Tara West

YA paranormal/fantasy and New Adult author


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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

 

 

 

 

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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.

 

 

 


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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

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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:

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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:
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Cover Reveal! Dead Radiance, Dead Embers, Dead Chaos

Look at these covers by my friend, T.G. Ayer. Aren’t they pretty?!
Cover designs by Eduardo Priego.

Dead Radiance, Dead Embers, Dead Chaos  by T.G. Ayer
(Valkyrie #1-3)
Genres: Urban Fantasy, Young Adult

DEAD RADIANCE NEW COVER Front x900Synopsis:

Valkyrie Bryn Halbrook is broken and damaged…Struggling to accept the loss of her wings, Bryn’s not sure if she can be a real Valkyrie anymore. But when a mysterious prophecy claims she will be the reason the All-Father dies, she is determined to ensure the prediction will not come to pass.A visit to the three fates who live beneath the great Tree of life, sends Bryn racing against time to find the missing Heimdall and his horn. As Odin’s life hangs in the balance and Ragnarok draws ever closer, Bryn has to find a way to save Heimdall and Odin before she can discover the truth about who she really is.
DEAD EMBERS NEW COVER Front x900
In the thrilling conclusion of the Valkyrie series Bryn must battle not only the formidable frost giants and the hated God Loki, but she must also find a balance between what she will lose and what she will gain.
AUTHOR BIO:
I have been a writer from the time I was old enough to recognise that reading was a doorway into my imagination. Poetry was my first foray into the art of the written word. Books were my best friends, my escape, my haven. I am essentially a recluse but this part of my personality is impossible to practise given I have two teenage daughters, who are actually my friends, my tea-makers, my confidantes… I am blessed with a husband who has left me for golf. It’s a fair trade as I have left him for writing. We are both passionate supporters of each others loves – it works wonderfully…
DEAD CHAOS NEW COVER Front x900
My heart is currently broken in two. One half resides in South Africa where my old roots still remain, and my heart still longs for the endless beaches and the smell of moist soil after a summer downpour. My love for Ma Afrika will never fade. The other half of me has been transplanted to the Land of the Long White Cloud. The land of the Taniwha, beautiful Maraes, and volcanoes. The land of green, pure beauty that truly inspires. And because I am so torn between these two lands – I shall forever remain crosseyed.
Author links:
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5726831.T_G_Ayer

Twitter: https://twitter.com/TGAyerAuthor
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Say When blog tour and Amazon gift card giveaway!

SayWhenTourBanner1Want a chance to win a $50 Amazon gift card? The more stops you visit, the better your chances of winning. Click HERE to see all of the tour stops hosted by Xpresso Book Tours. Visit the tour stops. Enter the rafflecopter. It’s that easy!

Also, a big thank you, bloggers, for the wonderful reviews of Say When. It will be on sale this week for just .99 in anticipation of the release of Say Yes (THIS THURSDAY!), book two in the Something More Series. Download your copy of Say When on Kindle, Kindle UK, Nook, iTunes and Kobo.


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Celebrate Alexia Purdy Day and get free book downloads!

391223_560226630655816_1699441492_nHey, friends. Are you following my Facebook page yet? Today I’m celebrating Alexia Purdy Day and giving out free downloads of her awesome books. Please stop by, and if you don’t win, then be sure to download one of her paranormal/fantasy books for yourself. Here’s a peek at just one of her books, Reign of Blood. Tons of positive reviews and perfectly paranormal!

“Never tease anything that wants to eat you. My name is April Tate and my blood is the new gold. Vampires and hybrids have overrun my world, once vibrant with life, but now a graveyard of death shrouded in shadows. I fight to survive; I fight for my mother and brother. The journey is full of turns that I am quite unprepared for. And I’m just hoping to make it to the next Vegas sunrise…”

In a post-apocalyptic world, a viral epidemic has wiped out most of the earth’s population, leaving behind few humans but untold numbers of mutated vampires. April is a seventeen-year-old girl who lives in the remains of Las Vegas one year after the outbreak. She has become a ferocious vampire killer and after her family is abducted, she goes searching for them. What she finds is a new breed of vampire, unlike any she has seen before. Unsure of whom she can trust, she discovers that her view of the world is not as black and white as she once thought, and she’s willing to bend the rules to rescue her family. But in trying to save them, she may only succeed in bringing her fragile world crashing down around her.

🙂 Tara


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Dowload the first three Whispers books for .99!

BOXEDSET.ADThat’s right. Today only. Get Sophie’s Secret, Don’t Tell Mother, and Krysta’s Curse for one low price of .99. That’ $5 off! Today only, so get this best-selling paranormal YA before the price goes back up tomorrow. 😉

Download on Kindle, Nook and Sony.

 

Buy the Boxed set and save money!

The Whispers Boxed Set includes the first three books in the Whispers Series, Sophie’s Secret, Don’t Tell Mother, and Krysta’s Curse.

Sophie’s Secret, Book One
Sophie Sinora and her BFFs struggle to keep their strengthening paranormal powers secret while trying to fit in at school. Her teacher’s suicidal thoughts, a threatening locker bully, a teasing school flirt, her hormonal pregnant sister, and the tension between Sophie and her friends, only add to her problems. Hopefully, she can fix them in time to save her teacher’s life and her social life.

Don’t Tell Mother, Book Two
AJ’s mounting frustrations at home and school could turn her into a ticking time bomb. She knows the first step to solving her problems is to gain acceptance from her mother. Then AJ’s green-haired boyfriend knocks on the door. AJ’s ability to foretell the future is driving her and her mom further apart, and if she doesn’t tell her mom about her horrible vision soon, her brother will die.

Krysta’s Curse, Book Three
Krysta Richard’s ability to talk to spirits is getting in the way of her social life. Just as the chemistry between her and her lab partner, Bryon, is about to ignite, a homicide detective asks her to summon a murder victim, her drunk father suddenly takes an interest in her life and her dead friends enlist her in a crusade to save their decrepit cemetery.