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Calling all Readers and Reviewers!

Published September 24, 2015 by admin

There are some upcoming opportunities for readers, reviewers, bloggers, et al!

Want to read for free? Heck, want to read Olde School for free?

Seventh Star Press is looking for honest reviews for their Read to Review program. Basically, fill out a form, choose a title, read it, post your honest review, then you get to choose another title. For a full run-down of how the program works, as well as the submission form, check out the link!

But you should totally request Olde School first. Just sayin’.

Also…

Tomorrow Comes Media is looking for reviewers and tour hosts for some upcoming titles. Click the links for full synopses and tour info:

Born of Swords by Steven Shrewsbury (Sword and Sorcery)

Codename: Knight Ranger by John F Allen (Urban Fantasy)

Hellscapes vol 2 by Stephen Zimmer (Horror)

Heart of a Lion by Stephen Zimmer (Sword and Sorcery)

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SSP Presents: Crossings by JL Mulvihill

Published December 10, 2014 by admin

The other new Seventh Star Press title is perfect for all the steampunk fans and YA readers out there!

crossings

Kindle       Nook    Kobo      iBooks

Bishop Steel is still missing, so AB’Gale must follow the map continuing the search for her papa. Her quest leads Abby down dangerous paths that threaten to get her captured by the System. Danger lurks at every turn of the road, on every doorstep and every train.

Finding it difficult to know who to trust when she discovers she is now wanted for crimes against the System, Abby travels under the guise of a young boy. Conflicted with the desire to rid her world of the unjust or find her papa, Abby finds few friends amid hobos, air pirates, and entrepreneurs.

Abby finds that real friends will never abandon you, nor will they allow you to give up on your convictions. A true awakening to internal conflict and the desire to put right what is wrong, this is the great American adventure ringing with the sound of freedom along the steel routes.

Crossings is Book Two of the Steel Roots Series.

Book tour: Death’s Dance by Crymsyn Hart

Published August 21, 2014 by admin

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It’s tour time! I’m stoked to have my pal Crymsyn Hart on my blog with her latest book, Death’s Dance! We’ll hear from her in a moment, but first let’s check out the title – c’mon, you know how things work round these parts by now!

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Amazon           Barnes & Noble          Kobo

Being a psychic, you would think talking to the dead was a walk in the park. However, it’s not always that simple. The hooded specter haunting me is one I’ve been dreaming about since I was a kid. One day, he appeared in my bedroom mirror. Good. Evil. I don’t know what his true intentions are.

Enter Jackson, ghost hunting show host extraordinaire, and my ex, to save me from the big bad ghost.

From there…well…it’s been a world wind of complications. My house burnt down. I’m being stalked by an ancient evil and gotten myself back into the world of being a ghost hunting psychic. Jackson dragged me, along with a few other psychics, to a ghost town wiped off the map called Death’s Dance.

From there things went from bad to worse.

***

Top Ten Versions of Death

                Death comes in many forms. And it is hard to narrow down the personifications of death into ten different things. Since Death comes in different mediums I’m going to list my top ten in movies, books, and in art. I’ve come across many different paintings and artwork that to me show what death would look like. I don’t view Death as a scary thing, but as a helper even if his visage might be frightening. You’re probably going to think I’m macabre, but I’m not. I just have an affinity for grim reapers.

 

  1. The Golem of Azrael by Leliah Wendell
  2. Azrael by Joseph Vargo
  3. My Soul to Reap posted by Emma
  4. Kiss of Death Statue at the Old Graveyard of Poblenou in Barcelona
  5. Death from the Final Destination movies
  6. The Gift by Leliah Wendell
  7. Shadows by Joseph Vargo
  8. On A Pale Horse by Piers Anthony
  9. Azriel – The Angel of Death by Ruth Thompson
  10. Cat Magic by Whitley Strieber

CrymsynHart

Crymsyn is a National Bestselling author of over seventy paranormal romance and horror novels. Her experiences as a psychic have given her a lot of material to use in her books. She currently resides in Charlotte, NC with her hubby and her three dogs. If she’s not writing, she’s curled up with the dogs watching a good horror movie or off with friends.

