Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Shattered Circle Release Day Blitz

Shattered Circle
Persephone Alcmedi
Linda Robertson

Mass Market Paperback: 384 pages
Publisher: Pocket Books

ISBN-10: 1451648936
ISBN-13: 978-1451648935


It’s tough being a modern woman, but Persephone Alcmedi has it worse than most. Being the prophesied Lustrata has kicked her career as a witch into high gear, and juggling a wærewolf boyfriend who is about to become king of his kind and a seductive vampire who bears her magical Mark isn’t easy either.

Still, Seph’s beloved foster daughter, Beverley, is causing more trouble than these two men put together. The young girl’s been playing with a magical artifact that’s far more dangerous than she realizes. Now Seph must summon help from a mystical being so potent that even vampires fear him . . . and the cost of his aid may be more than she’s willing to pay. Seph, Johnny, and Menessos face threats from all sides—and a few from within. Will the forces of destiny cement their tenuous supernatural union, or shatter it forever?

The main door opened and Meroveus, Advisor to the Excelsior and currently their esteemed guest, entered the suite. “She is back?” he asked.

“That is what I’m told,” Goliath answered. “If you’re referring to Ms. Alcmedi, that is.”

“I am. Is she here?”

Leaning on one elbow, Goliath reclined. “She required a shower.” He wanted to give his nose a quick pinch to indicate she’d reeked of the scummy edges of Lake Erie, but he refrained. He was a Master now; taunting disdain was no longer acceptable.

Mero headed for the iron-studded door. Goliath cleared his throat.

In mid-reach for the knob, Mero stopped. His hand fell to his side and he turned on his heel. “I have been disrespectful. Forgive me, Haven Master.”

His sardonic grin flashed fang. “Does urgency always make you thoughtless?”

“I assumed that Menessos was still lord of these chambers, and that she was with him in the rear chamber.”

Goliath sat up, placed his elbows on his knees, and clapped his hands together. “Hear me, Advisor Meroveus, and do not forget my words: The former Haven Master may have extended you many courtesies, but barging into his private chamber—especially if you think Ms. Alcmedi may be attending him—would be particularly dangerous.”

Mero glanced at the main door as if he would leave, but there was uncertainty in his expression.

“To be honest,” Goliath added as he stood, “I have not yet made claim to these rooms, and, as you have assumed, the former Quarterlord is in the rear chamber. However, my Erus Veneficus has her own suite.” He used the formal title of the court witch for impact.

Mero blinked.

It seemed to Goliath that the other vampire had not considered that in declaring this the Cleveland haven and Goliath the master of it, Persephone would by default become Goliath’s court witch. Her services were now his to command.


There were many prophesies concerning the Lustrata. The one that the vampires were most concerned with claimed she was incredibly valuable to them. Because of this, they could not dare to kill her. But they could do much without killing her. The question was: What would interfere with her destiny, and what wouldn’t?

Menessos would know the most about it, so Goliath resolved to follow his Maker’s lead. “Dabbling in the destiny that Menessos, the witch, and the Domn Lup share is a hazardous pastime, Mero. I strongly suggest you stay the hell out of their way.”

Mero quoted the prophesy:
   “Lustrata walks,
    unspoiled into the light.
    Sickle in hand,
    she stalks through the night
    wearing naught but her mark and silver blade.
    The moonchild of ruin, she becomes Wolfsbane.
“According to my interpretation,” Mero concluded, “she must be marked.”

Menessos breathed deep. Releasing it, he said, “Your interpretation is bullshit.”

Mero’s brows rose in surprise.

Goliath struggled to keep a laugh from getting out.

“The Witch Elders Council will not stand for their Lustrata to be marked by the Excelsior,” Menessos said. “Would you risk a war?”


Opening the closet there, Beverley dug straight to the back where the item she wanted was stored. Her little hands grasped the cold sides of the rock-board and she pulled. It was heavy and the cast on her arm made the task more difficult. She lost her grip on the slate—the bottom edge dropped onto the top of her foot.

Stifling her yelp of pain, she regained her grasp and silently laid it flat on the floor before shutting the closet door. Crouching between the bed and the wall so she couldn’t be seen from the doorway, she studied all the strange symbols painted across the surface. She’d heard Seph and Celia talking about this. Great El’s slate.

They’d said that a person could talk to ghosts with this . . . and that Seph had used it to find her mother.

But how does it work?

