Thursday, April 30, 2015

The Elements of a Forbidden Arts Series: Pyromancist by Charmaine Pauls



The elements of a forbidden arts series
The seven arts that were forbidden in the Middle Ages

How was the idea for a series titled Seven Forbidden Arts born? 

In the Middle Ages, seven arts were prohibited (artes magicae or artes prohibitae):
·       Pyromancy (Divination by fire)
·       Aeromancy (Divination by clouds, wind and other cosmological elements)
·       Hydromancy (Divination by water, ripples, color, ebb and flow)
·       Geomancy (Divination by interpreting patterns in tossed soil, rocks or sand)
·       Necromancy (Communication with the dead)
·       Chiromancy (Divination by the study of the palm of the hand)
·       Scapulimancy (Divination by using the scapulae or shoulder bones of an animal)


       At the time, the church forbid the practice of these arts because it was perceived as demonically inspired divinations. The bourgeoisie and nobility in the 15th and 16th centuries were fascinated with these arts because of the exotic charm that stemmed from their Arabic, Jewish, Romani and Egyptian sources. Confusion existed regarding the difference between superstition, occultism, pious ritual and scholarly knowledge, and intellectual and spiritual tensions erupted with the Early Modern witch hunts.

       The study of the occult arts remained widespread in the universities across Europe until the Disenchantment period of the 17th century. A time marked by witch trails, it was dangerous to be associated with witchcraft or sorcery, and most authors renounced the practice of what was then known as the ‘forbidden’ arts.

       These powers, or arts, inspired my present-day romance serial. In this new eight-book series (one book per art and a bonus book), the heroes and heroines don’t possess the supernatural power to tell the future by fire, air, water, earth, etc., but to control these elements. People with these genetically inherited ‘gifts’ have gone underground since the time it has been forbidden, and world governments still prohibit practicing this art in the present day. With the appearance of a powerful firestarter (pyromancist) in France, these gifted individuals start to resurface.

       Two forces are at play. Cain Jones is the commander of a taskforce against paranormal crime. A man simply known as Godfrey is trying to control the world by taking over communication and social media companies. Cain must stop Godfrey at all costs. In order to succeed in their missions, both teams make use of these unusual agents. A secret operation, Cain’s team is backed by governments from around the globe. To prevent public pandemonium, no one can know of the reawakening of these forbidden arts.

       As the team grows, mission after successful mission, Cain slowly uncovers the identity of the archenemy he has to destroy. The assignments take the team members on a journey from the magical forest of King Arthur in French Brittany, the oldest Franciscan monastery in Chile, the tropical beach of Costa Rica, rustic Pirate’s Island in Colombia, the Knysna elephant sanctuary in wild South Africa, the royal and the famous in the streets of London, England, and the red-light district of Amsterdam in the Netherlands, to the old-time Portuguese glory of Brazil. In different countries on different continents, unfold eight stories of incredible power, beautiful art and scorching emotions. In Book 1 we meet the all-powerful master of flames. And we all know what happens when you play with fire…



Artists’ impression of the seven forbidden arts: http://the-7-forbidden-arts.deviantart.com



Pyromancist
Seven Forbidden Arts
Book 1
Charmaine Pauls

Genre: Paranormal Erotic Romance

Publisher: Satin Romance,
an imprint of Mélange Books

Date of Publication: 19 March 2015

ISBN: 978-1680460339
ASIN: B00UFW1CDW

Number of pages: 252
Word Count: 101 000

Cover Artist: Caroline Andrus

Book Description:

When you play with fire, you get burned.

At the same time as mysterious fires commence to rage through Clelia d’Ambois’ home village in Brittany, France, she starts sleepwalking. Daughter of a Japanese orphan, Clelia’s heritage is riddled with dark secrets that threaten anyone she loves. In a recurring nightmare she sees Josselin, the haunted man who abandoned their village nine years earlier, come for her, but she doesn’t know why. All she knows is that she has to run. As fast as she can.

Leader of a paranormal crime taskforce, Josselin de Arradon is called back to his hometown with a mission–find and kill the firestarter responsible for Larmor-Baden’s blazing destruction. Sensing that Clelia is the key to solving the crime, Josselin kidnaps her to use her as bait. The battle doesn’t turn out quite as he expected. Nothing could have prepared him for the truth, or the depth of his desire for his prisoner.