 To find out more about Crymsyn:

 Website: http://www.ravynhart.com

Twitter: @crymsynhart

Blog: http://www.crymsynhart.blogspot.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/crymsynhart

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Crymsyn-Hart/e/B002BMJ1Z0/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1405515745&sr=8-1

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It’s the MMP Anniversary Sale!

Published July 13, 2014 by admin

Looking for some e-books to fill your Kindle or Nook? Want to stock up on romance and select horror and holiday titles? Want to be considered for some great giveaways? Then look no further! Mocha Memoirs Press has got you covered!

For information on the giveaway (which includes select horror and romance titles, as well as swag), and select sales on parts of the catalog, be sure to check out this mmp blog link!

 

For information on the sale on speculative titles, check out this link!

 

Now  Mooner and The Other Man are MMP titles, but my story, Holly and Ivy, is on sale for $0.99 as part of the Christmas in July sale! Check it out now to beat the heat, or save it for December!

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Amazon     Barnes and Noble   Mocha Memoirs Press Store

After losing her job and her boyfriend, Holly returns to her parents’ farm. Embarrassed and hopeless, she doesn’t expect to bump into a forgotten childhood friend that wasn’t supposed to exist. Ivy is not only a dryad, but she lives in the pine trees Holly’s family grows to sell at Christmas. As the old friends reconnect, Ivy not only shares her strong oninions, but gives Holly a charm that will change both their lives. As days melt into weeks and the seasons change, Holly’s life magically turns around. Christmas not only brings surprises, but a choice for the human woman. What’s more important: stability, success, and love, or keepinga promise to an old friend?

Available again! Mooner

Published June 28, 2014 by admin

It’s back it’s back it’s back! I’m so very excited to have Mooner back in print through Mocha Memoirs Press. Not only did it give me a chance to tighten up parts of the story, but I’ve also been able to include a glossary of Lumberjack Vocabulary, as well! For those who aren’t familiar with the title, this is my take on historical vampire fiction via 1800’s lumber camp life. It combines my love of history, my love of vampires, my love of creepy, slow-burn stories into something that I’m really quite proud of. So let’s take a look, because it’s my blog and I can totally do that.

 

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Kindle         Nook      MMP Store

Like many young men at the end of the 1800s, Bill signed on to work in a logging camp. The work is brutal, but it promised a fast paycheck with which he can start his life. Unfortunately, his role model is Big John. Not only is he the camp’s hero, but he’s known for spending his pay as fast as he makes it. On a cold Saturday night they enter Red’s Saloon to forget the work that takes the sweat and lives of so many men their age. Red may have plans for their whiskey money, but something else lurks in the shadows. It watches and badly wants a drink that has nothing to do with alcohol. Can Bill make it back out the shabby door, or does someone else have their own plans for his future?

And now, let’s have an excerpt since it’s been so very long…

Nancy shuffled back towards the bar, casting a wary look over her shoulder. “Red, he’s back,” she breathed as she scooped up another tray and fled to the other side of the room. Upon closer inspection the youth realized that it wasn’t a pile of something. It was a figure draped in a patchwork of skins then cloaked with half-torn, moldy furs. Most who passed his way quickly avoided him, though whether it was because of his odd looks or his smell it was hard to say.

Red hissed through his teeth and ran a sweating hand through his thick, flame-colored mane. “Tom Haskins,” he mumbled under his breath for the benefit of those crowded around him.

“I thought he lived on the edge of town,” Jack replied, equally low, and glared down the length of the bar.

“He tried to start a dry good store and it didn’t go over too well. He had it in his mind that he could make up his loss with fur, though he ain’t no trapper. Moved out to the woods weeks ago and comes into town every so often to hang round and get his fix. Just when I think he’s finally died out there he comes round again.”

