Tara West

YA paranormal/fantasy and New Adult author


2 Comments

Book blast and giveaway!

Hey, friends! I’ve got a book blast today with a chance to win a $25 Amazon gift card.  Please stop by all of these awesome tour hosts to increase your chances of winning.  TOUR BUTTON_TaraWest_DivineandDateless_OneDayBlastCheck back tomorrow as I list a new giveaway and a chance to win another $25 gift card.

Please don’t forget Divine and Dateless is out now. Kindle and Nook versions are on sale through tomorrow for .99. Get your copy before the price goes up. Also available in print and  iTunes version coming soon. For readers 18 and older, please.

 Tour stops. Visit them all to increase your chances of winning!

Book Monster Reviews
http://bookmonsterreviews.com

Mythical Books
http://www.mythicalbooks.blogspot.ro/

Dark Side of Romance
http://www.darksideofromance.com

Tome Tender
http://tometender.blogspot.com/

For Whom The Books Toll
http://forwhomthebookstoll.blogspot.com

Book Liaison
http://www.bookliaison.net

The Boyfriend Bookmark
Http://theboyfriendbookmark.com

deal sharing aunt
http://dealsharingaunt.blogspot.com

Riverina Romantics
http://www.riverinaromantics.com/

Coffee Talk Writers
http://www.coffeetalkwriters.com/

Musings In FIction Alley
http://musingsinficitonalley.blogspot.com/

Dirty Girl Romance
http://dirtygirlromance.blogspot.com

Cherry Mischievous
http://www.cherrymischievous.com/

Dalene’s Book Reviews
http://dalenesbookreviews.blogspot.com

Fire and Ice Book Reviews
http://fireandicebookreviews.blogspot.com/

Fire and Ice Book Reviews
http://fireandicebookreviews.blogspot.com/

2Bookaholics
http://2bookaholics.com

ParaYourNormal
http://parayournormal.wordpress.com

Close Encounters with the Night Kind
http://closeencounterswiththenightkind.blogspot.com

Eclipse Reviews
http://eclipsereviews.weebly.com/

Karen Swart
http://authorkarenswart.blogspot.com

Darkest Cravings
http://www.darkestcravings.weebly.com/

 

Divine and Dateless is out now. Kindle and Nook versions are on sale through tomorrow for .99. Get your copy before the price goes up. Also available in print and  iTunes version coming soon. DD2For readers 18 and older.

 

Advertisements


Leave a comment

Sneak Peak at Divine and Dateless releasing July 7

DD2Here’s a sneak peak from my paranormal romantic comedy, Divine and Dateless, book one in my Eternally Yours series.

I’ve already posted a sample of chapter one below, or click HERE.

Blurb:

Divine and Dateless by Tara West
Good girls go to heaven. Bad girls go all the way…

What can be worse than electrocuting yourself while getting ready for your internet date? Realizing the hot stud you’ve been fondling is the grim reaper? Being chased by a sex-crazed bloated, naked corpse?

How about an eternity of more bad hair days and horrific dates? Or lusting after the one guy in all of the afterlife whose hydrophobia rivals his fear of commitment?

Yeah, that’s a whole lot worse.

From Chapter Two

 

“I told you, I’ve got a schedule to keep.”

Fake Roger (I refused to call him Grim, because then I would have had to acknowledge I was dead, which I couldn’t possibly be over a stupid blow dryer) was hovering behind me, tapping his foot on my shag bathroom rug. Don’t ask how he got in my bathroom. I wasn’t sure, but I thought he floated through my door.

Creepy, right?

He kept going on about some stupid schedule, which shouldn’t have mattered if we were dead, which I WASN’T.

I’ll be damned (oops, probably not a good time to be using that phrase) if I’m going anywhere with Grim.

I was only twenty-nine. I couldn’t have died. I hadn’t even done the marriage and kids thing yet, not that I was looking forward to the kids part, but my mom had been bugging me about grandkids.

My mom!

Holy crap. She would be heartbroken when she found out. I hoped my sister stopped being a brat long enough to console her. But Mom wouldn’t need anyone to console her because I wasn’t dead.

I’m not freaking dead!

I was sitting on the toilet crying, staring down at the chipped magenta toenail polish on my other body. My brain was so foggy from shock and grief, I hardly heard Grim as he heaved a sigh and said something about his schedule again. If my eternal fate hadn’t been in his hands, I’d probably have smacked him.

“What happened to me?” I asked through a sniffle.

He nodded toward the blow dryer lying by my side. Its bright fuchsia shell was marred by angry streaks of black. The cramped space smelled like burnt plastic, too. “Looks like you electrocuted yourself.”

“Shit!” I stomped a heel on the cracked tile. It created this weird, hollow echo, and I swore I could feel the vibrations ricochet into the other room.

“Were you running the water with the blow dryer on?”

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Didn’t you read the warning label?” He held up the dryer and pointed to the chord, a look of condescension in his vibrant eyes.

I averted my gaze, chewing on my lower lip. “Maybe not.”

“Your dryer should have had a surge suppressor.”

