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Showing posts with label authors at Evernight Publishing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label authors at Evernight Publishing. Show all posts

Monday, December 28, 2015

Release Day Blitz for Lucy Felthouse and Cupid


Out Now! Cupid by Lucy Felthouse






Blurb:

As a postman by day, and one of Santa’s reindeer on a single very special night, Cassius Cupid eats, sleeps, and breathes deliveries. He doesn’t mind, but sometimes wishes that someone would send him something more exciting than bills and junk mail.

One cold January morning, Cassius gets his wish. A young woman arrives with a parcel. Turns out it’s for his housemate – but Cassius doesn’t care. All he’s interested in is Carina – the beautiful female courier.
Has Cupid finally met his match?


Excerpt:
Cassius Cupid woke with a start, and then sat bolt upright in his bed. Shit, I’m going to be late! was his first thought.
Milliseconds later his brain switched on, and he remembered. He was on holiday. Flopping back onto the warm mattress and pillows with a contented sigh, he smiled. No work for fourteen whole days—it was going to be utter bliss. He stretched, relishing the feeling it created in his sleep-softened muscles. Ahhh…this is the life.
He knew he wouldn’t go back to sleep—hell, it was eight o’clock, which was practically the middle of the day for someone in his profession—so Cassius fell to thinking about how he was going to spend his day, not to mention the several others in front of him. God knew he deserved to relax and have some fun. He’d just emerged from the busiest part of his year, and he was more than ready to do some chilling out.
He enjoyed his job as a postman—he really did—but the Christmas period was a total killer. He idly wondered how many cards and presents he’d delivered over the past few weeks. It didn’t bear thinking about. Once you factored in the festive period itself, the weird few days between Christmas and New Year, and then the flurry of mail that got sent when everyone went back to work properly at the beginning of January, he’d racked up some serious deliveries. And that was before you even thought about his other job—which was for just one day a year, but was arguably more important than the other 364 put together.
Cassius—or Cupid, as he was known to his boss and colleagues in his second, but most important job—was not only a regular postman for the Royal Mail, but also a reindeer. For a single day of the year, Cassius had the supernatural power to transform into one of Santa’s faithful steeds and help pull that famous magical sleigh, delivering presents to excited children the world over.
Therefore, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Cassius really did eat, sleep and breathe deliveries, but not for the next fourteen days. All he planned to do was watch some TV, read some books, maybe go out hiking, meet some friends… basically anything that wasn’t delivering something to someone. Hey, he might even receive something through the post himself—preferably not the usual crap; bills and junk mail. He didn’t hold out much hope.
He lounged in bed for another ten minutes before realising he was lying there just for the sake of it. Being on holiday didn’t have to equal staying in bed all day—and certainly not for someone as active as him. He reached over to his bedside table, grabbed his glasses and put them on. Throwing off his thick duvet, he walked to his bedroom window and peeked out through the curtains, immediately glad of the effective central heating he and his housemate had forked out to have installed the previous year.
The outside world was covered in a thick layer of snow, and Cassius was mightily glad that he wasn’t out delivering letters and parcels. The stuff was treacherous enough without having to carry a heavy bag up and down driveways, paths, and pavements — most of which either hadn’t been cleared, or had been cleared badly, leaving incredibly slippery patches of ground for an unsuspecting postie to come across. God knows he’d gone down enough times, but, much to his relief, nobody had ever seen him do it. He’d always been relatively unharmed—excerpt for his pride, of course—and had been able to scramble back to his feet and carry on.
The eerie silence outside was broken by the rumble of an engine, and Cassius turned his head to look up the street—he lived in a cul-de-sac, so he knew that’s where the vehicle would come from—and watched as a delivery van made its way slowly and carefully down the road. He hoped the driver was sensible enough to try and steer over the thickest parts of the snow—the more people went over and over the same patches, packing it down, the more the road surface resembled an ice rink. And since the cul-de-sac was on a slight hill, it was easy enough to get stuck. He’d seen it so many times—even going outside one time last winter to suggest the driver go down to the bottom of the road, turn around and try reversing up the hill—an almost foolproof plan for vans with rear-wheel drive. He’d gotten a big thumbs-up for that suggestion as the driver finally got to the junction where the road became flat, and went on his merry way.
As the van drew closer to his house, he saw that the driver was a woman. That would explain her cautious driving—he’d never admit it to one of his drinking buddies, but women were far superior when it came to driving in adverse weather conditions. He even thought he’d seen some survey containing statistics that proved it.



