Friday, November 27, 2015

"Micco, Anguta's Reign" Free for a limited time




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Chapter 1

Micco jolted awake; his lids half-closed as he attempted to rouse himself. He lay still, trying to remember last night’s events but they were lost to him. As his eyes opened, he was greeted with darkness. Tiny sparkles with hints of light floated around him.

The glow was shining through, past something. It was hard to make out exactly what. His eyes hurt when he attempted to stare at the brightness, so he closed them. Initially, they burned but this eventually subsided, allowing Micco to relax.

In an effort to sit up, heaviness weighed upon him. It vexed him. With closed lids, he tried again, this time prevailing, forcing through his restriction.

He felt his mind was floating through a haze. His body ached as he moved, so he laid back down, allowing a warm breeze to sweep across his face. He welcomed it, though was still not fully aware of his state.

Once his senses came alive, a strong, sour and putrefied odor caught his attention. It was somewhat metallic. He opened his eyes, but flinched against the burn. His head wrenched to the side, trying to find the assaulter. In doing so, something stiff brushed against his face.

A hand.

His breath contracted slowly. He scanned the surroundings more vigorously only to find not only a hand but several body parts touching him, lying next to him, covering his lower extremities. In a moment of panic he became paralyzed; fear caught hold. But the desperation of escape overpowered this gruesome shock. He eased through tangled limbs, inching beyond the lifeless burden. He scampered as far away as possible, climbing over a sheet of bodies, slipping on eviscerated tissue and cold, wet blood.

Shaken, he fell against a nearby wall to examine the array of strewn bodies that lay within pools of bright red liquid, as if time had stopped. For him, time had indeed stopped. There were more than twenty bodies in his presence, their eyes locking on nothing because they were dead. All of them.

It was a massacre.

The only immediate movement was the curtain flapping in the wind from a shattered window. A lonely arm claimed what was left of the glass, letting flies in to settle upon the cold corpses. A chill ran up his spine from untainted fright as his breathing labored. Who are these people? How did I get here?

A sharp twinge shot across his shirtless chest that was adorned with only scratches. They appeared to be claw marks in the middle of his torso. Saliva struggled to travel down his throat as he swallowed hard in disbelief. Instinctively he touched the slashes, then noticed caked blood on his abdomen and hands. Reaching for his face, he felt layers of the same.

He was mortified, sickened. He had seen blood many times but not like this. Before today, he had never been covered in it. He wanted to vomit, but a car sounded in the distance, stifling that need. He maneuvered around the bodies to peer out of the window. A teen boy was walking towards the door. He stepped back, tripping over a leg. He scampered up, trying not to make noise.

How do I get out?

Tuesday, November 24, 2015

NO HAVEN FOR UNWED MOTHERS 99 cents!



From Unholy Testament - Full Circle, confessions of a demon. This, about acquiring illegitimate children for devil rites. The ruse was there existed a haven for young women in trouble.

PROMO BEGINS NOV. 24 - NOV 30. 99 CENTS!

From Eco's journal:

"And so the message went out: “Make your way to London town and then cross the river to Southwark. Go up from the banks near the George Inn on Borough Street, there you will find a haven and good folk to help you in your hour of need! Do not fear, young miss, for these are fine people. Your cherished babe will go to good Christian folk who will raise your dear little one and give it a good home.”

Yes, Rose, they came—the poor, the not so poor; some were ugly, others were beautiful; many were in the first bloom of youth or already past it. They were, however, all united by desperate circumstances.

Eve never pressed them about their individual stories, but if there was some sort of confession, she would hear the pathetic stories from those who chose to unburden themselves as to how they had strayed.

A confession is good for the soul and though we had none, they had, and so they were comforted.
She’d show them to a room, not much more than a cupboard. But they were grateful, and as for the occasional shrieks they heard coming from other rooms and dens within our tainted dwelling, Eve would advise them not to mind the noise.

“They are just happy drunken folk who cannot hold their liquor. Alas, we need our business in order to care for women such as you…”

She’d implore them to be forgiving. They all were; the lost usually are.

So there you have it. What a picture it makes…desperate women giving birth and our vile activities—orgiastic feasting and feeding along with intense copulation—all under the same roof. How wretched.
As for the girls, some of them barely made it to our door. Many gave birth as soon as they stepped inside.

And so the babies were taken. None of them were nursed or even looked upon. Well, perhaps just a glance if the mother pleaded and wept.

“Yes, dear, there you go. We have a wet nurse who shall take your precious little love now. The family arrives tomorrow…”

The mothers, too defeatist even to protest, would go on their way, some to live, others to happily fall into Father Thames for they could not live with their decision.

We did actually have wet nurses. These were drunken and diseased trollops who often gave their milk away for a drink while their own baby perished one way or another.

Monday, November 23, 2015

The Beast of Barcroft Book Tour


About the Book

Title: The Beast of Barcroft
Author: Bill Schweigart
Genre: Urban Fantasy / Horror
Fans of Stephen King and Bentley Little will devour The Beast of Barcroft, Bill Schweigart’s brilliant new vision of dark suburban horror. Ben thought he had the neighbor from hell. He didn’t know how right he was. . . .

Ben McKelvie believes he’s moving up in the world when he and his fiancée buy a house in the cushy Washington, D.C., suburb of Barcroft. Instead, he’s moving down—way down—thanks to Madeleine Roux, the crazy neighbor whose vermin-infested property is a permanent eyesore and looming hazard to public health.