This is Book 1 of the Seven Forbidden Arts series, but also reads as a stand-alone.
This book contains adult content with explicit language and consummated love scenes. Suited for an audience of 18+.

Available at    Amazon    BN   Satin Romance    Smashwords    Lulu

Excerpt:

Josselin had only spoken to her once. It was on a summer day after school. She had wandered to the dense forest at the back of the schoolyard because she knew that was where she would find him. She stood behind a tree and watched him–studied him–the movement of his hand as he smoked a forbidden cigarette, the manner in which he pulled his fingers through his dark hair, and the way he laughed loudly into his gang of friends, even if his eyes cried, or blazed.
            That day, however, he wasn’t with his friends. He was with a girl. Her name was Thiphaine and she was the most popular girl in school. She was blonde and slim and beautiful with blue eyes and red painted fingernails. Clelia watched from her hiding place as Josselin slowly backed Thiphaine up until her body pressed against the trunk of the witch tree. It was a thuja occidentalis but the townsfolk had baptized it so because of its twisted and crippled branches. The setting was eerie for a romantic adventure, and yet, it suited Josselin. He seemed right at home, while Thiphaine looked around nervously. His hand went to her cheek, his palm huge and dark and rough against the porcelain paleness of Thiphaine’s face, while his other hand slipped under her blouse. His gray eyes looked like melted steel when he lowered his head.  
            His shoulder-length black hair fell forward when he pressed his lips to Thiphaine’s and he moved his hand from her cheek to brush it back behind his ear. Clelia remembered the deliberate movement of his jaw, the way the muscles dimpled in his cheek, the hand under Thiphaine’s blouse, all the while maintaining his composure while Thiphaine came undone under his caress. The beautiful girl made low moaning sounds. Her knees buckled, but Josselin, without breaking the kiss, grabbed her waist, pulling her so tightly into him that her back arched, keeping her up with his arm while he made her weak with his touch and his tongue.
            Watching them ignited both yearning and pain inside of Clelia. The hurt she felt speared her heart. The aching in her soul was suddenly greater than the heat in her pores and on her cheeks, but she couldn’t tear her stare away from the forbidden sight. It was Iwig, a boy from her class, who broke the painful spell when he discovered her behind the tree.
            “What have we here?” he said.
            His eyes darted to the distance where Josselin and Thiphaine were embracing. He knew what she had been doing. He was a tall, blond boy with a strong build, and Clelia disliked him for his habit of hunting abandoned cats with his pellet gun.
            “A peeping tom,” he said, taking a step toward her.
            When she tried to back away, he grabbed her long braid and tugged it painfully, causing her to yelp.
            “Not so fast, witch.” He grabbed her arm and hauled her so that she stumbled into him. “You like to watch, don’t you?” He grinned. “How about a taste of the real thing?”
            She opened her mouth to scream, but he had already brought his down and kissed her so hard that his teeth split her lower lip. In reflex her free hand shot up, aiming for his cheek, and collided with its target. The force of the blow shot Iwig’s head back and froze him in his action, but only for a second, before Clelia saw his arm lift. Not able to free herself from his grip, she cowered instinctively, but instead of his fist coming down on her, another pair of arms grabbed Iwig by his shoulders and flung him to the ground.
            When she looked up, she stared into the face of Josselin, and what she saw was frightening. His features were twisted into a terrifying expression, and before she could say anything, Josselin bent down and lifted Iwig by his jacket lapels. Iwig’s legs dangled, flapping like fish on soil, while his arms flayed in the air as if swatting flies. Josselin let go of one side of the jacket, his fist arching and hooking under Iwig’s chin, while at the same time unknotting his other hand from the fabric of the jacket. The impact sent Iwig flying through the air. When he hit the ground, she could hear the loud thump as the air was knocked from his lungs. Josselin moved forward, his arms away from his body, his fingers flexing, his shoulders pushed forward, until he stood wide-legged over the submissive body of Iwig. Iwig lifted his hands in front of his face, mumbling pleas for mercy.
            “If you ever touch a girl in that way again, I’ll hang you from a tree under a pack of wild boars and watch them eat you from your feet up to your useless dick, until they rip your stomach open and your insides fall out and you beg me to die,” Josselin said.
            He spoke very softly, but the woods had suddenly gone quiet. His voice all but echoed in the absence of the sound of birds and wind. From the corner of her eye, Clelia noticed Thiphaine who stood to the side, hugging herself.
            “And if you ever lift your hand to a woman again, I’ll cut off your balls and make you eat them and then I’ll feed you to the boars. Do you understand?”
            Iwig tried to scurry away on his elbows, but Josselin stepped on his jacket.
            “I asked if you understand.”
            “Yes. Yes,” Iwig said. He had started crying.
            When Josselin lifted his boot, Iwig scrambled to his feet. He didn’t look at Clelia before he ran down the path in the direction of the school. Only then did Josselin turn to her. She shook from head to toe while Josselin studied her quietly. After a moment he walked to her, took her chin in his hand and tilted her head.
            “You’re bleeding,” he said, trailing his thumb over her lower lip.
            And then he did something that shocked her wildly. He brought his thumb to his lips, slowly, his gray eyes holding hers prisoner while he slipped his finger into his mouth and licked it clean, tasting her blood.
            Clelia couldn’t move. She stood still, unable to speak or blink.
            He took a white handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiped it over her mouth before pressing it into her hand.
            “He won’t bother you again, but you’d better go home.”
            She only nodded. He was much taller than her, so that she had to crane her neck to look up at him. He shifted and then his face was obscured by the shadows with the sun at his back. She remembered wondering if he had forgotten about Thiphaine, who still stood to one side, silently observing, her eyes wide. Clelia looked from Thiphaine to Josselin. When life finally returned to her legs and she started to hurry down the path, he said, “What’s your name, girl?”
            She stopped. “Cle … Cle…” Her teeth chattered.
            He frowned. “Take a deep breath. You’re in shock.”
            She did as he instructed, and found her jaw relax slightly.
            “That’s better. Now, tell me again.”
            “Clelia.”
            His lips twitched. “The witch?”
            She flinched. That was what her classmates called her.
            He didn’t show any kind of emotion. Only his smile became a little bit more pronounced. “How old are you?”
            “Fourteen,” she said through parched lips.
            “You’re too young to wander alone in the woods.”
            When he said that, his voice became soft and dark again, like when he had spoken to Iwig, and without sparing either of the lovers another glance, Clelia sprinted home and curled into a ball on her bed with his bloody handkerchief in her hand.




