Thursday, May 31, 2012

Book Promotion and Excerpt: Donna Grant's "Midnight's Master"

Kindle File Size: 573 KB
Print Length: 380 pages
Page Numbers Source ISBN: 0312552483
Publisher: St. Martin's Paperbacks; 1 edition (May 22, 2012)
Sold by: Macmillan

Mass Market Paperback: 384 pages
Publisher: St. Martin's Paperbacks; First Edition edition (May 22, 2012)
ISBN-10: 0312552483
ISBN-13: 978-0312552480
Product Dimensions: 6.7 x 4.1 x 1.2 inches


Defenders against evil. Bound by the gods. The Dark Warriors are taking their battle from ancient Scotland to the modern world—where a woman’s love can set them free… 


Driven by the fierce god within him, Highlander Ian Kerr is sworn to fight for the land he loves—and the brother he lost. But when he’s magically transported four centuries into the future, he finds himself fighting his own desires—for a beautiful, bewitching woman who could hold a warrior spellbound…


Danielle Buchanan has heard the legends. She has felt the power of Druid blood in her veins. But she has never known a man as fearsome—or as haunted—as the warrior Ian. With her magic, Dani must help him battle an ancient evil. With her heart, she must join him in his quest. But only with her soul can she free him from his curse…and seal their fates together.


The blackness, the unending void ate away at Logan as he was yanked out of the year 1603 and thrown forward in time. He felt himself falling and desperately reached for something to hang onto.

The wind rushed by him, hurting his ears with the high pitched sound and drowning out any noise. The wind took his breath, making it difficult to breath. He was tossed first one way, and then the other. Determining which way was up was soon forgotten.

Where were the others? Ramsey, Arran, and Camdyn? The Druids had told him they didn’t know where any of them would end up. All Logan could pray for as he felt the years and decades pass by was that he landed in the right time.

Around him, the inky darkness began to shimmer – the same shimmer that had appeared when the Druids cast the spell to send Logan and the others traveling through time.

Almost instantly, he was dumped out of the abyss onto his hands and knees into the midst of a vicious rainstorm.

Logan swallowed and gave himself a moment to let his head stop spinning. He pushed his fingers into the wet ground and smiled when he felt the dirt between his hands.

He sat back on his heels and looked around. It was day, but the storm had darkened the sky. An urgent need pulled at him, called to him to return to Eigg, but he pushed it aside. He had to find Ian. That was his duty.

Logan wiped off his hands and took stock of his whereabouts on a hillside, the tall grass swaying with the howling wind. But what grabbed his interest were the dots of light below him.

Logan blinked through the cold, torrential rain and climbed to his feet. Those weren’t fires he saw flickering in the valley. What they were, he didn’t know. Yet.

He rose to his feet and ran a hand through his hair to get it out of his face. It was time to discover just where the Druids had managed to toss him in the future.

On his way down to the valley, Logan crossed a road that had been covered with some hard, black substance with bright white lines painted on it.

He squatted down to touch the surface and felt the rumbling of the ground beneath his fingers. Logan rose and stepped back as something large and loud came rolling down the lane.

As the object passed, Logan spotted a person inside who looked like they controlled the loud contraption.

More confused than ever, Logan walked over the road and down to the town. He could hardly believe his eyes when he reached the village to find buildings lined down the street, one right next to the other. They were all painted the same bright white with many more of those noisy contraptions lining the road as well as traveling down it.

Logan kept to the side of the road where he saw other people walking. A few gave him odd glances but most paid him no heed.

He passed store after store, trying to learn the language written on the signs. The fact that he had a primeval god inside him, a god so ancient his name had been forgotten, was the only way he was able to pick up this new language so quickly.

“You’re soaked through, lad,” said an elderly woman as she opened a door to a store Logan was walking past.

He gave a slight nod and felt the knot in his belly loosen as he heard her brogue. He was still in Scotland. Now, to determine when he was.

“Ah, not much of a talker,” she said and laughed.

Logan smiled. “What year is it?”

She blinked and cocked her gray head at him. “You’ve quite the brogue, lad. It’s been many a years since I’ve heard one so thick.” She smiled, a far away look stealing across her face.

Logan took a step toward her. “The year, lady?”

“Oh.” She chuckled and patted her chest. “Forgive me. It’s 2012. What an odd question.”

“I’ve been living by myself…away from everyone.”

“And everything,” she said as she eyed his kilt.

Logan looked around him and shrugged. “What village am I in?”

This time the old woman frowned as she watched him. “Salen, not far from the Isle of Skye.”

He knew the village, but the last time he had seen it, there had barely been anything there. It had grown tremendously since then.

What else had changed in the four centuries since he had left his friends behind at MacLeod Castle?

“I thank you,” he said to the woman and walked on before she could ask more questions.

Logan looked at the town of Salen with new eyes. If this almost nonexistent village could grow so much in just a few centuries, what had become of Edinburgh or Glasgow? And did he even want to know?

He paused as a young woman ran in front of him to one of the contraptions sitting on the side of the road. She jerked at the handle as she held a bag over her head in an effort to keep from getting wet. It wasn’t working.

“Rory! You wanker! Unlock the bloody door so I can get in the car!” she yelled over her shoulder.

Logan turned his head to see a thin man come out of the shop, walk around the…car, insert something small into the door, and open it.

The woman yanked on her door again then banged on the window above it. “Rory. Unlock the bloody door now!”

After another moment, Rory leaned over the door and pulled on something. A moment later, the woman got in. She was still yelling as the car rolled away.

So, the contraptions were called cars, and apparently people rode them much as Logan rode horses. He sighed and continued forward. It wasn’t just the landscape that had changed. The people had changed as well.

No lady Logan had known would ever have spoken as the woman with Rory had. Not even whores spoke so crudely.

Logan heard footsteps coming fast behind him. His muscles seized and fangs filled his mouth. Logan spun around, claws lengthening as he readied himself to behead whoever thought to attack him.

He pulled his hand back, stopping himself just in time as two young lads who ran past him, laughing and soaking wet. Logan stepped into the doorway of an unused building and took a deep breath.

Was he so used to fighting that he would attack anyone? Even children? He shook his head and struggled to tamp down the god inside him.

Athleus. He was the god of betrayal inside Logan, an ancient god who wanted nothing but death and destruction. It had taken decades for Logan to gain control over his god.

But sometimes, that control slipped.

Logan carried enough burdens. He didn’t need to add the death of two young lads to the weight.

Once his fangs and claws had retreated, and Logan was sure his skin wasn’t the silver of his god, he stepped out of the shadows and lengthened his stride as he exited the town. The urge to return to Eigg was sharp and true in his chest.

If anyone found out that he had a monster inside him, that he could release the god and become a beast, Logan was sure they’d kill him.

