Wednesday, February 1, 2017

Valentine's Day Giveaway

We're spreading some Valentine's Day love with a giveaway full of chocolate, books, and pretty things! 
To enter fill out the Rafflecopter then hit the comments and tell us about something YOU love. Your favorite author, book, or blog. Tell us about your true love, your kids, your best friend or your pets. Anything you love. We want to hear about what makes your heart full or just makes you smile.
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Tuesday, January 24, 2017

Spaceship Broken Needs Repairs


Sammy's had a tough life. His father is abusive. His mother is an alcoholic. He developed pulmonary fibrosis from asbestos and needs an oxygen tank to breath. His family is poor and getting poorer. One day his mother's had enough and steals him away to a life on the run. She'd rather be a fugitive than subject Sammy to his father's rage. It doesn't take long for life on the run with a sick child to catch up to her. In order to keep Sammy alive she has no choice but to move in with her emotionally abusive grandfather. Sammy just wants a normal life. He just wants to get along, but when he meets a homeless alien that all changes. Now, he has to help her fix her ship and get off the planet. This is a book about families, broken homes, and the power of friendship. Whether you enjoy whimsy, dark humor, or coming of age stories, there is something for you inside these pages. Sci-fi. It’s a YA book, but for very mature kids. Warning: There is some strong language and the book deals with abuse. Buy your copy here


ONE It started with a bang and a whimper. Well it wasn’t really a bang. It was more like a slap. Well, exactly like a slap. Actually, it wasn’t really a slap either. It was – what’s the sound a fist makes when it connects with a woman’s jaw? Like a woomp, or a thud, or a thwonk. Well, that was the sound. The sound of my mother being punched across the jaw by my father; her hair, her body, suspended motionless for a second, then falling gracefully in slow motion, as I watched horrified and petrified, nestled in the corner behind her. He’d aimed for me, but Mom jumped between us so that I wouldn’t face his assault. She always did that. She told me that the initial blow was always the worst; that she became numb after the third or fourth hit. At least that’s what she told me. I never believed her. I too often saw the pain on her face when he kicked her ribs for the eighth and ninth times. I watched helpless as the tears welled in her eyes. It was hell. Dad screamed the vilest things imaginable while he beat her. I blocked out the worst of it through years of wilful self-delusion. But a few burrowed deep into my memory. I used to wake at night, drenched in cold sweat. His screams jolted me out of my daydreams. They snapped me back to reality. “You vile, worthless WHORE!” “Lying sack of shit!” “Dumb Bitch!” Those were his favorites. She would cry and cry, for hours it seemed, until giant snot bubbles came out of her nose. He punched, kicked, screamed, and stomped my mother within inches of her life on more than a dozen occasions. She spent weeks in the hospital, battling to breathe, hoping to die. Punctured lungs, broken noses, and cracked rib cages became the norm; Police reports and flimsy denials, standard operating procedure. He didn’t like lies, but truths only made him madder and the beatings more vicious. After a spell we kept our mouth shut and did our bid –hoping to one day get paroled. * Mom wouldn’t let him take out his anger on me. Not on her twelve-year old baby with an oxygen tank; not to the little kid whose simple existence was a miracle. Not to the kid that she made this way. And I don’t mean in the way her egg and his sperm did the freaky-deeky so I could eventually be popped out nine months later. Though of course that’s 100% accurate in the most literal sense; I mean you could interpret it that way for sure. But more so my condition was brought on by their negligence. I have a condition called pulmonary fibrosis. There’s a couple of causes from genetics to environmental factors. It basically meant my lungs were all messed up, scarred over, and didn’t work right. If they worked worse, I’d be on a lung transplant list, but they work just well enough that I’ll just have shitty lung disease for the rest of my shortened life. Now, one of the causes of pulmonary fibrosis could have been my mother smoking during pregnancy. As much as I’d love to blame her for that, she took impeccable care while I baked inside her. She didn’t smoke, took prenatal vitamins, listened to classical music, and stayed away from fish. She didn’t even drink. Not one drop. It wasn’t until after my diagnosis that the pills and booze took hold. No, the cause of my condition comes from being poor; really, really poor; so poor that we couldn’t afford adequate housing. Poor enough to squat anyplace that accepted our meager cash, even if it meant buildings riddled with asbestos. As a child I was susceptible to all sorts of things that my parents’ immune system could withstand. I’m 18 now. I was 12 during this story. I was 8 when they diagnosed me. That’s the worst part. My condition wasn’t some genetic defect. It wasn’t some moment-of-birth botch. It wasn’t something I’d lived with my entire life. I remember being a normal kid; playing sports, running, jumping, living outside a protective cocoon. I remember biting into a fresh apple without tasting sand. I remember breathing without pins and needles stabbing my lungs. I remember a life where my parents didn’t blame themselves for my existence, where even for a moment we were blissfully happy. I mean blissfully happy. Over the moon, laugh every night, Norman Rockwell, Kodak stock portrait happy. The kind of happy we would nauseatingly shake our heads at today. The kind of happy that breaks my heart to think about, because I can never have it again. Seven though, that was a magical year. Dad came home every night to a warm cooked meal. He regaled Mom with stories of his day as she sat enthralled on the edge of her seat. We made pillow forts and watched old movies that went way over my head, all cuddled up around the shitty CRT Dad found at a yard sale. We were dirt poor. We didn’t care though. We didn’t need things to be happy. We just needed to be together. It wasn’t meant to last though. I started getting winded at soccer practice, then I could barely make it home from school, my chest began to burn and ache throughout the day and into the night. Then, the wretched coughing started, followed by the blood. We went to doctor after doctor after doctor and our meager finances ran dry, but Mom and Dad were vigilant. They endured any cost, no matter how high, to ensure that my health was sound. Specialist after specialist shook their head and confirmed my parents’ worst fears. By my eighth birthday it was a foregone conclusion. They didn’t get me toys, or video games, or even books. They got me two shiny oxygen tanks. I still use them to this day. Happy Birthday to me, right?  