Not once did the saloon proprietor take his eyes off the body hunched over a table. Every breath made his ragtag cloak shudder and every moldy hair on him quivered.

“You want me to kick him out?” Jack offered, already shifting his weight.

“Nah, let him warm up at least. He doesn’t do much; just pesters everyone for drink now that he can’t afford it for himself. Give him time and he’ll be up to his tricks.”

Bill couldn’t stop staring. The pile of sloughed animals slumped as the man’s head rose. His skin was a cold gray and stretched taught across his face and hands. His hair had all but fallen out, but what was still left of it hung in clumps of long, ragtag strands that were paler than dried straw. His thin-lipped mouth was open and he sucked in air in painful, erratic pants.

“Look at ‘im! Actin’ like a piglet pulled away from its ma’s teat!” Big John sneered. “I bet his clothes are fulla maggots!”

“It’s too cold for maggots,” Ben snorted. “His clothes are thin. Wonder how the hell he stands bein’ out in the woods in weather like this.”

“We do it,” Bill muttered.

The recluse’s head jerked at the sound of his voice. The young man immediately snapped his mouth shut.

“Yeah, but we’re used to it! And younger’n he ever was!” John’s voice was purposefully loud and it carried the haughty tone that won him admiration from the other loggers. “He’s durn crazy, that’s why he don’t notice. All that time on your own turn you yaps, man?”

Tom’s head very slowly shifted towards them and Bill shuddered. There were days he’d survived the logging camp and the extreme conditions by willpower and prayer alone, all the while wondering in the back of his head what it would be like if he didn’t have even that. Looking at the vagrant, he knew.

Ben was cursing behind them. “I saw him not more than a month ago and he didn’t look like that. Solitary life don’t turn a man in that short a’ time! Maybe he’s got rabies or fever ‘n’ ague.”

Tom’s eyes sat so far back in his skull that it was impossible to tell what color they were, though they harbored a steady, unsettling gleam. They roved over the huddled group, searching hungrily for an easy mark. Bill’s heart plummeted to his boots when the hollow glitter locked onto him. He was suddenly as cold as he was when a seventh-year blizzard hit. All the frustrations and hell he’d endured since joining the logging team, all his good intentions and reasons, all that he was trying to move forward to swelled and jumbled together in a brief, howling wind of thought. The two distant stars in Tom’s eyes were the only thing that pegged him as a stable man in his otherwise rotting and dozy appearance.

All around the little group the saloon’s weekend life went on. The distant sound of swearing and dice clattering across the floor mixed with discordant harmonies and a half-hearted mouth organ. But in the area by the bar, all was muffled and still. It was like the snows had come without warning over the forest, smothering everything in their path with chilled silence. Bill shuddered and out of the corner of his eye he noticed Red do the same.

“You want I should knock his ears down, Red?” John’s bravado was the sudden yell that knocked the snow from the treetops, for good or ill. He had the relaxed look of a man who’d been in his cup just enough to throw caution to the wind. “I’ll toss him out and give ‘im a case of smallpox he won’t forget!”

“Leave be, John,” the barkeep muttered. His hand never stopped wiping down the bar and though his head was tilted down to his task, his eyes were set on their target across the room.

“What…what you want me to do for a drink?” At first it didn’t register that Tom had actually spoken. His voice was high and reedy and cracked the way the thinnest ice along the river did.

“Pardon?”

“What you want me to do for a drink?” His lips cracked when his mouth moved. A thin trail of spittle dripped off his lower lip and was quickly caught up by the tip of the derelict’s seeking tongue. The distant gleam in Tom’s eyes burned as his mouth formed the last word. Otherwise, it was hard to say how he’d made it into the saloon; he looked more than a little dim.

The rustle of skirts made Bill look behind him. Nancy had come around once more and was sliding her empty tray on the bar with more hesitation than usual. “Don’t you boys take the bait. Last time he came in here he swallowed a handful of live spiders. I’ve seen him gulp down tadpoles and minnows, too.”

