Tuesday, December 16, 2014

90 Minutes With A Killer Inspired My Thriller. - A Guest Post by Joan Ellis

90 Minutes With A Killer Inspired My Thriller. 
- A Guest Post by Joan Ellis
 

A train journey could have cost me my life. It certainly changed it. I sat opposite a self-confessed murderer for an hour and a half travelling from London to Portsmouth.
Initially, he was charming, even lifting my case onto the luggage rack but as time went on it I suspected there was more to this good looking guy than met the eye. He made
a couple of odd remarks, things that just didn't add up. Then, he said he hadn't seen his kids in a while. When I asked why he told me he'd been in prison. I hoped it was for
some petty offence. When he boasted he had slit a man''s throat, I froze. People have asked why I didn't move seats. Because I was frightened he would come after me.
For all I knew he could've had a knife. So, I decided the best thing to do was to try and keep him calm and not antagonise him.
During that time, I was terrified, horrified and repulsed but never bored. What better start to a novel?
To my relief, he got up to leave the train at the next stop. Then, he did something I didn't expect. He asked me run away with him. Obviously, I refused. But, it got me
thinking. What kind of woman would want to be with a man like him? Would would make someone decide they needed a killer in their life?
The opening chapter is pretty much word for word what happened to me. The rest? Pure fiction. I hope.




http://fireandicebooktours.wordpress.com/2014/11/16/psychological-thriller-book-tour-giveaway-the-killing-of-mummys-boy-by-joan-ellis-121014-1715/


Virtual Book Tour Dates: 12/10/14 – 1/7/15
Genres: Psychological Thriller
Tour Promo: This book will be $.99 during the tour!





Blurb:
‘I slit someone’s throat,’ the man told the woman on the 4.20 from Waterloo to Portsmouth.’
Two strangers. One shared interest. Murder. Ben slit a man’s throat. Sandra’s son, Carl witnessed a murder.
With Carl on a Witness Protection Programme, Sandra fled London to live anonymously in a remote village on the Isle of Wight where she becomes increasingly isolated and vulnerable. Terrorised by an unknown stalker, the police are unable to help and she turns to Ben. What makes a respectable, middle-aged woman want to sleep with a killer? More importantly, can the relationship give her the love she craves and help Ben find redemption?
Hate, fear and lies boil over in a page-turner with love at its black heart.
 
Excerpt:
Locking the door and flicking on the radio, she relaxed as the DJ’s silky smooth voice seemed to single her out from his millions of listeners and speak to her alone. It was an old broadcasting trick but she didn’t care. The mindless chatter was soothing and suited her just fine.

Do you ever get that?’ asked the DJ. ‘You’re walking along the street and someone says ‘Hi ya, mate. How’s it going?’ And you’re thinking ‘Do I know you? Or are you just some weirdo?’ Ha, ha. If that’s happened to you, tell us. Text the word, ‘stranger’ to …’

She quickly turned it off, her mind jolting back to the man on the train. What if he came back? What if he was here, hiding inside the cottage?

Sandra froze, her heart pounding against her ribs.

Dove Cottage, Shorwell, PO30 5AB,’ she could hear herself saying on the train. ‘‘B’ for bravo. ‘B’ for bravo.’

‘‘More like ‘S’ for ‘stupid’,’ she thought bitterly.

Cautiously, she crept upstairs and flung open her bedroom door causing the handle to bang against the wall. From the doorway, she could see the whole of the room, even under the bed. Nothing. Her wardrobe was on the landing. She pulled the door and it swung open. Her scant collection of clothes hung like husks on the rail.

As she approached the bathroom a wild face greeted her. She leapt back terrified before realising she was looking at her own reflection. Breathing heavily, she headed back downstairs and into the kitchen.

She sat at the table and told herself to calm down, there was nothing to worry about, the man had played his sick little joke, game over. Gradually, her heartbeat slowed.


She decided a cup of tea would soothe her nerves and she reached into the fridge for the milk. Spotting half a loaf of bread, she put two slices into the toaster before opening the cupboard where she kept her special plate.

Carl had spotted it in a junk shop in Brighton on one of their many excursions and had asked to have his pocket money early so he could buy it. It was one of the few gifts he had given her over the years and she treasured it.

