Thursday, May 6, 2021

COVER REVEAL ~ Curse of Shadows by A.K. Wilder








Hello Readers! Welcome to the Cover Reveal for

Curse of Shadows by A.K. Wilder

presented by Entangled Teen!

What do you think of the cover?

Get lost in the adventure and fantasy of the Amassa series, which SLJ called “a magical, enthralling world that keeps readers engaged from the first page,” perfect for fans of Shadow and Bone or The Bone Witch. Secrets will be revealed and choices will be made as Ash, Marcus, and Kaylin race to raise their phantoms and save the world.

Curse of Shadows (Amassia #2) by A.K. Wilder
Publication Date: January 4, 2022
Publisher: Entangled Teen

A.K. Wilder is a bestselling speculative fiction author with nine published novels in Australia. Originally from California, she lives on the far eastern coast of Australia with a house full of kids and one extraordinary spotted cat. Her favorite pastimes, besides daydreaming, include meditation, yoga, organic gardening, and weight training. Her novel writing is done in the early hours of the morning.

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads

BOOK TOUR & GIVEAWAY ~ Weathering Old Souls by James J. Cudney & Didi Oviatt

 



Weathering Old Souls
by James J. Cudney & Didi Oviatt
Genre: Metaphysical, Spiritual Historical Fiction


Abigail has always struggled with the voices. From the relentless tyranny a woman faces on an antebellum plantation to the unknown prison camps in America during World War II, our heroine discovers the past in a way that changes her future.

Moments from the past serve as guiding posts for the country’s growth, and also mark the transitions for Abigail’s own personal history. Her best friend, Margaret, partners with Abigail to discover the identity of the mysterious voices, while focusing on her passion and quest to become a United States senator.

Through it all, a serial killer torments the country, romance blossoms between people they meet during the journey, and long-buried secrets come to light in devastating ways. As elements twist, numbers align and spiritual powers connect, no one will be the same again.







One morning as winter should’ve been transitioning into spring, an eight-year-old Abigail awakens with a piercing scream. She bolts upright and snails herself to the edge of her bed, placing a heavy hand on her chest to help steady herself and catch her breath. Her body twinges as though she’s fallen down a flight of stairs or been slammed by a double-decker trolley. The agony starts in the muscles behind her shoulder blade. From there it feels like a rocket exploded, escaping through her chest, leaving only traces of burning gases to snake their way through the rest of her fragile body. She coughs violently as her system tries to rid itself of unknown toxins.

The bedroom is dark and frigid because the pipes broke the previous day and her father was too busy sleeping off a hangover to call a contractor to fix them. Oliver has no mechanical knowledge or experience with home repair, but he tells Abigail that the Stauntons will address the issue since their heating system has also experienced problems with the winter storms that year. It’s been an unpredictable season, much more so than the usual winter in South Carolina. Some days Abigail has played outside all afternoon, hardly catching a chill. Others she wakes to a beautifully ominous layer of frost clinging to every blade of yellow grass as if its very life depends on it.

A thin glint of light pushes through the crack between the bottom of the broken shade and the splintered windowsill. Abigail watches as the sparkly dust settles on the foot of her bed and shines brightly. It reminds her of the quartz necklace dangling on the neck of the woman in her scary dream. It was gorgeous and made the woman feel safe and comforted as it has in every dream where it made an appearance. Abigail’s told Margaret about the necklace many times, wishing she could hop out of bed today and do it again. It’s only been two months since she saw Margaret, but missing her is more than just a faint feeling. It’s soul crushing. She aches for Margaret’s companionship like any other child would her own sibling who’s grown up and gone on without her.

In her nightmare, Abigail was stuck inside the body of an old lady running through a field, sweat pouring from her head down the curves of her hollowed and withdrawn cheeks. It was pitch black, and there were trees all around her, the wind shaking the branches such that they whispered secret directions in an unknown language. They resembled monsters with claw-like arms and vicious teeth, ready to bite her flailing limbs. Someone had been chasing her, but Abigail never saw the figure’s face.

Confusion rocks her body. Part of her is the small innocent child who wants to scream for Elizabeth, but a stronger piece of her feels much older, more mature, as if she’s lived for decades, maybe even centuries. She shakes through the aftermath of terror, unable to make sense of what happened in her sleep. All she knows is that it was horrific and made her fear something awful was destined to happen. Abigail wonders if her nightmares relate to the bits of conversation she’s overheard between Elizabeth and Bradford in the past. Elizabeth once said something about a killer coming after them again, but they’d ultimately agreed they were much safer now.

