Tuesday, September 20, 2016

A Wicked Halloween Blog Tour and Giveaway Featuring Debbie Herbert with Charmed by the Salem Witch

Feed your paranormal cravings!

Halloween can't get here soon enough! Especially when we have this tantalizing boxed set to look forward to.

A Wicked Halloween ~ 13 **BRAND NEW & EXCLUSIVE** paranormal romance tales that will thrill and chill you just in time for All Hallow's Eve.

Preorder for only #99cent today!

Visit the page: A Wicked Halloween

#Nook #Kindle #iBooks #ARe #Kobo

#paranormal #witches #salem #pnr #romance #preorder #giveaway #limitedtime

5 things I like: (Reading and Writing are a given!)

1. Watching college football - Roll Tide, Alabama! 
2. pizza and cheesecake - the ultimate meal 
3. jet skiing at the lake
4. lazing around in the pool

5. All-girl beach trips with my friends or my sister

"At the Women’s College of Salem, Sarah hopes to meet like-minded students of The Craft. But after joining a coven, the other girls seem to have it in for her and she can’t figure out why . . . 

. . . until Tanner, the new, cute IT guy, helps uncover her family’s dark secret. Sarah will have to learn to trust Tanner if she’s to survive a killer freshman year. And Tanner must accept his paranormal powers to save Sarah when the blood moon rises at Samhain, the witch’s Halloween."

Go to Salem, they urged.
You’ll love it, they promised.
It will be fun, they said.
They lied.
Tanner rubbed his eyes and tried to focus on a string of computer code. Some fun. He could have stayed in Alabama if he’d wanted to be stuck in a boring tech job. Sighing, he shoved out of his chair and walked to the window. In the darkness of late afternoon, a light shone in the library next door on the campus quad.
She was there again. Sitting alone at a table, her long, brown hair swept to one side, her enchanting profile glowing like a halo of warmth against the New England chill. Damn, the unbearable cold had turned his brain to poetic mush. She was just a girl, and he’d had more than his fair share of dating last year. Before everything had turned to shit.
He’d prove she was nothing special. Tanner abruptly closed down the computer, grabbed his coat, and walked down the semi-deserted hallway. “See you in the morning,” he called to his boss.
Mr. Higginboth didn’t bother looking up from his hunched position over a computer. “Night,” he mumbled, pushing up wire-framed glasses from the bridge of his nose.
Tanner shuddered. Would that be him thirty years from now? Buried in an academic environment, wearing old-man woolen sweaters and deciphering endless lines of computer code with steadily declining eyesight? Not how he’d envisioned his future. He closed his eyes and remembered the thrill of catching his one and only touchdown pass—the cheering crowd, outrunning the opposing team’s defenders, the ball tucked safely in his arms, and crossing the goal line. Score!
How things had changed in one year. And not for the good.
Bitter wind slammed into his body as he exited the tech lab. He clutched his leather jacket tighter, glumly trying to imagine how much colder Salem would be in winter. Back home, he’d still be in short sleeves and enjoying sunshine.
His right knee throbbed, as it always did in cold weather. Damn nuisance. You’d think he was ninety instead of nineteen. He walked as quickly as he could with the bum knee, grateful for the warmth of the library as he pushed open its heavy, wooden doors. The cozy scent of old books and weathered oak lifted his sour mood.
Quickly, he scanned the towering rows of books and the whispering crowd of students at the center tables. In the far right corner, on the second level, she was bent over a book, her long hair a veil, covering her face.
Tanner inwardly groaned as he climbed the stairs, trying to avoid wincing at the darting pain needling through his knee. A gaggle of girls passed, shooting him sly glances. He winked at the boldest one, who had flaming red hair, dressed all in black, and sported a large pentacle pendant. Back home, she’d have stuck out like a black widow on a bed of white linen. But at the Women’s College of Salem, she was part of a notable minority that flaunted a belief in witchcraft. She smiled, but her eyes held no warmth. She turned her back and elbowed the girl nearest her orbit. “He’s cute but . . . all crippled up. Too bad.”
His face warmed. The remark had been whispered, but it was loud enough to carry—as the girl no doubt intended. He was used to being called cute, but not to people wondering at his injury. At least, not that he’d overheard. Way to build his confidence as he approached the girl to whom he’d been drawn for the past few weeks.
He squared his shoulders, determined not to let the offhand comment ruin his plans. If he’d learned nothing else from his old football coach, it was to persevere, no matter the obstacles. Still, he was used to outmaneuvering three-hundred-pound linebackers, not pathetically limping like an old man as he climbed a set of stairs. All while a group of girls insulted his dignity.
The girls went their way, chattering, never sparing a glance behind them. Amazing—not in a good way—that he’d gone from a rising football star to nearly invisible.
Different. A tiny flash of red on the floor caught his attention. Tanner bent over, picking up a small, black feather with a skein of red floss clumsily woven into its spine. A few inches of the red thread formed a tiny circle, perhaps large enough for a small wrist. Some kind of Native American bracelet, perhaps? He looked around, but nobody caught his eye. It probably belonged to one of the girls who had laughed at him. Too bad. He wasn’t going to search them out and ask. He shrugged and stuffed it into his jacket pocket, intending to throw it in the nearest trashcan.
At last, he reached the top. Tanner gripped the railing, collecting his breath and his pride. Once both were again intact, he walked toward the mystery girl, his footsteps creaking on the old pine flooring, but she didn’t look up from the book held in her hands, a heavy, dusty tome—Salem Witch Trials and Mass Hysteria: 1692—1693.
Tanner flicked his index finger against the book’s spine to get her attention. “A little light reading?” he joked.
Eyes as gray as a November sky regarded him with a decided chill. He was definitely striking out with the ladies today.
Her voice was smooth and cold as ice. “Nothing light about the killing of innocent women.”
“That’s what you call irony.” Tanner pulled out a chair across from her and sat, uninvited. “You writing a history paper on the trials?”
She cocked her head to one side and regarded him with a raised brow. “Yes. Do you need to use this book?”
“Oh, no, I’m not a student.”
Wariness sharpened her delicate features, and her fingers gripped the edge of the table. Real smooth there, Tanner. Now you’re scaring the women away.
“Then who—”
“It’s okay,” he said quickly. “I work here. In the IT department. My uncle—Ralph Landers—is the college dean.”
Her death grip on the book relaxed a fraction.
“I can prove it.” He dug in his coat pocket and fished out his employee ID. “See? I’m totally legit.” He slapped the card on the table and slid it toward her.
“Tanner Adams,” she read aloud, comparing his face to the awkward employee picture. “Computer tech, WCS.”
The way she said his name with her proper, reserved New England inflection was strangely sexy. She pushed his ID card back on the table, and their fingers touched. Chills, the good kind, vibrated through his entire body.