But he didn’t just have a god inside him. He was able to use Athleus’ power, a power able to control water. And Logan was going to the Isle of Eigg, an isle surrounded by water.

He wasn’t sure when he had made that decision, only that he had. Logan couldn’t hold back the desperate need to return there as soon as possible.

The last time he had been to Eigg, which to him was just a matter of hours – not centuries – earlier, he had been looking for an artifact hidden there by the Druids.

Not only had he not found the artifact, but his friend and fellow Warrior, Duncan, had been killed by Deirdre. Deirdre was a drough, a Druid who had given herself to evil and black magic. She was on a mission to take over the world, and as great as her magic was, Logan feared she might just win.

It had been Deirdre who had unleashed the gods inside the Warriors. And it would be Warriors who would help end Deirdre once and for all.

But first, Logan had to find Ian, Duncan’s twin.

He couldn’t imagine what Ian was going through. Ian and Duncan, as twins, had shared a god, and with Duncan’s death, the full power and rage of their god would overtake Ian. If he couldn’t control his god, his god would control him and he would be ripe for Deirdre to claim. Which is just what she had wanted when she killed Duncan.

Logan had no idea where Ian had gone, but he knew Deirdre. She had leaped forward in time to 2012 in order to thwart him and the others in their mission to find the artifacts before she did.

He frowned. Or had she?

If Deirdre could travel through time whenever she wanted, why hadn’t she done so before now? She could have changed the outcome to anything that hadn’t gone her way, including gaining the artifacts before the MacLeods.

If Deirdre hadn’t traveled through time on her own, that meant someone had to have helped her.

But who? And, more importantly, why?

Logan wasn’t sure he’d have those answers anytime soon. Regardless, in order to defeat Deirdre, the Warriors would still need the artifacts. The one he had been sent to get was on Eigg.

He paused and looked around him. None of the other three Warriors who had volunteered to look for Ian had landed with Logan. He wasn’t even sure if they had been taken as he had.

Yet, he knew the Druids at MacLeod Castle. Each one was powerful in her own right, and together, they wielded magic and quite literally took his breath away.

He had no doubt they had succeeded in tossing the others forward in time along with him. He had no means of communicating with anyone, nor could he take the chance of traveling to MacLeod Castle yet. He had to find Ian before Deirdre did.

If she didn't have him already.

About the Author:

Donna Grant is the bestselling, award winning author of more than twenty-five novels spanning multiple genres of romance. 

She was born and raised in Texas but loves to travel. Her adventures have taken her throughout the United States as well as to Jamaica, Mexico, and Scotland. Growing up on the Texas/Louisiana border, Donna’s Cajun side of the family taught her the “spicy” side of life while her Texas roots gave her two-steppin’ and bareback riding. 

Her childhood dream was to become a professional ballet dancer and study under the amazing Mikhail Baryshnikov. Though she never got to meet Baryshnikov, she did make it to New York City and performed in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Later, Donna’s love of the romance genre and the constant stories running through her head prompted her to sit down and write her first book. Once that book was completed, there was no turning back. 

Donna sold her first book in November 2005 while displaced from Hurricane Rita, a storm that destroyed portions of the Texas Gulf Coast. Since then, Donna has sold novels and novellas to both electronic and print publishers. Her books include several complete series such as Druids Glen, The Shields, Royal Chronicles, Sisters of Magic, Dark Sword, Dark Warriors, and her new series, Dark Kings. 

Despite the deadlines and her voracious reading, Donna still manages to keep up with her two young children, four cats, three fish, and one long haired Chihuahua. She’s blessed with a proud, supportive husband who loves to read and travel as much as she does.

Buy Links:



Presented By:

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Free Books by Scott Nicholson

It's Free Book Wednesday!!

May 29-30 Only!

May 30-June 1 Only!

(Prices subject to change at any time and Saph's Books isn't responsible for those nasty price changing trolls).

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Virtual Book Tour - Book Feature and Excerpt: Kelly Rimmer's "Suspending Reality)

Kindle File Size: 324 KB
Print Length: 235 pages; 62,000 words
Publisher: Self
Genres: Contemporary Women’s Fiction, Drama


Everyone has parts of their life they’d like to change - but if your whole life had become a disappointment, how far would you go to find happiness?

Esther feels stifled by her religious, judgmental family. Cheryl is unfulfilled by motherhood and trapped by her poverty. Carla is beautiful and successful, but haunted by the ghosts of her past.

For these women to find peace, someone might need to die.

Suspending Reality is a fast moving, intricate novel of character and suspense.


In some places, autumn is a month that is experienced with the fullness of the senses.  The first of a year’s goose-bumps and shivers arrive with the dawn of cooler weather.  The red and gold and yellow and brown of dying leaves blanket the earth.  Dusty, smoky wood fires burn in fireplaces that have been unused for months, and the smell hangs heavy over towns and cities. 

There are even sounds unique to the season — those first light coughs of children adjusting to cooler weather, and the brisk brushing of men sweeping clear their all-important driveways.  The tastes are rich — pumpkin soup with a dollop of sour cream and a sprinkling of paprika, or a creamy warm milk before bed. 

Cheryl parked her car and slid out awkwardly.  She looked up to another clouded sky that threatened rain that would never come, and sniffed the air.  It smelt just like it always did — dusty.  She thought about her childhood and how autumn had once descended upon life and left its mark, and was suddenly very homesick for the changing of seasons. 

Parkes had no visible autumn.  The eucalypts did not lose their leaves, so there was nothing but the usual dust to sweep from the driveway and where Cheryl lived, no one even did that.  She did not know a single soul who made pumpkin soup or heated milk, unless of course there was a baby involved.  It wasn’t yet cool enough for children to cough, or for anyone to light a fire unless they wanted to start a bushfire.  Autumn in Parkes felt a whole lot like summer in Parkes if someone took the sting out of the sun.

Cheryl pushed the door to the health centre open with her shoulder and stepped inside.  In one hand, she held a packet of Tim Tams, in the other, a half-eaten chocolate bar.  The dusty overhead fan swirled musty air around the room.  Cheryl threw the Tim Tams down onto the low coffee table and stuffed the rest of her chocolate bar into her mouth to free up her hands to work open the stiff windows. 

Any minute now, three other Young Mothers would waddle into the room and they'd spend half an hour complaining about how bad their lives were.  A well-dressed social worker would teach them about good parenting.  The Tim Tams would be eaten — sooner, rather than later — and then they'd all go home. 

Cheryl made herself a cup of no-name coffee at the lukewarm urn and lowered herself into a slouch in a wide vinyl chair.  The government-issue furniture in the health centre, much like every other object she encountered on a day-to-day basis, was old and worn.  The lino tiles on the floor were peeling and chipped, and the counter where the urn rested had been covered in grey contact which long-had since bubbled and cracked. 

