Romance
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Cozy MysteryWelcome to Roxanne's Realm, the home of author, book publicist, mixed media crafter, and lover of all things spooky- Roxanne Rhoads.
Romance
Romantasy
Dark Romance
Paranormal Romance
Horror
Haunted History
Urban Fantasy
Speculative Fiction
Cozy MysteryExcerpt 1- Chapter 1
Just as she was in life, Deliverance was a demon in death.
Her cruel whispers invaded quiet conversations. Her hate-filled face raced past in the shadows. Destroying the body didn’t end her baneful abuses. Instead, she became limitless and everywhere, always.
A thick breath of fog rolled in from Derby Wharf, obscuring much of the town in its salty grip. Beneath a brick wall, Angela’s torso hovered close to the ground like a disembodied specter. It was just past the witching hour.
Trying to ignore the demon’s voice, her foot forced a shovel tip between the invading roots of an old elm tree. Late summer rain softened the first two feet, but the deeper she went, the more arduous her task became. As its blade struck the cold earth, the shovel’s handle creaked once more. If it could just hold out a bit longer, weeks of their nocturnal labor would come to an end tonight.
The whispers beneath her feet intensified into a full-throated growl. Too loud. Angela pulled a small bottle of water out of her pocket and sprinkled it over the soil. Its bitter blessing drove the sound into silence once more.
For years, drugs numbed the whispers and obscured the demon’s face, but Angela’s gatekeepers eventually tossed her out like many crumpled bits of garbage now littering the streets of the North Shore. In Boston, she found ways to calm the chaos by coercing the gullible. Many survived their interactions with her. Some were not as fortunate.
During a moment of weakness, she tried to end her own life, but Lyssa and Hekate kept her from the slumber of death. Instead, her beloved Goddesses graciously bestowed visions of destiny upon their troubled servant.
The shovel finally bumped against something other than rocks and roots. A rush of excitement flowed through Angela’s veins. Turning the blade over, she scraped back the earth from the old pine lid. Then she jammed the shovel’s metal edge between the boards.
Nails loosened, but the pressure snapped the rusted collar from the shovel’s wooden handle. She grumbled something incoherent and tossed the broken tool aside. It landed with a soft thud onto the foraged slab of plywood she’d been using to cover the grave.
Adrenaline in her veins shifted to pulsing dopamine.
Angela grabbed the axe lying next to the rejected shovel. She lifted it above her head and let its blade fall onto the rotting timber. Not too hard. Just enough to break it. Must not harm the treasure inside. She set the axe aside and grabbed hold of the broken coffin lid. When one of the planks snapped in half, it ripped open the skin on her knuckles.
A face stared back at her. Though not recognizable in its present state, it still gave Angela nauseating chills. Crimson drops christened the bones as she placed them one by one inside a black trash bag. It wasn’t the first time the demon drew blood from her.
When she was done, she pulled the plywood back over the open pit and spread a thin layer of earth on top with the shovel blade. Once more, her work was hidden. Then she picked up the axe and swung it hard against the cheap concrete headstone. It tumbled over into the tall weeds. She struck it several times more, letting fury flood her soul.
Angela rolled over in the darkness and opened her eyes in a panic. Did she just come from the cemetery, or was it something she had yet to do?
No.
She reached over and touched the black bag lying next to her. It had been days since that task had been completed. Time slipped back and forth so easily sometimes.
Obtaining the bones was one step. Soon, Angela would bend the demon to her will with the threat of silencing it forever. Remnants of the forbidden ritual remained engraved in her mind. The rest, the part she wasn’t allowed to read, was in a Book of Shadows hidden somewhere in this house.
Muffled voices from the room above interrupted the dead’s incessant whispers.
Excerpt from Dead Man’s Trigger
When Max Maguire joins a group of vampires who hunt vampires, his first mission gets complicated very quickly and Max has to draw on his Special Forces training – and get creative.
Without a word, the team quickly exited the van. They barely made a sound, with only the muffled noise of doors opening and closing to betray their arrival.