Russell Nohelty is a writer, publisher, and speaker. He runs Wannabe Press, which publishes weird books for weird people, and hosts The Business of Art podcast, which helps creatives build better businesses. Russell is the author of Gumshoes: The Case of Madison’s Father and My Father Didn’t Kill Himself, along with the creator of the Ichabod Jones: Monster Hunter, Gherkin Boy, and Katrina Hates the Dead graphic novels. He makes books that are as entertaining and weird as they are thought provoking. Social Media Links: @russellnohelty on Twitter and Instagram. /russellnohelty on Facebook


Author Interview Questions:

1.       I write because…
I have a sickness to write. I have a compulsion. It’s well beyond loving it. If I don’t write, I get jittery and weird. Well, weirder.
2.       If I were your favorite cookie, what would I be?
Macadamia nut. There’s something about savory and sweet that cookie nails for me. Delish!

3.       Plotter or pantster?
I used to be 100% pantster, but when you’re trying to write longer form stories it’s really hard not to be a plotter. So, I plot as best I can, but usually I get bored of the plot and veer off into my own universe. My best books are the ones I didn’t plot.

4.       What is your favorite type of character to write about and why?
Deeply flawed ones. Good things don’t generally happen to people in my books, and that’s because I am always pushing my characters to change for the better. In order to do that, they need to start out miserable and keep having horrible things happen to them because that’s where character growth comes from. For me, a good novel is all about the change over time.

5.       Hamburgers or sushi?
It depends whether I want comfort food or special food. I love them both, but usually I defer to hamburgers because it’s comfort food. It’s home.

6.       Name three things on your desk.
There are about 100 toys, three monitors, and a Yeti microphone I use to record my podcast The Business of Art ( 

7.       What books have influenced your writing style?
1984 by George Orwell, Old Man in the Sea by Hemmingway, Catch 22 by Joseph Heller, Cat’s Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams, and many more. I could probably keep naming people for another twenty minutes, but I won’t. I love anybody that has a weird, quirky sensibility and whose books make you think.