She settled back against the dull green vinyl and sipped her coffee, washing the last of the chocolate from her mouth.  Cheryl was generally bored and depressed, but was especially unsettled today.  The sheer shock of having tipped the scales that morning at almost one hundred and fifty kilograms had knocked her passive melancholy into an active slump.  Somehow, she was getting fatter, and there didn't seem to be a single thing she could do about it.  Sadder still was the reality that her gargantuan size was almost the least of her problems.

I am completely, hopelessly trapped.

She was stuck in a life that was going nowhere. It was a life that she couldn’t remember deciding to live. 

When the meeting finished and the time came to leave, Cheryl would struggle to get out of her chair because it was so low and she was so large.  She dreaded that moment each week, it brutally reminded her that what she really needed was some way to pry herself out of the life into which she had slid.  The problem was, the technique required was a complete mystery and she was beginning to suspect she’d die before she mastered it.

“Cheryl! You forgot your frozen stuff again.  Lucky I saw the ice cream on the seat when I walked past.  Sometimes I think you’d be lost without me.”

“I know I would.  Thanks, Lisa,” Cheryl murmured.  Lisa tossed Cheryl’s bag of perishables into the fridge and opened her can of Diet Coke, before turning back towards her friend and peering down at her pointedly.

“And what’s with the lemon face? Jessica giving you problems again?”

Cheryl shook her head and offered a smile. 

“I just didn’t sleep well last night.”

Lisa sat opposite Cheryl and drank most of the can of Coke in one mouthful.  She propped her feet up onto the table beside the biscuits and motioned towards Cheryl with the can.

“You need a man, Cheryl.”

Cheryl instantly reached for the Tim Tams.  She opened the packet awkwardly with her thick fingers, then shook two out onto her palm and tossed the packet back onto the table.  

“So you keep telling me, but you don’t seem so happy with Mick.”

Lisa was already rocking a little, which she often did after more than a few minutes without her Winfield Golds.  She never, ever ate in public — and seemed to live off a diet of cigarettes and soft drink.  Lisa was a proud size 6, and had slightly stiff but perfectly peroxided blonde hair.  Excessive smoking and her atrocious diet had damaged her skin and Lisa looked much older than 35, but someone had forgotten to mention this to Lisa and she carried herself like a 19 year old supermodel. 


Kelly Rimmer is an Australian author based in Orange, New South Wales. Her debut novel, Suspending Reality, was published in March 2012. In writing Suspending Reality, Kelly says she wanted to capture a moment most women experience at some point in their lives, wondering what it would be like to just get in a car and drive away to become someone else. How exactly would someone go about that, and what would the consequences be?

Kelly fits her passion for writing around her other full time jobs, which include raising two adorable children and trying to keep the impossible polished tiles in her living areas reasonably clean. Her next novel, Me and My Barefoot Lover, will be released in June 2012.

Monday, May 28, 2012

Review: Molly Snow's "BeSwitched Witch" (Beswitched Book #2)

Kindle File Size: 281 KB
Print Length: 113 pages
Publisher: Breezy Reads (December 9, 2011)
Review Copy Courtesy Of: Molly Snow, Author, in exchange for an honest review.

Synopsis Courtesy Of Goodreads:

When the sassy black cat, Surla, ends up crossing paths with her ex-witch, the outrageous and hot-tempered Idis, it triggers again the curse of being BeSwitched.

Idis was supposed to be dead in a drawer at the morgue, and Surla was supposed to be having some bonding time with her new human best friend, Cathy. Instead, these two enemies are forced to get along or stay switched forever while in search for the last spell book... If only the curious and handsome new guy in school, Jax Morreau, would stop distracting Surla from their plan.

Saph's Review:

Please read my review of Book #1 "BeSwitched".  BeSwitched, was mainly about Cathy, the human who crossed paths with Surla the black cat and, according to legend, caused cat and human to switch bodies (Think Freaky Friday with a teen and a cat vs. a teen and her mom).  There were many typical teenage scenarios and learning experiences.

BeSwitched Witch starts off a bit differently.  Cathy and Surla have finally been able to switch bodies and are back to being inside their respective skin; Cathy is human and Surla is feline. Idis was supposedly killed in the explosion that ended book 1 and Cathy and Surla were now able to live quietly together not having to worry about looking over their shoulders for a crazy witch.  That is until Surla goes chasing after Cathy and inadvertently crosses paths with Idis--who's apparently not dead--and the 2 of them switch places. 

On the quest to find the only other Book of Spells (the one that Idis had was destroyed in book 1), Idis, Surla, and Cathy come upon a warlock and his son.  Jax and the now-human Surla hit it off and it proves to be quite the distraction.  Meanwhile, Cathy and her boyfriend, Todd, who don't appear as much in this installment, stumble across an antique ring with a unique symbol while on a fishing trip.  As Cathy gets sicker and sicker throughout the book, Surla and Jax discover that the ring belonged to Jax's grandfather and it is cursed; causing illness to plague the wearer that is not of the family line. 

Jax is one of my favorites and he's very likeable.  He has a wacked out dad (but who hasn't said that about their parents at one time or another in their lives?!) that just seems creepy.  Ms. Snow wrote Mr. Morreau perfectly especially when you read the book and find out what role he really plays within the novel.  Surla and Idis finally get a really good look at the way each of them lives and you see them grow and appreciate things much better.  Cathy, as I said, doesn't play a huge part in Book 2 but her appearances were well staged. 

As with Book 1, Book 2 ends on a cliffhanger....and yes, I have Book 3 and will be reviewing it on June 19 along with having the wonderful author as a guest on the blog.  Stay tuned.....

Another great book by Molly Snow.  Suitable for middle grade ages and up.



Saturday, May 26, 2012

Book Tour - Spotlight: Jerome Charyn's "Blue Eyes" (An Isaac Sidel Novel, Book #1)

Kindle File Size: 437 KB
Print Length: 260 pages
Page Numbers Source ISBN: 0747563594
Publisher: Road (April 10, 2012)
Virtual Book Tour Promoter: Tribute Books
The blog tour's official site is:

Blue Eyes Book Summary:

A cop and his disgraced mentor attempt to bust a white slavery ring.

Before Isaac Sidel adopts him, Manfred Coen is a mutt. A kid from the Bronx, he joins the police academy after his father’s suicide leaves him directionless, and is trudging along like any other cadet when first deputy Sidel, the commissioner’s right hand man, comes looking for a young cop with blue eyes to infiltrate a ring of Polish smugglers. He chooses Coen, and asks the cadet to join his department after he finishes the academy. Working under Sidel means fast promotions, plush assignments, and, when a corruption scandal topples his mentor, the resentment of every rank-and-file detective on the force.

