Mar 31, 2013

Book Tour: The Soul's Mark: Found by Ashley Stoyanoff





Today it's my turn to host the WINNER of 2012 Royal Dragonfly Book Award:

The Soul's Mark: Found by Ashley Stoyanoff. 
(Book 1 in "The Soul's Mark" Series)

Release date: July 19, 2012
Genre: YA Paranormal Romance.



 Synopsis:


Anxious to leave her destructive past behind, Amelia Caldwell moves to Willowberg, excited for a fresh start. Once there, she discovers that her birthmark is more than it seems. She has been marked by a vampire’s soul. Not only does she hold his soul, but Amelia is also his soulmate.



After almost a century of searching for his soulmate, Mitchell Lang fears the worst—he is going to lose Amelia to another man. His heart takes over, and his impulsive decision to take away her free will and to intensify their bond quickly turns her growing love into hate.



When they become trapped in the emotional rollercoaster of their souls' bond, open conflict erupts. Amelia has no intentions of belonging to anyone, not even her soulmate, and Mitchell refuses to let her go.

While she frantically searches for a way to escape his grasp, Amelia unlocks the painful memories of her past and uncovers a powerful secret. But before she has a chance to explore her newfound edge, she finds herself caught in the middle of a deadly game of revenge and is forced to realize that YOU CANNOT RUN FROM DESTINY.








What do you need to know about this book?



  • 'The Soul's Mark: FOUND' Won 2012 Royal Dragonfly Book Award With a Perfect Score for Young Adult Fiction.  








  • The Soul's Mark: FOUND has been IndieReader Approved!

"Verdict: While this classic vampire-human love story could have been no more than another Twilight- style tale of possession, Stoyanoff takes care to create both an innovative backstory for the creation of vampires as well as a believable and entertaining romance." 










Not convinced yet? Here is an excerpt:


“Crap,” Angelle said, relaxing her stance slightly.  “It’s coming from the kitchen.  This can’t be good.”  She shot Amelia a frazzled look and then dashed up the steps of the porch.  At the glass double doors, she turned back and waved, gesturing for Amelia to follow.  “Come on, honey,” she called, before rushing into the house.


The screaming grew louder and another clatter echoed through the doorway.  Amelia rushed after Angelle, jogging over the inter-locking stone, dazed, as if she had stumbled into an alternate universe.  She climbed the three steps of the stone-covered porch and peeked through the open door, trying to stay out of the way of whatever chaos had been unleashed.


A faint smell of smoke washed out, followed by a man’s agonized yell.  Amelia glanced around, realizing she was walking into the kitchen.

“Ouch,” he groaned, sounding a bit amused.  His arms were raised in an attempt to protect himself from the blows of a broom swishing furiously at him.  “It was an accident!” he cried out.


On the other end of the broom was an elderly woman who looked to Amelia like she was made of circles, with a round pudgy face and plump round body.  She had on a flowery apron splattered with some kind of yellowy goo and she was screaming unintelligible utterances at the man as she continued to beat him relentlessly.

Suddenly, Amelia saw the stove light up, fire crackling and blazing.  Forgetting the scene in front of her, she dropped her bag and rushed in.  What had her mother said about grease fires?  Baking soda, use baking soda, Amelia thought, that was it.  She whipped open the fridge, frantically searching and grabbed a box of baking soda from the door.  She dumped it on the burning grease-lit frying pan.  The fire extinguished in a billowing cloud of smoke and she coughed when she sucked in a breath.

“What the hell is going on?” Angelle yelled, jumping in between them.  She snatched the broom out of the woman’s hands and tossed it out of reach.  It flew across the room, and slammed into the wall before clattering to the marble floor.  “That’s enough.”  She grabbed the man by the shoulders and shoved him away.
“He’s ruining my kitchen.  Look at this mess,” the elderly woman said in a tizzy, surveying the mess.  Amelia followed her gaze and noticed that the yellowy goo was splattered everywhere, smeared across the large cherry island, globbed on the weathered black wall cabinets, dripping from the ceiling, as if a bomb of stickiness had gone off.

The man was rubbing his shoulders, looking at Angelle as if she had really hurt him.  Amelia stood back and watched, trying to stay out of the way.  He was just as tall as Angelle, and bulky with muscles like a football player, a really hot football player.  “I was just trying to make pancakes for Amelia,” he said, smiling bashfully at Amelia.  Then he looked back over at Angelle, “And in case you missed it, she was hitting me.  Why did you shove me like that?”