Max crawled up into the passenger’s seat and waited. Terry had a revolver out and ready on his lap. Chase and the team stood near the trees sizing up the situation.
“Five hostiles inside with two humans, two hostiles out back,” Chase said in a low voice through his headset. Max watched as Chase pointed to Sumi and Tank and then to the rear of the house. He knew from experience, no one would talk at this stage unless they had to. Sound was always risky.
Sumi and Tank took off in a blur. Max did as Tank suggested and reached out with his senses to follow the action. The rest of the team crouched by the tree line for a moment and then Chase motioned for them to go.
Chase, Shades and Father Frank were beginning their approach from the front. Everything in the backyard was happening so fast, Max was having trouble keeping track of what was going on. One of the vamps went down immediately and vanished from Max’s internal radar. The other had avoided a round to the heart and took off. Sumi was in pursuit, but Max lost her. He tried to find her again, but she was out of his range.
He looked at Terry, a worried expression on his face.
“She’s okay, Max. She can take care of herself,” he said.
Max nodded and got back to the action. The attack from the front had started and Max could sense the chaos in the house as the vampires dove for cover or tried to reach their weapons. Two were killed immediately, but the other three were putting up a fight. Then one of them dove through a side window, right through the wood covering it, and Max saw he was out of the house and headed for them. Max didn’t have a weapon, but he wasn’t about to be a sitting duck. Terry nodded at Max and they both opened their doors to get out of the van.
The vamp looked like a biker, defined by leather, tattoos and long hair. And he was really pissed. When the angry vampire saw them, he raised his revolver and started shooting at them on the run. One of the rounds whizzed by Max’s ear and he dove to the ground in a roll, coming up on his hands and knees. Terry started firing back, but the vampire was moving fast. They were trading shots, so Max pushed himself up and flew at the vampire, tackling him, the two rolling one over the other until they crashed into a tree.
Max was stunned for a moment, but so was his opponent. He saw the flash of the revolver and he went for it, the two struggling over the weapon. The vampire smashed Max in the chest with his fist and sent him flying backwards. Ending up flat on his back, he rolled onto his knees just as the vampire got a shot off. Suddenly his lower back was on fire and Max knew he’d been shot. Now he was pissed.
Terry was rounding the van. He took a shot, but missed the vampire. The bad guy was distracted for just a moment, and that’s all Max needed. He scrambled onto his hands and knees. Ignoring the pain, Max launched himself at the vampire again, breaking a branch of a tree off along the way and knocking his opponent to the ground. Max drove the large end of the branch into the vampire’s chest as the bad guy was raising the weapon to take another shot. The vampire stopped, a look of total surprise on his face. The branch with its leaves still intact stuck out of him as if the tree was growing right through him. And then he turned to dust.
Max’s back hurt like hell and he fell to the ground on his side. Then Terry and Chase were standing over him.
“Death by maple. That’s a first,” said Terry.
Excerpt from Diamond Moon Rising by Celia Breslin
A thump from outside on his deck, heavier than the staccato taps of the hail, halted him in his foyer. More offbeat thuds sounded near the front door.
Company in this weather?
No one would venture up his private road uninvited…
He stalked to his door and released a bit of power in warning. If they were a shifter, they would likely take the hint. And if they didn’t… Well, he was a dominant wolf, a Beta, and one of the alpha’s enforcers.
They don’t stand a chance.
The feedback froze his fingers on the doorknob.
Female.
He inhaled. Damn, she smells good.
Human. Wolf.
Wait…both?
The copper tang of blood hit his nose. She’s injured.
He flung open the door and caught his visitor off guard, one small, white fist raised to knock. The woman startled then fell forward. Ross caught her in his arms then pulled her inside, kicking the door shut with one booted foot.
The petite female sagged against him, a shivering bundle of sopping wet woman. Underneath the dampness, her scent drop-kicked his gut.
Fresh and sweet, like apples dipped in cinnamon and honey.
His body perked up, taking extreme notice. A growl of possession threatened to tear out of his throat, and an ancient, primal energy stirred to life inside him, accelerating his pulse.