Now just an ordinary cop, Coen hears word that his old mentor has a line on a human trafficking operation. When Sidel’s attempt at infiltration fails, he sends in Coen. For Coen, it’s a shot to prove himself and redeem his mentor, but it could cost the blue-eyed cop his life.
Jerome Charyn's Bio:

Jerome Charyn (born May 13, 1937) is an award-winning American author. With nearly 50 published works, Charyn has earned a long-standing reputation as an inventive and prolific chronicler of real and imagined American life. Michael Chabon calls him “one of the most important writers in American literature.”

New York Newsday hailed Charyn as “a contemporary American Balzac,” and the Los Angeles Times described him as “absolutely unique among American writers.”

Since the 1964 release of Charyn’s first novel, Once Upon a Droshky, he has published 30 novels, three memoirs, eight graphic novels, two books about film, short stories, plays and works of non-fiction. Two of his memoirs were named New York Times Book of the Year. Charyn has been a finalist for the PEN/Faulkner Award for Fiction. He received the Rosenthal Award from the American Academy of Arts and Letters and has been named Commander of Arts and Letters by the French Minister of Culture.

Charyn was Distinguished Professor of Film Studies at the American University of Paris until he left teaching in 2009.

In addition to his writing and teaching, Charyn is a tournament table tennis player, once ranked in the top 10 percent of players in France. Noted novelist Don DeLillo called Charyn’s book on table tennis, Sizzling Chops & Devilish Spins, "The Sun Also Rises of ping-pong."

Charyn lives in Paris and New York City.
Jerome Charyn's web site:

Jerome Charyn's Facebook:!/jerome.charyn

Jerome Charyn's Twitter:

Issac Sidel's Twitter:!/IsaacSidel

Tribute Books Blog Tours Facebook:

Blue Eyes YouTube video book trailer:

Price: $9.99
Release: April 10, 2012

iBookstore buy link

Google buy link

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Book Tour - Guest Post and Promo: Juliann Whicker's "Hotblood" (A House of Slide Novel)

A House of Slide Novel 
By Juliann Whicker 
Genre: Paranormal Upper YA 

I'm excited to have Juliann on my blog today!  Welcome!!

Thanks to Sapphyria's Book Reviews for letting me stop by today!

Right now I'm all about my t-shirt series, the one that matches the 4 races from my book with their corresponding blood temperatures and super powers. The last blog post I did was about Coolbloods, those with the coolest blood temperatures, 92 degrees or so.

Today I'm going to cover the Hollows from my book, House of Slide, Hotblood, those difficult to define suckers who, ahem, really suck souls out of people. They've got soul and are all mental when it comes to making decisions. When they're growing up they take on the abilities of those around them to a lesser degree (so if they're raised with Hotbloods they can hulk out but not quite as impressively as their foster families). When they hit 18 or so they 'turn' and become the soul sucking type that freak Wilds out.

My t-shirt for the Hollow is romantic and edgy with raw seams, cascading sleeves, and a twisted neckline. A modern Hollow would be romantic, thoughtful, someone who believes in a cause, but is a little bit introverted about it. Hollows are often found in libraries lost in a good book when real life tragedies become too much.

Cats and books bring out my Hollow girl. 

If you want to feel Hollow you can listen to:


He stole a kiss from the wrong girl…
Left without a soul, 17-year-old Dariana Sanders waited to die. There was nothing left to live for, nothing to feel besides the aching cold that never stopped.

Her parent’s marriage was in shambles, and her brother, the only one who understood, the only one who knew how to make the cold go away, was gone forever.

The only thing Dariana knew with absolute certainty was that nothing could possibly be right again.

Enter Lewis Axel Nialls. Luckily for her, impossible is right up his alley.

He can save her from the forces that wish to destroy her. Of course who’s going to save him, from her?

Book Trailer


I didn’t think; I moved following the ghost of song, a melody that played out the ache inside of my chest. I ran down the stairs and through the hall and stopped at the door across from the room filled with jars. When I stepped through the door, I could make out the contours of a piano in the corner. It was beautiful— the black reflecting the light from the moon shining through the window, the white keys punctuated with sharps and flats. I was still for a moment feeling the cold that had wrapped around my heart for so long. Devlin had taken away music.

I stepped forward and knocked the bench over with my knees. The rattle as it hit the floor startled me and I reached for a leg to pick it up. Instead the leg came off in my hand, like pulling the leg off of a spider, I thought as I gripped the carved leg in my hand. Devlin had taken away dancing. My hand seemed to rise on its own volition, the leg above my head. I closed my eyes and for a second felt a flicker of the stillness and control I’d caught the first day of knitting, but the thought of Devlin taking away the beauty of music shattered the calm.

There was a crack as I brought the bench leg down on the keyboard. Devlin had taken away color. There was an anguished screech, a sharp crack as the keyboard buckled in the middle. Devlin had taken away my mother, crash, my father, smash, and myself. I kept hitting the piano, the splintered wood flying all around me. I felt the sting as slivers found my skin, my cheek, arm, but I kept smashing, until the leg I’d used was a splintered mess. I grabbed what I could of the former beauty and shoved it with all my strength. The crunch and tinkling as it struck the wall wasn’t enough.

I stood panting needing something else to destroy, grabbing fistfuls of my hair, wanting something to hurt, but I already hurt. The pain inside of me was more than any pain I could ever inflict on anyone or anything. I crumpled to the floor feeling like I’d been beaten up. In the end Devlin hadn’t just taken apart my life, he’d taken himself too. He’d taken the brother I loved and turned him into a monster. Thinking of Devlin as a monster was more than I could bear. I buried my head in my arms and cried until I thought my body was going to shake apart.

About the Author:

Juliann C. Whicker was raised with chickens, goats, and a cow named Mrs. Mooley who everyone (neighbors included) chased down the street in a small college town. She now lives in Southeastern Ohio with her four children, husband, and all the ticks and poison ivy a soul could crave.


Buy Links:


Amazon Kindle:
Amazon Paperback:

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Book Promotion, Excerpt, and Giveaway: Janine McCaw's "Helens-of-Troy"

by Janine McCaw 


“The Gilmore Girls meet Buffy the Vampire Slayer”

Fifteen year old Goth-chic Ellie has a lot of explaining to do. She’s just moved to the small town of Troy, fought with her uptight mother Helen, met the boy of her dreams and found a dead body on her sexy “new-age” grandmother Helena’s porch. All on the first night!