It was not in its usual place but it was always in the cupboard above the sink, behind the casserole dish. She glanced across at the shelves and work surfaces. No sign of it. Frantically, she tried to recall when she had last used it. It had been just before she had left for London. Her cheese sandwich had tasted all the better for being eaten off such precious crockery. She remembered using the last of the washing-up liquid to wash it up. She checked the bin. Sure enough, there was the empty bottle.

As she turned back she saw it in the sink. She went over and picked it up. It was covered in crumbs and smeared with a dark, sticky substance. She sniffed it suspiciously. Marmite. She had bought a new jar recently but not used it. She opened the cupboard, found the pot and unscrewed the lid. Sure enough, the seal had been broken.

She clung to the edge of sink. He had been back to her house and this time he had been inside. He must have wanted her to know; just like before he made no attempt to cover his tracks.

How the hell had he got in? She was always so careful to lock up. She felt the vomit rise in her throat. She bolted upstairs and into the bathroom where she flung herself over the toilet. Looking down into the porcelain bowl, she was repulsed and shocked to see it was full of dark, foamy urine.

She knew it couldn’t possibly be hers. She had not used the lavatory that morning; she had peed in the shower.
 

Buy Links:
Amazon UK
Amazon 




About the Author:
Advertising copywriter, comedy writer, performer, lecturer – Joan Ellis has been them all. With a full-time job in a top London advertising agency and a new baby, she did what any right-minded woman would’ve done and set up a comedy club. She even appeared on the same bill as Jo Brand. Once.
A career highlight was casting a black and white moggie as Humphrey Bogart for her award-winning cat food commercial. Other great performers who brought her words to life include Penelope Keith and Harry Enfield.
As a lecturer, Joan taught comedian Noel Fielding all he knows about advertising before encouraging him to showcase his creative talents on a wider stage.
Working for The Press Association, she tutored Wordsworth’s
great-grandson in the art of copywriting: Buy a host of golden daffodils and get a blue one, free!
Suffering from swine flu and sweating like a pig, she moved from London to the Isle of Wight where she lives on cream teas with her beloved husband, daughter and two cats.
She recently launched her books at The Ventnor Fringe and the Isle of Wight Literary Festival.

 
Connect With The Author:
Website
Twitter

 
Giveaway:
Win an ebook copy of The Killing of Mummy’s Boy (ten winners, open worldwide) or a print & autographed copy of the book (one winner, UK residents only). This giveaway will run 12/10/14 – 1/7/15. Enter through Rafflecopter.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Some Information About KU All-Stars

Kindle's KU All-Stars is something that Amazon has started for authors that have their books enrolled in their Kindle Unlimited program. I've been following this since it started, as I was curious to see what authors thought about it. Basically, it's like a reward program, and the top 100 authors earn cash rewards.

Unfortunately, it doesn't seem like there is much information on how the top one hundred authors are selected. There are a lot of questions about this and not a lot of answers. For example, what happens if two or three authors tie for a spot? How does Amazon handle this? 

There are a lot of people that wonder why this program even started. If I had to guess, I would think it was started as an incentive to get authors to enroll. 

But a lot of bestselling authors that have tried out Kindle Unlimited say that they actually lost money while in the program. The payouts have seemed to be on a downward spiral for awhile now, so this would make sense. 

Until today I hadn't realized that there was a page. It doesn't look like all of the authors are displayed, though, not if there are supposed to be a hundred of them. If you'd like to check it out, you can by visiting this link

Historical Western Romance Spotlight & Giveaway: Smolder on a Slow Burn by Lynda J. Cox

http://fireandicebooktours.wordpress.com/2014/11/17/western-historical-romance-book-tour-giveaway-smolder-on-a-slow-burn-by-lynda-j-cox-12914-1615/


Virtual Book Tour Dates: 12/9/14 – 1/6/15
Genres: Western Historical Romance





Blurb:
When your life has been stolen from you and the man responsible wants you dead, where do you run? Who do you trust?
Allison Webster dreams of having an adventure like the characters in the books she loves. But there is no romance in being pursued by a man who wants her dead for educating the children of former slaves. Unlike the heroines she reads about she doesn’t have a trusty companion to rescue her…until she literally runs into A.J. Adams, a former Confederate cavalry officer. Now, she just has to convince A.J. he really is the honorable man and hero depicted in the dime novel she is reading.
When everything you fought for was stripped away, even your honor, what is left to fight for other than revenge?
Branded a “traitor” for more than ten years, scarred by harsh treatment in an inhumane prisoner of war camp, A.J. Adams wants revenge. Allison Webster’s arrival into his life provides the bait to destroy the men who murdered his wife and daughters and kidnapped his little brother. The men pursuing Allison are the very same men he has sworn to kill. Falling in love and admitting he might actually be a hero means surrendering his need for vengeance. Surrender is not part of A.J.’s battle strategy.



