Publisher: Staccato Publishing
Blitz Host: Lady Amber's Tours
Aphrodite despises Aries and when Zeus proposes a contest, the prize being expulsion of her enemy from Olympus, Aphrodite cannot resist. The catch: should Aries prevail it is Aphrodite who must leave her home. Risks aside, she cannot refuse the possibility of a future without her former lover. The challenge: two mortals must fall in love. It is simple. However, the players could not be more ill-suited. Poetry, a free spirited artist and Adrian, a defense attorney would not normally choose one another. But when gods interfere anything is possible.
If I were the pretty-boy offspring of a prissy, naïve love-goddess-whore where would I be?
To her left were more businesses: a dental office, nail salon, and a florist on the end. Her head throbbed with his presence. She remembered Hermes carrying his basket of roses, not to mention the golden logo seen around the world representing flower delivery bore a strong resemblance. Eureka. Some people never changed tactics. Predictability will get you killed, Hermes. Strife yanked the door open, nearly tearing it from the hinges. Chimes jangled in protest. A pair of scissors flew past her head. She heard the loud chunk as they embedded themselves in the wall.
“Is that so, Strife?” Hermes crouched behind the till. He’d recognized her as well, now he had her at a disadvantage.
“So will barging into a man’s domain when he knows you’re coming.”
“This ends here.” She pried the blades from the wooden frame with a tortured squeal. “You’ve interfered with my work long enough.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?” A small paring knife sliced the air, but Strife dodged before it could strike her left eye. “I am Ares’s son, after all.”
Strife snorted. She aimed the scissors for Hermes’ face but missed. “He donated his seed, nothing more. You are a disappointment to him. He won’t protect you from me.”
“I don’t need protection from you.” Hermes edged backward, and Strife made ready to strike. “You’re just his whipping-bitch underling, begging at his feet for scraps and cock. Ares only kept you because my mother had more respect for herself than to tolerate his abuse. “
Strife shrieked, vaulting onto the counter in a single leap. She perched like a gargoyle, hissing her rage as Hermes fled. She pounced on his back before he could escape.
“I’ll kill you,” Strings of spittle flew from Strife’s mouth. “I’m going to snap your neck.”
Donna Milward lives in Edmonton, Alberta in a tiny house with a huge yard. She’s been writing all her life, but decided to put writing on hold to get ‘a real job’ as a meat cutter and build a future with her beloved troll, Dan and her cats Freya, Sully, and Spartacus Jones. Twelve years later, an invitation to a Romance Writer’s Conference in Washington D.C. led not only to new friends and new knowledge, but to the inspiration to write again. Thoeba was completed the following year. Donna likes to mix her fascination with reincarnation and all things paranormal with her love of mythology in her work, and has even written her own myth ‘The Sacred Truth” (on earthtothoeba.blogspot.com) as the lore behind Thoeba and future novels to come. Donna enjoys fishing, gardening and canning. Despite these hobbies, she much prefers city life.
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Young Adult Paranormal
Publisher: Staccato Publishing
The day you die is meant to be the end, but for 18 year old Jordon Hastings, his death was only the beginning. In a dark and twisted world, lost spirits known as Reapers remain behind after death to help collect the spirits from the realm of the living. A new Reaper, Jordon struggles to accept his fate and lingers in the shadows of his mortal life. But when a demon wolf starts to live through his shadow, hunting his family and friends Jordon has no choice but to leave. As soon as he accepts his new role the truth behind the relationship between Reapers and Angelic Hunters is revealed. His loyalty is tested, making him choose between a corrupted God and a single Banished Spirit.