He pointed to the little red button on the plug, the same stupid button that had been popping out just about every two minutes when I’d tried to dry my hair. Yesterday, I’d finally gotten fed up, so I Super-glued it down. I’d thought it was a good idea at the time.

Grim swiped a finger across the plug and looked at me with a smirk. “You glued it?”

Okay, I admit it wasn’t a wise decision. Lesson learned. “Can’t we just resuscitate me?”

“Ashley,” he said through a groan as he pointed down at my body, “You’ve been dead for half an hour.”

I shot to my feet and peered down at my body and then spit out a curse that would have made my poor dear granny spin somersaults in her grave.

“Ashley? You okay?”

“Ash.” I said in a tone that felt as hollow as my lifeless body. “Nobody’s called me Ashley since high school, and I can’t go with you. I’m not dead.” I said that last part without conviction. Shit. Even I was starting to believe I’d croaked. This was so not good.

“Ash, I really need to get to my next call.” Grim stepped over my body, approaching my personal space.

I took a hesitant step back, not because I minded him being so close to me. Not at all. But having so much male filling up my space was like, excuse the bad pun, overloading me with a surge of electric lust.

“I need proof,” I said as I backed up until I felt the towel rack behind me.

Weird, because even though I was supposedly dead, and shouldn’t be able to feel a thing, I could definitely feel him. He put out a heat that sent my senses reeling.

He angled his head, giving me a good glimpse of a square jaw and thick neck. I had a hunch the shoulders underneath his stiff shirt collar were corded with muscle. “There’s all the proof you need.” He pointed at my prone body.

Lust forgotten. This guy sure knew how to kill a girl-gasm.

I shook my head before covering my eyes with my hands. “No, she’s not real. Neither are you. I zapped my head really badly when I shocked myself, and I’m still knocked out.”

“You don’t honestly believe that.”

The pity in his voice would have been humiliating had he not been a figment of my imagination.

“I do. I have to. I’m not ready to go.” I looked at him through my fingers. Damn. He’d stepped closer to me, and I couldn’t back up another inch.

Much to my amazement and annoyance, he had the nerve to smirk. Not the everyday, average, asshole smirk, like the kind I had to deal with from my pinhead boss on a daily basis, but the devastatingly handsome, sideways smirk that could only be perfected through years of endless flirting.

This definitely had to be some sort of hallucination. No guy I’d ever met was that damn sexy.

“What?” I asked as I clenched my hands.

His eyes gleamed with mischief. “You’re cute when you pout.”

I let out a huff of air, knocking a piece of wayward frizz out of my eye. “Okay, the Grim Reaper is flirting with me. Now I know this is a dream.”

He laughed, combing a hand through his thick, dark hair. “You want proof I’m real, don’t you?”

I wagged a finger in his face. “Flirting hardly counts as proof.”

“Sorry.” He shrugged. “That’s all I’ve got.”

Then a thought came to me, a really, really wicked thought. That devil sitting on my shoulder had to have been working overtime to come up with that one. I tilted my chin, looking deep into his eyes as I gave him a challenging glare. “What about kissing?”

Grim’s face paled, and, ironically, he looked like he’d been spooked by a ghost. He backed up, holding out his hands in a defensive gesture. “I’m not going to take advantage of you.” His words were at war with the molten look in his eyes.

Though I knew my hair was a frizzy mess, and my tight, black skirt might have exposed a bit too much pudge in the thigh area, I knew lust when I saw it, and this man was turned on.

Okay, since he was just a figment of my imagination, I figured I’d enjoy playing out this fantasy while it lasted. So I did what any woman in my situation would have done during an uncomfortably awkward moment of flirting gone wrong, I kept right on flirting. Ignoring the body lying between us on the floor, I stepped over my torn dress, which was definitely exposing too much pudgy thigh, and moved toward him until he was backed into a corner.

He stiffened until he was parallel to the wall. That would have been a definite sign he was not interested, except he licked his lower lip like he hadn’t eaten in a week, and I was a juicy cut of prime rib. I continued my advance until there was barely a breath between us and my heavy breasts were pressing against his chest. He stood there with this deer-in-the-headlights expression, and that’s when I started to lose confidence.

His knee went up, grazing the skin between my bare thighs, and a zing shot straight to my lady parts. Holy heck! I was horny for Grim! If this really was a dream, I hoped I didn’t wake up for at least another ten minutes. Scratch that. Make that twenty. Judging by the way this flirting was progressing, we’d both be at home base faster than I could devour a plate of triple-chocolate chunk brownies during PMS.

“Prove to me I’m dead,” I cooed, laying a hand on his chest. The top button on his long-sleeved cotton shirt was unfastened, revealing just the right amount of dark hair and a hint of hard muscles beneath. I moved my fingers to that small patch of curls, letting the heat from his bare skin on mine soak through. And then I did something naughty. I leaned up and pressed a feather-soft kiss on his tanned neck.

He groaned, cupping my shoulders in his strong grip. “What are you doing to me, woman?”

“Proving I’m not dead.” I giggled, nipping at his earlobe for good measure.