About the Author:

Charmaine Pauls was born in Bloemfontein, South Africa. She obtained a degree in Communication at the University of Potchestroom, and followed a diverse career path in journalism, public relations, advertising, communications, photography, graphic design, and brand marketing. Her writing has always been an integral part of her professions.

After relocating to France with her French husband, she fulfilled her passion to write creatively full-time. Charmaine has published six novels since 2011, as well as several short stories and articles.

When she is not writing, she likes to travel, read, and rescue cats. Charmaine currently lives in Chile with her husband and children. Their household is a linguistic mélange of Afrikaans, English, French and Spanish.

Read more about Charmaine’s romance novels and psychological short stories

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Duke by Candace Blevins






Duke
Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club
Book 1  
Candace Blevins

Genre: Motorcycle Club, Paranormal Romance

Publisher:  Excessica

Date of Publication:  April 24, 2015

Word Count:  105,000 words

Cover Artist:  Syneca Featherstone

Book Description:

Book one of the Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club...

Duke’s friend’s little sister had been off limits when they were growing up, but Gen is all woman now, with the sexiest curves ever. However, bringing her into his life now, as the new Rolling Thunder chapter establishes itself as a powerhouse in Chattanooga, would put her in danger.

Gen has no idea she already knows one of the bikers until she arrives to show them some downtown properties they’re looking to buy.

They live in different worlds, and despite being a successful businesswoman, Gen has led a sheltered life. She wears couture, while Duke wears Levi jeans and his MC colors on a black leather vest. Not to mention, he's a werewolf and she's a blissfully unaware human. Can two people, so different, possibly work?

Warning: Graphic sex, and a controlling, drop-dead gorgeous werewolf who happens to be president of a motorcycle club.