"Debbie Herbert writes paranormal romance novels reflecting her belief that love, like magic, casts its own spell of enchantment. She's always been fascinated by magic, romance and Gothic stories. She is traditionally published through Harlequin as well as Indie published.

Married and living in Alabama, she roots for the Crimson Tide football team. Debbie enjoys recumbent bicycling and jet skiing with her husband. She has two grown sons and the oldest has autism. Characters with autism frequently land in her works, even when she doesn't plan on it!

A past Maggie finalist in both Young Adult & Paranormal Romance, and a past finalist for the YARWA award for New Adult (Young Adult Chapter of the Romance Writer's of America) she's a member of the Georgia Romance Writers of America. Debbie has a degree in English (Berry College, GA) and a master's in Library Studies (University of Alabama). "

A Wicked Affair #FREE

A set of short story paranormal romances centered on All Hallow’s Eve. Be thrilled and chilled by these tales set in Salem—the ultimate city for witchy and shape-shifting fun. Each story features sexy heroes and spellbinding characters. Salem has never been so hot!

All stories are complete in themselves with a beginning, a middle and end...no cliffhangers! They are an introduction to the longer books in the companion box set, A Wicked Halloween.

Buy links:
Amazon UK: https://goo.gl/p79rTU 

Don't forget to add to your bookshelf on Goodreads: http://goo.gl/dOpHXL

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Friday, September 16, 2016

A Wicked Halloween Tour and Giveaway: Cecilia Dominic and A Million Shadows

Feed your paranormal cravings!

Halloween can't get here soon enough! Especially when we have this tantalizing boxed set to look forward to.

A Wicked Halloween ~ 13 **BRAND NEW & EXCLUSIVE** paranormal romance tales that will thrill and chill you just in time for All Hallow's Eve.

Preorder for only #99cent today!