Excerpt:
A.J. watched her make her way from the boxcar with as much dignity as it appeared she could muster. The memory of that tiny waist in his hands and the slightness of her build had startled him. The barrier of that shapeless dark green sedge skirt vanished the moment his hands closed around her waist, and he could envision long, lithe limbs. He didn’t make it a habit to imagine any woman undressed, but this one knocked every bit of his equilibrium out from under him and he didn’t have the slightest idea why she did.
When she met his eyes, he’d been taken back. Slender, feathered brows lifted and eyes the color of melted chocolate widened—widened enough he was sure she saw all the way into the black abyss that was once his soul. Bright color flooded her cheeks when he told her to have a seat on the hay bale. Her slight Georgia drawl, hidden under layers of what sounded to be years of formal education, knifed into his chest.
He had watched her discreetly tuck several strands of walnut hair back under that ridiculous hat perched on her head. Realizing he had been staring at her, A.J. turned his back, letting the rapidly moving landscape occupy his gaze. She was lovely, he had to admit that. Walnut hair kissed with warm gold, high cheekbones that curved just enough to give her an elfin cast, a pert little nose, and the darkest chocolate eyes he’d ever seen combined into a rather alluring image. It had been a very long time since he had looked at a woman and not compared her to Cathy. He had sworn, as he knelt at Cathy’s grave that there would never be another. Now, a little slip of a thing had gotten in past his carefully constructed battlements and stirred something in him he could have sworn an oath to be long dead and buried beneath a live oak in Kentucky.
She was right, he was no gentleman. Sliding the door shut in her face hadn’t been the most gentlemanly thing he could have done, but he had long ago given up being anything that might even resemble a gentleman. He’d given that up sometime during his tenure in a veritable hell on earth called Camp Infernum. If he’d harbored hopes of regaining anything that came close to gallantry after watching men fight one another like animals for a scrap of moldy bread, all hope died on a warm spring afternoon when he collapsed to his knees at Clayborne at the graves of his wife and daughters and learned his younger brother had been taken by a band of roving deserters. A.J. knew his veneer of civility was just that—a veneer hiding a wounded, dangerous animal.

Buy Links:
Amazon
Wild Rose Press
Barnes and Noble 



About the Author:
Lynda J. Cox will tell anyone who will listen that she was born at least one hundred and fifty years too late, and most definitely in the wrong part of the country. She holds a master’s degree in English with a concentration in creative writing from Indiana State University after earning her BA from the same university as a non-traditional student. (Think being old enough to be mom to 90% of the students in her freshman cadre.) She’s kept busy with two spoiled rotten house cats, a 30 plus year old Arabian gelding who has been nicknamed “Lazarus” for his ability in the later years of his life to escape death, and quite a few champion collies. When she isn’t writing, she can be found on the road, travelling to the next dog show. She loves to chat about books, the writing life, and the insanity which is called a “dog show” and can be reached through her Facebook page.

Connect With The Author:
Facebook
Blog
Twitter
Website 

Giveaway:
Enter to win an ebook copy of Smolder on a Slow Burn! This giveaway will run 12/9/14 – 1/6/15. Open worldwide! Enter through Rafflecopter.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Thursday, December 11, 2014

African American Lit Spotlight & Giveaway: The Dread Owba Coo-Coo by M.C. Norris

http://fireandicebooktours.wordpress.com/2014/11/10/the-dread-owba-coo-coo/


Virtual Book Tour Dates: 12/8/14 – 1/5/15
Genres: Horror, Historical, African-American Lit
Release Date: 11/15/14
Available Free With Kindle Unlimited!






Blurb:
It’s a snapshot from the darkest chapter in human history. A crippled slave ship, dismasted in the heart of the Middle Passage, comes to resemble a hellish island where there is no escape from the suffocating heat, from the circling sharks, from each other. But there is something else in their midst. Something ancient. Something evil.
Based on real events from the slave trade era, this intelligent approach to the zombie origin pursues a fly-borne plague to its African roots through a series of letters, log entries and balanced narratives from European and African perspectives, to an ancient pact forged between a dying Vodu witch and Sakpata, the god of disease. The product of the dark bargain is a creature both beautiful and terrifying to behold, relying on bloodsucking insects and a booming slave trade to spread its bloodline overseas to the shores of its new homeland, an island known as Hayiti.