But Ellie’s not alone. Helen is hiding something. Helen knows all about the kind of eerie dreams her daughter is having — the dreams that show the whereabouts of the missing children of Troy — because she’s had them herself. But she’ll never admit it. Not while Ellie’s sex-crazed friend Ryan is safely behind bars for the murders. Helen knows what it’s like to be attracted to dangerous men.

Then there’s the little matter between Helena and Gaspar BonVillaine, the teenaged vampire who is learning to feed on young prey. Now that he’s caught Ellie, he doesn’t know whether he wants to kill her or turn her to the dark side and keep her forever. Helena should have finished him off when she had the chance.

To survive the vampire feeding frenzy surrounding them, mom Helen needs to come to terms with her own insecurities and deal with the gifts she has. Helena must learn to ground herself for the good of mankind and more importantly her own family. And Ellie has the toughest choice of all. Ellie must decide whether its time to let her own childhood go and become the woman she is destined to be, one of the ageless and timeless “Helens of Troy”.

Author Janine McCaw (Olivia’s Mine, Feb. 2006,) has written this 100,000 word novel, the first in a fantasy series about “the Helens”. The three generations of gatekeepers will take the reader on a trip to a realm mere mortals fear to visit alone, and they’ll make her want to stay a while.


Helena LaRose dragged the body out of the house and rolled it up and across the canopied swing on her front porch. First went the feet, then the torso. By the time she got to its flailing head, the rules of motion took over, and the corpse moved itself. Its weight caused the creaky three-seater bench with the weathered cushions to rock, hitting Helena straight in the kneecaps as it swung forward.

“Easy there, Sport,” she said, reaching forward and slowing the swing to a halt. “There will be no swingers on the porch tonight. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.” If the corpse was trying to get one more kick at her, it would have to do better than that.

Taking a step back to observe her handiwork, Helena knew that something wasn’t quite right in Deadville. “I should have thought more about this,” she said to herself, struggling to prop the body upright. “He’s just not a looker.” His lifeless arms flopped around her, hitting her in the head. “Son of a bitch,” she sighed.

She brushed back a strand of dark hair that had fallen in front of her eyes, and put her hands on her hips in exasperation. Moving cadavers around had certainly been a lot easier when she was younger.

“Do you need some help there, Helena?” asked the old man who had been silently viewing the entire scene from the sidewalk. “I don’t think he’s obeying the laws of physics. I’m pretty sure dead weight isn’t supposed to move around.”

She jumped. There was nothing worse than being caught in the act. She had hoped to keep things undercover a little longer. Timing never had been her thing.

She turned and gave her neighbor a wary smile. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to sit in the rocker today, Mr. Wagner. I know you’d prefer to stretch out on the swing for a bit of a rest on your afternoon walk, but it’s occupied at the moment.”

“So I see,” Mr. Wagner said, taking it all in stride. He sat down in the pine rocking chair next to his usual spot. “I guess I could break from my routine just for today.”

“Thank you,” Helena replied.

Mr. Wagner glanced at the body and pouted. “You’ve covered him with my blanket. The one you always give me to use. Do you think you can get me another one? I’d take it from him, but there’s just something unsettling about using a blanket that has covered a dead guy.”

“I’ve got another blanket ready for you, Mr. Wagner. It’s in the front hall. Cotton. I know wool makes you itch. The newspaper is there, too. I’ll get them both for you.”

“Don’t get old, Helena,” he sighed. “It’s a bitch. Stay young and beautiful like you are.”

Helena laughed. At fifty-eight, she was hardly young, but there was some kind of ageless beauty about her that was hard to dismiss.

“Young is a relative thing, but thanks, Mr. Wagner. How about I put the kettle on for us while I’m inside?”

“Can I have regular orange pekoe today?” he pleaded. “None of that herbal stuff?”

“Do you really think you should, Mr. Wagner? The anti-oxidant level is so much higher in the rooibos I blended for you.”

“Helena, stop being the naturopath that you are and give an old man a decent cup of tea. I’ll sign a waiver if you like. I rely on a little caffeine to keep my eighty-three year old heart pumping. I like coffee in the morning, tea in the afternoon and a stiff shot of scotch at night. Write that down in case your doctor books don’t cover the real secret to a long life.”

“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Wagner,” she laughed. “Just don’t let it get around. It’s bad for my business. I spend a lot of time telling my clients that peppermint tea is the elixir of life. You’re right though, peppermint schnapps may be closer to the truth.”

“Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder,” he winked wryly, smirking at his pun. There was nothing wrong with Mr. Wagner’s mind. He was sharp as a tack.

Helena watched him stretch his age-spotted finger in the direction of the body.

“Your man there, he’s got a problem,” he announced. “His leg has slid down to the floor. They’re the first things to go, you know. Legs. For me it was the knees. Do you want me to make him sit up so the kids don’t trip over him later tonight?”

Helena didn’t hear him. She was staring towards the house, her mind evidently elsewhere.

“Hello? Earth to HEL-EY-NAH...” he said slowly, emphasizing each syllable of her name. “I SAID, do you want me to fix him? Are you going deaf? Do I have to shake you senseless? That’s what people do to me when I have my hearing aid turned down too low.”

He tugged at her skirt. A very short skirt that showed off her magnificently toned legs. He knew that would get her attention. It certainly got his. He might be an octogenarian, but certain things still worked. As much as that thought may have bothered some women—hell, it might have downright creeped them out—he often flirted with Helena and she didn’t seem to mind it in the least.

Helena turned her head back towards him. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Wagner. Honestly, I don’t know where my head is today. I had all this running around to do this morning, even before I got started getting the house spooked-out for tonight. I guess I tired myself out, putting up all the Halloween decorations. If you could help me with the body, that would be wonderful.”

“I like the cobwebs you put up. You didn’t have to buy them though, I have plenty at home I could have lent you.”

Expecting a witty comeback from her, Mr. Wagner was concerned when he didn’t get one. “Is everything okay, Helena?”

She cocked her head slightly and took a slow look around her front property. “Yes, although the hairs on the back of my neck seem to be a little over-active today. I can’t put my finger on why that is. It must just be the occasion. I love Halloween, don’t you, Mr. Wagner?”

“It’s a lot more fun since you moved onto the street,” he admitted.

“The house is really going to look spooky this year. I’ve rented some strobe lights and a fog machine from a special-fx place in the city. You’ll have to come by and see it tonight. I think it will be quite something.”

“I’m sure it will be. I’m a big fan of your Halloween house, you know that,” Mr. Wagner said. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Thanks, Mr. Wagner. I’m just a little worried. Most of the neighborhood kids are getting older now. They’re harder to impress.” She looked at her watch. “I thought I’d be done setting up by now, but Mr. Death-warmed-over, he’s just not co-operating.”

“Dead men are like that,” Mr. Wagner said.

“It’s not just the dead men,” Helena laughed.