“Maybe you need some other kind of proof,” he growled, right before his lips came crashing down on mine in the most heat-searing, exquisite kiss imaginable.

I moaned into his mouth as I welcomed his tongue’s invasion. I tasted the sweet scent of fruit, maybe apples? I wasn’t quite sure, but I knew I needed to investigate further, so I fisted his shirt collar in my hands, clutching it like a lifeline as I deepened the kiss. He pulled me against the length of his hard body until I straddled one hard thigh. Our tongues sparred and our lips melded together perfectly.

At that moment, when my brain had been robbed of all coherent thought, one word popped into my brain: heaven. His kiss was pure heaven.

I released his collar, roaming the length of his body, which surely had to have been carved from granite. I didn’t care if I was pushing boundaries. This was a dream after all. Then I settled on that exquisitely large and stiff protrusion between his thighs, and I froze.

Holy shit, he was harder than a rod of steel, and as his leg ground out a torturous rhythm between my thighs, I realized I was wetter than spring in Seattle.

This was not a dream. This was real, and I had just fondled the boner of the freaking Grim Reaper.


Leave a comment

A sneak peak at my new paranormal romantic comedy…

Divine and Dateless by Tara West

Releasing July 21, 2014

Good girls go to heaven. Bad girls go all the way…

What can be worse than electrocuting yourself while getting ready for your internet date? Realizing the hot stud you’ve been fondling is the grim reaper? Being chased by a sex-crazed bloated, naked corpse?

How about an eternity of more bad hair days and horrific dates? Or lusting after the one guy in all of the afterlife whose hydrophobia rivals his fear of commitment?

Yeah, that’s a whole lot worse.

 

divine.tagline

Chapter One

Damn that hurt.

I grabbed onto the bathroom counter and slowly pulled myself up, stumbling around a bit before I steadied myself against the wall. That’s when I got a good look at my reflection in the mirror.

Omigod!

Despite the fact that my reflection was a bit blurry, probably due to the fact I’d hit my head pretty hard on that fall, my hair looked like an electrified mop. I couldn’t go on a date like that. Roger would take one look at me, accuse me of faking my profile picture, and make a dash for the elevator. As if I wouldn’t have a hard enough time explaining why I was five years older and five (okay ten) pounds heavier than that Bahama bikini photo.

I sighed when I thought back to the girl getaways I used to take with Jodi and Sheri. Those were amazing times: margarita binges, detox shakes, size five bikinis, one-night stands and ribbed condoms. I took that photo after an amazing night with the Swede, Rolf or Ven, or something like that. His name didn’t matter. What did matter was his size thirteen shoe and big hands, very big hands. Speaking of that beach fling, we could have made a long distance relationship work, if only he’d spoken English, or at least hadn’t pretended he couldn’t understand me.

I wondered the size of Roger’s hands. Did he have a strong grip like my surly Swede? Or were they perfectly manicured like my last date, Craig the hair stylist, who was one wax and peel away from escaping the closet of denial and giving his very religious grandma a heart attack. If only Craig had listened to me when I suggested he come out to his granny and then smooth things over by offering her a free pluck and color.

I tried to slick my hair back in place, but the strands felt as unmanageable as a wire brush. What the hell? I hoped that shock hadn’t done any permanent damage to my follicles. I had just spent a small fortune at the salon for auburn highlights and a deep conditioning treatment. No more putting it off. Next paycheck I would go to the drugstore and get another blow dryer. This wasn’t the first time it had zapped me, but it was definitely the worst.

I whirled at the sound of a knock on the door. Was Roger here early? I stumbled out of the bathroom and checked the microwave clock in my cramped studio kitchen. Six thirty-six. He was twenty-four minutes early! What was I going to do about my hair?

I rushed to the kitchen sink and splashed some water on it and tried again to push it down, but it must have been spring-loaded because it popped right back up.

More knocking. This time it was louder and more persistent.

What the heck, Roger?

The guy wasn’t exactly making a good first impression.

“Okay, okay,” I groaned as I grabbed a hair band from the gym bag I kept by the front door.

I read somewhere if you kept a packed gym bag in a convenient location, it was good motivation to keep on a steady workout schedule. So far, it was working, because I’d been steadily going to the gym once every two or three months.

I did my best to tie my hair back while trying to tamp down my aggravation as the incessant knocking grew ever louder. I grabbed the door handle and let out a slow exhale. I was so tempted to tell Roger the date was off, but I was haunted by the echo of my mom’s familiar nagging voice.

“You’re too picky, Ash. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Perfect is a fairytale. Settle down before all the decent ones are taken.”

I laughed as I recalled being in my early twenties and my mom had encouraged me to be pickier about whom I brought home. But that was ten (okay fifteen) pounds ago, and that was way before Travis dumped me for his forty-two-year-old law school professor. Lately, as long as the guy had all his teeth and a functioning penis, Mom was trying to rush me to the altar.
The incessant knocking turned into all-out banging.

Damn, Roger! As if I don’t have enough problems with my neighbors.

I was so aggravated I didn’t even bother to check the peephole when I jerked open the door.