“Why?” Bill breathed, though the word was a vague whisper in his own ears.

“The woods didn’t make him picky, that’s for certain,” Nancy muttered.

“I’ve seen him bite the heads off rodents, and even a chicken. The body still wriggled for a good minute after,” Red agreed. “When he says he’ll do anything, he means it.”

John’s rugged, dirty face lit like a beacon that was up to no good. “Will he now?”

The vagrant scratched himself somewhere under the skins and let himself be regarded by the knot of loggers.

“Whatever you’re planning to do, leave be!” Nancy hissed. “Red, can’t you just pour him somethin’?”

“If I do that for him I’ll end up startin’ a riot.”

“Then we’ll settle this like men,” John breezed, rolling up the sleeves of his mackinaw to show the lines of scars received as proof of his time on skid road. “So what, exactly, will you do for a shot of ol’ Red’s firewater, huh Tom?”

***

What, indeed, heh.

Also, feel free to check out some blog posts relating to horror and  Mooner that I’ve done lately.

A post talking about the different sorts of vampires that I like in fiction and film, with some recommendations is here 

A post talking about how family vacations, a love of vampires, and my love of history warped me for life can be found here

And, slightly related, I’m talking about being a woman and writing horror here

TCM Presents: Transport by Peter Welmerink

Published June 24, 2014 by admin

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I’m back with a blog tour post for my pal peter Welmerink! I think you’re really going to dig his new book, Transport. After all, everyone loves zombies, right?

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Print     Kindle

The HURON, a 72-ton heavy transport vehicle and an army of four; tracked, racked and ready to roll, to serve and protect the walled metropolis of Grand Rapids—both her living and her undead. Captain Jacob Billet and his crew patrol the byways, ready for trouble.

William Lettner, the North Shore Coalition High Commissioner, has enemies from the mainland to the lakeshore and needs to be covertly transported home after his helicopter is shot down en route to Grand Rapids. He has no love for a city that give unliving civilians the right to survive. Lettner’s venomous outbursts assaults Billet and his crew along every mile travelled as they are assigned to safely bring him through the treacherous landscape outside the city back to his hometown.

The HURON and her crew will have to face domesticated zombies and the feral undead; marauders holding strategic chokepoints hostage; barricaded villages fighting for survival, and a group of geneticists who’ve lost control of one of their monstrous experiments if they want to complete their mission.

The crew will need to stay strong and trust one another in order to finish the mission and bring their “precious” cargo home, even knowing, all the while, the terrible deeds Lettner has done.

Travelling through West Michigan was never so dangerous.

***

Peter’s provided us with a character post today involving Loutonia Marie Phelps and Bob the gas station attendant, so let’s see what transpires…

Loutonia Phelps by Tim Holtrop

This is Loutonia Marie Phelps. Lance Corporal. Serial number 32 738 306. Marine. Though that really doesn’t mean much, what branch of the service you are from, as these hard times mean pooling and pulling together as one truly united team.

I am the driver of the HURON, a big M213 Ridgerunner-class HTV (Heavy Transport Vehicle). I am the only female member of our crew, the only female M213 driver of what is left of our fleet of those vehicles. It’s not a bad job, considering the world we live in, not a whole lot can damage or go up against my 72-tons of dual-wheeled and tracked, heavily armored bone-crushing transport.

Okay. I have some additional information I’d like to put on record. I figure I’d better log this just in case… Well, in case anything happens that might make this all relevant.

I am writing this while out at Jake’s, I mean, the Captain’s ex-in-laws lakeshore cottage. While he, Stokes and Mulholland are outside closing up shop at the beach house (and I think Stokes is still walking funny from the night before when I had to kick for the extra point), I thought I’d jot this down before we got back on the road.

On our recent mission, when we were carrying our “special cargo,” we stopped while within the UCRA and “talked” to Bob.