Beverley ran her hands over the surface. Her fingers traced the lines of a symbol here, there. They tingled like the fine lines of her fingerprint weren’t so fine after all.

She studied her index finger, then compared it to her other hand’s index finger. If one tingles . . . what does two do? She picked two symbols she liked that were side by side and put her fingertips to the slate. Carefully, slowly, she traced both. The tingling began immediately and resonated through her hands and into her wrists. Suddenly, some force grabbed her hands. She gasped and tried to pull away, but it just squeezed tighter.

It dragged her fingers along to one symbol, then on to another. She watched in horror as all her fingers were pulled across the board, each finger moving independently. The more symbols she traced, the more the tingling increased. It became like a fire inside her skin, swelling up through her thin arms, crackling through the broken bone.

It hurt. It hurt so bad. She drew a breath to scream—

—and then it felt good.

It wasn’t hot, merely warm. It wasn’t warmth like summer, though, not something a thermometer would show. This was warmth of another kind. The kind only a heart could feel. She felt so . . .


A shimmer flashed across the surface of the board.

She whispered, “Mommy?”


Liyliy, a vampire-harpy, had tried to kill me a few hours ago, and the struggle left me exhausted and sore. That was the reason I was still abed at nearly two in the afternoon. When my satellite phone blared the opening riffs of Ozzy Osbourne’s “Bark at the Moon,” it startled me, instantly reminding me about all the sore muscles I had.

Mid-reach, I stopped. That was Johnny’s ringtone.

He had tried to kill me, too.

My hand shook as my finger jabbed the Answer button.


“Red . . . I’m so sorry.” Johnny’s voice was barely audible.

I sat up and deliberated whether to play deaf and repeat my “hello” as if I hadn’t heard him. I considered being a jerk and hanging up. I even contemplated ripping him a new one.

Instead, I remained silent.

Two days before, minutes after I’d performed the forced-change spell on him and his loyal pack mates, Johnny had attacked me. He’d always retained his manmind while transformed, but that last time he didn’t—he’d been pure animal. The only reason I was still among the living was because I’d pumped ley line energy into him like a human Taser.


He’d frightened me to my core. The unshakeable faith I’d had in him had been shattered by an emotional earthquake. Damage was done. My fear felt like betrayal.

But . . .

Could going through the forced-change spell repeatedly have an undesired effect?

No. I was sure the whole terrible incident could be pinned on the fact that my mother, Eris, had revoked the tattooed bindings she’d placed upon Johnny eight years ago. He suddenly had access to all the power and potential she’d locked away from him. That was surely a disorienting, difficult situation.

I’d helped him dig up the clues, helped him achieve that goal. Hell, I’d even been a part of the reversal spell. So some responsibility for the consequences was mine to bear.


He rarely used my full given name; he usually called me Red, as in Little Red Riding Hood to his Big Bad Wolf. Or Seph like nearly everyone else. I had to respond.

“I’m here.”

“Then say something.”

Pushing back the covers, I stood and began to pace. “I don’t know what to say.”

He paused. “Can you forgive me?”

I wasn’t sure.

Part of me said I couldn’t allow his attack to be a personal issue because of the fateful trio that Johnny, Menessos, and I forged by binding ourselves magically. The other part argued that no matter the circumstances, attempted murder was very damn personal.

It all happened because Johnny had surrendered to his destiny. His unique ability to transform at will made him the Domn Lup—king of the wærewolves. It was a position with power, prestige, and perks such as a Maserati Quattroporte. Johnny knew his royal place was unavoidable, but he’d fought it and hid from it a long time. He’d finally pushed forward because it was beneficial to our triple union, but kinghood was costing him his dream of being a rock star.

It had been my fear that he’d lose who he was in the course of this alliance of ours. More than ever, it seemed this fear was being borne out.

On the other corner of our triangle was Menessos. He now bore two witches marks—mine, of course. That made him my servant. When Heldridge, his former right-hand man, learned of my authority over Menessos, he tattled to the highest vampire authority, the Excelsior. To protect us against the personal grudge of the truthseeing vampire-harpies sent by VEIN to make formal inquiry, Menessos had allied himself at great personal expense with someone dangerous—a “nameless” guy I had aptly dubbed Creepy.

The secrets he’d wanted to hide from VEIN—secrets even I didn’t know—were apparently safe, but our little who-marked-whom secret was out. Menessos lost his haven and his status as Northeastern Quarterlord. Johnny had accepted great power and lost a lifelong dream. Menessos had lost great power and accepted serious personal risk. It didn’t seem fair.