8. Tell us a little about your book.
Spaceship Broken, Needs Repairs is about a boy who escapes his abusive father, moves in with his grandfather, and helps a homeless alien rebuild her ship so she can get off the planet.
Mostly though, it’s about a boy’s complicated relationship with his grandfather, and it’s mostly an exploration of my own complicated relationship with my own grandfather. He was a hard man, and a hard man to love for everybody around him, except for me. To me he was a teddy bear, and it was important to me to explore how I could see somebody different than everybody else, and dive deep into the flaws of humanity. Don’t worry, though, there’s still plenty of Goonies level antics throughout. If you love 80s movies, this is very much in that tone.

8.       What advice do you have for new and aspiring authors?
Writing is only part of a writing career. If you want to build a career, you have to get really good at all the parts of having a career, not just writing a great book.

10. What is next on your writerly horizon?
I have my first non-fiction book coming out soon called Sell Your Soul: How to Build Your Creative Career. For any artists out there, make sure to check out my podcast The Business of Art ( because we’ll be dropping some excerpts from the book soon.
I also have a new novel coming out this year called The Vessel which is like Under the Dome meets Logan’s Run set a million years in the future. It’s got tons of intrigue and religious machinations just like the rest of my work. We’ll be teasing that one at soon, too.
Finally, I have an anthology set to launch on Kickstarter on Valentine’s Day called Monsters and Other Scary Shit ( It’s a 224-page anthology love letter to monsters from 30 different creative teams with credits from Marvel and Vertigo to Transformers, IDW, Boom, Oni, and more. If you love monsters and comics, this is a great hardcover book.
Those are the three main projects set to release this year from me. I’m also working on my next book in the back of my mind, but nothing’s really hit me yet this year.

Top 5 favorite (pick one) desserts, movies, things to eat, ice cream flavors, books.
Butter Pecan
White Chocolate Raspberry Truffle
Salted Caramel
Fudge Ripple
Rocky Road

Wednesday, January 18, 2017

Horribly Marvelous Book Blitz


Hello Readers!
Welcome to the Book Blitz for
Horribly Marvelous: The Diary of Cyndi Victoria Chase (Part One: Miracle Week) by Troy CLE!

This book is part of the Marvelous World series published by Simon and Schuster and Random House Listening Library.
Be sure to enter the giveaway found at the end of the post!


Cyndi Victoria Chase’s junior year was supposed to be about fun and getting into college while desperately dodging the pitfalls of being awkward and painfully self-conscious. All of that was derailed when the massacre of two of her Alonis Academy classmates marked the beginning of a local epidemic. That did not sit well with Cyndi, who is a highly imaginative girl living in her own “Naturally Augmented Reality” where she can flawlessly detect when someone is lying and see people’s words come to life right in front of her eyes. She’ll discover that she’s up against a vicious trans-dimensional and intergalactic threat that has dropped chaos upon her life, school, and town. Cyndi is Cyndi and will always be compelled to fight back; her powerful foes better be prepared for a battle that will become historic throughout the galaxy.
This book is part of the Marvelous World series published by Simon and Schuster and Random House Listening Library.
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Horribly Marvelous: The Diary of Cyndi Victoria Chase (Part One: Miracle Week) by Troy CLE Publication Date: November 29, 2016
Available for Purchase: AMAZON

Troy CLE is the author of the Horribly Marvelous and Marvelous World book series (Simon & Schuster / Random House Listening Library Audio) along with being the creator of Marvelous World University. He is a graduate of New York University (BA American Literature and English, MS Digital Design) and a highly experienced lecturer who has spoken Harvard, UCLA, Colorado College and many other well know and respected institutions.

Complete the Rafflecopter below for a chance to win!

Tuesday, January 10, 2017

Shadow Fall Book Blast and Giveaway


Hello readers!
Are you looking for your next read?
Well, let us help make things easier for you!

Welcome to the Book Blast for
Shadow Fall by Audrey Grey
presented by Blaze Publishing!
Be sure to enter the giveaway found at the end of the post!

Looking for more books to read? Read on and find a book that’s waiting for you to devour!