This book is also part of the Kirsten O’Shea Universe,
but reading the other series in Kirsten’s Universe is not  necessary in order to enjoy the Motorcycle Club books

Other Books by Candace

Only Human series (Urban Fantasy)

* Only Human (Feb 20, 2015)
* Book two - title tba (late 2015)


Chattanooga Supernaturals (Paranormal Romance)

* The Dragon King (winter 2015)
* Riding the Storm (spring 2015)
* Acceptable Risk (June 2015)


Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club

* Duke (spring 2015)


Safeword Series

* Safeword: Rainbow
* Safeword: Davenport
* Safewords: Davenport and Chiffon
* Safeword: Quinacridone
* Safeword: Matte
* Safeword: Matte - In Training
* No Safeword: Matte - The Honeymoon
* No Safeword: Matte - Happily Ever After
* Safeword: Arabesque









About the Author:

Candace Blevins lives with her husband of 17 years and their two daughters. When not working or driving kids all over the place she can be found reading, writing, meditating, or swimming.

Candace writes BDSM  Romance, Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, and a smokin’ hot Motorcycle Club series.

Her Safeword Series gives us characters who happen to have some extreme kinks. Relationships can be difficult enough without throwing power exchange into the mix, and her books show characters who care enough about each other to fight to make the relationship work. Each book in the Safeword series highlights a couple with a different BDSM issue to resolve. Books are standalone and can be read in any order, with the exception of the two Davenport books, and the four Matte books.

Her urban fantasy series, Only Human, gives us a world where weredragons, werewolves, werelions, three different species of vampires, as well as a variety of other mythological beings exist.

Candace's paranormal romance series, The Chattanooga Supernaturals, is a sister series to the Only Human series, and gives some secondary characters their happily ever after.

You can visit Candace on the web at candaceblevins.com and feel free to friend her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/candacesblevins  and Goodreads at www.goodreads.com/CandaceBlevins .

You can also join www.facebook.com/groups/CandacesKinksters  to get sneak peeks into what she's writing now, images that inspire her, and the occasional juicy blurb.







Newsletter signup -- http://eepurl.com/W_Cij

Feel free to join Candace’s Kinksters -- https://www.facebook.com/groups/CandacesKinksters/

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Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Interview Chaos Broken by Rebekah Turner





Chaos Broken
Chronicles of Applecross
Book 3
Rebekah Turner

Genre: Fantasy

Publisher: Escape Publishing
Date of Publication: 22 April 2015

ISBN: 9780857992413
ASIN: B00TQIML3G

Number of pages: 225
Word Count: 80,000

Book Description:

The final installment of the Chronicles of Applecross trilogy finds Lora left in charge – and quickly losing control.

Lora Blackgoat is in charge. But after losing a lucrative contract, it looks like she’s also running her beloved benefactor's mercenary company into the ground while he's away on holidays. Her problems double when she discovers Roman, exiled nephilim warrior and current confusing love interest, is brokering a dangerous peace agreement.

When a new enemy emerges from across the ocean, threatening to tear the city apart, Lora finds herself taking on new and surprising allies, finally acknowledging the prophecy that haunts her and using it to her advantage.

Available at    Amazon     iTunes   ARe   Google Play

Excerpt Chapter 1:

Headmistress Poulter hadn’t changed. She scared the crap out of me when I was ten and she scared the crap out of me now, even though I was a mature, genuine grown up and sitting in Blackgoat Watch’s big boss chair. Poulter’s body was all sharp angles under a shapeless dress, her iron-grey hair scraped into a tight bun. I was trying to pay attention, I was, but Poulter had been talking for a good ten minutes about her missing cat, Blinky, and I was finding it hard to focus.
Not for the first time I mentally cursed Gideon, my benefactor and boss of Blackgoat Watch, for ducking out of the city with my adoptive mother, Orella. They’d left Harken a month ago on a holiday to the sunny continent of Eral and Gideon had left me in charge of Blackgoat’s stable of Runners for hire. This meant I had to meet clients and smile and be nice. Which was hard. Especially when Poulter kept referring to Blinky as her missing pussy. Harder still was not fidgeting when Poulter fixed me with that look, the one that suggested she could see every sin I’d ever committed. And if I was being honest, there’d been a few since I’d last seen her at the age of 14, when I’d decided my academic career was over and my Runner career was about to start.
Reuben Crowhurst, a fellow Runner, sat beside Poulter wearing a suitably concerned expression that I suspected he’d been practising. In fact, his support for me in my temporary role as boss had been so efficient, I was suspicious that he was going to hit me up for a raise while Gideon was out of the country. He was also a griorwolf, not that he readily advertised the fact he could go all beast-monster if he lost control of himself.
‘Of course we understand how difficult this is,’ Crowhurst was saying. ‘Not only was he your pet, but the school mascot.’ He smiled at Poulter, giving her the full, charming Reuben Crowhurst treatment. I had to admit, he looked pretty smart today. His blond hair was brushed neatly, beard freshly trimmed, and he wore crisp charcoal pants and a snappy, velvet-trimmed vest. A ruby earring winked from one ear and he smelled of a very manly cologne.
One corner of my mouth curled up. If Crowhurst thought he could hit me up for a raise while Gideon was away, he was going to get an education. I tried to focus on the conversation, mentally calculating how much I could bill for searching for a cat. Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to be enough to see us out of the financial hole Blackgoat had recently fallen into, which wasn’t really my fault.
‘Lora Blackgoat. Are you paying attention?’ Poulter’s voice was a cane-crack across my thoughts and I gave a guilty jump.
‘Ah…yes. Pussy. I mean, cat. Missing. Blinky.’ I glanced down at my notes, which consisted of curly doodles and a couple of hex symbols. ‘That about sums it up, right?’
‘I can tell she’s not listening to a word I’ve said.’ Poulter shifted her glare to Crowhurst.
‘She always used to get that look, like nothing else mattered but her.’
‘I’m listening, I’m listening,’ I protested. ‘I’ll send someone over first thing tomorrow to start asking around. See if the neighbours have seen him.’
Poulter’s eyebrows pinched. ‘I’d rather you saw to this personally, Lora.’
Crowhurst gave me a significant look, which I knew meant I was supposed to agree with the client.
‘Of course,’ I said through clenched teeth. ‘I’ll look after this personally, Lady Poulter. First thing tomorrow.’
‘You couldn’t start today?’
‘Unfortunately, I’ve got another appointment this afternoon. But I can assure you, I’ll be there tomorrow, very first thing.’ I made a show of checking my notes. ‘Can you tell me if there’s anyone who’d want to do your pussy mischief?’ I kept my face straight, but a flush crept up Crowhurst’s neck. He shot me a warning look.
Poulter sniffed. ‘There have been a few troublesome students of late. One in particular. His name was Kalin and he led a rotten pack of them. I expelled him last term for stabbing a teacher with a pencil.’
‘What’s Kalin’s family name?’ I asked.
‘He had none. He was from the orphanage.’
‘Was?’
‘I heard he disappeared last month. I don’t know the particulars.’
‘Rest assured, we’ll have answers for you soon enough about Blinky.’ Crowhurst stood, letting me know this would probably be a good place to end the interview. I stood as well, grateful that Crowhurst was around. If I had to be honest, he’d really stepped up and helped smooth over my rough edges when talking to clients. Maybe the bastard did deserve a raise.
‘Thank you for calling Blackgoat Watch, Lady Poulter,’ I said.
Poulter’s eyes narrowed. ‘Did Gideon really leave you in charge of this organisation?’
My chest burned and I realised I was holding my breath, trying to dazzle her with my dimpled smile. But Poulter didn’t look particularly charmed by it, so I exhaled and rubbed my cheeks with a scowl. ‘Yes. I was left in charge. Why?’
Poulter glanced at Crowhurst. ‘You are helping her, aren’t you?’
Crowhurst gave Poulter a noncommittal shrug, then manoeuvred her gracefully out of the office, filling the air with easy small talk. I slumped back into Gideon’s chair, the leather squeaking. Opening the top drawer, I pulled out Gideon’s vodka stash and picked a glass that wasn’t too dirty. I poured myself half a shot. I was still staring at it when Crowhurst walked back in and frowned at the glass. I hesitated briefly before topping it up.
‘That doesn’t look like a great idea,’ Crowhurst said.