After deliberating with Imaginary May for a few moments, Abigail announces, “I can handle this on my own. I am a big girl. Margaret’s gone, but she taught me to be strong.”

She cuddles the teddy bear that Elizabeth gifted her last month for Valentine’s Day. Elizabeth had always bought one for Margaret when she was a child, the kind of mother and daughter tradition that Abigail has always yearned for. This is the first year that Margaret has been away for Spring Break during Valentine’s Day. Elizabeth missed her daughter immensely, so she purchased two identical teddy bears at the local toy store. One for Margaret, who would be home on Spring Break soon, and one for her favorite little neighbor and second daughter.

With a heavy sigh, Abigail stretches her arms above her head, extends her legs, and spreads her toes apart. Then she drops her chin to her chest, before rolling her head around in big circles. Four times each direction, one for every major element. She studied them in school that year. With each round of her neck, Abigail breathes in and counts to ten, then she lets out the air and reminds herself of everything she has to be grateful for. Margaret once taught her this morning routine, to help her ease the body tremors brought about by a nightmare, as the last doctor she saw refused to give any pain medication or advice. The stretching and breathing exercises help, and her pains slowly evaporate like a faint mist over a swamp.

An oblong mirror that’s mounted to the wall across from her window offers Abigail a dust- clouded view of her messy hair as it knots and sticks out in every direction, along with her worn- out unicorn covered nightgown. She chuckles at the sight of herself, and the last of her anxiety and spasms disappear. She imagines the body aches to have a color, a dull shade of lilac, as they lift in a swirling pattern like hazy smoke and exit out of the beam of light coming through the window.

“Stay away, you filthy bloke,” she chastises the imaginary swirl of colorful pain.



Didi Oviatt is an intuitive soul. She's a wife and mother first, with one son and one daughter. Her thirst to write was developed at an early age, and she never looked back. After digging down deep and getting in touch with her literary self, she's writing mystery/thrillers like Search for Maylee, Justice for Belle, Aggravated Momentum, and Sketch, along with multiple short story collections. She's collaborated with Kim Knight in an ongoing interactive short story anthology, The Suspenseful Collection. Most recently, she published her first romance novella titled Skinny Dippin’ which was originally released as a part of the highly appraised Anthology, Sinners and Saints. When Didi doesn't have her nose buried in a book, she can be found enjoying a laid-back outdoorsy lifestyle. Time spent sleeping under the stars, hiking, fishing, and ATVing the back roads of beautiful mountain trails, and sun-bathing in the desert heat play an important part of her day to day lifestyle. 



James J. Cudney
James is my given name, but most folks call me Jay. I live in New York City, grew up on Long Island, and graduated from Moravian College, an historic but small liberal arts school in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, with a degree in English literature and minors in Education, Business and Spanish. After college, I accepted a technical writing position for a telecommunications company during Y2K and spent the last ~20 years building a career in technology & business operations in the retail, sports, media, hospitality, and entertainment industries. Throughout those years, I wrote short stories, poems, and various beginnings to the “Great American Novel,” but I was so focused on my career that writing became a hobby. In 2016, I committed to focusing my energies toward reinvigorating a second career in reading, writing, and publishing. 



Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

Didi and James are giving away 4 prizes as part of this marketing campaign. Winner will be drawn the week after release:
$25 ​Amazon Gift Card
$40 ​Psychic Services
1 ​eBook of Weathering Old Souls
1 ​physical book of Weathering Old Souls (US Only)

BOOK TOUR & GIVEAWAY ~ Summoned by J.P. Jackson

 



Summoned
Magus Malefica - The Coven Series Book 1
by J.P. Jackson
Genre: M/M Paranormal Romance, Dark Urban Fantasy


Devid Khandelwal desperately wants to experience the supernatural. After years of studying everything from crystals to tarot to spellcasting, nothing has happened that would tell him the Shadow Realm is real. And that kills Dev. As a last-ditch resort, he purchases a summoning board, an occult tool that will grant him his ultimate desires.

Cameron Habersham is Dev’s best friend. Cam loves Dev like a brother and will do anything for him, as long as he looks good doing it. So when Dev asks him to perform the summoning board’s ritual, he reluctantly agrees, but he knows nothing will come of it. Nothing ever does.

However, within a day, Dev and Cam’s lives are turned upside down as wishes begin to come true. They discover the existence of a supernatural world beyond their imagination, but peace between the species is tenuous at best.

