I Dream of Spaceships, Faeries, Vampires and Dragons.

Guest Post by Livia Quinn

My mother worked for NASA when I was a kid, so I met astronauts and dreamed about going to outer space. I’d sit in my over stuffed reading chair and devour Astronomy books, Tom Swift, and all the Justice Leaque heroes. So when I started writing it was only natural that my contemporary stories took on a paranormal twist.

When I read, I want to escape. And while I read all genres, the best escapes for me are those magical realms that can’t possibly exist—or can they. I mean, what if my boss is really a dragon? Or a vampire? Think about it, whether it’s fairy tales or vampires, shifters or zombies, light or dark; whether we call it paranormal, urban fantasy, or science fiction, it’s all the stuff of our fantasies. It takes us away from our real lives. It’s pure escape since we’re pretty sure that paranormal beings don’t exist. (Personally, I’d love to explore the possibility of meeting Roarke and taking a trip in his personal jet to his Olympus resort. Yes!)

There’s something for everyone in this big paranormal world. Look at the variety on screen – Supernatural, Thor, Grimm, Sleepy Hollow, the Walking Dead, Bitten, Witches of Eastwick, The Avengers, Once Upon a Time, Vampire Diaries… 

Someone said when they found out I was going to see Avatar for the third time, or Star Wars, “That’s for kids. Why don’t you grow up?” I feel sad for them because although there’s a side of me that is very practical, the other side is stimulated and energized by the dream of other worlds, other peoples, and other realms. By the magical possibilities. Why would I give that up?

Why do you love fantasy? What’s your favorite sub-genre?

My Destiny Paramortals series set in Destiny, Louisiana began with my fear of severe weather, which was always a problem for me while delivering the mail. Writing about the Paranormals has been rather cathartic since my heroine is a storm witch. Here’s the blurb for the book 1, Storm Crazy.


Destiny – is it Mayberry or Middle Earth?

My name is Tempest Pomeroy, and my human job is delivering the mail in Destiny, Louisiana. I’m also a Paramortal like my family, or I’m supposed to be. If I didn’t have a few little talents, I’d think I was adopted. It’s just two weeks until Mardi Gras, and I’m having a bad day. That’s like saying Katrina dropped a little rain on the Gulf Coast.

First, River’s amphora went missing—that’s genie bottle to you mere-mortals—and on my first delivery, a handsome scantily clad doctor triggered some sort of hallucination, with just a touch. Pheromones? Then, one of my customers had a stroke while reading me the riot act over a piece of mail, but I saved the old fart with a zap of my Zeus juice! It was the first time I’d actually called my power on purpose, and Destiny’s hunky new sheriff almost saw me use my magic—big no-no—when he responded to the call.

He showed up again when the local florist filed a complaint against me for dropping a seventy-five-pound box on his foot. Yeah, I did it, but it was kind of an accident. He put his hand where it didn’t belong, and my fingers… sorta slipped. Then, things got worse. I discovered a dead body in the clubhouse and rescued my brother’s amphora from a locker, bashing it in with a Greg Norman wedge.

Guess who showed up? You guessed it.

I’ve denied my heritage for too long. Now, my brother is missing, my mother’s out of pocket, and the sheriff and my ex-lover are squaring off like yard dogs staking a claim over a poodle. I am no one’s poodle. Is it any wonder I’m calling this the worst M.A.L.E day of my life? My friend Aurora says all the chaos is a sign of my quickening Tempestaerie power, and more changes are on the wind.
Oh, and the sheriff? He thought he’d settled in a normal small town to raise his teenage daughter—like Mayberry?! We’ll see how that turns out…

Things better settle down soon, ‘cause I’m about to go... Storm Crazy.

 Excerpt: Tempe calls her power for the first time.

“ETA is eight minutes,” the dispatcher said in her calm, almost bored voice. “Can you give me any information for the EMTs?”

Eight...friggin’… minutes. “Mid-eighties...he had some kind of seizure and he’s not breathing.”

Seconds ticked off as I continued to pump his chest. I stopped, put my fingers to his mouth. Nothing.

“Oomph,” I sat back. He wasn’t going to make it. Unless… Maybe there was something I could do, but then I’d never actually attempted it. Usually it just happened when things got out of control. Well—not things—me.

Part of the problem was I’d be in clear sight of anyone looking this way from their front yard or driving down the street, but if I didn’t try something before the EMTs arrived, he was going to die. I looked around. It had to be now. I wondered if my little zapper would have enough zip.
Mr. Jackson’s tirade had miraculously not drawn any attention. The street was deserted. A squirrel bounded onto the road nearby, swished his tail madly and took off toward a large oak. At least he couldn’t tell.