My eyes rose to his meet his steady gaze. ‘Were we in the same meeting? Come on. A missing cat?’
Crowhurst sat with a sigh. ‘Business is slow. We have to take any job we can for now.’
‘Business is more than slow.’ I nudged the full shot with a finger, watching the clear liquid slop over the edges. Blackgoat Watch had recently been slapped with a bill for back taxes. Gideon hadn’t been too worried, since I’d been offered a profitable contract by the Order of Guides, a militant organisation associated with the powerful Church of Higher Path. The Order had mistakenly taken my white hair to mean I was a Witch Hunter, despite my assurances that I wasn’t. I couldn’t sniff out a witch or warlock if my life depended on it. But the Grigori priest who ran the Order in Harken still wanted me to work with their Regulators for a season in a Witch Hunter capacity, hunting heretics, keeping the peace and generally poo-pooing all things fun.
With the earnings of my contract, Blackgoat should have been fine. But two things had happened in the last year to change that. Firstly, raiding pirates had affected sea trade routes and it was bad enough that the city was dragged into a recession. And the second reason? My contract with the Order was terminated after only three weeks. I was cited as being uncontrollable. Unpredictable. Not a team player. Of course, if anyone was to blame for this mess it was Gideon for green-lighting the idea in the first place. As if I was going to fit in with a militant religious order. Don’t wear skirts. Don’t wear heels. Don’t wear your hair down. Don’t show up drunk. All those rules had made my head hurt. Still, it had been quite unfair when everyone suspected me of starting the fire in the sacred library.
‘What do you think we should do?’ I pushed the shot glass aside. My moment of weakness had passed and now I just wanted to sulk in a dark room.
‘We’ll do our job,’ Crowhurst said. ‘Because we’re professionals.’
A crashing sound came from the ground floor, where Blackgoat’s reception and kitchen were located, and muffled shouts sounded through the floorboards. Crowhurst and I exchanged a startled glance, then sprinted for the door. Crowhurst yanked a dagger from his sleeve and I grabbed my goat-headed duelling cane. Downstairs, we followed the noise to the back courtyard, where a group of Runners shouted encouragement at two grappling men.
‘Break it up!’
My shout was drowned in a chorus of cheers and no one paid me any attention. Crowhurst tried to pull the brawling men apart and copped a jarring knock to his chin for his trouble. The Runners cheered louder and Crowhurst retreated, rubbing his jaw with a pained expression. I clicked the button on my arm-rig and a three-shot derringer snapped from my sleeve. I lifted an arm and fired once in the air, the sharp crack bouncing off the courtyard’s tall brick walls. The Runners fell silent and the fighting men drew apart, chests heaving and clothes dishevelled.
‘Everybody out.’ I shoved the gun back up my sleeve, then pointed at the two Runners who had been fighting. ‘Everyone but you two.’
No one argued. Stories about me had circulated around the city, to the point that they had entered a kind of urban legend status. Stories about the female Witch Hunter who could wield Outland weapons, guns that were a vast improvement on the flintlocks and wheellocks that operated within The Weald. Whatever mojo kept the realm hidden from the modern world also prevented modern machinery from working here. City philosophers had often cited this as a ‘state of grace’ and a sign of The Weald’s purity. I took it as a sign the city philosophers didn’t get out much. The fact that I’d never had trouble with modern machinery stalling inside The Weald was a little secret I’d tried to keep to myself. Being able to blend into the background was what kept you alive in the Runner industry.
The two fighters glared at each other, fists clenched by their sides. One was a slender man called Bone, while the other looked like a shaved gorilla and called himself Grubber. From his giant size I was pretty sure he was otherkin, but he hid it well enough I never asked. After all, it was common enough for otherkin to hide their unusual features, a result of their mixed blood of mystical races, especially with the prejudice that still existed in the city against them.
Crowhurst loitered, obviously thinking I wanted him to stay. Like I couldn’t bust balls on my own.
I served up a stern frown, channelling my inner Gideon. ‘What in hellfires is wrong with you two? What if a client had walked in and seen this pathetic excuse for professionalism?’
Grubber scowled. ‘He insulted my wife.’
‘What’d he say?’ I asked
‘He said my wife is so fat, I’d have to roll twice to get off her.’
Bone rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I meant it nicely. She’s just a lot of woman.’
I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. I was at a loss as to how to proceed, but when in doubt, I knew to start yelling at someone. I fixed Bone with a glare and raised my voice.
‘What’s wrong with you, making jokes about a co-worker’s wife?’
‘You know she’s sensitive about her weight,’ Grubber muttered.
‘Easy now.’ Crowhurst stepped forward, hands raised. ‘I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding. I’m sure she’s a real lovely woman.’
‘You making fun?’ Grubber bristled at him. ‘You got something to say about my wife as well?’