Dev finally gets to see the Shadow Realm, meets the man of his dreams, and is inducted into the local male coven. But for all the desires that were summoned into existence, Dev soon realizes the magical community dances the line between good and evil, and Cam ends up on the wrong side of everything.
The old adage is true: Be careful what you wish for.




Setup: The main character Dev, and his best friend Cam, have just returned from buying a summoning board. Tucked away in Dev’s room, they are about to use it for the first time.

“Honestly, I don’t get what you see in all this stuff.” Cam waved his hand through the air, a flippant gesture meant to dismiss Dev’s impressive occult collection.

Of course, Cam was referring to the contents of Dev’s room. The occult was Dev’s jam. Crystals, runes, tarot decks—you name it, Dev had it. The occult. He had read, studied, and practiced everything from card readings to spirit summoning. But despite his keen interest, admirable level of knowledge, and dedicated study, Dev hadn’t had a single otherworldly encounter or brush with psychic phenomenon.

That killed Dev.

“Shush. You be nice. Otherwise my demons will get you.” Dev chuckled, knowing full well Cam’s interest level focused more on his latest pair of shoes. Dev made a mental note to check for holes in the floorboards.

Dev, on the other hand, would have done anything to be a witch, sorcerer, or seer of the hidden. A pastime his Indian-born mother did not appreciate.

“Devid, why? This is all bad. You need to find a nice girl, get married, have children. I want to be a grandmother.” Dev pictured his mother’s face as her lips mouthed words. He would sit in a state of catatonia while she spouted off such sentiments. Like this morning, at breakfast.

Cam snapped Dev out of his mental wanderings. “Dev, the moment you actually manage to harness a demon and have it do your bidding, I’ll concede to wearing discount clothing.” Cam cocked an eyebrow at Dev, who met his gaze. They both smirked. In no world, anywhere, would Cam ever resort to wearing anything so common.

This was the nature of their relationship. Cam was eternally bitchy, and Dev was perpetually spooky. The dynamic was weird, but the friendship worked for them.

“Come on,” Dev said, pulling Cam’s attention to the task at hand. “Do this with me.”

“What? Bitch, no.”

“Why not? What the hell have you got to lose?”

“Just, you know, for some crazy-ass reason you manage to pull off some kind of beast wrangling, I don’t want to be dragged into the depths of the pit by some shrieking harpy demon. Especially in this outfit. I’m not ready to go to hell looking like this.”

“That’s not a thing, Cam.” Dev shook his head at Cam with a ‘god, you don’t know anything!’ kind of look.

“How the hell would you know?”

“I know. Now get down here.”

“Ugh, all right fine. It’s not like any of this has ever worked before.” Cam slid off the bed and sat opposite Dev on the floor, cross-legged. “What exactly is this thing?”

“A summoning board.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that. What is it, though? Like, what’s it supposed to do?” Cam asked, “And what are all those squiggly things?” Cam pointed toward the script patterning the outside of the board, his finger getting far too close to the board for Dev’s comfort.

“Shh. It’s nothing.” Dev slapped his hand away. “It’s only there to make the board look all gothic and shit.”

“Mmmhmm. K. So…what am I supposed to do? Run around the thing three times and chant ‘Bloody Mary’?” Cam asked.

“Oh my god, you’re such an idiot. It’s for summoning your greatest desires,” Dev instructed.

“Really? So, like, a big monster boyfriend?” Cam winked, cupped his own crotch, gave the bulge a couple of squeezes.

“I just…I can’t with you right now. Is that all you think about?”

“Nope. Bastard better be good-looking too. And rich. It takes money to keep me looking this good.” Cam ran his hands over his designer-clad torso and overpriced jeans.

“I swear to god, I don’t know why I bother with you.”

“Because you love me.”

“Sadly, yes. I do. Why? I have no idea.” Dev got up and rummaged around his room.

“Okay, so what the hell are you doing now?”

“We need things.”

“This is getting complicated.”

“Shush.”

Dev rushed around his room, gathering the trinkets they needed to do their first summons. And as fast as a desperate person would sell their soul to the devil, he returned, handing Cam a marker and three post-it notes.

“And…?”

“Write down three wishes.”

“Damn, are we summoning a genie?”

“It’s called a Djinn, and no, we are not…at least, I don’t think. Why do you make everything a challenge? Write something down.” Dev prodded Cam with the end of his marker.

“Good lord, all right. Fine.”

Cam got busy scratching stuff down. 

Dev on the other hand had already planned exactlywhat he was going to wish for. 

This was it.

The last straw.

The last time any of this hocus pocus would be attempted.