Holy hell, she’s my potential mate.
The scent of her blood spurred him into action. He lowered her gently to the floor. “Are you okay?”
His instincts urged him to check her for wounds everywhere, but he was a stranger and didn’t want to spook her. But goddamn, he wanted to touch her. Peel off her wet clothes. To see all of her and warm her with his body.
With a jacket covering her torso, baggy jeans hiding her legs, and a ball cap pulled low over her face, all he could see so far was her quivering pale chin, full red lips, and delicate, trembling fingers peeking out from her coat sleeves.
“S-s-sorry, d-dripping all ov-v-ver your f-f-floor,” she said, her teeth chattering.
Her snow-white fingers curled into fists, her arms trembling with the effort to keep herself upright. Blood droplets dotted the floor plank near her hip.
To hell with propriety. “You’re injured. Let me help you.” He pulled up her cap and damn near swallowed his tongue.
Big green eyes blinked up at him from a face so pale it made him think of moonlight. Drenched, short black hair lay plastered to her head, the ends framing features reminiscent of the fairies his sister loved to draw.
Ethereal beauty. Want her to be my beauty.
She flinched and batted his hand away. “Stop,” she rasped before listing to her side, her body trembling.
With the cold or fear?
He desperately didn’t want her to be afraid. “Sorry. Please, let me help you. I’m Ross. You’re safe here. I promise.”
Bewitching Book Tours: What inspired you to become an author?
Jennifer Silverwood: This may sound clichรฉ, but Winona Ryder’s “Jo” from Little Women. There was something about Jo that I recognized even at a young age, that same creative drive and need I felt kinship with. Her quote in the movie always stands out to me: “I gave myself up to it, longing for transformation.”
Jo March didn’t just make me a more voracious reader, she made me want to become an author.
BBT: Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?
JS: In Bound Beauty, Vynasha comes so close to finally finding the home she has always craved, before everything she thought she believed comes crashing around her. In the end she realizes she must fight for what she wants. I hope readers are encouraged not to give up, no matter how dark or bleak things become.
BBT: If this book is part of a series…what is the next book? Any details you can share?
JS: I’m currently working on the fourth and final book in the series: Heartless Beauty. Without giving away too many spoilers, I can promise all the angst and feels while Vynasha denies her feelings for Grendel. The sequel also promises almost nonstop action and an epic clash between rival queens. I hope you’ll come along for the ride with me!
BBT: What books are in your to read pile?
JS: An embarrassing amount, if I’m honest. I’ve been slowly working my way (again) through Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time series, and am currently in the middle of Winter’s Heart. Also literally in my bedside pile are Shadow of Night by Deborah Harkness, Chasing Stardust by Erica Lucke Dean, and Salt & Broom by Sharon Lynn Fisher.
BBT: What books/authors have influenced your life?
JS: Anything written by L.M. Montgomery, but especially Anne of Green Gables and Emily of New Moon. Other authors who profoundly shaped my love of storytelling are Robin McKinley, Robert Jordan, and the legendary J.R.R. Tolkien.
BBT: Who designed the cover of your latest book?
JS: The amazing team at Qamber Designs, and more specifically the talented Najla Qamber. She has designed every single one of my covers (even the recovers) since the beginning. Being able to trust your cover designer is such a gift and I wouldn’t trade her friendship for the world.
BBT: Do you have any advice for other writers?
JS: Don’t give up. Don’t stop writing when it gets hard, or when you feel like a failure, or when life seems to press its weight too heavily. Keep going because you love it, because it gives you joy. If it doesn’t bring you joy, take a step back and ask the hard questions. At the end of the day, your love for the craft and art of storytelling will keep you going, no matter what data numbers or the world will tell you.
BBT: Do you have a song or playlist (book soundtrack) that you think represents this book?
JS: I actually have a Spotify playlist I made while working on this series. Every time I sit down to work on Heartless Beauty, I put this music on and it helps put me right in the mood for Vynasha’s story. Here’s the link for anyone who would like to listen while they read along: https://tinyurl.com/wyldertalesplaylist
BBT: When you’re not writing what do you do? Do you have any hobbies or guilty pleasures?