The sun was well set by the time I left school. It was a chilly night as the clouds above my head grew fat and heavy. Not wanting to dawdle, I heaved my bag up onto my shoulder and started to trot through the dense park. The route was covered mostly by shadow and over lapping trees but took half the time if I followed the bend through the suburban streets. And as I moved my foot onto the dirt path and into the body of the forest, I started to get this feeling. A sinking feeling. It tightened the muscles in my stomach, my arms felt stiff in the cold that my bones ached. I had walked this track a million times during my schooling days, and not once had I felt the icy touch of the wind move under my clothes. I had almost contemplated going back to the lit streets but my pride wouldn’t let me alter. There’s no way I’m getting afraid of the dark, I’m nearly a full grown man with a track record to put all others to shame. So I continued on. I nearly laughed at myself when I felt my spine straighten. Every whisper turned my head and every twig snap had my heart pounding. “Gees get a hold of yourself.” The sunken shadows that pressed into the ground started to get longer and more defined. Like a collection of moving silhouettes reaching across the dirt. They moved with just enough speed that I doubted myself. I was so focused on the shadows that a touch of warm breath flicked my neck and caused me to cringe. I spun around with an outstretched swing ready to strike... but there was nothing. The dry taste in my mouth made every inhale sound stained. Shallow and quick, was I panicking? Impossible. It’s just my imagination. I’ve gotten the idea stuck in my head and now I can’t seem to look past the possibility of make believe monsters. I rubbed my eyes and felt the tingle in my right eye start to burn. I pulled my sleeve up to wipe it clean when I saw a bulky mass shift to my left. It moved from behind one tree trunk to the other. I power walked forward feeling ridiculous when a low groan forced me to a stop. That was not imagined. It was not a groan from a dog, or a man or a wild boar. It carried with it a distinct cracking noise, like the crack of electricity. I glanced over my shoulder not sure what to expect. The forest was getting darker; the hand print of night had covered almost every touch of surface and smothered out the moonlight. Everything went quiet, unnaturally quiet that all I could hear was each breath whistle through my nose. I strained my eyes into the depths when the beast appeared. Something huge stepped out from the bulk of the trees just down the path from me. I couldn’t see much detail, just a slim canine head hovering a good two feet higher than my height, its eyes of silver shimmering with an unnatural glow. It was panting heavily, its body coated in black scales that melted with the rest of the dim bush. The panic hadn’t set in yet but I could feel the fear flooding behind my eyes. The creature then slowly started to step forward on all fours and I could hear the heavy crunch of its padded feet press into the dirt. It lowered its head so its shoulder blades arched upwards like pointed thorns. A touch of light crossed its face and caught the white shine of fangs. Its lips were curled back, letting another series of cracking hisses through. As it opened his jaws, a harsh smoky, silver glow seemed to be emulating from the core of its body, seeping out of its eyes and mouth like escaping smoke. It was dangerously foul, a creature that clearly did not belong to this world, let alone Whitehaven. I stepped backwards just as the beast jumped into a sprint straight towards me. It was fast. Really, really fast. I bolted as soon as it moved. It was to my left in moments, snapping its jaws. I stumbled away but it appeared again just seconds later, crouching in the bushes to my right and leaping upwards when I tried to scamper past. The forest groaned around me as my arms pumped and my legs flew me across the park. Every root that was slightly elevated from the ground hooked my shoes, tripping me up and slicing my speed in half. I didn’t stop. I didn’t stop even though I couldn’t see it pursuing me anymore. I didn’t stop even when I reached the exit and flew wildly into the streets. I didn’t even stop when I turned onto my driveway and body slammed into the front door, praying for it to be unlocked. I had dropped my bag but I don’t remember where. I ran in and slammed the door shut with a bang that shook the house. What the hell was that? I have never seen a dog that big before? I ran my hand across my forehead, blinking against the dimming shadows sprayed across the floors. Something wasn’t sitting right. I crunched my eyes closed and buried my face into my folded arms, scratching the back of my mind for answers. But every time all I could pull up was the nasty dream, before I woke in hospital. Was it even a dream…? Impossible! It had to be. Otherwise I would be a walking monster with leather bound skin and long gaping claws… wait a minute. My neck shot up. Wait… that thing. That creature that just chased through the forest, it had been in my nightmare as well. I recognised its bulky body and silver flaring eyes shredding through the shadows like a blade. I recognised the way its chest protruded out from its body as if it had worn its skeleton on the outside. The canine head tilting at the scent of my exhaling breath like it was searching for a hot meal. “You’re supposed to be dead…” “WHAT THE?” My back slammed into the door frame startled. There was a tall silhouette of a man towering over the top of me, hidden behind a curtain of black. No, he was literally wearing the shadows over his clothing; I could see the straining points from where the darkness fell unnaturally over him. “Come...” He held his arm out and I shook my head in refusal. “How the hell did you get into my house?! Who are you??” I jumped up immediately. The man was shorter than I was, but not by much. “Jordon – you must listen…” “How do you know my name? Get out of my house or I’m calling the cops!” He was concealed behind the darkness, the shadows keeping his form distorted and unclear. I turned back towards the front door where I wrenched it open only to have the wild animal prowling by my door step. This time it was a different beast, the head of a bull but the firm body of a lion. It snarled its teeth at me that I fell onto my back foot. The moment I hesitated the dark hooded man hooked his arm around my neck, muffling me into silence. I fell obediently into the darkness, feeling the man’s arms tighten and drag downwards through the floor and beyond the dirt. “It’s fine – you’re going to be okay.” Okay? How could I possibly be okay? But as long as he held his arms on me I was kept sedated. We fell weightlessly, like we were gliding through layers of soft smoke. My clothes raffled in our descent through the earth, but it had felt like I was just being suspended in the air and that the earth was the thing falling around me.