Angelle rolled her eyes in a dramatic show of annoyance, “I’m sure you deserved it Eric.  You usually do.”  She looked over at the woman, who was now scurrying around the kitchen trying to clean up the mess.  “What did he do, Mabel?”
That’s Eric, Amelia realized.  She giggled.  He really was looking green.  That’s what the guard had been talking about.  His shaggy, uneven, punk style haircut was dyed in a vibrant, bright green.  Hot, she thought.  Green hair, hot?  Well, on him, yes, it was really hot.  He was covered in the same sticky goo—pancake batter?

“He used a blender without the lid,” Mabel said.  Her voice was stern and a touch motherly and she had a soft accent, maybe English, Amelia thought. And she looked absolutely fit to be tied.
He just shrugged.  “Stirring was taking too long.”
“You’re such a dork—and what’s with the hair?” Angelle laughed.  “You look like a little punk.”
“Don’t knock the hair,” Eric said, leaning back against the island, arms folded across his chest.
“You can’t go to the office like that,” Angelle said.
“Don’t have to.  I’ve been promoted to personal chauffeur.  And I think it looks great.  I thought you would appreciate it.”  He batted his eyes and struck a pose.  “It totally matches my eyes.”  He looked Amelia over and then pushed off from the counter, strolling towards her with a mischievous grin on his face.
Amelia had hoped they had forgotten about her and she really hoped she wasn’t drooling, because man, he was sexy, like head to toe sexy.  He stopped about a foot away from her and she met his eyes, which indeed matched his new hair color.
Eric dropped into a gallant bow and she giggled like a little schoolgirl.  He took her hand in his, and kissed it lightly.  “Welcome my lady,” he said playfully.
Angelle groaned.  “You are such a moron.”





BUYING LINKS:







About the author:

Ashley Stoyanoff lives in Whitby, Ontario and loves diving into the magical world of creating fiction. Over the years she has written numerous short stories. The Soul's Mark: FOUND is her debut novel. When not writing, she can be found reading sappy novels, watching cheesy chick flicks, and buying far too many clothes.






Links:




Giveaway:
Rules:


  • This is a TOUR WIDE Giveaway.
  • Open Internationally. 
  • There will be 5 winners that will be notified via e-mail.
  • They have 48hs to answer, otherwise a new winner will be chosen.



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FOLLOW THE TOUR:

Tour Schedule 
March 25: Black Lion Tours Blog: Introduction.
March 26: MK McClintock Blog: Promo.
March 27: Le Vanity Victorienne: Promo.
                 Lindsay's Scribblings: Promo.
Mar
ch 28: Tina's Book Reviews: Promo.
March 29: Clean Romance Reviews: Promo.
March 30: Vanilla Moon Blog: Promo.
Mar
ch 31: Paranormal Book Reviews: Promo
April 1: Marked by books: Review.
April 2: Laurie's Paranormal Reviews: Promo.
April 3: Kimberly Lewis: Promo.
April 4: Bookworm Lisa: Review.
April 5: 
A Dream within a dream: Review and Promo.
April 6: I Know That Book: Promo.
April 7: 
Bunny Reviews Blog: Promo.
April 8: 
Ramblings of a Coffee Addicted Writer: Promo.
April 10: My Serynity: Review.
April 12: A Book Lover's Library: Review.
April 13: 
Characterized Blog: Review.
April 14: 
Makayla's book Reviews: Promo.
April 15: 
Chapter by Chapter: Review.
April 16: Deal Sharing Aunt: Review and Promo.
April 17: Libby's Library: Review and Promo.
April 18:
 Le Vanity Victorienne: Review and Promo.
April 19: Black Lion Tours Blog: Wrap-up.

Mar 28, 2013

Book Tour & Giveaway: Angel Bait by Tricia Skinner



I'd like to welcome Angel Bait by Tricia Skinner today!

Tour Wide Giveaway:  5 ebook copies of Angel Bait
To enter, complete the rafflecopter at the end of this post.