And what about me?

In the last several weeks I’d learned that I was the longprophesied Lustrata, the Witches’ Messiah, She Who Walks Between Worlds, She Who Will Bring Balance, blah blah blah. As this news spread throughout the nonhuman communities, some scoffed and some believed. I was fine with the scoffers; it was the believers who were dangerous. They wanted to know if I truly possessed the power that accompanied those titles. Yeah, I was a magnet for nasties who either a) wanted me dead to be sure I didn’t have that power, or b) wanted to try to force me to wield power for their gain.

I guess I’d accepted the endless complications of my status and was well on my way to losing all scraps of naïveté.

At that thought, I stopped pacing. As I stared into the nothingness of a darkened corner, it felt like my innocence had slipped from my grasp and I was watching it skitter across the floor, waiting for it to come to a stop so I could reclaim it.

I wasn’t sure it was worth the effort to look for it. Or perhaps it would be impossible to find if I made the effort. Maybe it had rolled into some crack, never to be seen again.

I heard Johnny breathing through the phone.

It wasn’t Johnny who had rescued me last night.

When I defeated Liyliy, Menessos had been there to bring me to the haven. Sure, Menessos had a hand in creating the monster she now was. And it was he who had imprisoned her, creating her need for revenge. But it was me and my marks upon him that had brought her to Cleveland. When she pursued me from the haven—according to the Offerling I’d spoken to—Menessos had sent everyone out to search for me.

Had Johnny even known I was missing?

It was shitty of me to compare the two men in my life, but I couldn’t help myself. Though Menessos had drunk my blood numerous times, he hadn’t tried to kill me.

Yes he did! He nearly killed you not long after you first met.

We were strangers then, I argued with myself. Now, we know each other well.

Better, perhaps, than you should. . . .

Defiantly, I ignored my conscience’s scolding. I will not regret what I did last night. During the predawn hours, reeling from my encounter, I’d kissed Menessos.

Fine, but clearly you were able to forgive him.

That was true. Considering this, I felt hope. I sighed heavily into the phone. My whispered answer was, “In time.”

“There’s so much I need to tell you.” Johnny’s voice was raw, and the rev of an engine punctuated his words. I wondered where he was going. And I wondered if I should tell him about kissing the vampire.

It hadn’t been a peck.

When our lips had touched, I felt the promise and power of a more intimate union. He’d definitely felt it. It wasn’t only the power of the marks between us that had been kindled.

“I don’t know where to begin,” Johnny said.

His voice drew me out from my memory of a passionate moment with another man. Guilt swelled around my heart . . . but not remorse. What am I going to do?

About the Author
Linda Robertson is the mother of four wonderful boys, owns three electric guitars, and is followed around by a big dog named after Bela Lugosi. Once upon a time she was a lead guitarist in a heavy metal cover band and has worked as a graphic artist. She still composes and creates art, when time permits. Linda currently writes and rocks in northeast Ohio. Visit her at AuthorLindaRobertson.com and @authorLinda

Friday, January 25, 2013

Evil Girlfriend Media: Submission Call

Evil Girlfriend Media is accepting submissions for:


65,000-150,000 word manuscripts set in dystopian, sci-fi, horror, paranormal, apocalyptic, post-apocalyptic, steampunk, or fantasy worlds. Novels can have a wide range of romance in them or none at all. We will consider anything from aliens to zombies. We are fascinated to see Young Adult with male co-leads. We accept LGBT and would like to see manuscripts in which the characters live in a diverse world (unless it’s part of the story line that everyone be the same).
However, we are not looking for fan fiction, it has it’s place and we value all you great writers out there who enjoy writing it.
Please send the first 50 pages of your novel to us using the form on the right. Only submit one manuscript at a time! We will negotiate deals per manuscript. We will not have a sample contract until after January 1 for review. Keep it simple.