“Is that really necessary?” I growled, before I got a good look at Roger. But then I did get a good look at my date, and my jaw practically hit the floor. Wow, he looked nothing like his profile picture.

Tall. Check.

Wavy, dark hair and a strong jawline. Check.

Impossibly blue eyes. Check.

Broad shoulders and rippling, tanned muscles. Double check.

I did my best to strike a casual pose as I leaned against the doorframe, but I feared I would melt all over the floor in a puddle of lust instead.

Mister, you can bang down my door any time.

He arched a dark brow while eyeing me with a smirk. “Ashley MacLeod?”

“Everyone calls me Ash, but yeah. So sorry. I wasn’t expecting you for another half hour. I had a bit of a blow dryer accident.” I smoothed an errant lock of frizz behind my ear. “I’m not ready.”

“They never are.” He laughed.

And just like that, a bubble burst in my chest. I should have figured him for a Casanova. I was sure he went out with a different girl every weekend. Then again, judging by the confident tilt of his chin and the way those stone-washed jeans clung to his thick legs (and that bulge beneath his zipper), I was fairly certain each of his dates ended in mind-blowing sex. I was also thinking I wanted to end our date the same way, because Casanova or not, I was getting tired of buying batteries.

“Right.” I pushed back another strand of hair that immediately popped out of place. “Maybe you should wait in the downstairs lobby. There’s a soda machine. Don’t drink the coffee. It’s usually a few days old.” I took a step back and prepared to close the door.

“I’ve got a schedule to keep.”

I wasn’t sure, but I thought I heard the slight hint of a southern drawl, which didn’t make a lot of sense because I was almost positive Roger’s profile said he’d lived in Seattle his whole life. Casanova blocked the door with his foot, stepped forward and practically filled the entire doorway with his large frame.

That’s when it hit me. Roger’s profile said five-foot-ten, one hundred and eighty-five pounds, brown eyes, and pale skin. A dentist, he spent most of his days indoors and his past-times included going to the movies and playing fantasy football. But this guy hogging my doorway could have played real football as a linebacker.

I pointed at him with an accusatory finger. “You look nothing like your profile.”

He pushed past me, frowning as he surveyed my cramped apartment. “What were you expecting? Hood and cape and a giant scythe?”

“A what?” I was suddenly feeling very self-conscious as he eyed my small kitchen table and even smaller fridge. Like Roger, I might have lied on my profile, too. I might have put that I was a defense attorney and not a law school dropout barely making a livable wage as a legal secretary.

He shrugged. “It was a joke.”

“Can I fix you a drink?” I asked as I did a mental count of how many diet sodas I had left in my fridge. Probably not enough to last until payday. Luckily, Roger looked more like a water guy, and I had plenty of free tap on hand.

“No, ma’am, I told you, I’ve got a schedule to keep.”

Oh, yeah, the southern drawl came across much thicker now, coating my senses like warm butter and sending a jolt of hormonal lust straight to my lady parts. I crossed one leg over the other, silently chastising myself for getting all hot and bothered by this guy when I didn’t even know who he was. Of one thing I was certain, he was a far cry from a meek, pale-faced dentist.
I narrowed my eyes and tilted my chin, trying to force myself to stop thinking about those tight, stone washed jeans. “You’re not a dentist.”

He laughed. “No, ma’am.”

I wasn’t fluent in southern speak, but I was fairly certain ma’am was a term reserved for older women. As if my frizzy hair wasn’t making me self-conscious enough, now he was calling me an old lady. That’s when I realized I still hadn’t applied fine line minimizer and foundation. I really wished Roger, or whoever he was, hadn’t showed up so soon. And I really wished he’d go downstairs and wait in the lobby while I made myself look more presentable, and hopefully younger.

“And you’re not from here, are you?”

He crossed one beefy arm over the other. “Born and raised in Houston.”

“That explains the sexy accent.” I mentally smacked myself upside the head. This was what happened when I got nervous. I said the first thing on my mind without wondering if I should have said it.

“Are you flirting with me, Ashley MacLeod?” I loved the way my name rolled off his tongue like warm chocolate sauce melting all over vanilla ice cream. Mmm. I was suddenly in the mood for a hot fudge sundae. I had the vision of me lapping ice cream and chocolate sauce off his abs, which I suspected were as rock hard as the rest of him.

I shook my head, trying to clear it of this lust-induced fog. It had been a while since I’d gotten laid by something that didn’t run on batteries. A long while. That had to be why my slut sonar was stuck in overdrive. What was with me getting all hot and bothered over this guy who’d clearly lied on his profile? Disregard the fact that I’d lied on my profile. I was actually looking forward to flirting my way into free teeth whitenings and cleanings (since my cheap health insurance had a five hundred dollar deductible) but this stud could have been a serial killer for all I knew.

Oh, please, God, don’t let him be a serial killer. He’s too sexy to be crazy.

I got a good long look at Fake Roger, and much to my embarrassment, I noticed he was sizing me up, too. But not in the way I wanted him to be looking at me. No, he had this impatient look in his eyes as his heavy boot tapped loudly on my linoleum floor. “We need to get going, ma’am.”