For a chance to win a Smashwords coupon for "Helens-of-Troy" please fill out the Rafflecopter form below:
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About the Author:

HELENS-OF-TROY is the second novel completed by Janine McCaw. For the Vancouver-based novelist it is the continuation of a dream, and the fruit of years of working in a different creative realm.

McCaw’s deep understanding of compelling plots, widely appealing characters, natural dialogue and strong story arcs comes directly out of her early career in the film and television industry. McCaw’s skills as an observer started early when her family uprooted from the City to small town Ontario – and she became the classic fish out of water. Writing down her thoughts became an outlet as she scribbled her way through childhood, while she also developed her observational skills and visual eye with photography. A die-hard hockey fan, McCaw studied Cinematography at Humber College, and was headed for a career as a cameraperson covering professional sports when she landed an internship in a broadcasting services company.

McCaw excelled in the television distribution arena. She joined Thomas Howe & Associates and moved with that company to Vancouver, where she distinguished herself with her talent for identifying the right product for the right market, and her people-skills in negotiating contracts. After furthering her professional development with several high-profile Canadian entertainment companies, she parlayed her reputation as a leading Cable Programming specialist into her own boutique firm. Formed with a partner, Dark Horse Ent. specialized in finding, and selling, niche Canadian television series - entertainment, information and variety - around the Globe. McCaw also acted as an independent executive producer on award-winning television Classic Car series, CHROME DREAMS, and as a distributor for series including ENTRÉE TO ASIA, and AT HOME WITH HERBS.

In high demand as an insightful, humorous and engaging guest speaker, juror and analyst for festivals and trade forums around the country, McCaw also spent large amounts of time traveling abroad to television markets. Writing relieved the stress of constantly being on the road. Increasingly, she turned her main hobby into outlines for novels, and finished fleshing out the characters, plot and dialogue for OLIVIA’S MINE, a fictional account of a young bride’s struggle to make a life for herself against the backdrop of the disasters that hit Britannia Beach, British Columbia in the early 1900s. The book was released in 2006 and continues to be sold at the British Columbia Museum of Mining.

HELENS-OF-TROY was released early in 2012. McCaw is also currently developing eight other stories for novel form. All set on the Pacific North West and in Canada’s North, they include the murder mystery A LITTLE FIRST DEGREE, a feel-good trilogy THE INN AT HAZY WATERS (Northern Exposure meets Fantasy Island), and PUMPER an action romance that has already garnered interest as the basis for a feature film.

Fan video review:
That Fantasy Blog review:

Monday, May 21, 2012

Book Tour - Review/Excerpt: Bri Clark's "Scent of a Witch"

File Size: 364 KB
Print Length: 73 pages
Publisher: Astraea Press (October 27, 2011)
Review Copy Courtesy Of:  Bewitching Book Tours (In exchange for an honest review)

Book Description

Maeve da Paer has lived her life free from the restrictions of the world of sorcery and the Board of Witchery hidden behind the combined protection of her grandparents powerful clan magic—and a lie. Although her life has not been worry free, it is when all that desperation and grief cause her to cast her most powerful spell ever…a spell that will end the pain before it begins on the powerful All Hallows Eve.

Fionn Hughes, an immortal tracker, former heir to a powerful clan of time warlocks is on a mission to restore his honor—instead he finds Maeve da Paer. Following the scent of Gardenias and Honey Suckle, he discovers the last Scent Witch. It’s only after she almost takes off his ear that something more stirs, eventually changing his mission from one of duty to one of need.

What will Fionn do when he finds out Maeve plans to cancel out her own existence? Will he be strong enough to stop her?


Fionn Hughes leaned against the brick building, shaking his head in frustration. Upon his father’s insistence, he’d traveled to this cursed century seeking a prize that had been lost. With the death of the warlock, Patrick Sweeney, the powers of time sorcery had gone with him, leaving only the Hughes clan. Fionn’s father would be furious and terribly saddened to know that Sweeney’s wife, Cordelia da Paer, was dead as well. While Fionn didn’t know the details, the marriage had caused the clan’s centuries-long allegiance to sever. Fionn’s father, Laird Rordan Hughes, was soul-weary, and Fionn feared this might send his father over the edge to seek the afterlife.

Before fear could grip him, he decided to continue after the mortal grandchild of the deceased couple. He had followed her from the Sweeney estate to the downtown Halloween festivities. If the mortals knew the truth of All Hallows Eve, they’d put an end to the commercialized debauchery that occurred every year.

Fionn looked up and cursed. The tangled mass of brown curls with auburn highlights he had been tracking disappeared. Panic bubbled up in his innards, but his warrior instinct dismissed it as quickly as it appeared. A strict warning from his father to use his magic sparingly sounded in his memory, but he longed to call up a tracking spell. He offered another colorful Gaelic curse, causing an elderly woman walking by to jump. After a mumbled apology and bow, he jaywalked to the side of the street near the food vendor. The last time he had seen her, the granddaughter had been near the mobile cart offering saturated fat and processed food. Fionn preferred the simpler fare of stews, homemade cheese, and ciders.

Unable to use magic, he took a breath and used skills acquired as a boy under his father’s guidance. Offering his most dazzling smile, he set his charms on a group of older ladies with low cut athletic shoes and fanny packs.

“Good afternoon ladies.” He bowed and the three women turned and giggled in unison.

“Where are you from shoog?” asked the tallest one, a brunette who was obviously the leader. “You have an accent the likes I’ve never heard.”

“Why, I’m from Scotland.” He offered her a smile but then quickly continued. These women were ferocious when it came to gossip. “I’ve lost track of the lass I was with.” Three sets of intensely plucked then re-penciled eyebrows went up and the tracker knew he had them.

“What does she look like?”

“Where did you last see her?”

“Don’t worry dear, we’ll help you.” All sounded in unison in their ages-tarted accents, signature for the region. He couldn’t help but smile and felt a tad guilty for lying to the three helpful grannies.

“She’s about your height, long curly brown hair that has a touch of auburn highlights when the sun hits it.” They sighed in unison. “She had a scarlet shawl tied around a long white skirt…” He would have continued, only the brunette started bouncing up and down.

“That way, she went that way,” she declared, pointing down a dark alley in between two very close buildings.

The earlier panic reappeared. Was the woman a twit? It was a night of danger for not only those of Witchery, but mortals too, and walking down a dark alley was most unwise.

Nodding to the glassy-eyed women, he ran to the end of the alley, then stopped and kneeled. The gravel was disturbed, creating a slight pile. Then, going in a western direction, every few feet there was another mound, before finally it stopped at the edge of a wooded area. Fionn sensed a presence of power in the air. But that could be a combination of the coming night and being so close to the haunted Carton Plantation.