Love writing short stories? We’ll be releasing three anthologies this year under our series line entitled, Three Little Words. Yep, you guessed it, each story in the respective collection must use the three little words in the title. Cute, huh?
Stories between 5-15,000 words will be considered.
Roms, Bombs, and Zoms – Have you always dreamed of writing an explosive romantic zombie story? What about a war torn computerized society where everyone marches around drooling for RAM in 1987? We want stories involving a bomb (this can mean many things), romance, and zombies. Deadline April 1, 2013.
Witches, Stitches, and Bitches – What if you had the power to sew up the mouth of the evil bitch who called you fat in 10th grade? How would you deal with a curse that caused you to be infertile because you stole the heart of someone else’s love? Would you choose love or the ability to have children? We are looking for 13 stories involving a witch, a stitch, and a bitch. The stories will revolve around the witches’ calendar which begins with October. We would like five stories in the book to involve holidays (Samhain-we will take two- one to open the book and the other to close it, Yule, Beltane, and Mabon). If you plan to write a holiday story please identify this in your submission letter. Deadline May 1, 2013.
Stamps, Vamps, and Tramps – Have you always wanted to know what tattoos were used for in Roman times? What if a vampire was the one giving them out? How would a vampire prostitute handle her own with Jack the Ripper in foggy London while the local tattoo artist watched? We are looking for stories that include the history of tattoos (any time period), vampires (your preferred mythos), and tramps (whatever your definition of a tramp is). Human main characters are fine but vampires have to be in the story. There are 15 openings for this anthology. Submission deadline June 1, 2013.
Payment for anthology stories is $20 USD and a copy of the anthology. In return, you give us exclusive rights for one year from the date of publication, after that you are free to submit the story to other publications as long as you acknowledge us as first publisher. We only ask that for five years after date of publication that you do not self-publish the story on Smashwords, Barnes and Noble, Amazon, or any other self-pub medium.

Okay folks. These sound like awesome writing prompts. If you want to learn more about the awesomeness that is Evil Girlfriend Media, check out their Facebook page and make sure you sign up to follow them on Twitter @EvilGMedia. 

Stay tuned for more updates and an uber cool interview with Katie, the woman behind the magic. Get your writer thinking caps on and lets get ready to write about some witches, vampires and zombies people!

Monday, January 14, 2013

Wolf Sirens: Forbidden Review Tour

Wolf Sirens: Forbidden
by Tina Smith



When Lila unwillingly moves to the country town of Shade, she can’t imagine the life-altering events that lie in wait for her. Shade has a curfew and has always been surrounded by myths. A central feature of the town is its famous statue of Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt, whose spirit is said to protect the innocent.

Lila falls in with a group of intriguing teenagers with luminescent eyes and soon she is drawn into the shadowlands of fantasy and reality, where destiny collides.

A mysterious local girl, Cresida, warns her to stay away, but Lila is drawn to them like a moth to a flame.

Cresida knows their fatal secret and she is honour-bound to protect those who are endangered. But she underestimates Lila’s passion for the mysterious and charismatic clan of youths. Lila begins to feel a call she cannot ignore. Yet her heart is filled with vulnerable desires that begin to turn the underworld upside down, for both hunter and hunted, as she learns they have been waiting for her…

Inspired by the legend of the mythical femme fatale, Wolf Sirens is an intimate tale of unrequited and forbidden love in the underworld, a masterpiece of romance fantasy.

He placed his arms over me without hesitation, before it was necessary, as he listened to Sam’s instructions. It felt odd standing there, his hands on my waist, burning holes through my skin like lava. I barely heard Sam’s instructions. I felt I would burn up into ash and fall in a pile on the floor.

He asked, “Tell me if I start to hurt you, okay?”

He looked into my eyes with blazing blue green irises. I nodded, not knowing if I could speak. He had never addressed me directly before. His touch was nearly more than I could bear; my heart began to pound out of my chest. Surely he could hear the blood throbbing in my body. I began to shake, he lifted me much too slowly and with complete ease. I started to panic. I wobbled and shook trying to maintain the pose. I wavered unsteadily on his shoulder and I almost fell, though he held me tight in his grip. Bianca jumped in to help catch me as I slipped. Sky had grabbed me with one hand as I fell. Bianca steadied me with strong hands, I was against his body - now I was hot, my cheeks scorched.

Wolf Sirens
Tina Smith

Contemporary. Paranormal   Holiday


380 pages

Lila and her mother move to Shade after Sophie gets divorced.  Sophie grew up in Shade and just wants to try and start over.  Lila is hoping the change in high school will help her as she just never seems to fit in.

New school, new town but not much else changed for Lila, she still doesn't fit in. The town has a curfew and everyone is to be in by dark because of wolf stories that people are being killed and children disappear.

Lila struggles to make friends and be accepted.  Finally she is accepted by "the in group" and things get better for awhile. Again she is rejected from the group and is miserable but this time she loses someone that has come to mean a lot to her.