Crud. Another old lady reference. This will not do.

I didn’t give a damn about his schedule. I was not stepping foot out of the apartment until I (A) fixed this mop on my head and applied a generous amount of anti-ma’am foundation and (B) made sure Fake Roger was not a serial killer, or at the very least, that he had a job somewhat related to dentistry.

I took a step back, and then another, needing to put some distance between me and Mr. Hot Fudge Stud. “Give me a minute to fix my hair,” I said. And double-check Roger’s profile, I wanted to add, but decided to leave that part out.

“Relax,” Fake Roger said with perhaps too much ease in his deep southern drawl. “You’re going to The Penthouse. You can have any hairstyle you want there.”

“The Penthouse? I haven’t heard of it.” Instinctively, my hand went to my stomach at the thought of trying someplace new. I had been very clear with Roger that I could only dine at certain restaurants. I’d even sent him a list of safe places to eat. “Do they have a gluten-free menu?”

Little fun fact about me. If I so much as ate a crumb of wheat, barley or rye, I turned into a cross between Godzilla (only the flames came out the other end), a gremlin (not the sweet, cuddly kind) and a rabid dog. To put it mildly, me and gluten did not get along, which is why I had to be very, very careful where I ate. Because just in case Fake Roger turned out not to be a serial killer, and I decided to let him get past third base (who was I kidding? I was so desperate for a real penis, I would have slept with anything with a heartbeat) it would have really, really sucked if I was forced to trade in an explosive night of passion for an explosive night on the toilet.

“You can eat whatever you want,” Fake Roger said with a touch of annoyance. He motioned toward the front door. “Come on, let’s go. I’ve got a heart attack victim waiting.”

“Heart attack?” I gasped. “So you’re a doctor?” Maybe his profile said oncologist and I’d read it wrong. Even so, if he did have heart attack patient, what was he doing going on a date when he should have been saving this person’s life?

“A doctor?” He chuckled. “No, I’m a Grim.”

“Excuse me?”

“Angel of Death, Grim Reaper, Gabriel, Yama, Azrael, depending on your religion.”

Shit! Fake Roger is a weirdo.

I should have known. Despite being raised in a very religious household, I’d started to question if there even was a god. Because if there was a god, surely he wouldn’t have deprived me of sex with a real person for almost a year, only to have set me up with the world’s hottest psychopath. “This is a joke, right?”

Fake Roger, or Grim, or whoever the hell he was, scrunched up those handsome features of his and looked at me as if I’d just sprouted an arm out of the top of my head. “Have you seen yourself?”

“I know.” I groaned as I pushed back a wiry strand of hair that had slipped out of its headband. “I think I can fix this with a little conditioner and mousse. Excuse me.”
I turned on my heel and ran straight for the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. I forced myself to let out a shaky breath as I stared at the warped wooden door. I didn’t know why I was expecting Fake Roger to bang it down with a machete, but the guy was creeping me out. What the hell had that been about? Where had this guy come from and where was Roger?

The Angel of Death? Really?

Then it hit me. This guy might have actually been a genuine serial killer. One thing for sure, he was delusional if he thought he was the Grim Reaper.
I stood at the door for several seconds. When my arms and legs got this tingly, weightless feeling, I realized it must have been from fear. Then I remembered my cellphone. I had set it on the counter right before I got shocked.

I backed away from the door and spun around. That’s when I nearly tripped over my head.

My head! 

My body was on the floor, my hair was fanned out in a wild mess, and my lifeless eyes were staring up at the ceiling. But wait. What was I doing down there when I was also up here?

I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, or what was left of my reflection. The woman looking back at me was so pale, she was translucent. Why hadn’t I noticed that before?

Oh-my-freaking-god!

Panic seized me, and the only thing I knew to do was scream. I screamed at the woman in the mirror. I screamed at the corpse on the floor. I screamed and screamed until I thought my throat would turn raw. And though my brain was barely functioning, I knew Fake Roger was the Grim, and I was dead.

 DD.promo

 

 

 

 


Leave a comment

Witch Blood is almost here!

So I know Witch Blood’s release date was scheduled for the end of February, but it’s going to be out a little early, as in tomorrow! Please remember to load your Kindles and iPads with Sophie, AJ, and Krysta’s latest story. I hope you enjoy it!  Witch.Blood.web


Here’s another scene from Witch Blood:

   “Ethan, I’m sorry.” I reached toward him, but he jerked away.

          “Not as sorry as Sleznick’s going to be,” he growled.

          “Efan, you’re too hot. Get away,” his sister whined.

          When Ethan scooted toward me, I gasped. The heat radiating off his body buzzed with this strange ominous hum. Oh, this was so not good.   

          In all my life, I’d never been as scared as I was now. We were being hunted by a demon with powers beyond our knowledge, and my boyfriend was set on killing him. I got this sick roiling feeling in my gut that Ethan would be the one killed instead, and me and Kaylee along with him.