Title:                          Angel Bait Book 1 of the Angel Assassins Series
Author:                      Tricia Skinner 
Genre:                        Urban Fantasy Romance
Publisher:                   Crimson Romance (F+W Media)
Date of Publication:    February 18, 2013
Number of pages:       140
Word Count:              65,000

Book Description:

Saved by the angel sent to kill them, four half-angel boys are trained and employed as Heaven’s assassins. Jarrid and his nephilim brothers are raised as members of The Eternal Order, and must enforce Heaven’s laws by hunting down those who defy the Directorate.

His only shot at freedom is Ascension, but his employers won’t permit the ancient ritual. Then Jarrid learns a Renegade angel is in Detroit. Such a high-level take­down is the answer to his prayers—all the leverage he needs to Ascend.

For freedom, Jarrid is willing to do anything to lure his elusive enemy out of hiding.

Even use an innocent woman as bait.

News reporter Ionie Gifford has no clue an angel outlaw wants her dead. She agrees to help Jarrid, the enigmatic nephilim with penetrating silver eyes and a worship-worthy body, but only because he accepts her terms. He’s her all-access pass into the city’s supernatural underworld where she hopes to locate her mother’s killer.

Blind­sided by Ionie's beauty and tenacity, Jarrid soon finds the eternity-old glacier around his heart thawing. With duty and desire at war within him, he’s forced to make a choice—either save Ionie from the trap he snared and stay chained to Heaven, or allow her to become collateral damage.


Excerpt from ANGEL BAIT
She leaned back and studied him, taking in the casual way his thigh rested against a chair. Her throat closed, smothering her clever retort. Jarrid angled his chiseled face to study items on her desk, and Ionie caught the awed stares of her passing colleagues.
One woman tripped over her own feet.
Another face-planted into a wall.
Jesus Christ.
The half-angel was so handsome it hurt. Jarrid didn’t seem to notice the attention directed at him. Or maybe he didn’t care.
“You’re upset I won’t allow photos, but you still plan to work with me,” he said, his fingers sliding over a shriveled dictionary. “I want to know why.”
Blunt and to the point.
“I’m not upset.” Ionie snorted, a sound she hoped made her seem indifferent. “You’ve answered my prayers. I’m used to working obits, or chasing the occasional fire truck.”
He flicked his head at the desk adjoining hers. “You work with someone?”
“I don’t do partners.”
“Yet you will do me.” The simple statement, spoken in his sexy rumble, liquefied the marrow in Ionie’s bones.
“Uh,” she said. “My work takes on a whole new meaning when you say it.”
He leaned in, a smooth slide of firm muscle and taut flesh. She caught a whiff of his scent; she hadn’t noticed it before. Something nameless, celestial like the man – the being – it belonged to. She inhaled deep, lulled by his nearness. Gorgeous. No other word fit him better.
“Is there a problem?” Jarrid’s lips curved down. His tone held an edge she couldn’t place.
“Problem?” Mario’s smooth voice yanked Ionie from her trance. She shook her head and leaned away from the nephilim. “You okay, kid?”
What the hell am I doing?
Ionie strained to smile at Jarrid. The half-angel’s face presented a solid mask, obscuring any hint of his reaction.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Mario, this is Jarrid. He’s with the Eternal Order ... and my new story. Jarrid, this is Mario Hernandez. He trained me on the graveyard shift.”
“Story?” The men exchanged handshakes. She could see Mario’s mind working behind his casual expression.
“On Patrick’s say so.” She suppressed some of her excitement. “I’m doing a feature on angel society.”
“Angels don’t seek attention. Why the switch?”
“Times change,” Jarrid said in a tight, controlled voice.