Full of paranormal suspense and teen angst, this book will keep you reading.

4 stars

Reviewer: Victoria Storm

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Tina Smith is an herbalist, dog lover, Piscean and mother with a fondness for strong female protagonists. A love of the fantasy genre and the deep exploration of dark and evocative subjects inspired Wolf Sirens Forbidden. The sequel Fever further unfolds the tale of the heroine femme fatal, on her journey in the underworld between the lands of myth and reality.

 “Rich, complex, and deeply fascinating. Smith’s creation stands apart from other books in the genre. Wolf Sirens has raised the bar for paranormal romance.”- Kevis Hendrickson, author of Rogue Hunter

"Smith weaves a thrilling and beautifully crafted tale that sinks its fangs in and refuses to let go."- Michael Alexander, author of The Vessel

“Fever does not disappoint! Tina Smith captures her readers on the first page and leads them on a fast-paced journey full of suspense and adventure as heroine, Lila, struggles towards the truth.” - Beverley Eikli, author of A Little Deception

Ebook Wolf Sirens Forbidden. Discover the Legend.By Tina Smith.




Like me on facebook: http://www.facebook.com/wolfsirens.

The sequel Wolf Sirens Fever. Many are Born, Few are Reborn. By Tina Smith.




Youtube Video’s




 Tina will be awarding jewelry in theme of her book (wolf charms, charm bracelets etc), ThreeD book marks in shifter themes (Wolves, tigers, panthers etc) and Sun catchers (beaded glass and crystal) to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour. Make sure you leave a comment for a chance to win.

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

A Salute To: The Deepest Well Blog

The Deepest Well

Greetings witchy readers! If you are looking for a blogger with a wealth of witchy knowledge and a knack for posts that get to the heart of things, then look no further than The Deepest Well. This blog is full of wonderful witchy info and how to's that will have you reading for days. Aine is a wonderful resource and I always enjoy her posts. This week she is talking about the tarot and strength.

So, to salute a fellow witchy blogger- make sure you check out her subscription by email so you don't miss anything. Tell her Dana from On the Broomstick sent you over. 

Happy flying!


Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Sophronia and The Vampire: The Virtual Tour

Sophronia and the Vampire
Sophronia and the Vampire Book One
Jacqueline Farrell

Genre: paranormal romance

Publisher: Lyrical Press

ISBN: 9781616503918

Number of pages: 230
Word Count: 87000

Cover Artist: Renee Rocco

Book Description:

It's been a while since witches had to worry about being burnt at the stake…

Forty-nine, English and a professional crone, Sophronia is touring America when she is forced to spend the night at a run-down motel on the Californian coast. Her expectations aren't high- - if the bed's clean and the toilet flushes she'll count herself lucky. But events are about to become far more interesting. The motel owner is a juvenile witch unaware of her heritage and in dire need of help, especially when vampires turn up...

BN      Amazon       iTunes     ARe      Lyrical Press


            Professional crone Sophronia lets her heart rule her head when she meets juvenile witch, Charlie. Then the vampires turn up…