          “You can’t go after him.” The edge of fear that punctured my words was sharper than a razor blade. “You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

          Ethan kept his gaze forward, and I held my breath as his hair stood on end and his entire face turned blood red. He squeezed his hands in his lap, his arms and shoulders stiff, the veins in his neck bulging like raging rivers. “I don’t care. I’m going to kill him.”

          “AJ and her family will be here in a few hours. We need to wait for them.”

          Ethan just stared straight ahead, his face a mask of stone and his eyes unblinking.

          Panic alarms were ringing in my ears. What was Ethan planning? He couldn’t risk exposing us to Sleznick. The incubus would kill us all. I wasn’t ready to die. I was barely a kid. Images of my family flashed through my mind. My mom and dad would be heartbroken. My nephews would grow up without their aunt. I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let Ethan risk our lives just to get revenge. Steeling my resolve, I turned to him and squared my shoulders.

          “Ethan, are you listening to me? We need to wait for AJ’s family.”

          My stomach lurched into my throat when the boat tilted forward. I turned just as the other passengers collectively gasped. Holy heck!

          A giant swell of water rose up behind us from out of nowhere. I didn’t remember this happening on the Dreamy World ride. This wasn’t supposed to be a roller coaster. This was a gentle ride for little kids and terrified teenagers.

          The crest of water pushed us forward at an alarming pace as the boat violently banged against the railing while whizzing by the Dreamy singers of all nationalities getting tucked into bed.

          Kaylee giggled and held up her hands as water droplets from the cresting wave splashed our heads. The other passengers laughed nervously while casting anxious glances at each other. They probably hadn’t expected to be catapulted by a roaring tidal wave on this ride, either.  

          Ethan’s face was now crimson. I did a double take, thinking maybe the flashing Dreamy World lights were casting a strange shadow over my boyfriend, but no, his face was truly crimson… and glowing!


2 Comments

Witch Blood first draft is FINISHED!

Great news, everyone! Witch Blood (Whispers Book Six) is finally finished and with my great beta readers! Then, it’s onto my awesome editor, Theo. If all edits and revisions are completed ahead of schedule, I will not wait until the February 27 release date.  Now, here’s a sneak peak at Witch Blood. Please remember this is the first draft. ❤ Tara

Chapter One

        Witch.Blood.web  Swish, gargle, spit, rinse, spit, spit, spit…

          I couldn’t seem to get the taste of bile out of my mouth no matter how many times I brushed my teeth. I clutched the side of the bathroom counter as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Dark circles that looked more like bruises hung under my eyes like heavy thunderclouds, a sharp contrast to my ghostly skin tone. My long, dark hair was a straggly mess, and my ordinarily vivid green eyes were dull and lifeless, sunk in their sockets, as if they, too were hiding from the horrors that may be lurking outside my home.

          Basically, I looked like I’d been drug through hell and back. A shiver stole up my spine at the thought. Because it could really happen, since I’ve discovered my history teacher, Mr. Sleznick, was an incubus after my soul.

          After a day of fainting, and then having a vision about my teacher from hell, then trying to control two morphling witch toddlers, you could say I’ve had a stressful day.

          And I thought my week was off to a bad start when I sprouted this pimple on my nose. If only my life was that simple. What I needed was a good night’s sleep.

          Fat chance.

          Since I knew it’s physically impossible to sleep with one eye open, I guess I’d be pulling an all-nighter. My cat, Alessia, who’s also my witch’s familiar, told me Mr. Sleznick’s powers were stronger at night.

          If a soul sucking incubus tried to sneak through my window tonight, I wanted to be ready. I’ve already stolen my dad’s hunting knife and slipped it underneath my mattress, though I don’t know if a knife will be able to ward off his powers, whatever powers he may have.

          Alessia told me every time an incubus kills a witch and steals her soul, he also absorbs her powers, and I’m not sure how many witches he’s already killed or what he’s capable of. One thing I know, he’s impervious to my mind control. He demonstrated that today when I tried to persuade him to let us out of detention.

          I repressed another shudder before splashing my face with warm water. I pumped some makeup remover onto a wet washcloth and cleaned my face. Then, I applied some zit cream to my nose and rubbed moisturizer into my dry zones. If guess if I was going to have my life force sucked out of me by my demonic teacher from hell, I should have at least had clear skin. Besides, just in case I managed to survive my sophomore year, I wanted to look pretty for my new boyfriend Ethan Maeson.

I heaved a sigh as I patted my face dry with a towel.

          At least something had gone right in my life today. Ethan asked me to be his girl, and I said YES! How could I not? I mean, the boy has to just look at me with that smoldering gaze and my insides melted. Not literally, of course, although I supposed they could since he’s an elemental witch, as in he’s got the power to control the elements. So freaking cool. Though Ethan was still honing in his skills, case in point, I accidentally burned my hand a few days ago when I grabbed his arm.

          Note to self. Do not touch Ethan when he’s angry.

          I went back into my bedroom. Alessia was curled up in a white fluff ball, snoozing on my satin comforter. She looked perfectly content, as her nose twitched while she slept. I felt a pang of jealousy that she could fall asleep so easily, then that jealousy turned to annoyance. Didn’t she care that a demon was trying to steal my soul? I may not be the most obedient witch slave, but I’ve always made sure my mom bought the expensive kibbles and I devoted at least an hour each day to scratching behind her ears.

