Book Tour For SPARKED By Helena Echlin & Malena Watrous

Sparked

by Helena Echlin & Malena Watrous

Publisher: Geek & Sundry

Release Date: October 3rd 2017

Genre: Young Adult, Fantasy, Paranormal

Fifteen-year-old Laurel Goodwin wakes up to find her older sister Ivy missing from their Airstream trailer in the Oregon redwoods. A recurring nightmare convinces her that Ivy was abducted, but no one takes her dream seriously, including her mom. Laurel, a loner, has to learn to ask for help, and Jasper Blake, a mysterious new kid who shares her love of old books, quickly becomes her ally. Together they find their quiet town holds a deep secret and is the epicenter of a dark prophecy. 

Laurel soon learns that her worst enemies, mean girls Peyton Andersen and Mei Rosen, are developing powers that she needs to find and save Ivy. With time running out, Laurel realizes that power doesn't always take the form that you expect. And once she learns to look beyond her snap judgments, she develops an unexpected gift of her own.

Hello! We are both novelists, but if you've ever tried to write anything, you know that writing can be a lonely, angst-filled business. So one night over a cocktail or two, we came up with a solution: write our next book together. Malena already had an idea: a girl's sister is kidnapped and she has to rely on mean girls with superpowers to get her sister back. We couldn't resist seeing where that story would take us – a wild ride that includes a loner girl who wants to be a writer and a gorgeous boy who can shoot fire from his eyes but also loves to talk about books. And an ancient Zoroastrian prophecy. And pie shakes. (OK, so maybe we got a little carried away.)

We've both published solo novels (check them out here and here) and had no idea how co-writing would work out, but we pounded out the first draft in a white-hot frenzy of inspiration we called "the Vortex." One of us would write a scene and send it to the other with a note: "My apartment is a pigsty and I haven't eaten all day. #inthevortex." We wrote the book we wanted to read as teenagers: a supernatural thriller with healthy doses of horror and humor. Oh, and of course there's romance. You have to wait a long time for the only kiss in the book, but isn't that the case with all the best kisses in books?

December 16th

The Unofficial Addiction Book Fan Club & Pink Polka Dot Books - Welcome Post

December 17th

Deal Sharing Aunt - Promotional Post

The Reading Life - Review + Dream Cast + Favorite Quotes

Book Princess Reviews- Review

December 18th

JusticeReads - Review + Dream Cast + Favourite Quotes

A Bookish Abode - Review

Rainy Days and Pajamas- Promotional Post

December 19th

Belle's Bookish Reviews - Review

Vicarious Bookworm - Review + Favorite Quotes

Ink of Blood- Review

December 20th

Ctrl, Alt, Books - Review + Favourite Quotes

The Clever Reader - Review + Favorite Quotes

Never Too Many To Read- Review

December 21st

Books, Boys, and Blogs - Review + Dream Cast + Favourite Quotes

Lisa's Loves(Books of Course) - Promotional Post

A Dream Within a Dream- Promotional Post

December 22nd

YA/NA Book Divas - Review + Favourite Quotes

Hauntedbybooks13 - Review

The Cursed Books- Review

Blog Tour For RED SLEEPER By Brian Downes

Red Sleeper

The Berlin Fraternity Universe #2

Brian Downes

Genre: Historical horror

Date of Publication: Dec 1st, 2017

ISBN-13: 978-1978447349

Number of pages: 450

Cover Artist: Miriam Medina

 A cold war after dark.

In the horsepower town of 1950s Detroit, FBI agent Christopher Haigwood is raising his Catholic family and hunting Soviet spies. Then a communist fanatic who was arrested with a lot of guns, dynamite, and heroin breaks out of jail right before his eyes, and Haigwood is plunged into a terrifying labyrinth of plots, informants, liars, and the horrifying revelation that vampires are real, and that some of his KGB quarry are undead.

Red Sleeper is set in the world of The Berlin Fraternity.

Amazon

Excerpt:

          Haigwood had read Walter Swale’s file several times. 

He’d written sections of it. White.

