vision began to fade. She was forced to find refuge from the pain inside of her mind.
My dearest Goddess, Epione, do not let the curse of the loving Veela take me. I promise that if you let me live, I will find Baldur’s killer and make him pay. Please, please do not deliver my soul to the underworld. I must complete my task.
She could feel the sun rising in the distance. Would this morn­ing be her last?
A light illuminated the grave-like pit.
Expecting a torch-bearing lampade to lead her to the under­world, she was surprised when a tall man appeared with a flash­light in his hand. He stood at the edge of the pit, his other hand on his hip and a scowl on his face.
She growled, but as the rumble escaped her, it was replaced with a yelp.
The thief had returned to finish her.
He reached down to her and said something, but it sounded as if he was talking through water. When he spoke again, she heard him say, “Shifter, I’m Alex…” but the rest of his words were lost in the muffling pain circulating through her body.
She tried to pull away from his touch, but her paws felt like lead weights and she struggled to move.
The pain radiated from the stakes in her flesh. Unable to fight the poison any longer, her eyes closed. Her mind went black.


          (and will soon be available in over 10 other locations)

Author Bio:
Danica Winters is an Amazon best-selling romance author based in Montana. She is known for writing award-winning books that grip readers with their ability to drive emotion through suspense and often a touch of magic. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, Montana Romance Writers, and Greater Seattle Romance Writers. She is a contributor to magazines, websites, and news organizations. She enjoys spending time with friends and family, the outdoors, and the bliss brought by the printed word.

Social Media Links:
Amazon Author Page:

Thanks for stopping today, Danica!