The older reporter narrowed his eyes at the flat tone. She didn’t blame him. “Doesn’t explain why the boys above have sent a nephilim. Aren’t you guys a bit high level for PR?”
The muscles in Jarrid’s arms ticked. “My work is classified.”
“I bet,” Mario said.
What the hell?
Ionie stared at her friend, then Jarrid. The corded line of his neck bulged with thick throbbing veins. Her source appeared ready to pounce on the curious old coot. She slid off her chair. “We should get going.”
Neither man moved. Ionie reached out and touched Jarrid’s bicep. His arm shifted beneath her hand like she’d branded him. She removed her fingers before he decided to break them off.
No touching. Got it.
Without a word, he marched from the office. With the weird question and answer session over, she grabbed her bag and hauled ass to catch up.
“What happened back there?” She jogged to keep pace with him, his long strides churning yards of polished marble floor in his wake. “Why are you acting like this?”
Jarrid turned on her with a scowl. “Your buddy is inquisitive.”
“Newsflash. He’s a reporter, like me. Nosey is what we do.” That didn’t help. Not the way Jarrid stared at her as if she’d sprouted horns. “You’re a big deal in Heaven, huh? If it’s a secret, you shouldn’t be hanging around journalists. We suck up secrets for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”
“We keep to ourselves.” A tremor of annoyance filtered through the words.
“Not anymore.” The two of them standing in a newspaper lobby made the whole conversation seem ridiculous. Ionie stepped closer to Jarrid and angled her head to see his eyes. “Not many people can say they’ve seen, or met, an angel. Your kind might want to keep on the down low, but when you step out, you’re going to draw attention.”
His steady glare told her he didn’t believe a word. Or maybe he didn’t like what he heard. Or maybe he just liked glaring at her like she’d eventually shut the hell up.
Jerk. Angels weren’t the only ones who preferred seclusion. Try tracking down the Fae. Those bastards were near impossible to get out in the open. She’d tried.
“Angels and nephilim are private. I get the cloak and dagger bull, but you came to me. This covert thing? You want people to answer your questions?”
He gave a microscopic bob of his head.
“First lesson? People are naturally curious, especially humans.” Ionie moistened her bottom lip. She hated the nervous response, but Jarrid held a remote control on her anxiety. “They may have questions for you, too. We’re drawn to the unknown like butter to toast, at least according to my grandma. I’ll help you. You’ll help me. Everybody gets what they need.”
Silver eyes dipped to her lips.
The gap between them sizzled like someone had flipped on a low-voltage current. Every hair on her skin saluted. She stared into his eyes and her heartbeat doubled. By now she should be nervous, but the hint of danger she sensed in him only brought an embarrassing rush of arousal.
Her face must have flushed apple red because Jarrid’s mouth parted. His now wide gaze traced over her features, lingering on her cheeks and lips. She should kiss him. Kiss him right in the middle of her workplace. Kiss him in front of Stan the desk clerk who took classified ads. One kiss on the nephilim’s too-full lips. One hard press ....
She licked her lip again. His gaze tracked her tongue. Before she could lean into his body and act on the impulse, he jerked back and stepped out of reach.
“What are you doing?” His voice was low, dangerous.
What was she doing? She’d almost pounced on a guy at work! She didn’t jump her sources. Another wave of heat seared her face and she stared at her feet. “So ... we still have a deal?”
Jarrid didn’t reply. She chanced a peek at him. He looked pissed. His back was ramrod straight and his eyes glowed. Maybe she’d offended his angel sensibilities with her odd human reactions.
Wasn’t he half-Human? Did he feel an attraction to her?
A miserable minute ticked by.
“We still have a deal,” he said. “First, you meet my brothers.”