The figure turned and I got my first sight of the vampire. Tall and good-looking in the sharp, defined way they all are, he had dark blond hair and eyes that were a fabulous ultramarine blue… He smiled as he studied me, like a cat that’s just seen a very juicy mouse…
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my dear Mrs. Sheridan.” He loomed over me. Vampires have no concept of personal space. “Charlotte has told me so much about you.”
“How nice, although there’s so little to tell.” “Charlie, what have you been saying about me?”
Despite my urgent tone, Charlie ignored me and I winced when I saw the dreamy adoration in her eyes. You never look in a vampire’s eyes if you can help it. It’s how they get that first hold over you.
“Nonsense. It’s been enthralling.” He smiled, showing lots of white teeth, but no fangs as yet. “Although apparently you weren’t very keen to meet me.”
“Goodness, who said that? I love meeting new people.” I projected the lightest, airiest of insinuations at him. “There’s no point bothering with me. It would be a waste of your valuable time”
The vampire turned back to us, all dark charm again. “Ladies. I invite you to my home.”
“You mean The Cabal?” From the excitement in Charlie’s voice I didn’t need to be a mind reader to know she’d suddenly forgotten all about her vampire boyfriend.
“Of course. Do you like champagne?”
“I’ve never tasted it,” she said and I wanted to hit her over the head with something. At this rate he wasn’t going to have to compel her even slightly.
As they walked toward the car, I hung back. “Um…I’ll stay here if you don’t mind.”
The vampire turned round. “I do mind,” he said, with considerably less charm, not that Charlie noticed.
“You gotta come, Mrs. Sheridan. It’s the biggest casino this side of Crescent City. It’s got a nightclub and a sports complex and the shopping mall is fantastic. All the biggest designer brands have a--”
“It sounds lovely,” I lied, “but I’m feeling rather tired. You go on, sweetie, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Don’t you want to come?” She sounded amazed but, before I could reply, the vampire patted her arm.
“That’s fine, Charlotte. If Mrs. Sheridan is too tired, of course we mustn’t insist. Anton.” He snapped his fingers and the driver got out the car. He was a vampire as well, of course, and I could see another one sitting on the other side. Suddenly the place teemed with them.
“Anton will get you settled, my dear,” he said and Charlie got in without a murmur. “Let me just say goodbye to Mrs. Sheridan and then we’ll go.”
He smiled paternally at her before returning to me. The look on his face sent me scuttling into reception as fast as I could, though it was pointless. The place didn’t belong to me and Charlie had already invited him in. I’d barely blinked before I found myself pinned against a wall. My personal space thus invaded, the vampire dropped all pretense at being civilized. His eyes seemed to darken.
“Sophronia,” he said, the growl in his voice very pronounced, “there’s an acquisitive Russian back at my house, sizing up my possessions and growing more confident every second I’m away. I don’t have time for a scene.”
“And I don’t want to make one, honestly, Hagen,” I pleaded, doing my best to appear meek, “but I am very tired. Tell you what, I’ll come tomorrow. How about that?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You think I don’t know that if I leave you alone for a second you’ll be away as fast as you can?”
“Absolutely not, Hagen. I wouldn’t dream of--”
“Sophronia, you have a choice. Either get in the car of your own volition, or I’ll have you put in the trunk and you can travel to my House that way. But I warn you, if that happens it will make me very unhappy and you won’t like me when I’m unhappy.”
I didn’t like him now. “Hagen, I absolutely swear to you that I won’t go anywhere. I’ll--”
“I’m walking out the door, Sophronia,” he said. “What’s it to be? Are you joining me or should I instruct Torsten to start making room in the trunk for you?”
I wondered if I could make it to my own car in time but then yet another vampire appeared near the entrance, his eyes reflecting red in the night. Since I had no choice I walked out to the car.
The vampire didn’t even have the courtesy to look surprised.

About the Author :
I live in the UK with my husband, two sons, two cats and a dog. I am a French and English teacher which I love and it pays the bills, but I got hooked on writing when I entered a short story competition at the age of eighteen and wrote of my own free will without a homework deadline looming. I’ve been waiting for the impulse to wear off ever since…

I wrote this story when I was coming up to my 50th and feeling a bit sorry for myself. I love the vampire/paranormal genre - Buffy and Sookie in particular - but there comes a time when you just can’t identify with gorgeous, pert twenty-somethings any more and it seems a little undignified to even want to. I also love Terry Pratchett’s Discworld novels about Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg – two of the wiliest crones in the business – but wanted something a little more glamorous and contemporary; I can only take so much stuff with the frogs and the cauldrons. When it comes to supernatural powers I’ve always preferred Julian May’s metapsychics in the Saga of the Exiles, so that’s how Sophronia was created. Hagen was easy.

Obviously heroes can’t be murderers, but I wanted a vampire who wasn’t wracked with guilt over his diet and who seemed to be having fun being an immortal. I hope people will enjoy reading SOPHRONIA AND THE VAMPIRE as much as I enjoyed writing it. 

Sophronia and the Vampire
Jacqueline Farrell

Contemporary.  Paranormal.  Act/adv.  Sus/Myst 
217 pages

Sophronia is touring America when foggy weather forces her to seek a place to stay.  She stops at a small rundown motel and discovers that the motel is being run by a young witch who definately  needs help.  In her attempts to help the girl she becomes involved in a situation that no witch would willingly get involved in.

Hagen is the local head vampire and is delighted to find two witches living in his territory.  He is constantly being challenged by Sophronia and he must get control.

Charlie being a young witch with no training has much to learn and Sophronia has taken her in tow to train and help.  First thing is to make Charlie understand that vampires do truly exist and witches are not safe around them.

A delightful story of witches and vampires with a new fresh twist.  Truly an education for all involved.

5 stars
Victoria Storm