The asteroid hurtling toward the earth will kill billions.
The Emperor and his Gold Court will be safe in their space station, watching from the stars. The Silvers will be protected underground. But the Bronzes must fight it out at the Shadow Trials for the few remaining spots left on the space station.
When an enigmatic benefactor hands Maia Graystone a spot in the Trials, she won’t just get a chance at salvation for her and her baby brother, Max: She gets to confront the mother who abandoned her in prison, the mad Emperor who murdered her father, and the Gold prince who once loved her. But it’s the dark bastard prince she’s partnered with that will make her question everything, including her own heart. With the asteroid racing closer every day, Maia must trust someone to survive.
The question is who?
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Shadow Fall (Shadow Fall #1) by Audrey Grey Publication Date: November 22, 2016 Publisher: Blaze Publishing

" a one of a kind gift to today's literature." - Ashley Marie Nestler "An edge-of-your-seat, thrilling action-adventure reminiscent of "An Ember in the Ashes" and "Red Queen"" - Esther Dalseno "reminded me of why I love YA Dystopian books" - Cassie James

Audrey Grey lives in the charming state of Oklahoma, with her husband, two little people, and four mischievous dogs. You can usually find her hiding out in her office from said little people and dogs, surrounded by books and sipping kombucha while dreaming up wondrous worlds for her characters to live in.


Asleep EBook (1)

Seventeen-year-old Rose suffers from terrifying, painful nightmares that leave her bruised, exhausted, and questioning her sanity. Desperate to hold on, she makes a choice: Trust her doctor who claims he can cure her, or listen to another patient who swears the asylum will kill them.
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Asleep by Krystal Wade Publication Date: February 16, 2016 Publisher: Blaze Publishing

Because I Love You

When Sixteen-year-old Andie Hamilton discovers she’s pregnant, she also learns the truth of her adoption. Overwhelmed, Andie must choose what’s best for the baby, but after hearing the heartbeat for the first time, she doesn’t know how she’ll ever be able let go.
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Because I Love You by Tori Rigby Release Date: May 17, 2016 Publisher: Blaze Publishing


Crescenzo never would’ve thought his father’s figurines were modeled after real people, but when his loved ones start vanishing from his life, he must unite their real life counterparts and seek their aid to save his family.
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The Carver by Jacob Devlin Publication Date: July 19, 2016 Publisher: Blaze Publishing


After a financial collapse devastates the United States, the new government imposes a tax on the nation’s most valuable resource—the children.
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Monday, January 2, 2017

Solstice Tour and Giveaway

The Star-Crossed Saga
Book 3
Braxton A. Cosby

Genre: YA Sci-fi, Romance

Publisher: Cosby Media Productions

Date of Publication: 11/25/2016

ISBN-13: 978-1540541673
ISBN-10: 1540541673

Number of pages: 303
Word Count: 90K

Cover Artist: CMP

Book Description:

What You Believe, Can Destroy You!

William and Sydney have sacrificed everything to fortify their love, so much so that William dares to brave the depths of space to find a cure for their deadly Supernova bond, leaving both her and Earth vulnerable to Torrian Alliance attack.

But with a full scale rebellion in play on Fabricius, the reality of Sydney’s execution from Torrian hands is diminished, only eclipsed by the certainty of a more threats – The Third Faction and The Dagmas Clan – lead by Dominic and his insurgent recruits. With overwhelming odds mounting against them, William makes a desperate attempt to find the last of the endangered Star-children only to be captured by a new menace, where he is forced to compete in the dreaded Gauntlet of sport. Allies surge to free Fabricius, seeking alliances across the galaxy while Sydney tries to keep her identity hidden and trains to master the third phase of her Star-child evolution: Solstice.

With Sarah’s mysterious return home with clues to unlock the future, Noella’s training and Bill’s symbiotic development hope is restored, but will it be enough to unite the galaxy and destroy evil for once and for all?