As you know, the friendly neighborhood gas station attendant, in his rotted mind, still lives in the 1950’s, but Bob is special. A “satellite Zee,” we use him quite often to gather Intel on the goings on within and outside the Urban Civilian Retention Area, and beyond the city limits.

Trained in Zombie Dialect, I listen to what Bob has to “say” and translate it, informing Jacob, I mean, Captain Billet, what the old guy “knows.”

After Bob mentioned the “old news” about a section of highway way northwest of town being sabotaged, an event that happened years ago, with a clack of his loose jaws and black teeth, he said my children were in “Fat City,” and my ex-husband was in “Nowheresville” and wouldn’t be “rattling my cage” anymore.

Fat City, I looked it up, means a happy place. Nowheresville: a bad place. The Ex wouldn’t be rattling my cage, making me upset, angry, anymore anyway.

My late and abusive husband, as my children, are dead-dead.

I don’t know how Bob knew I even had a family.

But that wasn’t the oddest thing he had to say.

After mentioning Valley State University having a new mascot—their former mascot was a guy in a foam bull’s head—Bob started in on, I am not sure, events of the past? Events of the future?

Bob said, growling, coughing, yellow puss drooling from his dry cracked lips: “Captain will take his last visit home to be finished by your hand. The ghoul girl eats at her father’s heart. Our home will be open once the second killing rain falls from the sky.”

More gnashing of teeth, moaning, three wet coughs: “Your money council is a shuckster. Watch the water and the big weapon that wanders out from your grasp.”

I had not known Bob to talk in such a manner. Riddles, yes, but he seemed hell bent to make sure I listened to what he had to “say.”

It was then some of the other neighborhood walking dead started getting too close for comfort. We had dropped meat crates for a feeding, but hadn’t cracked them… and our neighborhood friends were hungry.

Bob grunted, growled, and made a sound like he was clearing his throat.

“What was that?” Jake, I mean, the Captain, had asked.

I made something up. I said: “Bob says he’s got a special on a lube and oil change.”

Old Bob didn’t say that.

What he said, with what little flickers of lucidity an old dead guy could muster: “No worries, Miss Phelps, I will protect your man when first death descends.”

He simply stood and waved at us as we left, as if we’d just arrived.

That was how Bob rolled.

But those last “words,” the old dead gas station attendant’s words, then and now, I simply cannot shake.

Lance Corporal Loutonia Phelps. Out.

Bob Gas Station Attendant Zombie by Tim Holtrop

 

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Peter Welmerink was born and raised on the west side of pre-apocalyptic Grand Rapids, Michigan. He writes Fantasy, Military SciFi, and other wanderings into action-adventure. His work has been published in ye olde wood pulp print and electronic-online publications. He is the co-author of the Viking berserker novel, BEDLAM UNLEASHED, written with Steven Shrewsbury. TRANSPORT is his first solo novel venture. He is married with a small barbarian tribe of three boys.

 Find out more about his works and upcoming projects at:

http://www.peterwelmerink.com

Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/author.peterwelmerink

 Twitter:

@pwelmerink

TCM Presents: Hero’s Best Friend

Published June 18, 2014 by admin

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I’m really happy to be a host for this book. I love interesting anthology topics, plus today’s post is by an author who is not only an up-and-coming talent, but a friend of mine! First, though, you know the rules! Let’s check out the book…

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Print      Kindle

How far would Gandalf have gotten without Shadowfax? Where would the Vault Dweller be without Dogmeat? And could the Beastmaster been the Beastmaster without his fuzzy allies? Animal companions are more than just sidekicks. Animals can be heroes, too!

Found within are twenty stories of heroic action that focuses on the furries and scalies who have long been the unsung heroes pulling their foolish human buddies out of the fire, and often at great sacrifice-from authors both established and new, including Frank Creed, S. H. Roddey, and Steven S. Long.

Whether you’re a fan of Epic Fantasy, Sword & Sorcery, Science Fiction, or just animal stories in general, this is the anthology for you!

So sit back, kick your feet up, and find out what it truly means to be the Hero’s Best Friend.