 Extending my hand out in front of me, Palm up, I concentrated, willing the power inside me to obey.

Nothing. I squeezed my eyes shut, grit my teeth, and whispered hopefully, “Come to me.”

Blast! I sounded like a bad vamp movie. Separating my index finger, the one with the tiny tattoo-like image on the tip, away from my other fingers, I turned it up toward the darkening sky. The cells in my body began to vibrate. Like an energy solar panel, menori tapped the unstable air and focused it like a laser through the tattoo, accumulating until my head felt like it would explode.

The rumble beneath my feet was the only notice I had of the electric strike that rode straight up my legs, curling in my midsection and crawling swiftly along my right arm to produce my own version of a Fourth of July sparkler, emanating from that fingertip. Then the sparks changed. Brilliant bolts of crackling white light spit and sizzled in my palm, sending jagged streamers of hot blue fire ten feet into the air.

I gawked.

A car entering a nearby street freed me from the mesmerizing light display. This was different from any of the charging I’d previously experienced. Bigger. Usually it just sort of replenished on its own. Panicked, I looked over my shoulder, and exhaled. So far so good.

Now what? I needed to command the fire in my hand to... what? Before I could say, “Be gone,” or “Go thither,” the light subsided to a small crackly glow. That was it then.

Instinct took over. I knelt beside Mr. Jackson and placed my glowing index finger against his chest. With a single szzwaattt, I zapped him, right in the heart. His chest arched up only the barest of seconds as it met my magical defibrillator, then his body relaxed.

Momentarily deafened and somewhat addled as my faculties came back online, I groped for the pulse in his neck. For a second I thought I’d failed. But then, his tired, smoke glutted organ started beating.
Thank the gods.

Only the slight whiff of burnt flesh remained on the wind. Drained of energy, I swiped the back of my hand across my forehead. And saw the mark.

“Zeus’ rechargeable bolts! That better be temporary.”

Centered on the spot where I’d zapped him, a pale image was forming. It looked like a pale, mini version of… well… me.

-----

Buy Links-  

Storm Crazy is available on all retailers:

Amazon http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00L02VHE0

ARe https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-stormcrazydestinyparamortals-1959040-140.html

Nook http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/2940152782684

Createspace https://www.createspace.com/4781807

Goodreads   https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22734226

iBooks     https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/storm-crazy/id1071736239?mt=11

Kobo      https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/storm-crazy

Scribd    http://www.scribd.com/book/294539327

Page Foundry   http://www.inktera.com/store/title/62c704b0-4e11-4935-9fe6-c5728d86e89d

----

Find me on 

Website http://liviaquinn.com

Email: liviaquinnwrites@gmail.com

Twitter www.twitter.com/liviaquinn 

Facebook www.facebook.com/liviaquinnwrites

Pinterest www.pinterest.com/liviaquinn

A Fae in Fort Worth by Amy Armstrong. Book Two in The Huntress Chronicles

Blurb

The attraction between vampire hunters Ashley and Mitch is evident from the moment they meet, but if they are to have a future together they’ll have to make it through a mission which might just cost them their lives.

Being born blonde, short and petite meant that vampire huntress Ashley Monroe was never taken seriously. She always had to train twice as hard as her fellow slayers to prove she is just as capable of getting the job done. About to begin a mission to find one of the lost grimoires, Ashley fears she might actually be out of her depth. The last thing she needs is a relationship to complicate her life further. Enter Mitch Rakowski.

Tattooed badass and one time vampire slayer Mitch Rakowski has never played by the rules. When old friend Raven calls in a debt, Mitch is forced to pick up his stake for one last time. The minute he and Ashley meet, sparks fly. Mitch makes it clear he wants the feisty slayer, but Ashley fights him at every turn. The attraction which simmers between them soon intensifies, but before they can form any kind of relationship, they have a run-in with the Fai in Fort Worth. The encounter forces them to visit the Fairy Realm―a mission which might just cost them their lives.

Excerpt

“Well?” Roland stared at me expectantly, his brown, overly bushy eyebrows raised high in query. “Do you think you’re up to this?”

I tried not to glare at him but failed miserably. Just because at five foot five I was a lot shorter than the other hunters, with bouncy blonde curls and a petite frame, I often got treated like I was weaker than them—fragile even. It had been the same way my entire life and I was tired of it. I was just as capable if not more so than the majority of the hunters I’d trained with, both women and men. I worked damn hard to make sure I was always in shape and that my skills were honed to perfection. I’d killed a lot of vampires and there was nothing I detested more than people like Roland—my new handler at the Hunters’ Council—underestimating me.

Just like my parents before me and their parents before them, I’d been born a slayer. It was in my blood. I hadn’t chosen my profession on a whim and I resented Roland’s question. Why wouldn’t I be up to the task? It was my job. I did it every single day without fail, and I excelled at it.