First, Ben’s fiancée leaves him; then, his dog dies, apparently killed by a predator drawn into Barcroft by Madeleine’s noxious menagerie. But the worst is yet to come for Ben, for he’s not dealing with any ordinary wild animal. This killer is something much, much worse. Something that couldn’t possibly exist—in this world.

Now, as a devilish creature stalks the locals, Ben resolves to take action. With some grudging assistance from a curator at the Smithsonian’s National Zoo and the crackpot theories of a self-styled cryptozoologist, he discovers the sinister truth behind the attacks, but knowing the Beast of Barcroft and stopping it are two different animals.


Author Bio
Bill Schweigart is a former Coast Guard officer who has drawn from his experiences at sea to write the taut nautical thriller, Slipping The Cable. Schweigart's debut is a modern entry to the rich tradition of the sea novel: everyone is confined aboard ship, tensions run high, and the setting itself is deadly, but not nearly as deadly as his characters. If you have ever suffered an impossible boss, ever wanted to fall off the grid and start over fresh, or just wanted to lose yourself in a high seas and high stakes adventure, Slipping The Cable is a must read. Schweigart lives in Arlington, VA, where he is currently finishing his second novel, a supernatural thriller set in the shadow of Washington, DC.


Websites 

Links
B&N

Wednesday, November 11, 2015

99 CENTS FRIDAY - WEDNESDAY! THE HOUSE ON BLACKSTONE MOOR!


Pity, the new governess has no idea what is waiting for her at Blackstone House. 



"Unimaginable horror awaits you in The House on Blackstone Moor...

Rose Baines' journey into the dark begins with the murders of her family by her insane, incestuous father. Evil has found a way in, as has the world of the undead. Will she become one of them?

The horrific discovery causes her to be incarcerated in two madhouses. Doctor Bannion, superintendent of Marsh Asylum, helps his favorite patient obtain a position as governess at Blackstone House, but why is he so adamant? The house, her charges tell her, is built on haunted moorland. Nothing is as it seems for Blackstone House, and its inhabitants have hideous secrets; the greatest secret of all is that of the blood.

Sunday, November 8, 2015

Concrete Stilettos: A Love Story



About the Book
Title: Concrete Stilettos
Author: Mya Kay
Genre: Urban Romance / YA
Mya Kay’s Concrete Stilettos: A Love Story, is a fierce, urban romance that will leave the people in the pews and the parlor screaming for more.

She’s as real as they come and as hard as they make them. And her heart still belongs to God…
Seventeen-year-old Taz Elizabeth Green is every man’s fantasy, every girl’s women crush and the envy of many of the women she strips with in Philadelphia. But she’s not your average stripper. A virgin whose parents were murdered when she was 12, Taz only dances because she truly loves it – not because she’s broke and hungry. Not one to make an excuse or take part in self-pity, she wiggles her way into private parties for politicians and police officers, adding to the stash her parents left her. Even the Grady’s, the family that adopted her when her parents were murdered, have no idea the double life Taz is living. They sent her off at sixteen to UCLA, a genius that had been skipped twice in school, to get a degree in Business and Design. Only, Taz returned to Philadelphia a year later with more than just college credits to her name. The only thing Taz fears is her father, Officer Drew Grady, painting the town red when he finds out.

Sunday, November 1, 2015

Madame Lilly, Voodoo Priestess: Soulless Vol 2



Soulless and vengeful proves a lethal  combination for those who have wronged her

The time is 1890, the place, New Orleans, and Odara is lost to Madame Lilly, her soulless side—and she has not finished what she started. Unleashing two great forces, Theolus and Hearon, with ferocious appetites against her common-law husband, Henry Nicholas, is just the beginning of the end for Lilly—only she doesn’t know it yet.
For the spirits she raised took what was left of her humanity and left a piece of themselves within her; a piece that craves chaos. Needing to maintain control over them to do her bidding, Lilly must do what is required even if it means becoming more like them.

Tortured, scorned and damned, Lilly has one mission in life: Retribution. 


Excerpt

“Go,” ordered Lilly.

And off Theolus and Hearon went with not so much as a question, for they knew what was expected of them. Chaos.

Slowly they ascended onto the porch, taking their time, savoring the moment that was about to commence, the moment of pure and utter turmoil at its keenest, the moment that would bring great men to their knees.

The door was locked. How silly. Hearon broke off the knob easily, but kicked down the door for the hell of it. In they walked as if they were strolling through Sister Xavier Hebert’s garden at the convent.

It was breathtaking how serene the house was until the first shot was fired. Lilly mounted the porch stairs and approached the door, holding on to the side column and awaiting the first cry of horror.
Then it came. That was what she yearned for. The sound of terror was the pinnacle of achievement for her.

An eruption of gunfire and shouting tore throughout the house, flooding it with confusion. Mrs. Nicolas was screaming for her sons’ souls and trying to save them. Scream on, Mrs. Nicolas, for what I do to you tonight will be far worse than what Henry has ever done.

The storm inside Lilly stirred so frantically it forced her to yell out. Feeling the wrath of her Loas’ hunger, she fell to her knees on the porch floor sweating and rocking back and forth until eventually she stopped fighting it and let it consume her, journey within her.

Her body locked up as her head fell back, keeping her frozen in that position on the porch floor and allowing her to see what her Loas saw inside the house and experience it as if it were she shredding the vivaciousness between her teeth. She could taste the once-pulsating blood and warm fleshy tissue in her mouth, down her throat, and in her stomach. It was revitalizing to feel and taste but then, just like that, the connection broke.

***

Other Books from the Madame Lilly Saga