Excerpt:
Vincinte Madeira is escorted down to the Main Deck. They’ve moved a furnace down there, where a heifer is being butchered. Kettles of rendered fat boil and froth over their rims. Kneeling tanners rise and fall upon the hides like Mohammedians, scraping their fleshing blades with the regularity of lapping waves. Sailcloth is spread all around them, beneath heaps of boned flesh and innards. It looks as though a cow has exploded.
Vin-cin-tay!”
Madeira’s gaze climbs the walls to the Quarterdeck, where the gray-green corpses of those three unruly Negroes continue to sway from stretched necks, their bellies distended like wormy pups. They turn on their shoulders with the rhythm of the ship’s lilt and pitch, like a troupe of necrotic dancers depicted on some painting from the black plague era. As the Redlowe crests a wave, all three corpses leap from the wall to kick up their feet and clap their putrid hands.
Vin-ciiiin-taaaay!” High above, Joaquim waves from the Quarterdeck.
Guardsmen seize Madeira by his upper arms and drag him on his heels past the furnace of boiling fat. There, they bind his wrists and ankles to the great stump of their fractured masthead. Joaquim disappears from the sky’s edge. Below, an accordion player picks his way through the piles of boned meat, eyes closed, pumping away at his queer instrument as if he were strolling the starlit boardwalks of some Venetian canal.
For Madeira, the odor of rendered fat is richly nostalgic. The brothel where his mother worked served a chowder of shellfish and beef marrow. On the days the marrow was rendered, the brownish bovine essence would permeate every fiber of his clothing. He would smell it for days after the last bowl had been consumed. It was disconcerting to consider that although the last scrap of the bygone beast had been ingested, its spiritual presence lingered still on the longcoat of the son of a whore.
Joaquim appears atop the ladder, following the Slavemaster, Duarte Davila, down to the Main Deck. Madeira closes his eyes and breathes savory steam in and out through his nose. His heart rate quickens. Spanish spurs ring over the braying accordion, and ever more sharply as the Slaver draws near. The bootsteps stop, a short distance away. Madeira opens his eyes.
Smiling, Joaquim slips through the steam behind Davila. He creeps past the row of bobbing tanners toward the pile of boned meat. The Slaver withdraws a cat-o-nine from his sash. He presses the coils of leather to his nose, inhaling with such ecstatic force as to suggest the braids contained the antidote to a malady with which he was afflicted. The whip’s tails, black as the heart of Africa, glisten in his fist like a nest of vipers. No doubt, he tanned this leather from the hide of some unusual beast, for nothing about this scourge of humanity be affected with the ordinary. Unlike the ephemeral odor of a bull rendered to chowder, the spirit of whatever black-skinned creature was immortalized into the coils of the Slaver’s whip should outlast the remains of its screaming victims. Woven into its oily braids are ivory stars of intricate design, likely whittled from the same bone from which the weapon’s handle was fashioned. ‘Tis about the girth of a human femur.
Davila lowers the writhing leather mass into a kettle of boiling lard. Displaced foam spills over the side. Yellowish ropes of fatty froth hiss and spit as they slither down the scalding metal. Before they ever reach the deck, they have evaporated into pearly trails. Davila lifts the flails from the pot and lowers them to a pile of Guinea salt at his feet. He rolls them back and forth until each sting is wholly encrusted. Davila’s spurs sing with every step. His whip drags behind him like a cord of salted slugs. “There was once a guardsman at Axim who allowed himself to be overtaken by the Negroes, moments before the dungeon was locked-down for the night. I found what was left of him the next morning. What remained of that man had to be collected in a scuttle tub. That was fascinating to me, what enraged men are capable of doing to another with their bare hands. I salted and preserved those discorporate parts for the purpose of making a keen point in the training of that gentleman’s replacement. So, tell me your story, Pirate. How did you manage to survive your night below deck with them?”
Panting as though physically exerted, Madeira maps the barber surgeon’s scarred face. One of Davila’s eyes, he just notices, is distinctly hazel, while the other is a murky green. This is no man standing before him. It cannot be. It is a daemon that barely manages to retain its human form. “They presumed me an officer. I was protected by a few who believed that to save my life would assure their freedom.”
And which charter would that be?”
Sir?”
Which Negro race did shelter you from the rest?”
“’Twas a mixed lot, Sir. Not any one Race that I could tell.”
Davila dipped his chin. “And what of the missing pistol?”
A pistol, Sir?”
Aye. You know of it. Copper fluting with a scrimshaw grip. A finer weapon than I ever did own. Where is it?”
We were separated in the skirmish … it was dark, Sir.”
Davila takes three steps back and turns, all too naturally, into a flogging stance. “Negroes are not subtle creatures, pirate. Whoever stole that pistol would’ve trumpeted it all throughout the hold, leaping about and chanting, he’d have been. Aye, if there’s one thing I know well, pirate, it’s Negroes.”
The Slaver intends to whip him to death. Biting down on the insides of his cheeks, Madeira beseeches the Heavens. Stinging droplets roll into his eyes. “If this is about the journal, then dispose of it. Throw it overboard.”
Eh?”
I know you have it, and you’ve every right to be disappointed with the content. Destroy it. Destroy it and let me work for you, earn my keep. You’re desperate for able hands.”
I’ve no airthly idea what you mean, pirate.” The Slaver grins. “I’ve acquired no journal.” With a delicate flip of his wrist, Davila unfurls nine braids across the timbers.
 