“Just give me the details,” I said through gritted teeth, amazed I’d refrained from calling him an asshole.

Roland chewed on his bottom lip as he studied me. He must have seen something in my expression that swayed him because he sighed heavily then nodded his head. “Fair enough. Though I do need to warn you, this job is…unusual.”

I drew my eyebrows together while I waited for Roland to elaborate, but when he wasn’t forthcoming, I asked, “Unusual how, exactly?”

As a slayer, it was my job to kill vampires and the odd werewolf who had gone rogue. We rarely got involved in issues with any other supernatural species, however, so Roland’s statement intrigued me.

“Well, there’s this angel,” he began, averting his gaze from mine. “And this demon…”

“Oh, hell no!” I started backing away from his desk as though there was something on it that could bite me. “No way.”

I might have been great at my job, but demons were an entirely different kettle of fish. I’d heard that they could kill you with just a look. In my experience angels weren’t much more accommodating. If this job involved either, then Roland might very well have been right—maybe I wasn’t up to this task.

It was only when Roland’s gaze met mine, his expression challenging, that I realised he’d tricked me. We’d only worked together for a short time, but he was well aware how much I hated people thinking I wasn’t capable, that I couldn’t do the job as well as the other hunters who were bigger and stronger than me. He’d used that fact to his advantage and I was impressed. My face broke out into a wide grin.

“You sneaky son of a bitch!”

Roland puffed out his chest like a damn peacock. “Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment. So, about this demon issue…”

“Fine,” I muttered begrudgingly. “But if I die on this job, I’m coming back to haunt your ass. Count on it.”

Roland turned his back to stare out of the only window in his small office at Council headquarters, but not before I noticed a slow smile spreading across his lips. “You know, I always figured you for a glass-half-full kind of gal.”

I pointed to the back of his head and threw in a glare for good measure. “Roland? Don’t push your luck.”

 * * * *

Standing outside the ranch-style house, I knocked on the door then took in my surroundings as I waited for an answer. Roland had put me in touch with Raven, an old colleague of mine, and when I’d spoken to her on the phone earlier, she’d told me to meet her here. I hadn’t seen her in years so I had no idea what she could be doing in a place like this. It was a nice home in a nice area.

Hunters moved around so often that we didn’t put down roots. We lived out of suitcases in low-rent motels until we hung up our stakes and decided to pop out a few kids who would be trained to be the next generation of hunters. Well, that was what most of my colleagues did. I liked my job too much to ever see myself settling down with a husband and a house full of rug rats.

From what I understood, Raven had been tasked with finding one of twenty-something grimoires which were scattered around the country. Demons had decided to escalate the war against angels which had until recently been contained. The grimoires held secrets on how to raise demons from the Underworld, but the ultimate goal was to raise Lucifer himself. To do this the demons needed to get their hands on the grimoires. This was not good news. My fellow hunters and I had enough problems dealing with all the damn vampires and now we had to deal with demons too.

The book that Raven had been tasked with finding had been in the sights of a demon. Raven had recovered the book, but she’d only barely made it out with her life, so her handler at the Council had called in the help of the other slayers. The race was now on to find the rest of the books before they fell into the hands of demons.

---

Buy link- https://www.totallybound.com/a-fae-in-fort-worth

A Disgraced Fae Bonds With A Human In Order To Keep His Humanity In 'Duke Betrayed' by Amber Kell

Blurb

When Duke Hellbur is accused of treason against his people, he bonds with medic Balaze to keep his human form and prove his innocence.

When Duke Hellbur is accused of smuggling Thresls and selling them off to interested buyers, he undertakes a trip to prove his innocence. In order to retain his humanity, Hellbur bonds with a medic named Balaze…who didn’t exactly give his assent to the binding of their souls.

Balaze admired the duke whenever he visited the castle, but finding someone attractive and wanting to be theirs for eternity aren’t the same thing. After surviving the death of his first Thresl mate, Balaze isn’t exactly eager to go through that pain again. However, the duke doesn’t take no for answer.

Those who are guilty will have to be uncovered if the two men ever plan on finding peace with each other. When Hellbur and Balaze go off on an interplanetary adventure, can they find common ground or will their enemies tear them apart?


Excerpt:

Dr Walter Balaze watched Duke Hellbur sleep. The duke’s stillness worried him more than anything. Thresls were difficult to kill, but not impossible. Hellbur had lost a lot of blood through the gash in his head, but no other symptoms of trauma were evident despite repeated scans. Head wounds tended to bleed more than other wounds, but the lack of movement and the duke’s faint pulse had Balaze more than a little worried.