Memories of the gracious MacGavok family pulled at his emotions. He had been injured at the Battle of Franklin, the bloodiest five hours of the Civil War. The family had tended to him as well as many others. Randal and Carrie McGavok were truly two of the noblest mortals Fionn had ever known. They would turn no one away based on skin or uniform color. The bodies of the dead had been stacked four feet high by the end. Later, after the battle, the family unburied and then reburied over fifteen hundred Confederate soldiers, dedicating two acres of their land for a military cemetery. When Fionn had asked his friend why, he’d been admonished that everyone deserved a proper burial and last rights.

Squatting so he could look more closely at the ground, he caught site of small bare footprints in the softened dirt. He grinned in triumph, then scowled. One footprint sunk deeper, indicating she was limping. Had she hurt herself? An urgency he didn’t understand pushed him forward, the sensing of power becoming stronger. But as he traveled deeper into the foliage, a feeling of peace seemed to emanate. He puzzled over the source. That is, until the distinctive smell of Honeysuckles and Shamrocks invaded his nostrils.

A Scent Witch. The scent of Shamrocks was exclusive to that line of witches, and the scent was only detectable through their blood. Whoever she was, she was the last, for he knew of no other. And she was hurt.

Fionn moved at the speed his unnatural immortality allotted him. The panic he’d managed to contain before exploded in his chest. If he could bring her back to his clan, perhaps he would be in his father’s good graces again. The flora opened up in his line of vision creating a half clearing along a stream of water and there, sitting along the edge, was an enticing water nymph with unruly brown hair and auburn highlights created by the sun.

Unable to look away, he watched as she moved her feet in and out of the water, allowing him a generous view of long shapely calves that flowed seamlessly into milky white thighs. His throat tightened as craving burned in him. Desire he hadn’t known in a long time warmed his insides. Fionn was no rogue but he was certainly no saint either. However, he had never felt the stirrings of passion as he did viewing the female before him.

With an easy grace she leaned forward, reaching out with her right arm and bending her right knee up to drape water from her fingertips down her leg. So enchanted by the movement of the elegant beauty he didn’t see the dagger that appeared in her left hand until it took off a lock of his hair before firmly ending in the tree behind him. The realization that he almost died startled Fionn out of his daze. The wild-haired woman let out a particularly unladylike Gaelic curse, and her eyes looked around as if seeking escape. Finally she stopped, face forward staring at the water, then she looked at him. It was only a moment but, in that instant, he saw what his father had sent him to retrieve: the key to their future. Thick lashes, darker than the brows above them, framed light brown eyes with flecks of gold in them, feline-like in their slanting shape. The Sweeney Eyes. Then she disappeared into the water.

 Saph's Review:

"Scent of a Witch" is a very enchanting tale of witches/warlocks, family secrets, lost lives, time travel, and attempted acts to change history.  Maeve is the last of the Scent Witches since the "deaths" of her grandfather and grandmother.  Along the way a tracker, Fionn, locates her per his father.  What ensues is an extremely descriptive tale that takes you from a quaint Tennessee town to the past when Maeve was born and then back to the home of Fionn's father, Laird Hughes.  Bri Clark does a wonderful job weaving and merging the story lines together in this short story.  Secrets are revealed, forgiveness granted, and a love story begins. 

Informative quote: "...the exposed blood of a Scent Witch was like a neon sign for trackers…and with the death of her granny, Maeve was the last one. Those in the world of craft and sorcery valued a Scent Witch
highly. Every creature of supernatural or magical origin held a special smell, enabling the witch to discern what their powers were and to even track them if needed" (B. Clark, 2011, pg. 7).

If you're looking for a nice, short story with depth, fantasy elements, vivid descriptions, and an enchanting tale then please check out this book.

I have also reviewed The Familial Witch by Bri Clark.


 About the Author: 

Bri Clark is a real example of redemption and renewal. Growing penniless in the South, Bri learned street smarts while caring for her brother in a broken home. She watched her mother work several jobs to care for their small family. Once her brother could fend for himself, Bri moved on to a series of bad choices including leaving school and living on her own.

Rebelliousness was a strong understatement to describe those formative years. As a teenager, her wakeup call came from a fight with brass knuckles and a judge that gave her a choice of shaping up or spending time in jail. She took that opportunity and found a way to moved up from the streets. She ended up co-owning an extremely successful construction business. She lived the high life until the real estate crash when she lost everything.

She moved west and found herself living with her husband and 4 kids in a 900 square foot apartment. She now fills her time, writing, blogging, leading a group of frugal shoppers and sharing her southern culture. Her unique background gives her writing a raw sensibility. She understands what it takes to overcome life’s obstacles. She often tells friends, “I can do poor. I’m good at poor. It’s prosperity that I’m not used to.”

Bri and her husband Chris live in Boise. Bri is known as the Belle of Boise for her true southern accent, bold demeanor and hospitable nature.

Bri boasts several positions in the publishing industry. An author, professional reviewer, blogger, and literary strategist she enjoys all aspects of her career from the creation of story to the branding and marketing needed to make her books successful.

Bri Contact Links

Twitter, Facebook, G+, GoodreadsBlog

Buy Links:


Barnes and Noble:

Friday, May 18, 2012

Virtual Book Tour - Review: Theodore Weesner's "The Car Thief"

File Size: 619 KB
Print Length: 310 pages
Publisher: Astor + Blue Editions (May 10, 2012)
Sold by: Amazon Digital Services
Language: English
Review Copy Courtesy Of:  Blue Dot Literary


It’s 1959.  Sixteen year-old Alex Housman has just stolen his fourteenth car and frankly doesn’t know why.  His divorced, working class father grinds out the night shift at the local Chevy Plant in Detroit, kept afloat by the flask in his glove compartment and the open bottles of booze in his Flint, Michigan home.

Abandoned and alone, father and son struggle to express a deep love for each other, even as Alex fills his day juggling cheap thrills and a crushing depression. He cruises and steals, running from, and to, the police, compelled by reasons he frustratingly can’t put into words.  And then there’s Irene Shaeffer, the pretty girl in school whose admiration Alex needs like a drug in order to get by.  Broke and fighting to survive, Alex and his father face the realities of estrangement, incarceration, and even violence as their lives hurtle toward the climactic episode that a New York Times reviewer called “one of the most profoundly powerful in American fiction.”

In this rich, beautifully crafted story, Weesner accomplishes a rare feat:  He’s written a transcendent piece of literature in deceptively plain language, painting a gripping portrait of a father and a son, otherwise invisible among the mundane, everyday details of life in blue collar America.

A true and enduring American classic.