Visit the page: A Wicked Halloween

#Nook #Kindle #iBooks #ARe #Kobo

#paranormal #witches #salem #pnr #romance #preorder #giveaway #limitedtime

Cecilia’s Five Favorites

Hey, y’all, I’m so excited to be here! I was told I needed to figure out five favorite things, so I decided to try and do something a little bit different than the usual. So, here we go:

Favorite meal of the day – lunch!
Perhaps as a child I was influenced by Weird Al Yankovic’s early classic “Girl Just Want to Have Lunch.” It’s the perfect meal of the day. Don’t feel like real food? Have breakfast, call it brunch, and claim to be all fancy on Instagram! Can’t decide whether you want to have caffeine or alcohol? No problem – have both! No one’s going to be judging you unless you’ve brought beer into McDonald’s. And hey, if you have brought beer into a fast food joint, I salute your determination to embrace the noncommittal nature of this meal, especially if you then order breakfast.

By the way, I really like breakfast, too, and I’m not above having a mimosa whenever I can.

Favorite weather – bring on autumn!
If you live in the Southeast U.S., you know it’s been a really hot summer, even for us. I have naturally curly hair, and it has its own ideal range for humidity separate from the rest of me. This summer has definitely tightened my curl to its limit. The funniest was after going for a long run in Florida on a recent vacation. Yes, my husband convinced me to go on a long run while on vacation. I’ve never seen my hair curl as tightly as it did that morning. If I’d been wearing a hat, it would have popped off. Ugh, that was miserable – blazing sun, humid as anything, and no breeze.

Oddly my favorite weather still involves a lot of moisture in the air. I love cool, cloudy days with a breeze and the occasional mist. It’s perfect for all of my favorite things – napping, writing, reading, napping, drinking warm or alcoholic beverages while watching the mist, napping, and sometimes running if I’m in the mood for it. I missed my geographical calling – I should’ve moved to the Pacific Northwest.

Favorite thing to procrastinate with – playing around with graphics.
I almost said Facebook, which is connected, but I’ve been trying to not let unnecessary negativity into my mental space. So, graphics! I think they relax me by allowing me to use a different part of my brain. I live in the world of words for both my careers, so it’s nice to get a break and do something different.

Why don’t you see more graphics from me? Well, I didn’t say I was good at them. I’ve just gotten a trial for Illustrator. Wish me luck. I may disappear down the Adobe rabbit hole and never emerge. Deadlines, what deadlines?

Favorite kind of pen – anything narrow and ball-point.
I thought I’d stick something writerly in here. I love the Pentel RSVP pens, specifically the narrowest ones. They’re great for writing and doodling, which I do during webinars and lectures but not client sessions. I can’t doodle during session – I use electronic health records, which makes it hard.

My husband asked me once if I write my novels during session while pretending to take notes. I told him no, but really, would I admit it if I did?

As for why ball point, I just can’t do the felt tip thing.

Favorite sport – sleeping.
As you’ve probably guessed by now, I love to sleep. If you don’t think sleeping is a competitive sport, you’ve never been at my house on a Sunday morning. No, I’m not inviting you for brunch, although I’m sure that would be lovely. I don’t typically watch sports, and if I’m going to compete, it’s going to be something I’m good at. I’m a reluctant runner but a champion sleeper.

And if you do show up for brunch on a random Sunday morning, I won’t make fun of you for being pretentious. Just don’t come over too early, and be sure to bring mimosa fixins. It’s hot out.

Former model and heartbreaker Kyra Ellison is accustomed to making trouble, not being on the receiving end. When she’s kicked out of her family’s Ozarks cabin where she's been taking refuge - okay, hiding - after a wicked ancient syndrome wrecked her old life, she's forced to go to Salem, Massachusetts. Yes, that Salem, where a murder, witches with secrets, and handsome billionaire make danger irresistible. Kyra finds she's not the only one with secrets and skeletons in her family closet, but some are more deadly than others. A confrontation with ancient danger and a new foe forces her to choose between the old life she's been craving and the new love that might make everything worth it in the end..

A moonbeam found its way through the blinds and speared me awake at around three o’clock. I rolled away from it, but my movement was echoed by a thud downstairs. I sat, all senses alert, and heard a scratching sound like boots scrabbling in sand.

I pulled the T-shirt I’d slept in over my head just before my hands curled into paws. My fingernails turned into claws, and the change came on from my extremities. It felt like I curled inward and folded into shapes no human body should endure. The fur itched as it pushed through pores I hadn’t had before, but I couldn’t control my paws enough to scratch it.

The final thing to change was my face, and that was the worst sensation, of someone taking my nose and pulling so hard it brought my skull with it.