Sydney and Noella walked hand in hand along the small winding path leading to the top the Mount Dothan. The dusking sky painted a sheet of orange and red light across the woodsy terrain around them, giving the impression of wading through a sea of fire. Amid the grim moment of the day and the burning sensation rising in Sydney’s throat, the tone seemed fitting. Silence accompanied them, and it wasn’t until the pair hit the peak that Sydney finally broke the ice. “So what do your people call this ceremony?” she asked.
“The time of the harvest. It’s the moment when a fallen soldier is said to join the being of the sky. I think humans refer to it as God,” Noella said, her tone as flat as the expression on her face.
“Sounds cool,” she replied as she surveyed the surroundings; a patch of flatland that housed a family of hawks who watched cautiously from above in a lone cedar tree. From here, every inch of Madisonburg could be observed without the need of telescope or binoculars. A bed of dandelions and weeping willows greeted them in the center of the field.
“This way. I’ll show you where I buried his body,” Noella said.
She could see that Noella was visibly shaken, slowly unravelling before her eyes. Her hands trembled as her eyes began to redden. She wondered how long it’d take, amazed at how Noella had not said a word since Arrion’s death a few weeks ago, only morning him in silence, which she explained was customary on Fabricius. She had done the deed all by herself, refusing to allow Sydney to assist in his burial. From scouting the plot of land to digging the hole, Noella insisted that it was protocol on her planet for a lone fellow soldier to be assigned the arduous task of preparation. Seeing as though William had departed soon after, there was no better candidate left for the job. 
She took Noella by the hand and drew her close, giving her the most delicate and firm hug she could muster. Noella stood motionless, sinking into her friend’s embrace. After a few seconds, she released her, unable to make eye contact. “I’m here for you,” she murmured.   
“Thanks, Syd,” Noella replied, her voice ragged.
She finally looked up at her and gave a nod, following Noella’s lead over to the place where Arrion’s body lay. Surprisingly, the disturbed clay seemed more settled than she expected, dried from the sun and already showing signs of life as Bermuda grass had slowly began to encroach along the edges. A makeshift tombstone had been erected, fashioned from metallic fuselage scraps of the Daedallus, with only Arrrion’s name and handle tatted along the surface, minus dates to hide his identity to hikers in hopes that most consider it a memorial to a lost pet if they stumbled upon it.
Noella knelt next to the grave, slid her backpack from her shoulders and began to open it. Searching her bag, she retrieved a small oval-shaped disk and a satchel filled with purple powder. “These are crushed lilacs pedals. We must first prepare the path for Arrion’s ascension by sending tribute to the sky.” She stood and sprinkled a few handfuls over the grave until a thin layer had materialized before them. “On our planet we usually use the oil of a Tonosia Tree, which is a lot thicker substance and is used for sterilization. Sarah thought it’d be a good idea to use lilacs as a substitute because it was a similar color.”
“It’s beautiful,” she replied.
“I will now begin the ceremony.” Noella placed the disc in the center of the burial site, depressed a red button on the top and came to her side. The two joined hands as the disc began to spin and dig into the hardened clay. Noella pointed a hydrogen phaser at the site and fired a stream of fire upon it that scorched the sheet of crushed pedals. The disc disappeared beneath the flames and Noella broke out into song, in an alien dialect that Sydney could not understand. It was less about the words and more the moment that choked at her, forcing the tears to flow freely down her face. She squeezed Noella’s hand as she crooned on. By the time Noella had finished, a small fissure had opened in the place where the disc had entered and a cloud of embers swirled into the air; a mix of red, orange and yellow. It lifted high into the sky and faded into the clouds.
Noella dropped to her knees in a whimper. “It is finished.”
Sydney came beside her and held her close. “It was… beautiful.”
The two sat in silence with only sobs to drown out the sounds of the forest. 

About the Author:

Braxton A. Cosby is the award-winning author of YA fiction.

He endeavors to paint vivid pictures of his characters and worlds in the minds of readers, so that they too can share in his complex visions of the past, present and future.

Braxton lives in Atlanta, GA with his amazing wife and four children. 

Instagram: braxtonacosby

Twitter: @BraxtonACosby

Tour giveaway

Audiobooks of the first two books of the series: Protostar and Supernova

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Wednesday, December 21, 2016

After the Happily Ever After: Dana Wright with Rainbow Slide


The happily ever after is never the end. The curtain doesn't fall once love is recognized or evil is vanquished.  Credits don't roll once the giant is slain or the big bad wolf is boiled alive.  Wicked stepsisters, malevolent rulers, and hideous creatures still have lives after their sinister roles play out; heroes, lovers, and dreamers often find their victories lead to more troubles.

Within these pages are more than seventy continuations, retellings, and eldritch stories that explore the dark forests, magical castles, and gruesome monsters After the Happily Ever After.