Dev had promised himself if this didn’t work, he would give all of it up, for good. Dev believed in magic. He would have staked his soul on a bargain with the devil.

So, this was it. And with all the heart-wrenching, utter loneliness and consuming desire for the Shadow Realm to be real, he wrote down his three wishes:

I want to have a supernatural power.

I want to see the Shadow Realm and be part of it.

I want my friends and family to respect me for my knowledge of the occult.

Dev folded the tiny notes in half and tossed them into the copper cauldron he had placed in the center of the board. The instructions on the back of the box were specific. All wishes were to be written on paper, personalized with blood, and placed into the inner ring. Finally, the paper had to be burnt in order to release theenergy.

Cam gave Dev his pieces of paper.

“No! Not like that, geez.” Dev tossed them back at Cam.

Cam threw his hands up in the air. “What the hell?”

“Fold them in half like I did and put them in the copper bowl.”

“Fine.” Cam did as instructed. “There, happy?”

“Not quite. Give me your hand.” 

“Why?”

“For the love of…” Dev grabbed Cam’s hand and deftly managed to stab a finger with a thumbtack.

“What the ever-loving fuck, dude?” Cam ripped his hand away and grabbed his finger. A small pinprick of blood welled up to the skin’s surface. He brought the finger up to his mouth.

“Don’t you dare!” Dev pointed at Cam.

Cam stopped and glared at Dev.

“Squeeze your finger so the blood drips onto your papers, but get it in the bowl, don’t get blood on my floor.” Dev pricked his own finger and held his digit over the bowl.

Three drops of blood fell into the copper cauldron. Followed thereafter by three of Cam’s.

Dev lit a match and pitched the flaming splinter into the bowl, pushing the post-it notes around so they caught fire.

“Go open the window,” Dev instructed Cam.

“Your mother will kill you if you burn the house down.”

“Okay, now come read this with me.” Dev gestured for Cam to sit beside him.

“I swear if anything happens…” Cam warned while he rearranged himself next to Dev, inspecting his finger and sucking at the miniscule wound.

“It will. I know it will.”

“You always say that.” Cam rolled his eyes and sighed with exasperation.

“Come on, read this.”

“Ugh, fine.”

And together, they read the incantation off of the instruction sheet that came with the board.

“With passion of heart, I seek to find, those Desires I want. Wishes to be mine.”

“That’s it?” Cam’s head tilted to one side in disbelief.

“That’s it.” Dev shrugged.

They waited for a few heartbeats. Loud ones that thudded against the inside of Dev’s chest.

“Okay, I’m bored now. And my finger hurts. You owe me a macchiato.” Cam grabbed his designer boots and slid them on. “You coming?”

Dev gazed into the cauldron as the last of the papers charred and blackened and tiny wisps of smoke curled up toward him and dissipated.

Nothing had happened.

“Come on,” Dev flinched as Cam threw an arm around his shoulder and squeezed him in a one armed bro hug. “I’ll buy.”

“Yeah, all right.”

As the two left the room, Dev eased the door closed using both hands on the doorknob while silently praying to any god or being who happened to be listening.

“Please hear me,” he whispered.

***

Inside the empty room, behind the closed door, the summoning board’s squiggly writing around the outside edges that was ‘only there to make the board look all gothic and shit’ shifted. As if the doodles and lines were dancing or marching. 

The entire border rotated, widdershins, and the inner ring of the board spun in the opposite directions, changing the symbols.

The wind blew in through the open window and the curtain fluttered in the breeze.






J.P. Jackson is an award-winning author of dark urban fantasy, paranormal, and even paranormal romance stories, but regardless of the genre, they always feature LGBTQ main characters.
J.P. works as an IT analyst in health care during the day, where if cornered he'd confess to casting spells to ensure clinicians actually use the electronic medical charting system he configures and implements.
At night, the writing happens, where demons, witches and shapeshifters congregate around the kitchen table and general chaos ensues. His husband of 22 years has very firmly put his foot down on any further wraith summonings and regularly lines the doorway with iron shavings and salt crystals. Imps are most definitely not house-trainable. Ghosts appear at the most inopportune times, and the Fae are known for regular visits where a glass of wine is exchanged for a good ole story or two. Although the husband doesn't know it, Canela and Jalisco, the two Chihuahuas, are in cahoots with the spell casting.
J.P.'s other hobbies include hybridizing African Violets (thanks to grandma), extensive traveling and believe it or not, knitting.



Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

$20 Amazon GiftCard - 1 winner
ebook of Summoned – 3 winners!