Then the pain stopped, and a sense of strength, grace, and deadliness unfurled like a flag in my middle and filled me with purpose. To my wolf eyes, the room seemed awash in daylight—not moonlight—and my lips curled.

There was an intruder in my house, and I wanted to tear him or her apart.

No tearing apart, I reminded myself. Not unless I want a visit from that nice policeman later.

I jumped off the bed with as little noise as possible and slunk into the hallway and down the stairs. My fur was the same color as my hair—almost black—so I knew I would blend into the shadows.

Whereas the sulfurous smell had dissipated to my human nose, it was still very strong and present to my wolf nose. But that wasn’t what made me stop, all fur on end, when I turned toward the front hall. The sand I had stepped in glowed an opalescent blue, and I saw it was in a circle shape about three feet in diameter. I could see the panes of the front door through the ghostly figure that struggled in the middle of it.

My wolf brain, eminently practical, noted that I couldn’t do anything about a ghost because it wasn’t solid enough to be afraid of me, so I should just turn around and go back to bed.

But then I heard my name.

My ears perked up, and I moved closer, sticking to the darker patches. Why was the ghost calling my name? Was it a deceased family member visiting for the Festival of the Dead? What was I supposed to do about it?

“Kyra, where are you? I’m trapped. I just want to talk to you.”

The ghost pushed against some sort of invisible barrier. When I got close enough to make out its features, I gasped, which came out as a canine huff.

Jared Steel was the ghost trapped in the circle.

“What are you doing here? Are you dead?” I didn’t know if he would hear my mental voice, but he spun around.

“Where are you? I can’t see you.”

“I’m right here. It’s nighttime. Why are you here in my parents’ house? Are you dead?”

“No, I don’t think so. I think I’m dreaming.” He looked at his hands and grew more solid. I moved out of the shadows to sit in front of him, and he tried to back up, but he bounced against the back of the circle.

“Kyra, wherever you are, go! There’s a wolf.”

He looked so bewildered I wasn’t sure whether to laugh at him or comfort him. I still didn’t know whether he was dead, but I suspected not. If some wolves could spirit-walk, then I supposed some humans could, too.

I did want to know who had made a binding circle in my foyer, but I guessed it wasn’t my confused astral projection house guest.

And if he was projecting while he was asleep, I could have some fun. My instincts told me he didn’t realize he had this ability and would just write all this off to a strange dream in the morning.

As he came more into view, his attire resolved itself into shorts and a tight-fitting T-shirt that hugged the muscles of his upper arms, shoulders, and chest. Dark hair showed above the rim of the v-neck collar, and I licked my lips at the sight of his lightly fuzzed and nicely shaped legs.

Yes, Jared Steel was quite nice out of his work clothes, and I found myself disappointed that he didn’t sleep naked.

Cecilia Dominic wrote her first story when she was two years old and has always had a much more interesting life inside her head than outside of it. She became a clinical psychologist because she's fascinated by people and their stories, but she couldn't stop writing fiction. The first draft of her dissertation, while not fiction, was still criticized by her major professor for being written in too entertaining a style. She made it through graduate school and got her PhD, started her own practice, and by day, she helps people cure their insomnia without using medication. By night, she blogs about wine and writes fiction she hopes will keep her readers turning the pages all night. Yes, she recognizes the conflict of interest between her two careers, so she writes and blogs under a pen name. She lives in Atlanta, Georgia with one husband and two cats, which, she's been told, is a good number of each. Her debut novel The Mountain's Shadow, an urban fantasy featuring werewolves with a scientific twist, was released in October 2013, the sequel Long Shadows will be out in March 2014, and she has been offered a contract by Samhain for the third in the series, Blood's Shadow. She also writes young adult fiction and won the 2011 Mystery Times Ten contest through Buddhapuss Ink with her YA fantasy mystery The Coral Temple.

Social media links:
Twitter: @ceciliadominic
Instagram: randomeonophile

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Tuesday, September 13, 2016

A Wicked Halloween Blog Tour and Giveaway: CE Black with Behind the Mask

Feed your paranormal cravings!

Halloween can't get here soon enough! Especially when we have this tantalizing boxed set to look forward to.

A Wicked Halloween ~ 13 **BRAND NEW & EXCLUSIVE** paranormal romance tales that will thrill and chill you just in time for All Hallow's Eve.

Preorder for only #99cent today!