JS: I read constantly, every chance I get. But when I’m not reading, I practice piano, always on a quest to improvement and playing all the songs I love. My guilty pleasure hobby, however, is playing video games. My favorites are the Dragon Age series, Skyrim, Diablo 3, and Divinity 2.
BBT: What is next for you? Do you have any scheduled upcoming releases or works in progress?
JS: Like I mentioned above, I’m currently writing Heartless Beauty, which is scheduled to come out on March 31st. And I’m also writing the fourth in my Borderlands Saga series: Annwyn Park set to come out January 13th. You can follow my blog and newsletter over at my website: http://jennifersilverwood.com
Thanks so much and happy reading, friends!
Excerpt
IN A FORGOTTEN CASTLE IN WYLDERLAND…
Alone with Grendel, the man she had been tempted to love, the prince she loathed, Vynasha didn’t want to wake up. Let her sleep for a thousand years like the cursed princess, Morana. Let these walls crumble, the rose garden spread throughout the keep with thorns and vines to keep the world out forever.
“I know you are awake, Ashes.”
Vynasha opened her eyes. The prince stood before the hearth, his back to her. He hadn’t changed clothes since she had last seen him. Yet his faintly luminous skin had dimmed from bronze to the dull gray she remembered. “What happened?” she asked.
“A fever in your sleep. Odym says it was the runes.” Grendel’s shoulders hunched as he hung his head. “I should not have come, I know this. But I…” he twisted to face her. “Forgive me, Vynasha, but I cannot stay away from you any longer. I could feel your pain through the bond, yet there was nothing I could do to stop her,” he growled. “Do not ask me to leave you again, I beg of you.”
Vynasha should have been disgusted, but she was coming to accept the fact that Odym had been right. No matter how she truly felt, they needed each other. And she could not deny the way his words danced about her mind and breathed life back into her limbs.
“I wish I could tell you I was different,” he continued, “before my mother cursed me. But the truth is, I was always a monster.” Grendel drew his shoulders back and lifted his chin, pushing away from the fireplace mantel. He shook his head and held his hands before him, palms upturned. “I never wanted to be my father. I shall not make his mistakes, and so I will be honest with you, Ash. No more secrets.”
She shuddered and desperately wished she could bathe, could banish dreams of Nymwe and be rid of the prince. The dread she felt before only grew as Grendel paused, clenching his fists as though steeling himself for words he could not take back.
“I owe you everything, so much more than you know. When you willingly accepted the curse, you took some of the monster into you. I have not been forced to change into a beast ever since. It has given me time to remember myself in your absence, who I was and who I hope to be.”
Vynasha ground her sharp teeth. So they not only shared a bond with his spirit, but she had taken part of his beast? That they were forced to share something she had learned to take pride in made her ill.
Whatever he saw in her face must have pained him, enough for him to turn away. “Forgive me. I shall go. I should have never hoped…” He shook his head, dispelling whatever he might have said as he took two more steps to the door.
She traced the tip of her tongue on her lip, tasting the blood she spilled to forget. His hand was on the doorknob when she said, “Wait.” The strength behind her command surprised her and caused the prince to freeze in place.
Vynasha lifted her hand with surprising ease. “Stay?”
We need each other.
His graying skin flickered to golden life as he turned with hope burning in his violet eyes. “Always.”
At his word, his promise, Vynasha released the breath she didn’t know she had been holding. Even then, a small corner of her mind railed against her actions, at the feelings she couldn’t seem to control. It must Grendel’s influence, his feelings trickling through their bond.
This is wrong.
Still, she couldn’t deny how the persistent itch beneath her skin abated with him beside her, holding her hand. It shouldn’t have mattered. Truly, she hated how easily she gave in to these feelings. She could never tell him. Grendel had bound her life to his. Even if she were to leave, to beg the wylderfolk to take her back into their home, she would never be rid of him. And the longer she remained in the prince’s castle, the less she wanted to be free.