BLOG TOUR & GIVEAWAY ~ This Is for Tonight by Jessica Patrick


This Is for Tonight
Jessica Patrick
Published by: Swoon Reads
Publication date: May 4th 2021
Genres: Contemporary, Young Adult

When Andi attends a music festival with one goal in mind – capture an interview with a famous band so she can pay for college – she gets more than she bargained for in this YA novel about family ties and finding your own way.

Andi Kennedy needs to make money for college, and fast. But her little YouTube crafting channel, while fun, isn’t exactly a money maker. So she’s heading to the world-famous Cabazon Valley Music and Arts Festival with a goal – film a video that will launch her channel into popularity and turn it into a legit money making venture, even if it means selling out her creative vision.

Instead, she finds obnoxious Jay Bankar, the annoyingly hot host of a popular prank channel who is the actual worst. Andi hates everything Jay stands for, which makes the undeniable connection she feels with him really freaking inconvenient. Soon she finds herself competing with Jay for an interview with the festival’s headlining band, which could be the key to turning her little channel directly into college tuition. But she’s starting to discover that there is more to Jay than his jerky on-screen persona, and she has to decide what’s more important – winning, or giving a second chance to a guy who couldn’t be more wrong for her.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play


I sip the cold brew and poke absently at apps on my phone as I plan out how to steer Mom away asking about all things video without being too obvious about it. One of my pokes opens up my camera roll, bringing the photo of me and the guy from last night to full size on my screen. 

And that’s when my world comes crashing down around me. 

The guy. I recognize him. 

The guy from across the way is Jay Bankar. 

I know Jay Bankar. And I absolutely hate him. 

My stomach bottoms out, and I lower myself to the ground. 

“Jay Bankar,” I mumble. 

“What?” Jordan is starting the cooking on our camp stove, but he turns around to see what I’m doing. “Why are you flopped on the floor? Get up.” 

“Jay Bankar,” I say, louder this time. 

“Ew. What about him? Is he here?” Jordan has heard so many of my Jay Bankar rants he can practically recite them himself. 

“Jay Bankar is the guy.” 

“What guy?” 

“The tent guy. The guy from last night.” 

Before I have a chance to process any of this, a head pokes around the opening of our campsite.

“Does last night’s bacon offer still stand?” 

And now, in the light of day, with a clear head, it’s so, so obvious. I’ve seen that face, the smooth, brown skin, the wide, white smile, the messy black hair so many times online, I’m shocked I didn’t recognize it immediately. And his voice. His voice practically triggers my vomit reflex when I hear it through my phone speaker. I can’t believe I had such a long conversation with him without barfing.

He was just so unexpected. I mean, aside from the fact that it was pretty dark, he was completely out of context, like seeing your math teacher at a house party or something. But even more than that, it was because he was actually nice. Jay Bankar is many things, but nice has never, ever been one of them. The guy is a walking, talking, flaming turd. 

Oh my God, Jay Bankar is here and just asked me a question, and I am on the ground freaking out. Must get up. Must get rid of him. “Oh, sorry. We don’t have any more bacon.” My voice is icy cold, and I don’t even feel bad when I see his smile fall. 

“Oh, he says. “That’s fine, I was just—” 

“Thanks again for the tent and all, but . . .” I shrug. I don’t have a plan for finishing that sentence, but I want Jay Bankar off my campsite immediately. “My brother is back now, so you don’t have to check up on me or anything. You can go, actually.” 

Jay Bankar’s face twists up in confusion. “Oh. I thought . . .” He looks from me, who has let my long hair fall across the side of my face like a curtain, blocking all access, to Jordan, who is aggressively avoiding eye contact by putting all his focus on the Egg Beaters he’s pouring into our little skillet. “I guess I was wrong. Have a good day. Maybe I’ll see you around.” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his shorts and turns toward his campsite. 

“Probably not,” I say to his back. 

“Damn, girl,” Jordan says. “Where did that come from? I’ve never heard you be so bitchy before in my life.” 

He’s right. I’m not that bitchy ever. I even won “Most Likely to Help a Chicken Cross the Road” in eighth grade. But this is Jay Bankar. He tricked me into thinking he was a decent person, and now he wants to eat my bacon. Nope nope nope.


Author Bio:

JESSICA PATRICK runs a high school library by day, writes YA romance by night, and pets as many dogs as possible in between. She lives in Southern California with her cute family and she has an MFA from Spalding University, an annual passport to Disneyland, and about 75 tabs open on her internet browser. She is the author of This is for Tonight.

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