The duke should’ve healed by now. The fact that it was taking Hellbur’s body so long to close a simple wound indicated a deeper issue not detected by the scanner. If Hellbur died on Balaze’s watch, he’d never forgive himself. It would break Balaze’s heart if he couldn’t save him.

“Find out if the duke has any known illnesses,” Balaze ordered the nurse hovering beside him. Information on the duke should be in the medical database. Balaze had studied most of the files on the royals but didn’t remember anything standing out about Hellbur. No warnings had popped up when they’d punched in his patient information.

The nurse grabbed an electronic research pad and typed in the duke’s name. It took a few minutes before she spoke again.

She shook her head. “No. Nothing.”

He looked over her shoulder at the screen. “Hmm. If he doesn’t bounce back I’ll have to look into a transfusion.”

He didn’t like the duke’s colour—too pale to be healthy.

The nurse exchanged a look with Balaze, acknowledging the strangeness of the situation without saying a word.

King-Mate Kreslan entered the room and dismissed the nurse with a tilt of his head. Balaze admired the speed with which the nurse departed, wishing he could go with her. Kreslan made him nervous. The King-Mate sent out vibes more feral than any wild Thresl he’d ever met.

Kreslan waited until the nurse had left before closing the door behind her.

“What can I help you with, Your Majesty?”

He tried to stay still beneath Kreslan’s intense gaze, but the urge to fidget had his feet moving back and forth in an uneven rhythm as he waited for the King-Mate to speak.

“We suspect the duke might have been taking medication to suppress his Thresl half. Unregistered medication. We’re looking for a sample to bring you, but we haven’t been able to dig any up. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you to keep this information to yourself.”

“Why would he do that?” Horror twisted Balaze’s stomach. He couldn’t even imagine how toxic the chemicals had to be to sustain Hellbur’s human form for a prolonged time.

“Because he’s the backbone of the kingdom. Only his contacts and research kept the problems from escalating while Vohne was missing. If he hadn’t helped combat the Purgers, we might still be fighting them.” Kreslan’s swept a cold gaze across the duke. “He might not be my favourite person, but we still need him alive.”

Balaze held back his smirk. Everyone knew Kreslan resented the Duke’s attraction to the king. He wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if the King-Mate had accidentally forgotten to get the duke help. No one stood between Kreslan and his mate.

“How long has he been suppressing?” Balaze checked the duke’s vitals again. Hellbur’s low heart rate concerned Balaze more than anything. Almost as if the duke’s body had decided to shut down without the stimulus of whatever medication he’d been on. Now that he knew Hellbur had been taking suppressors it changed things.

Kres shrugged. “Possibly decades.”

A chill ran down Balaze’s back. With the death of his mate, the duke should’ve either gone into shock or turned back to his cat form. If whatever drug he’d been taking kept him human and on his feet, it had to be pretty strong. The immense shock to the duke’s system probably had his Thresl nature fighting to take control back. Balaze didn’t reveal to the King-Mate that he doubted the duke would make it through the night. Sudden withdrawal from such a long addiction could easily be fatal.

“I’ll do everything I can to take care of him.” Balaze didn’t know what he could do other than keep watch and try to prevent the duke from dying owing to the stress on his system.

“Good. He’s a pain in the ass, but necessary.” With that blunt statement, Kres turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

Balaze pulled up a stool to sit beside the duke. Whoever had been the Hellbur’s old mate had had an eye for beauty. Balaze ran one finger along the duke’s cheek then quickly jerked his hand back when he realised what he was doing. “I hope you pull through this, Your Grace. Kreslan won’t take it well if you don’t recover.”

Hellbur took in a deep breath. Balaze inhaled with him before he realised what he was doing. He let out his breath and waited a moment, but the duke didn’t do anything more.

“I guess it’s too much to hope you’ll wake up all better, isn’t it? I’d best leave the planet if you don’t make it, huh?”

The duke didn’t open his eyes and answer Balaze’s questions. Balaze ruthlessly squelched his disappointment. Until today he’d only caught glimpses of the duke a dozen times or so, but that didn’t stop his heart from beating a little faster whenever he spotted the familiar blond head. In general, Thresls didn’t have a lot to do with medics unless their human mates were injured, so he’d never exchanged any words with the gorgeous duke.

He knew he shouldn’t be drooling over an injured unconscious royal, but the duke pulled at him—a tug of attraction Balaze hadn’t felt since the death of his own mate. Ten years ago he’d bonded with a Thresl and lost Mills after only three years together. Mills had died in a senseless skirmish during a routine guard duty. The attacker had shoved a sword through the soldier’s heart. Even a Thresl couldn’t survive that. 

~~~~~

Buy Link- https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-dukebetrayed-1348343-340.html