Visit the page: A Wicked Halloween

#Nook #Kindle #iBooks #ARe #Kobo

#paranormal #witches #salem #pnr #romance #preorder #giveaway #limitedtime

1.      Dates with my husband.
2.      Trips to Charleston with my family
3.      Drinking a hot hazelnut coffee in peace and quiet
4.      Reading a good book

5.      That moment when I type THE END

Kassandra Darkmorré is hiding behind the mask of humanity, living her life as nothing more than a spectator. She watches, knowing the outcome of the lives around her.

They lived.

They died.

While she was left all alone.

She never imagined one of her hospice patients would figure out what she was or ask for an explanation on her death bed. And Kassandra surely didn’t expect the dying woman to give her something she hadn’t had in almost two hundred years. Hope.“What you desire most is achievable. You must accept the invitation when it’s presented.”While on the search for her true desire, she finds the man of her one and only dream, Cyrus Good. The attraction between them is instantaneous, but Kassandra can’t help but feel like something is missing. And that maybe he has secrets as  sinister as Salem itself.

And what about Xavier Drago? The mysterious man keeps popping up when she least expects him to. As annoying and demanding as he is, though, she can’t help but be drawn to him just as intensely.

It all began with an invitation, but will it end with a happily ever after?

Excerpt from Behind The Mask by C.E. Black


I put on my coat, buttoning it up to my chin, and threw a scarf around my neck for good measure. Though the fall night had turned brisk, and the people entering the hospital from outside all wore matching red noses, I didn’t need the coat. But I liked the feeling of being one of them.
Seeing my little friend from earlier that evening waiting on me, I crouched down to get closer and held out my hand. “Hi again, little guy,” I said softly.
He purred as he bumped his onyx-colored head against my hand. Smiling, I rubbed my palm over his soft back. He didn’t have a collar, and though he looked fairly clean I could see his ribs showing, he was so thin. “Are you hungry, boy?” He wrapped around my leg in answer, and I laughed as I scooped him up in my arms. “Then let’s get you something to eat.” I was starving, but my hunger could wait. This guy probably hadn’t seen a decent meal in weeks.
After a stop at the grocery store for all the essentials he might need, I rushed home to my condo. Though in a hurry, I still took the time to fill a bowl with cat food and another with water. While he chowed down, I set up the litter box, and by the time I’d finished I couldn’t ignore the ache any longer.
I pulled the blood bag from my purse, put it in the microwave, then pressed the quick thrity-second button before grabbing a glass out of the cabinet. Warm blood was much more satisfying. Before the microwave dinged, I pulled out the bag and cut open the top with my kitchen shears. My mouth watered as the fresh, metallic scent reached my nostrils, and a small moan squeezed from my lips.
Careful not to spill a drop, I poured the thick red liquid into the glass before tossing the empty bag in the trash. I could have pierced the bag with my teeth, as they had already elongated, ready to feed, but I had the need to do things a more human way. Drinking from the glass made me feel like less of a monster.
As usual, I started off by sipping leisurely, as though it was a fine wine I’d purchased for pleasure, but as the sweet coppery flavor burst over my tongue, my hunger seized control, and the glass was empty less than a second later.
Staring at the thin red film that coated the inside of the glass, I licked my lips. I had the insane idea to use my finger to scrape off every last bit. Not a good sign.
Feeling eyes on me, I turned to find the cat sitting next to his empty bowls, watching me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he looked curious, maybe even a bit anxious. “Don’t worry, boy. You have nothing to fear from me.” I could have sworn he nodded before he stalked out of the room.
Shaking my head, I rinsed out the glass, breathing a sigh of relief when it was clear of all blood. “Not classy, Kassandra,” I said to myself. I hadn’t been feeding enough, but how could I justify taking another’s source of life? These bags of blood would save a human life. At as little as one a week, that was fifty-two deaths a year I could potentially cause.
It was bad enough the donor center was amidst a shortage. The possibility that my necessary feeding habit would cause issues had guilt eating away at me. But it was better than taking from the source. I’d never do that. Never again.

C.E. Black self-published her first book in 2011 and has since published several novels, novellas, and short stories. Though she began her writing career in the Paranormal Romance genre, she found her niche in erotic PNR/Fantasy with her breakout novel, Shifted Temptations. What started out as a standalone romance, became the Amazon best selling Alpha Division series. Though steamy romance, hunky heroes, and feisty heroines are C.E.'s specialty, she enjoys surprising her readers with action-filled plots and exciting twists that makes for a fast-paced read.

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