Buy Link:
Amazon



About the Author:
M.C. Norris is an Active HWA member, whose first four novels, all published by Severed Press, are slated for release in fall of 2014: Deep Devotion (09/01/14), Krengel & the Krampusz (11/01/14), The Dread Owba Coo-Coo (11/15/14), and Nod (TBA).  His nineteen short stories have appeared in numerous anthologies, magazines and e-zines, including: Withersin, Wrong World DVD, Brainharvest Magazine, Pseudopod, Malicious Deviance, and Dead Bait.  M.C. Norris also won 5th in Chizine/Leisure Books 13th Annual Short Story Contest.

Connect With The Author:
Website
Blog
Facebook
Amazon Author Page

Giveaway:
Enter to win a $25 Amazon gift card! Open WW, 12/8/14 – 1/5/15. Enter through Rafflecopter.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Wednesday, December 10, 2014

Multicultural Contemporary Romance Spotlight & Giveaway - Need You Now (Martha's Way Series, #2) by Mika Jolie

http://fireandicebooktours.wordpress.com/2014/11/13/need-you-now/


Virtual Book Tour Dates: 12/3/14 – 12/31/14
Genres: Multicultural Contemporary Romance







Blurb:
Elementary school teacher Liliana Serrano has never been one to let others determine her future. Whether it’s her pack of three overly protective brothers or her Puerto-Rican, American heritage, she stands on her own. Which is exactly how she entered her arrangement with Adam Aquilani. The hot formula one driver is aloof, detached and not interested in relationship. After a cheating fiancĂ©, no strings attached sex was just what she needed.
Except one year later, they’re still hooking up and things aren’t so clear cut anymore. Especially when a surprise pregnancy enters the picture.
Adam is determined to marry Lily and raise their child as a family. But Lily refuses to settle for anything less than love.
As the two go on a journey of discovering, secrets are revealed, testing the strength of their connection.
Can they learn not to give the past the power to define their future?
Need You Now is book two of the Martha’s Way Series.




Excerpt:
Lily reached the doorway when Adam caught her hands. The whole thing happened too fast. His fingers laced in hers, chests pressing against one another. With his weight he directed her to the wall, raised her arms up over her head, and caged her in. Not one to cower, she looked straight into his eyes.

“You don’t love me,” she whispered.
His jaw tightened, but he made no attempt to dispute otherwise. Her heart scattered in tiny little pieces. She hadn’t expected a declaration of undying love, but the reality still stung.
“I need love, Adam. That mad, passionate love. It should be experienced at least once in a lifetime.” She examined his stoic expression, and her posture sagged. The fact she was forever bonded to a man who didn’t love her smacked her in the face. It shouldn’t. She already knew that. But…still, reality sucked. “That’s not who we are.”