          I dare her to find another witch who gives her so many scratches.

          Relax, little witch. He’s not coming for you tonight. Alessia said this to me in thought, not even bothering to lift her head and look at me with those piercing silver eyes.

          “How do you know this?” I asked, trying to mask my annoyance that my telepathic cat just invaded my mind without permission.

          Has AJ called you?

          AJ, duh. My psychic BFF who literally can see the future. She’s always been able to predict impending death or accidents of her loved ones at least a day or two before they happen. If Sleznick was about to come after me, I’m sure AJ would see it first.

          She’ll warn you before it happens. Alesia confirmed my thoughts, although she was  probably still inside my head, anyway. My brain felt fuzzy. That’s how I knew she was there.

          As if on cue, my phone rang and I jumped.

          I forced myself to calm down when I realized it was probably just Ethan. He stopped by earlier to help me babysit (no, the parents did not know this), and said he’d call me when he got home. I reached for my jeans on the floor and pulled my phone out of the pocket, and then my heart froze when I saw AJ Dawson flashing on the caller ID.

          I slid my finger across the screen to answer. “Hey.”

          “Sophie,” AJ groaned. “Thank the Goddess you’re okay.”

          “Goddess?” I asked, although I really shouldn’t have been concerned by her sudden change in religious deities. What I should have been worried about is the fact that she thought I wasn’t okay.

          “Witch school, ya know,” she answered casually, as if I wasn’t about to have my soul sucked out of my body by a demonic history teacher with really bad breath.

          “AJ, what did you see?” I snapped, unable to keep the impatience — or fear– out of my voice.

          “There was a man chasing you,” she said. “I couldn’t see his face, so I don’t know who it was.”

          I wanted to respond, I did, but my mouth stopped working, along with my lungs, heart, limbs and brain. In fact, I’m fairly certain the earth stopped spinning, too. I hadn’t had the time to tell AJ that I’d recently discovered Sleznick was an incubus.

          I have no idea how my phone was still attached to my ear, but AJ continued without waiting for my reply. “This guy was chasing you through a crowd.” Then she paused, maybe waiting for my response, but my brain still hadn’t kick started into gear. “His eyes were red,” she added with a gasp.

          Oh, no! That was my brain thinking, but I still hadn’t found my voice.

          “You were at Dreamy World.”

          Dreamy World?

          “Sophie,” AJ impatiently huffed. “Are you there?”

          “I-I’m here,” I answered through a shaky voice, as my world started spinning again, albeit slowly. Dreamy World was an entire days’ drive away. My parents hadn’t taken me there since I was a kid, and after our last trip, Dad said he would never take us again. Maybe it had something to do with me wetting my pants on the haunted castle ride. (I was seven, okay, so don’t judge. Those ghosts looked real, really real, and unlike my BFF, Krysta Richards, I don’t handle floating deceased people very well.) Anyway, anyone who knew my dad knew he preferred camping and fishing to riding Eddie the Elephant rides, and he especially hated the creepy Dreamy World employees telling us to have a dreamy day every time we purchased a soda or even farted in their direction.

          So, no, I seriously doubted I’d be going to Dreamy World any time within the next century. For the first time that night, I heaved a sigh of relief.

          “My dad hates Dreamy World. He won’t take me there.”

          “You’re going soon,” she says. “I see Halloween decorations.”

          I shook my head as I fall back on my bed. The day’s stress had left me physically and mentally exhausted. Now that I knew my teacher wasn’t coming for me any time soon, I gave into the fatigue, and massaged the tension out of my neck with my free hand. “My parents aren’t taking me to Dreamy World.”

          “You were there, Sophie,” she stressed. “I saw you running. You were holding a little girl’s hand.”

          Though I come from a big Italian family, other than my twin nephews, I’m the baby. “I don’t have any little girls in my family.”

          “The dream felt so real. Really real.”

          “I’ll talk to my parents and make sure they don’t have any vacation plans. If they do, I’ll tell them to cancel.”

          “Sophie, listen to me very carefully,” AJ enunciated like I was my dear Aunt Louise who’s lost most of her hearing. “You are going to Dreamy World. What I don’t get is why this guy is chasing you.”

          Crappity, crap, crap! She can’t be right, I told myself. But AJ’s never been wrong about a vision before. “I bet it’s my history teacher, Mr. Sleznick. He’s an incubus, AJ.”

          “Mr. Sleznick? I remember him. What the heck is an incubus?”

          “Ask Aunt B. Actually, is she there?” I managed to ask through a shaky voice. “I really need to talk to an adult witch right now.” Maybe Aunt Bertrice can help me make some sense of all this. Maybe she’ll have some good news like AJ accidentally inhaled some of her incense and her visions aren’t reliable. 

          “She’s playing bunco with her coven.”

          “A bunco coven?” Now I’d heard of everything. I wondered if any of Aunt B’s friends were mind readers like me. I was sure those witches had plenty of tricks up their sleeves. I shook my head, trying to clear it of crazy thoughts. Bunco covens were the least of my worries.