Contact Information
Newsletter sign up:

Editors’ Bios:

Alisha Costanzo is from a Syracuse suburb. She earned her MFA in creative writing from the University of Central Oklahoma, where she currently teaches English. She’s the author of BLOOD PHOENIX: REBIRTH, BLOOD PHOENIX: CLAIMED, and LOVING RED, and is co-editor of DISTORTED and UNDERWATER. IMPRINTED, her new novel, is undergoing serious edits for its 2017 release. In the meantime, she will continue to corrupt young minds, rant about the government, and daydream about her all around nasty creatures.
Having relocated from Northwest Florida’s lonesome roads and haunted swamps, Anthony S. Buoni now prowls the gas lamp lit streets of New Orleans, playing moonlight hide and seek in the Crescent City’s above ground cemeteries. Anthony is the author of Conversation Party, Bad Apple Bolero, as well as the editor to the Between There anthologies.  His stories and articles have been featured in North Florida Noir and Waterfront Living. When not prowling, Anthony keeps it scary, writing dark fiction, editing, and watching horror movies.  In his spare time, he DJs, plays music, and conjures other worldly creatures with tarot cards and dreams.

Purchase Links

 From Rainbow Slide by Dana Wright

 “How late are your parents going to be out?” Jared said in my ear as his hand groped toward the edge  of my shirt. I wiggled away and reached for the TV remote.
“They should be home in about an hour, why?” I shoved the bowl of popcorn from the coffee table at him and moved over on the couch. Flipping channels until it hit a horror movie, I settled back against an overstuffed pillow and tried to tamp my growing irritation. Weeks to arrange this date, and everything was going wrong. Everything.
“Jared, can we please just watch the movie?” I growled.
His lips curved upward. “Why? Am I rushing you?”
I scooted further down, annoyed at his assumption. He was supposed to be different.
“What did you expect? That I’d fling myself at you the moment my kid brother went to sleep?”
A creeper-tastic smile crossed over Jared's face.
What had possessed me to even consider this guy as date material?
He was a football jersey with tentacles and more notches in his belt than I could count. I wasn’t about to become one of them. I should have listened to Cindy when he left her stranded without a shoe at the dance last year, but after my long, mono-induced slumber, I wanted some date night action.
Desperate? Maybe.
But this wasn't what I had in mind.
“Aurora. I can't sleep. They're outside again.” Christopher stumbled into the living room, bleary eyed from sleep, clutching his well-worn bear.
I had no trouble falling asleep at the drop of a hat, but my brother could hear a roach poop on the other side of the house and bolt wide awake.
The Grim Wood was right outside our back door. Without looking, I bet he'd forgotten to put the iron lock on the back gate. Fairy tales were great until they crept into your back yard and ate the family pet. Damned unicorns.
I closed my eyes, my lips pressing together in frustration. He had been listening in on my date.

Teasers from the editors:

From “The Twenty-Seven Club” by Anthony S. Buoni:

David didn’t like their new company. Something sinister hung about Dick, and the pimp brought out an unsettling darkness in Jim. “Hey, Morrison, want to hit another watering hole?”

Jim tossed a few wadded bills on the bar and stood. “Yeah, man. I—”

“Wait a second, fellows.” Dick placed a hand on Jim’s shoulder, pushing him back down on the barstool. “I’ve got more than whores tonight.”

Jim pushed the vodka bottle away. “Tell the Count that I came to Paris to reconnect with my muse, not to be hustled by some two-bit pimp in a flashy jacket.”

“Pfft. Screw Jean de Breteuil.” Dick leaned closer. “I got the hook up. A little horse to get your junkie girlfriend wet, and something I picked up from the underground for you, a trinket associated with the occult.”

“The occult?” Jim asked.

David cringed. Growing up in a religious household and receiving piano lessons for thirteen years from a nun had drilled a deep respect for God into him. He wasn’t a perfect Christian by any means, but messing around with voodoo or devil worship was another matter, something more taboo than abusing the body with intoxicants or casual relations.

Consorting with evil meant risking your soul, and David wanted no part in that.

Dick leaned close. “You believe in magic, don’t ya, Jim?”

“Well, that depends.”