Saph's Review:

As soon as read the synopsis of The Car Thief I just knew that I had to read it.  You see, I grew up in a small town just outside of Flint and until 5 years ago lived in Genesee County or nearby Shiawasee County.  In fact, as the story gets going the author starts listing various surrounding towns; Flushing, Linden, Grand Blanc, Atlas, & Montrose. I grew up in one of the towns listed, lived in 3 of them, lived 1 mile from one, and have been to the last one.  I was born in Flint but never actually lived in there.  I did work for GM within the Great Lakes Technology Centre downtown Flint.  Enough about me, however.

Alex is a teen living with his blue collar father.  His mother left and took his brother with her.  He gets into fights, steals automobiles, and basically just drifts along, forgotten, broken, and swept under the rug.  Alex also battles depression, which in itself is a struggle.  His father is an alcoholic and the two of them just keep drifting apart.  Then, after stealing his 14th vehicle, Alex gets caught, arrested, and send to the 1959 version of juvenile hall (juvie).  

Mr. Weesner does an excellent job with this coming of age tale. The book was first published in 1973 and is so well written that it unites the boundaries of many generations. He uses plain language that is only hard to read in the sense that the plight of Alex and his father is all too realistic.  Although this story is based around 1959, there are many aspects to it that are very much the same now in 2012.  I recommend this story to anyone; male or female.  It may be primarily about a male protagonist, but there aren't any women/girls I know that don't deal with men/boys at some point in their lives.


About the Author:

Theodore Weesner, born in Flint, Michigan, is aptly described as a “Writers’ Writer” by the larger literary community.  His short works have been published in the New Yorker, Esquire, Saturday Evening Post, Atlantic Monthly and Best American Short Stories.  His novels, including The True Detective, Winning the City and Harbor Light, have been published to great critical acclaim in the New York Times, The Washington Post, Harper’s, The Boston Globe, USA Today, The Chicago Tribune, Boston Magazine and The Los Angeles Times to name a few.

Weesner is currently writing his memoir, two new novels, and an adaptation of his widely praised novel—retitled Winning the City Redux—also to be published by Astor + Blue Editions.  He lives and works in Portsmouth, NH.

Monday, May 14, 2012

Virtual Book Tour - Review, Guest Post & Giveaway: Lisa Kessler's "Night Walker" (Book One in the Night Series)

THE NIGHT SERIES - Book One by Lisa Kessler

Title: Night Walker
Author: Lisa Kessler
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Review Copy Courtesy Of:  Bewitching Book Tours

View the book trailer at

Welcome to Sapphyria's Book Reviews Lisa!!!

The Nature of Time… Who Wants to Live Forever?

Hi everyone –

Thanks for having me on your blog today!

Einstein’s theory of relativity never made sense to me as a kid, but as an adult who watches days turn into weeks in the blink of an eye, I now understand. The longer we stay on earth the faster time seems to race because one day becomes a much smaller fraction of your life than it was as a small child.

So what if you’ve been on earth for centuries? How fast would years blend into decades when you’ve lived over 200 years?

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to live forever? I think my fascination with immortals started with Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles, carried into the Highlander movies and tv series, and finally culminated for me with my new Night series.

I’m intrigued to understand how a person (or being) can keep their lives relevant when the world around them is constantly changing, and they’re not. Anne Rice’s Lestat searched for pleasure and entertainment, but eventually found himself aching for meaning and redemption. In the Highlander television series, Duncan MacLeod, engrossed himself in learning languages and fighting styles while continuing on his “There can be only one” path in The Game.

My hero, Calisto Terana, has walked the earth for over 200 years hoping for another chance at love and redemption. After his love was murdered in 1775, he gave up his soul to the night for a second chance to love her, but he had no idea he would wait centuries for her to live again, to see her face one more time. As the world around him changed, he amassed wealth and power, but his heart hardened and bitterness took the place of hope.

Only his memories of her and his desire to love her again keep him going.

As I wrote the books for the series, each Night Walker hero has his own reason for facing eternity. For some it’s love, for others it’s duty, and for some it’s a quest for answers, but the burden of endless night weighs heavily on their shoulders.

On the surface, immortality, life without the fear of death seems like a great idea, but I think it comes with a hefty price. And I think the cost goes up every year as time races by even faster…

So if you got the chance to live forever, would you take it?

I can’t wait to hear your thoughts…


He gave up his soul for a second chance to love her…

Two and a half centuries ago, Calisto Terana lost everything when a zealous priest murdered the woman he loved. Now, desperate for another chance to love her, he wants redemption for the mistake that cost her life.

She’s haunted by dreams of her own death…

After catching her fiance with another woman, Kate Bradley returns to San Diego to clear her head. The last thing she needs is romance, but after meeting Calisto she’s drawn to him in ways she doesn’t understand.

They’ve waited in the shadows for centuries…

Calisto has no doubt Kate is the reincarnation of his lost love, but the Fraternidad Del Fuego Santo has a new watcher with dark ambitions of his own. As old enemies reemerge and a new threat arises, the betrayal that enslaved Calisto to the night might destroy the only woman he’s ever loved again.

Saph's Review:

For centuries Calisto has been waiting the words of the Shaman who created him to come true. Now he's come across Kate, the woman he is certain is his past love reincarnate. Kate, on the other hand, has no memories of a past life-only bad dreams and vague familiarities concerning flowers and signet rings. She's wounded from a former relationship and leaves Reno, where she's a Choir Director in a middle school, and comes back to San Diego. A chance meeting with Calisto turns her world upside down and has her questioning her sudden and intense attraction to this tall, dark stranger.

I enjoyed the different take on Calisto and the Night Walker label. He didn't consider himself a vampire. His Night Walker blood allowed him to arise at night but it was also used to heal the wounds on humans around him. The organization searching for him and trying to destroy him, however, finds his kind an abomination. They will stop at nothing the keep Calisto from bringing forth another of his kind...namely Kate. Will Calisto be able to right past wrongs and protect Kate from the Fraternidad Del Fuego Santo?

The book intermittently hops from the present back to 1775 and it's done seamlessly and without flaws. Everything flows together well and the flashbacks help develop the story. We get insight into the past of Calipso (original name - Gregorio) and Kate (the reincarnate of Tala) throughout not only those flashbacks but also from within Calipso's memories and Kate's dreams.

Lisa Kessler is a fantastic writer. Her paragraphs come alive with every word and her descriptions are so vivid. Example: Pg. 19 "The music spoke words he couldn't recite..." Calisto and Kate are such tortured souls and Lisa does an excellent job bringing them together. The emotions that they emit are very believable and I was able to experience them myself. This book draws you in like a great novel does and takes you on an
incredible journey!

Giveaway Details:

Tour wide Lisa is giving away a signed paperback of Night Walker, a signed Night Walker poster and a $25 Amazon giftcard 

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