‘Nobody wants to crack any more jokes about your wife,’ I told Grubber. ‘And this isn’t the place for you two to be fighting and breaking furniture.’ I stabbed a finger at Grubber.
‘Don’t be so sensitive.’ My finger shifted to Bone. ‘And you…keep your opinions to yourself. Now, both of you get the hell out of my sight.’
Grubber and Bone scowled at me, but I just planted my hands on my hips and glowered back. Just because they looked tough didn’t mean I couldn’t plant my velvet brocade boots between their legs and fell them like trees. Plus, right now I paid the bills and that pretty much ensured I got my way. Grubber and Bone righted the chairs and shuffled out of the courtyard, glaring at each other. Crowhurst bought his hands together in a slow clap.
‘Well done, boss. Saying things like you mean it. You’ll have this place ship-shape before Gideon gets back, no problems.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ I sighed. ‘Except the best job we have on the books is searching for my old headmistress’s missing cat.’
‘You mean, her pussy?’ Crowhurst shook his head. ‘I nearly swallowed my tongue when you asked who’d want to do it mischief. You shouldn’t make fun of our clients.’
I snorted. ‘She did bring out the juvenile in me. But if we don’t pick up some jobs soon, Gideon will be coming back to a bankrupt company. Maybe I should turn this place into a bar and dice joint.’
‘You’d just drink and gamble the profits away,’ Crowhurst pointed out. ‘Maybe you should write and let Gideon know how bad things have gotten.’
‘No way.’ I righted a chair and sat down. My bad leg ached from the sudden rush downstairs and I ran a practised hand over the knotted muscles. A horse accident at sixteen had put me in a hospital with a fractured pelvis and cracked spine. My recovery had been long and painful, leaving me with a limp and an incurable fear of horses.
‘I can handle this,’ I said. ‘I told Gideon I’d pick up new work after losing the Order contract and I can’t let him down.’
Crowhurst folded his arms and gave me a slightly bemused smile. ‘You mind telling me how you lost the contract, exactly? You never did tell anyone, and Gideon wouldn’t say.’
‘It happened. Let’s leave it at that. But it really wasn’t my fault.’
‘I heard it was because you slept with a Grigori priest.’
‘Ewww.’ I make a gagging noise. ‘Really?’
‘Did it have anything to do with that big fire they had in their library?’
‘Just let it go,’ I snapped.
‘Whatever you say, boss.’
Tension rode up my neck and I rubbed it with a groan. ‘I really screwed things up.’
‘I’m sure you tried your hardest.’
I didn’t answer, because a small part of me wondered if I really did try hard enough. The fire had been an accident, but it had also been in a long list of infractions I’d committed while contracting with the Order. Fraternising with darkcraft users. Not adhering to the dress code. Illegal consumption of alcohol while on duty. Sacrilegious games of dice with the cooks inside the Order compound. The list was crowded. It had been a busy three weeks and I probably hadn’t been that rebellious since I was at school. Gideon had always said I had a problem with authority. Fortunately, his own vices were worse than mine, so we always got along just fine.
Crowhurst cleared his throat. I realised he was working up to saying something, but he looked worried about how I’d react.
‘What is it?’ I asked. ‘If you’ve got an idea, spit it out.’
He scratched his close cropped beard. ‘Someone approached me with a proposition. Initially I told them there was no way you’d be interested.’ He shrugged. ‘But now, seeing as we’ve got our backs to the wall, maybe you’ll consider it.’
‘What kind of proposition and from who?’ I eyed him suspiciously.
‘From whom,’ Crowhurst corrected absently. ‘And let me get more details. Make sure the money’s worth it.’
‘Sounds like something I don’t want to know about.’ I rolled my shoulders, trying to disperse my building tension. ‘So when you want to talk about it, bring beer to cushion the blow.’
In the distance, the city clock rang out to announce mid-afternoon and I knew had to get moving if I wanted to reach my destination in the Outlands that night. It wasn’t a paying job, but rather a chance to see Roman, an exiled nephilim warrior I was sort of involved with. Sort of. Gideon and Orella hadn’t been happy with my role in sneaking Roman to the Outlands, where he could recover from the madness some nephilim were cursed with. They were equally displeased with me shooting out every chance I got to see him.
‘I’ve got to go,’ I told Crowhurst. ‘I have that meeting tonight I told you about.’
His face darkened. ‘I should go with you.’
‘I don’t need a babysitter, thanks,’ I said. ‘And I wouldn’t go if it wasn’t important.’
Crowhurst made a disgusted sound. ‘Meeting up with your ex-Regulator lover boy isn’t more important than sticking around to keep Blackgoat running.’
‘I’ll only be gone the night. And it’s not just to see Roman. There’s an important sit-down happening and I was asked to attend.’
‘What kind of important sit-down?’ Crowhurst asked, eyeing me suspiciously.
I threw my hands up. ‘Just relax, will you? I told you, I’ll be back here tomorrow morning, bright and early to look for this freaking cat.’
‘Fine. But if you’re not here, I’m coming to get you.’
‘I can take care of myself.’ I stood and grabbed my cane. ‘I’m not kidding. And this job you mentioned? By all means, look into it. I’m desperate enough to try anything.’