Buy Links:
Secret Cravings Publishing
Amazon
Smashwords
All Romance Ebooks
iBooks
Barnes and Noble



About the Author:
Author of contemporary sensual, empowered romance, with fun relatable characters. Member of Secret Cravings Publishing. I live in New Jersey with what I often refer to as my Happy Chaos or my three men, which comprise of my husband and our two energizer bunnies. When I do have time to breathe, I like to run, hike with my camera at hand, and work on my gardening and knitting skills.
For latest news on my current WIP, interviews with fellow authors, or just to see what I’m up to, check out my blog: http://mikajolie.com/ While there, sign up for my newsletter for latest news and giveaways. No spamming. 

I’m also on Twitter, Goodreads, Facebook, and Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8294433
Mika_Jolie Twitter: https://twitter.com/MikaJolie1
Email: Mikajolie2@gmail.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mikajolie.author?ref=hl
Join me in my journey.

Books I’ve written:
Martha’s Way Series
The Scale – Book One
Need You Now – Book Two
 
Giveaway:
Enter to win a $25 Amazon gift card and an autographed print copy of The Scale by Mika Jolie (one winner)! Open worldwide, this giveaway will run 12/3/14 – 12/31/14. Enter through Rafflecopter.


a Rafflecopter giveaway

Paranormal Erotica Spotlight & Giveaway - Until Death Do Us Part by James Fuller

http://fireandicebooktours.wordpress.com/2014/11/16/paranormal-erotic-book-tour-giveaway-until-death-do-us-part-by-james-fuller-12214-123014/


Virtual Book Tour Dates: 12/2/14-12/30/14
Genres: Paranormal Erotica





Blurb:
What was supposed to be a lustful night of passion and sinful, sexual thrill turned bloody in a way he could never have imagined, revealing a predator that plagued the night and feasted on the living…
Fuelled by the bleakest of hope and the haunting images of the past, Conner cleaves a path of retribution through the midnight world of vampires; dangling his morals and life in the balance to retain what little he has left of his former self, praying each step will bring him closer to finding ‘her’ and the one that took everything from him…

Excerpt:
Conner sat in a dimly lit corner of the small, run-down hotel room, the old and faded, seventies floral-papered walls casting shadows across his rugged, unshaven features. He inhaled deeply from his cigarette and for a moment, the sensation of warm, flavoured smoke rolling down into his lungs was all he cared about – all else ceased to be for that briefest instant of time. He wished that moment could last forever, but it wouldn’t. He placed the cigarette in the grimy, glass ashtray on the cheap, scratched up pinewood table beside him and exhaled two streams of thick smoke from his nostrils.
The wooden chair made a creaking noise, as his weight shifted back and he pulled a worn photograph from his coat pocket. He stared down at it for a long time, lost in a better place. His fingers slowly ran over the creases and torn edges that had marred it. It was the last good picture he had left and he knew he should have it framed and keep it safe from the damage it would be forced to endure on his person, but he couldn’t – he needed it close to him.
He returned the picture and glanced over at the two naked women in bed – their slender, tanned bodies still sleek with the sweat of lovemaking. He chided himself with a shake of his head – no, he would not try and fool himself, what they had done had not been ‘lovemaking’ – it had been sex, plain and simple. An act of lustful desires with a hidden purpose on both sides, yet he would not deny the pleasure he had taken from it.
He closed his eyes, taking another drag off his cigarette as flashes of their eager, firm bodies against his ran rampant through his mind; their exploring hands caressing not only the hardness of his body but the voluptuous curves of each other’s, willing to discover all the pleasures that could be had. He could still feel their hungry mouths upon him; silken lips tasting every forbidden place and trying to find more.


Buy Links:
Amazon
All Romance Ebooks
Amazon CA
Kobo
Smashwords



About the Author:
I am a 31 year old male, born in Canada BC, husband and father, and have been writing since I was about 14. But only seriously for the last 4 years. I write fantasy, dark fiction, horror, dark erotica and paranormal erotica. I pride myself on creating detailed visual worlds and plots that aren’t of the norm that will draw a reader in and leaving it impossible for them to know what happens next until it does. I create characters that are real, that have faults and flaws and make mistakes. I also pride myself on creating real ending not fairy tale ending. (I suck at bio’s about myself)

Connect With The Author:
Website
Facebook
Twitter 

Giveaway:
Enter to win one of three $40 Amazon gift cards. This giveaway is open to residents worldwide and is available for entry 12/2/14-12/30/14. Enter through Rafflecopter.

a Rafflecopter giveaway