Author Bio:
Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 140 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women's Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9




Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Welcome Krisit Jones and The Corpse Goddess Tour

Today, we have another special guest in the house. Welcome Kristi Jones!

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The Corpse Goddess
By Kristi Jones

Genre:Urban Fantasy

Publisher: Evernight Publishing
ASIN:B008EZXJ7E

Number of pages: 274
Word Count: 79,034

Blurb/Book Description:

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Party girl Meg Highbury wakes up the morning of her twenty-first birthday with one hell of a hangover – and a walking corpse in her apartment. Meg turns to her straight-laced neighbor Armando for help and together they discover that Meg is a Valkyrie.

What’s more, her first duty is to trade places with the corpse. But Meg is being sent to her Death Duty too soon. In a race against time, Meg frantically tries to find a loophole to her gruesome fate, but while Meg is determined to live whatever the cost, Armando's strict moral principles keep getting in the way of her plans for escape.

Can Meg walk the 'right' and narrow path, possibly sacrificing her mortal life, for love? And if she can, will Armando have the stomach to love a rotting corpse of a girl who is falling apart in more ways than one?

Evernight Publishing

Amazon



Author Bio:

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Kristi Jones spent her childhood exploring European castles, crumbling manor houses and ornate cathedrals, always looking for secret passages and hidden rooms. She holds a degree in European history and loves to throw ‘ordinary’ characters into extraordinary circumstances.

She currently lives in south Texas with her husband and two children, who inspire her daily. She is a member of the Writers’ League of Texas and Romance Writers of America. She loves old movies, being a Mom, the feel of paper in her hands and things that go bump in the night.

http://kristimjones.com/

http://authorkristijones.blogspot.com/

http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/15724882-the-corpse-goddesshttp://www.facebook.com/authorkristijones

https://twitter.com/authorkristi

EXCERPT #1 – 886 words

Tee picked up on the third call. “Wha’ is it?” Tee mumbled, obviously still half asleep.

“Tee. What. The. Hell?”

“Whosis?”

“It’s me, Meg. What the hell was in those drinks last night?”

“Drinks?” Tee coughed. Meg heard the flick of a lighter, the gentle grind of flint against steel, and waited for Tee to suck down her first drag of the day. “What’re you talking about?”

“The wine,” Meg said, her voice a screeching tire. She kept her eyes on the zombie. She stared at it for two reasons. One, to be ready in case it made any sudden moves. And two, hoping that it would suddenly vanish, and she would be free to get off this freak show carnival ride. “The Merlot we had last night. In the graveyard.”

“Oh, yeah. That. Why? What’s up? You want some more?”

“No,” Meg said, biting back a scream. “I do not want some more. I want to know why there is a freaking zombie standing in my apartment.”

“What happened to you last night? Danny was asking for you.”

“Tee, listen. Focus. I need to know. Did you put something special in the wine? A little birthday boost?”

Tee laughed. “Shit, Meg. Did you sleep with Danny?”

“What?”

“He is a lousy lay. No doubt. Thinks he’s in love with you, right?” She laughed again. “Kick his ass out, girl. He’s got no business staying over if you want your privacy.”

“I don’t want my goddamn privacy, Tee! I have a zombie in my apartment!” Meg screamed. The zombie jumped at the sound of her scream, as if a bolt of electricity had suddenly brought the thing to life.

“Stay back!” Meg said in a pleading tone of voice. Her heartbeat went into overdrive, and it set her teeth chattering painfully together.

“Whoa,” Tee said, obviously offended. “Don’t get all commando on me. Not my fault you fucked up and shagged a loser.”