A sly look slid over Crowhurst’s face. ‘I won’t forget you said that.’

About the Author:

Rebekah lives in sunny Queensland, Australia. An avid writer since she could scrawl on her bedroom walls, she has progressed from rainbow unicorn tales to stories of dark fantasy with lashings of romance and a sprinkling of horror.

Her vices include in-depth critiques of B grade action and horror movies and buying stationery she doesn’t need.




Twitter: @RbkahTurner





Guest Blog and Kindle Giveaway: Cookies for Courting by Amber Kell







Cookies for Courting
Tales of the Curious Cookbook
Book 4

Amber Kell



Publisher: Dreamspinner Press



Release Date: April 22, 2015

Genre: M/M Contemporary



Book Description:


After his sister’s death, businessman Marshall Hunter gains custody of his niece. Unused to children, Marshall struggles to connect with her. In an effort to make her more comfortable in her new home, he hires professional muralist Pace Barlow to personalize her room.

Pace is intrigued by his tiny client, and even more interested in her handsome uncle, but Pace isn’t certain he’s ready for the commitment of an instant family.

When Marshall decides to move for the sake of his niece, will he be able to keep his relationship with his young artist, or will he have to give up love to become a good father for a lonely little girl?

The love baked into an old-fashioned recipe might bring the two men together–but some things take more than magical cookies to fix.


Each Book in Tales of The Curious Cookbook Can Be Read As a Standalone


Tales of the Curious Cookbook

It’s called comfort food for a reason.

Not much is known about the cookbook, except that years ago, the mysterious Granny B collected a set of magical recipes and wrote them down. Over the years, each book has been modified, corrected, added to, and passed down through the generations to accumulate its own unique history. The secrets behind these very special recipes are about to find their way into new hands and new lives, just when they’re needed the most.

Food created out of love casts a spell all its own, but Granny B’s recipes add a little something extra. This curious cookbook holds not only delicious food, but also the secrets of love, trust, and healing, and it’s about to work its magic once again.

About the Author:

Amber Kell has made a career out of daydreaming. It has been a lifelong habit she practices diligently as shown by her complete lack of focus on anything not related to her fantasy world building.

When she told her husband what she wanted to do with her life he told her to go have fun.

During those seconds she isn't writing she remembers she has children who humor her with games of 'what if' and let her drag them to foreign lands to gather inspiration. Her youngest confided in her that he wants to write because he longs for a website and an author name—two things apparently necessary to be a proper writer.

Despite her husband's insistence she doesn't drink enough to be a true literary genius she continues to spin stories of people falling happily in love and staying that way.

She is thwarted during the day by a traffic jam of cats on the stairway and a puppy who insists on walks, but she bravely perseveres.





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