          “Hey, whatever makes them happy,” AJ answered.

          “Would you have her call me when she gets home?” I managed to squeak, though my voice had gone so dry, it felt like I’d swallowed a bucket of sand.

          “Sure. You okay?”

          “Not really.” I sighed as I leaned back against the bed. I was so frayed from fear, my muscles felt liquefied. A lot of crazy things have happened to me since I discovered my powers, but nothing so frightening as discovering my teacher wanted to steal my soul. Then I remembered the one good thing that happened to me tonight. “But Ethan asked me to be his girlfriend.”

          AJ let out this weird girly squeal. What had gotten into my jock friend since she moved to Salem? “I hope you said yes.”

          “You know I did.” I draped an arm over my eyes and groaned. That vein above my temple was starting to throb. Another wonderful side-effect of my gnawing panic, no doubt.

          “I’m worried about you, Sophie.” AJ’s voice dropped to a somber tenor. 

          I let out a long sigh, squeezing my fist by my side. “Me, too.”

If you’d like to read a few more chapters, check out Witch Blood on Wattpad.

 

 

 


2 Comments

Cover reveal! Witch Blood, Whispers Book Six

Projected release date is February 27. If it moves up, I’ll be sure to let you know. Be looking for a scene from chapter one next week. What do you think of the cover? Big THANK YOU to my fan club for their input on the cover art and blurb.  Witch.Blood.web

If Sophie Sinora survives tonight, she’s sure to be grounded for life. But that’s the least of her problems. She’s thousands of miles from home, people are not who they seem, and she doesn’t know friend from foe. She needs to keep her hot witch boyfriend, with an even hotter temper, from losing his cool before the incubus finds them and steals their souls. And she thought she was having a bad week when she sprouted that ginormous pimple on her nose. If only her life was that simple. 

* * *

Books one through five are available at all major ebook retailers and in print. Check out my Amazon page HERE.

* * *

About Tara West:

authorTara West writes books about dragons, witches, and handsome heroes while eating chocolate, lots and lots of chocolate. She’s willing to share her dragons, witches and heroes. Keep your hands off her chocolate.

Tara West’s young adult and new adult romances have been Kindle bestsellers. A former high school English teacher, Tara is now a full-time writer and graphic artist. She enjoys spending time with her family, interacting with her fans, and fishing the Texas coast.

 

 


Leave a comment

Cover reveals by JA Huss!

000_final_junco_print_cover_all1200Hey, everyone. JA Huss has new covers for the I am Just Junco series. Aren’t they amazing? These are intense, dark stories, and I guarantee that once you start reading, you won’t be able to put these books down!

She’s also hosting a giveaway for a $15 Amazon gift card, and since I am terrible about getting Rafflecopter links to work on my site, click HERE to enter.

BOOK & AUTHOR INFO:


I Am Just Junco by JA Huss
NA Epic SF/Dystopian
Series: I AM JUST JUNCO
Books: Clutch, Fledge, Flight, Range, Magpie Bridge, Return

Junco_logo
Synopsis:
Picture yourself standing at the edge of a dock.

Now picture being lost in your own head, utterly unsure of yourself, surrounded by people who want to use you, take you away, or simply kill you.

This is Junco Coot, aged 19, year 2152, daughter of the Rural Republic’s ranking commander. Assassin, semi-famous athlete, and on the run.

In front of you is your future…

A future filled with secrets so heinous and truths so outrageous, it will push you past the edge of sanity.

…and behind you is a life of lies.

Lies that will rip apart the threads of reality barely holding you together.

Congratulations, soldier. Your life is over, but your mission has only just begun.

Welcome to my twisted, messed-up life. No one’s getting out alive, so we might as well kick some ass on the way down.

I Am Just Junco is a dark, epic SF/fantasy that spans five full-length novels and one novella. It is NOT young adult.

The final book in the series, RETURN, will be released on December 2, 2013.

clutch_sale500

Links:
I AM JUST JUNCO at Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/series/85208-i-am-just-junco

CLUTCH at Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/CLUTCH-Just-Junco-J-A-Huss-ebook/dp/B009BIOJTU

CLUTCH B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/clutch-i-am-just-junco-1-ja-huss/1114848059?ean=2940016241692

Trailer link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b24oF6AKFeU (Preview)
Embed code:

author_photo_JA_Huss200
AUTHOR BIO:

J. A. Huss likes to write new adult books that make you think and keep you guessing. Her favorite genre to read is space opera, but since practically no one reads those books, she writes new adult science fiction, paranormal romance, contemporary romance, urban fantasy, and books about Junco (who refuses to be saddled with a label).She has an undergraduate degree in horses, (yes, really–Thank you, Colorado State University) and a master’s degree in forensic toxicology from the University of Florida. She used to have a job driving around Colorado doing pretty much nothing but shooting the breeze with farmers, but now she just writes, runs the New Adult Addiction and Clean Teen Reads Book Blogs, and runs an online science classroom for homeschoolers.
Author Links:
XpressoBannerTours