The zombie jerked its right leg forward. Then the left.

“Oh, shit,” Meg whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks now. “Shit, it’s coming.”

“Meg, you really need to get a grip. Just say no, girl. Just because it’s coming, doesn’t mean you have to take it.”

“I don’t think I have any control over that, Tee,” Meg said, explosions of fear wracking her body.

“You want my advice? Sleep it off, Meg. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Tee, wait…”

Meg heard a click and then the dreaded dial tone. Her best friend, her only real friend, had disconnected the call.

The zombie jerked toward her, snapping and creaking with every step. Meg crab-walked backwards, scuttling off her bed and landed on the floor with a painful thud.

Her mind racing, playing catch-up with what her eyes were seeing, Meg tried to come up with a plan. She could shove the thing, hard enough to make it fall, maybe into a hundred pieces like one of those plastic toy snap skeletons her parents liked to give on birthdays. The next part of the plan was easy. Run. Run away as fast as her feet would carry her.

Her studio apartment was just under five hundred square feet. The front door was not more than a few paces away.

But what if the thing moved faster than she expected, like a lazy alligator suddenly darting for the kill?

She still had her phone in her hand, but whom could she call? Meg didn’t have many close friends, and you couldn’t call a casual acquaintance to help with a walking corpse, real or imagined.

The zombie walked around the bed, coming for her. The smell emanating from the thing was turning the wine in her stomach to vinegar, but Meg swallowed back the nausea. She threw back the comforter and clambered off the bed, keeping her eyes on the zombie. Pieces of rotting gray cloth and leaves fell to the floor.

It was coming closer, no more than three feet away now.

Meg’s heart ran a thumping rhythm inside her chest, and she broke out into a cold sweat that left her shivering on uncertain legs.

“Stay back,” she said, but the thing stepped closer, its bare knee bones peeking through the shredded trousers.

Panicked, Meg lunged forward, legs scrambling, stomach lurching. She thrust out her hands, making contact with the zombie.

The impact, when it came, was like a jacked-up haunted house gimmick. She felt her fingers plunge through the fabric of the thing's tattered white shirt as her hands sank into its rotting chest. The flesh beneath its shell of leathery skin was surprisingly gooey. Her hands sank into the gelatinous mess, and she had a fleeting thought that this was how people went crazy. She could feel her mind slipping away from the shocking reality of her predicament and into a deep, dark hole somewhere in the depths of her mind.

And then the rancid flesh embraced her, pulled her in. An intense burning triggered her hands to start shaking, and the sensation traveled up her arms. She screamed and tried to pull her hands away, but they stuck, super-glued to the monster. A bolt of blue ran across the zombie's chest. Meg screamed again, howling like a wounded animal, desperately trying to free herself from a nightmare she didn't quite believe in.

EXCERPT #2 – 812 words

“You don't know her, Armando.” A sticky, slimy substance filled Meg’s mouth. She swallowed, put a hand to her chest, willing herself not to throw up. She made her own skin crawl, thinking about what was going on inside her body. It took a minute, but the taste in her mouth dissipated. She went on. “She's the only person who could have sent the book. There isn't anyone else in my life, don't you get that? She wanted me to read it and call up this, this, thing. And I hate her for it.”

And the dam broke. She couldn’t fight the tears. Her shoulders heaved, and she sank back down onto the bed, surrendering to the tears and the anguish and the pain. She sobbed in great wracking jerks and heaves. A small inner voice muttered, “get it under control, girl, you're making a fool of yourself”, but the emotions were too strong.

Armando sat beside her, his hand on her back. Meg focused on the weight of his hand, the warmth and the life of it. She closed her eyes and focused all her senses on that hand. She pictured it in her mind. She wondered if he tasted like salt. She held onto the image of Armando's hand, flushed with blood and warm in the sun, until all thoughts of rot and death receded.

“It’s okay, Meg. It’ll be okay,” Armando said. He removed his hand, but remained seated beside her.

“It isn’t fair, you know,” Meg said, keeping her eyes closed. “I haven’t done anything. I’ve wasted so much time, partying and stuff. Funny thing is, I used to look at you and think you were wasting your life.”