About the Author:

After spending several years as a newspaper reporter and corporate communications director, Tricia Skinner cast off traditional journalism for the freedom of novel writing. ANGEL BAIT is her urban fantasy romance debut. Her read­ing tastes are all over the place, but she’s mainly drawn to fan­tasy (and its sub­gen­res), para­nor­mal, sci-fi, and history.

In those rare moments when she’s not writ­ing, Tri­cia is a new­bie “green” prac­ti­tioner, a fit­ness pro­cras­ti­na­tor, and a tech­nol­ogy geek. She is a mother and a wife. Her fam­ily includes two Great Danes.

Tri­cia stays active in various writing communities. She’s the Web Edi­tor for Pony Express(ions), the online lit­er­ary jour­nal of the Mas­ters of Lib­eral Stud­ies Pro­gram at South­ern Methodist Uni­ver­sity; a vol­un­teer with SMU’s The Writ­ers Path; the Newsletter Editor and a Mud Puddle Critique Group moderator for the Fantasy, Futuristic, and Paranormal Chapter of Romance Writers of America. . In Decem­ber 2012 she received a master’s degree with a Cre­ative Writ­ing focus from SMU.

She welcomes correspondence from readers.

Visit her online at www.TriciaSkinner.com



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Mar 27, 2013

Spotlight & Giveaway: Silver Hollow by Jennifer Silverwood


Tour Wide Giveaway:
10 ebooks and 10 print copies - Print copies open to US shipping


Title:  Silver Hollow
Author: Jennifer Silverwood
Genre: Paranormal Romance/ Fantasy Romance/ Chick-lit
Publisher: SilverWoodSketches
Number of pages: 322
Word Count: 131, 325

Cover Artist: Najla Qamber

Paperback    Kindle   Smashwords

Book Description: 


Amie Wentworth writes paranormal romances, not because she is looking for a degree in ectoplasm, but because she's got bills to pay. Ever since her parents' car crash, she has been led a reclusive life and trusted books more than people. Not even a letter from her long-lost uncle, begging her to visit, gives Amie incentive for anything other than ire - until she is stabbed in an alley and brought back to life by a mysterious stranger.

After crossing the Atlantic to her father's homeland, Amie is dragged into the very sort of tale she is used to selling. Silver Hollow is a place of ancient traditions and supernatural dangers, where everything is the opposite of what it seems and few escape sane.

To make matters worse, the man who save her life keeps turning up and her would-be-murderer is still at large.

But when she comes face to face with the ugly truth, will she too be sucked into her father's  madness? Or will she discover that madness is just another name for honesty?

Silver Hollow Excerpt #2

The windows Amie passed on her mad dash back to her rooms betrayed the first glimpse of dawn. How her bare feet managed to take her back without getting splinters from the fallen wood beams or getting lost, she didn’t have time to dissect. Amie darted past the shadows, relieved when the West Wing was nearly behind her.
Home stretch, Wentworth! You’re almost there and you didn’t even last a week in track.
She grinned, touching the end of the feather sticking out of her robe pocket. This was her biggest mystery and most intriguing find. She wondered if any of the books Henry had put in her bookcase could shed some light.
Amie squinted and gasped when the distant candle light winked out of existence. The corner shadows literally moved to stand in front of her, blocking her vision. Confused and more than a little freaked out, Amie decided to just plunge through the gap. It had to be a trick of the eyes. She’d been awake most of the night, after all.
When she impacted the shadow, she realized too late it was hard as a brick wall. Within seconds she was flipped onto her back, the breath knocked out of her and the candelabra pooling wax onto the floor beside her head. She was too frightened to shout, flashbacks of the night she was attacked penetrating her mind. So she flinched when the shadows shifted and drew into her candle’s light to reveal the impression of a face.
Amie threw up her hands and scrambled backwards when the shadow reached to touch her. “Don’t come any closer! Get away from me!” she hissed, afraid to scream and wake the house. A part of her was still convinced this was a figment of her troubled imagination. Shutting her eyes, she willed the spirit to flee, then froze in terror when it spoke.
“Forgive me for startling you. I only intended to be certain ye were real, flying about the castle in yer nightdress as if ye had all the golems of the world at your back.”
“Your voice…” she whispered, blinked up at the source of the deeply masculine voice. “I feel like I’ve heard that before.” When he chuckled at her words she frowned, so he explained.
“I’ve been told a great many things by maidens far uglier and others with only a reflection of your true beauty, but never this. Tell me,” he said after a tense pause, where she focused on the reflection of her candle’s flames dancing in his black orbs, “what reason should a blood-filled woman have in the West Wing this night, lest she be a wight?” He was mocking her yet her curiosity won over her frustration.
“What’s a wight?” she asked and could have sworn his eyes shifted colors, from black to red to silver and then brilliant blue.
“A walking specter, milady, doomed to haunt its resting place forever.”
“I’m not a wight,” she said. For a long moment he said nothing, only peered intensely over her, until she felt the blackness would swallow her whole.
“Then neither am I, Jessamiene Wenderdowne,” he whispered, drawing back into the darkness. Amie’s heart was pounding, her blood racing. He shouldn’t have been able to leave so quickly. There were no other rooms past hers, no alcoves she had uncovered, or hidden passages to escape into. Yet as soon as his whisper was nothing more than a memory and his face had left her candle’s glow, she knew she was truly alone.


About the Author:

Jennifer Silverwood was raised deep in the heart of Texas and has been spinning yarns a mile high since childhood. In her spare time she reads and writes and tries to sustain her wanderlust, whether it's the Carpathian Mountains in Transylvania, the highlands of Ecuador or a road trip to the next town. 

After attending three different universities without managing to square a degree, she decided to the next logical thing; become a writer. Always on the lookout for her next adventure, in print or reality, she dreams of one day proving to the masses that everything really is better in Texas. 

She is the author of Heaven's Edge series and Silver Hollow. To stay tuned, please have a gander at her webiste:
Twitter- @JennSilverwood


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