Featured in Hero’s Best Friend: An Anthology of Animal Companions:

Joy Ward: “Toby and Steve Save the World”

Frank Creed: “Dusk”

Cassie Schau: “The Hunter’s Boy”

Steven Donahue: “Grit”

Jason Cordova: “Hill 142”

Herika R. Raymer: “Dook”..

Essel Pratt: “Brothers”.

Lisa Hawkridge: “Ezra’s Girl”.

S. H. Roddey: “Look What the Cat Dragged In.”

Steven S. Long: “The Wolf Sentinel”

Laura Anne Ewald: “Memorandum”

Cindy Koepp: “The Hat”.

Ian Hunter: “Scarheid in the Glisting”.

Steven Grassie: “The Masterless”.

David Wright: “Wind of Change”

Renee Carter Hall: “The Emerald Mage”..

Nick Bryan: “The Violet Curse”..

Lillian Csernica & Kevin Andrew Murphy:

“The Restless Armadillo”.

Douglas J. Ogurek: “Stuck on the Squigglybounce”

Sheila Deeth: “Passage”

***

And now, check out Herika R. Raymer, author of “Dook”!

***

Hello, Herika R Raymer here. Lately I have been referring to myself as a “speculative fiction bookwright, because I hope to get a book right”. Play on words yes, but for whatever reason the term “bookwright” appeals to me. It would figure that it is supposed to be more of a joke than a real term. Still, I like it – so I am using it.

What do I write? Right now, short stories mostly. I am hoping to get a singular work out, or at least submitted, before the end of the year. Looking promising, but it will take work to have it ready by the self-inflicted deadline. Recently I was delighted to be informed that a short story of mine, “Dook”, had been selected for Scott Sandridge’s anthology Hero’s Best Friend. Knowing that the theme was about the unsung sidekicks of the spotlight figures, it was encouraging to know that my story – written about ferrets – had made the cut. Incidentally, that is where the title “Dook” comes from: it is their laughter.

Why did I think of ferrets? Well, I knew that the first animals to be submitted would be dogs and/or cats and I wanted to write about another four legged friend. Instantly I remembered a friend of mine, whose namesake I used with permission (Amber), who had ferrets. I recalled their play and their movements, the amusing noises they made, and some of the stories she told about them. Clever creatures, I decided to do a bit more research on them. The stories I read were adorable and hilarious, and all gave me the general idea I needed to mold the ferrets of my tail – er tale. Amber and her ferrets were the protagonists, now to just give them a villain to thwart. It was a short story, so I make the motivation to overcome relatively straightforward – greed.

Want to know more? Please feel free to read the story and find out who Amber and her clever companions are trying to outwit.

Herika R. Raymer grew up consuming books – first by eating them, later by reading them. Her mother taught her the value of focus and hard work while her father encouraged her love literature and art; so she has been writing and doodling off and on for over 30 years. After much encouragement, Mrs. Raymer finally published a few short stories and has developed a taste for it. She continues to send submissions, sometimes with success, and currently has a collection of stories in the works. She is the Assistant Editor for a science fiction magazine and Lead Editor for a horror magazine. A participant of the voluntary writer/artist/musician cooperative known as Imagicopter, Herika R. Raymer is married with two children and a dog in West Tennessee, USA.

Her website is at: herikarraymer.webs.com
Her Facebook page is: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Herika-R-Raymer-WriterEditor/218450834882572?ref=ts&fref=ts

ScottSandridge

About the editor: Scott M. Sandridge is a writer, editor, freedom fighter, and all-around trouble-maker. His latest works as an editor include the Seventh Star Press anthologies Hero’s Best Friend: An Anthology of Animal Companions, and the two volumes of A Chimerical World, Tales of the Seelie Court and Tales of the Unseelie Court.

 Twitter:

https://twitter.com/scottmsandridge

Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/smsandwrites

Website/Blog:

http://smsand.wordpress.com

Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/5772749-scott-sandridge