“Don’t give me that shit. Everybody knows about you and that New York witch. She’s been telling the world that she’s your wife, that you two got married in a pagan ritual and drank each other’s blood. Did you knock that spooky bitch up, man?”

“Quit jerking me off.” Jim yawned. “Let’s see what you’re packing. Whip it out.”

“Isn’t that what got you in trouble in Florida?” Dick slapped Jim’s back. “Just kidding. Don’t give me that look. No, this particular object isn’t for any of these people to see. All the normals in here couldn’t handle it, ya know what I mean? Let’s take this to a proper office where we can do business like gentlemen.”

From “She of Silken Scarves” by Alisha Costanzo:

The package turned out to be a mirror, a comm with an impossible encryption code. Every password, every reiteration of the step-mother’s motto, and no success. I had a few pieces of tech in my tea room, hidden in my trinkets.

A heavy gaze weighed on my shoulders, touching the curls falling across my neck. I closed the case and hid it in the folds of a book before I stretched. Untucked corners, my scarves loosened around my waist.

Not many come to the depths of the bookcases.

On my feet, I met the strike of a sly henchman, whipping a silk end to slap him. The other end came loose, and I wrapped him around the center, spinning him across a table and into a set of arm chairs.

A broad man, too broad to be a high-level spy. The slender ones maintained their stealth. Many of us had tricks and tools, too.

The henchman grew twice his size.

A troll.


Silk wrapped in my fists, I dove onto the table for leverage and hurled myself around his neck. Shoes hammering the thing’s chest, I barely missed the knob of flesh hanging there. A toe. I twisted the scarves tight and rode him into a short stack of books. A slap sent a shock through the silk, frying the troll and flailing his limbs.

We tumbled the wrong way, and I rolled out from beneath him, trapping my scarves under his body weight.

The door on the north corner opened and closed with a snap.

I hustled around the stacks, tucking and pinning my dress back in order, and met my husband in the open floor of this wing.

“My love, you’re flush. What on Earth have you been reading?” His smile blinded me, dazzled me. So many times, I’ve wondered if he had it enchanted. A smile like that couldn’t be natural.

“How will I keep it a secret if I tell you?” I let my breath exaggerate to draw his eye. It worked.

Two fingers to his chest, I tip-toed him back into a chair, following across his lap.

“Did you know that others rarely come this way?” I leaned in to nibble on his ear, drawing a smaller scarf from my bodice to run across his skin.

His hands found the openings to my dress with practice. We fit together so well, and he liked my sneaky wild side and the scarves. Henry wasn’t ever anything but princely, even as we grasped each other and he came for me.

Satiated, he was easy to distract and send off to his duties, learning to be king.

And I cleaned up the troll.

About Dana Wright:

Dana Wright has always had a fascination with things that go bump in the night. She is often found playing at local bookstores, trying not to maim herself with crochet hooks or knitting needles, watching monster movies with her husband and furry kids or blogging about books. More commonly, she is chained to her computers, writing like a woman possessed. She writes under several pen names and is currently working on several children's stories, young adult fiction, romantic suspense, short stories and is trying her hand at poetry. She is the author of Asylum, The Invitation and Texas Twister.   She is a contributing author to Ghost Sniffers, Inc.: The Haunting of Zephyr Zoo, Siren’s Call E-zine in their “Women in Horror” issue in February 2013 and "Revenge" in October 2013, a contributing author to Potatoes!, Fossil Lake, Of Dragons and Magic: Tales of the Lost Worlds, Undead in Pictures, Potnia, Shadows and Light, Dark Corners, After the Happily Ever After, Wonderstruck, Masked Hearts, Shifters: A Charity Anthology, Dead Harvest, Monster Diaries, Holiday Horrors and the Roms, Bombs and Zoms Anthology. Dana has also reviewed music for, Write a Music Review and New Age Music Reviews specializing in New Age and alternative music and has been a contributing writer to Eternal Haunted Summer, Massacre Magazine, Metaphor Magazine, The Were Traveler October 2013 edition: The Little Magazine of Magnificent Monsters, the December 2013 issue The Day the Zombies Ruled the Earth and others. She is a member of the Horror Writer's Association, Romance Writers of America and has been a presenter at Houston SCBWI.

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