Self confessed chocaholic, Jacinta was born and raised in Melbourne Australia with her loving family of five. Even as a child Jacinta had an itch to write. Writing was the one constant hobby she clung to, also trying her hand at piano, flute, tennis, horseback riding and drama. Jacinta works full time in the family business and spends her afternoons either playing basketball, reading, writing or hanging out with friends. She is always happy to try something new; getting her real estate license, practicing ninjitshu, Zumba and parkour to name a few. For her future, Jacinta sees herself writing. It is a large part of her identity and something she hopes to continue. Aside from her love of stories she loves Japan and its unique and beautiful culture and history. From their delicious sushi dishes right down to their wooden sandals and kimonos. She is also a huge cat person and loves to snuggle up in front of the fire for a good movie or book. Her favorite genres are paranormal and fantasy but she also loves anything written by thriller writer, Stephen King.
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My demonic ghost
Deviant art Website
Sargent Justin Shaw returned from the war with what is left of his unit, though instead of being hailed as heroes, they are being sought as test subjects. Their last mission behind enemy lines to obtain a WMD ended with them exposed and on the run. Their goal is not only to destroy the weapon, but also the program being run by their own government. Justin and his men have sacrificed everything for their mission. Will it be enough? Samantha James, a girl whose father disappeared almost twenty years ago unwittingly holds the key. When her father returns bodies start to fall. Sam doesn't know who to trust. Both Justin and her father have their own agendas and either one of them could end up with her dead.
Sam felt her resolve waver when she parked her car and saw his black Accord parked up the block. Dreading the hurt she knew she was about to cause, Sam walked down the hall, keys in hand. So entirely in her own head was she, Sam was caught completely unaware as a meowing creature barreled into her legs. Reaching down, she scooped Bill up and held him tight as she craned her neck, trying in vain to see her doorway around the corner. Her skin tightened, bringing the hairs on her neck up in warning. When she reached her unit Sam saw how Bill had gotten out. The steel door stood ajar, the light from inside visible through the crack. Bill started struggling in her grasp. Believing she was holding him too tight Sam relaxed her arms, yet he continued to wriggle. “Stop it Bill,” she scolded sharply.Carefully, she pushed open the door and entered her apartment. The growling ball of fur in her grasp was having no part of it. Clawing at her with his sharp back claws, Bill took a few chunks out of her forearms as he finally leapt free of her, racing down the hall and out of sight. Sam didn’t give chase or even turn her head to see where he went. He wouldn’t go far, he never did on the rare occasion he got out. In a few minutes he would be beating at the door with his soft, declawed front paws. Her focus was on what had incited such panic in her even keel pet. Why was Bill so scared to go inside? He liked Paul. Even more unsettling was the feeling crawling down her spine. Something was very wrong. She could feel it. There was no sound or movement coming from inside. When Paul was over he always had the television turned on a game whether it was football, basketball, soccer, whatever. He always had to have background noise. Unlike Sam, he liked noise. “Paul?” Sam realized she was crouching. Telling herself she was being ridiculous, she forced herself to stand up, pushing the door open and peering inside. There was no answer. Maybe he was tired and had nodded off she told herself. It did nothing for the now painful gooseflesh covering her body. “Paul?” she called his name again, whispering it this time. He wasn’t in the living room or kitchen. She pushed a cabinet door closed with the back of one hand as she walked past. He had to have been here, she never left drawers or cabinets open. Glancing around, she noticed a piece of mail hanging over the edge of her sorter. What had he been doing in here, snooping? With considerably more effort, she forced her feet toward the bedroom, stepping over one of Bill’s toys lying in the middle of the floor. “Paul?” His name died on her lips as she walked past the open bathroom door and froze. Without knowing what she was doing, Sam drifted inside and stopped just inside the doorway. Her hand flew to her mouth too late to stop the scream. The hammering of her heart in her ears drowned out her ability to hear herself as she sank down to her knees and pulled her phone from her pocket. Sam didn’t hear anyone answer when she dialed 911. She pushed the buttons, waited a few seconds, and spoke. Her voice felt rough, jagged as she recited the necessary information for help to come. “This is Samantha James. I live at Pheasant Ridge apartments in West Bloomington, unit 309. My boyfriend is here. He’s dead.” She dropped the phone and heard nothing of the woman’s requests for more information.
HK Savage has been a voracious reader of anything she could get her hands on going back to the second Currently, HK is a mother, wife and black belt in Karate as well as an avid dressage rider. Her three dogs: a Doberman she uses for therapy dog work and two ancient Doxies keep her busy when she is not writing or working or whatever else. In addition to editing for the past ten years in advertising, HK has been an editor for several newsletters over the years; her favorite being for Heifer International where her ideas were put into effect and complimented by those on high. Currently her skills are being focused on clients in the writing world. Paranormal is her favorite genre and science fiction because both address the possibilities we have not yet realized and the darker things we have. Her favorite premise: “what if?” grade when she would set her alarm two hours early to read before school. Her passion for the written word has continued and flowed into writing going back nearly as far. Her books have fans in twenty countries on six continents with hopes of attracting attention on Antarctica if for no other reason than to check a box.
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