“Yeah, I kinda knew that.”

“I should have been studying and learning. Maybe if I’d been studying, been focused on school, I never would have gone to the cemetery.”

“I don’t know about that. It was your twenty-first birthday. I didn’t spend my twenty-first birthday studying.”

It was Meg’s turn to arch an eyebrow. “You didn’t?”

“Of course not. Contrary to what you might think, Meg, I do have a social life. It just doesn’t involve drugs and gallons of alcohol.”

Meg bristled at this, but decided to let it pass. He was right, she supposed, but it didn’t make it any less embarrassing.

“Anyway, curiosity isn’t something you can cure with schoolwork.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it isn’t necessarily a bad thing that you like to push the envelope.”

“Maybe,” Meg said. She wasn’t sure what Armando was trying to say, but she knew he was trying to make her feel better about calling up her own death buddy.

“Besides, you’ve had lots of experiences. I’m pretty sure you’ve done tons of things I haven’t done.”

“That’s the kicker, Armando,” Meg said, turning to face him. “I haven’t. I haven’t done anything but drink and laugh at stupid jokes. I’ve gotten drunk and high and puked in my kitchen sink, but that’s not exactly a bucket list. I’ve never loved anybody. I’ve never gone sky diving or driven a race car. Christ, the worst part is, I’m not even good at being a party girl. I haven’t jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge or gone bungee jumping.”

“We don’t live anywhere near the Brooklyn Bridge.”

“That’s not the point. I’m just saying I haven’t lived yet.” Meg pointed at the corpse in the room. “I’m about to turn into moldy cheese, and I haven’t lived yet. A Valkyrie, whatever the fuck that is, is supposed to get one lifetime right? Well, doesn’t a lifetime include certain things? Marriage, kids, adventures.”

“You want kids?”

“I don't know. Probably not. But I'd like the chance to decide.”

“Right. Makes sense.”

He was looking uncomfortable with Meg’s talk of kids and marriage. Armando, who appeared completely at ease with bodily fluids, farts and personal belief systems, was acting like the typical commitment-phobe.

“Don’t worry, Armando. I’m not asking you to marry me or have kids with me. I’m just saying, I think I deserve all that, you know?”

Armando nodded, but his eyes were unfocused. He was thinking of something else.

Meg shifted away. Her stomach was roiling again, and she was afraid she might fart. The stench of Cousin Ed clearly still bothered him, and suddenly she didn’t want to disgust Armando. She realized with a sort of dawning wonder that she wanted him to like her.

She could feel the heat of his leg against hers, but she kept her eyes on the floor. Her shoes were off, and she noticed that her toenails were turning blue. Fighting off another eruption of the despicable tears, she thought about asking him to get her a drink or something – anything to lessen the tension between them – when the bedroom door clicked open. Meg and Armando broke apart like startled lovers.

The Corpse Goddess Music Play List

Changes by David Bowie
All This and Heaven Too by Florence and the Machine
Monsters by Matchbook Romance
When We Were Young by The Killers
Sweet Child of Mine by Guns N Roses
99 Problems by Hugo
Demons by Imagine Dragons
Ain't No Grave by Johnny Cash
Dead! by My Chemical Romance
Carry Me Down by Demon Hunter
Gravedigger by Willie Nelson
Ride of the Valkyries by Richard Wagner
Everybody's Changing by Keane


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Welcome to Destiny Blaine's Online Journal

Welcome to Destiny Blaine's Online Journal
"An Award Winning Bestselling International E-book and Paperback Author, Destiny Blaine and her pseudonyms top the charts at Amazon, Bookstrand, Barnes and Noble, ARE, Mobipocket, and other retailers online and off. Scroll down for a list of available titles, works in progress, and coming soon dates for debut titles.”

Author Bio

An award-winning, international bestselling erotic romance author, Destiny Blaine writes under several pen names. She lives in East Tennessee and spends a lot of time in Connecticut and Virginia, where her granddoll resides.