Brown eyes, brown hair, approximately 5’6”, 175 pounds estimated weight. Father

born in Poland, 1893, changed the family name to Swale from Szwarc on arrival

in the USA. Haigwood had studied photographs of Swale to memorize the high

chin, the bulging lips, the distance between the eyes, the widow’s peak that

pointed out of the receding hairline. He had once sat at Swale’s kitchen table

with the curtains drawn and copied names out of his address book while Swale

was out at the movies. Now Swale was sitting in jail, having been brought in

the night before for resisting arrest, along with possession of: four ounces

Mexican heroin, ten sticks dynamite, one M1 rifle with two hundred rounds of

ammunition, one police revolver with ammunition, and twenty-three copies of a

Communist Party pamphlet urging workers to revolt against their bosses and

their elected leaders in Washington, D.C.

          Haigwood had been at home with his wife, Annie, over 

the Thanksgiving weekend. He’d

gotten the call last night at dinner. Now he was walking into the jail at eight

on Monday morning to get his first eyeball-to-eyeball with this Red they had

been watching for more than six months.

          There was a jail guard stationed at the front desk. 

Haigwood smiled at the man as he

unwrapped his scarf from around his neck. “Good morning! 

How’s everything with 

you fellas?”

          “Good morning,” the guard answered, looking him up and 

down warily. “Is it snowing 

already?”

          Haigwood took his fedora off, tapped the snow dust off its 

brim, and ran his hand 

through his hair. “Yes, it’s brisk 

out there!” He pulled out his credentials.

“I’m Christopher Haigwood, Federal Bureau of Investigation.

 I’m here to see 

Swale, Walter, a prisoner brought in about 2100 hours last night.”

          The guard, whom Haigwood saw was about ten years younger than he was, focused on 

Haigwood’s ID. He reached his hand out tentatively to touch

 the wallet. “I 

heard about that. So you really work for J. 

Edgar Hoover, huh?”

          “And the American people,” Haigwood answered with a smile. 

“Now do you think you

could get someone to show me to Swale?”

          The guard picked up a telephone receiver from a handset at his

 station and dialed a 

number. Haigwood toyed with his hat, 

smothered his impatient sigh, and looked

around at the signs in the jail’s foyer. The signs told him to be on the alert

for any men dressed in black and gray stripes, because they might be escaping inmates.

And that he was going to have to surrender his revolver if he wanted to go any

further. He looked out the window and saw the snowflakes floating gently

downward, their numbers growing. From further inside the jail he could smell

the morning coffee, but he’d just finished 

off a Coca-Cola in the car.

          He was really angry at Swale for getting himself arrested 

like this. But he was 

very much looking forward to 

speaking to him personally.

          A second guard appeared and took Haigwood inside the jail. 

This one older than 

him, and not shy at all about staring 

at the G-man with frank curiosity. He had

a nametag that read, “G. Cantor”. Nobody asked Haigwood for 

his service weapon, 

so he kept his overcoat on and didn’t mention it.

          “So I read this guy’s sheet,” Haigwood’s guide said indifferently 

as they walked.

          “Yeah, you did?”

          “Yeah,” Cantor nodded, looking like he didn’t care, 

but watching Haigwood’s face

carefully. “You know we don’t get a lot of dynamiters in here.”

          “Oh, you don’t?” Haigwood put a chime of surprise in his voice.

          “No,” the guard said, warming up to explaining his job to someone he had expected to 

be smarter than him. “We don’t get too many commies, either.”

          “I guess you’ve got one today, though?”

          “Yeah, yeah, we’ve sure got one today. It’s an unusual day. 

Here he is, on the end.”

          They had been walking down a chilly, second-level row of 

cells as Haigwood parried

Cantor’s efforts to pump him for information. It was cold enough that Haigwood

was quite comfortable with his overcoat on. Morning light, turned a cottony

gray by the snow coming down outside, slanted in through the high, narrow,

barred windows.

          Swale was up early, and had heard them coming. Haigwood could see him pressing his 

face up against the bars of his cell, craning his neck to see them approach.

But Haigwood stopped first at the cell adjacent to Swale’s, and looked down at

a little man wrapped in a blanket on one of the cell’s two bunks. “Who’s this?”

He asked Cantor.

          “Who, him? That’s Hobson. He stays with us sometimes, three or four times a year.”

          “What brings him in?”

          “Tuning up his wife.”

          Haigwood

gestured at Hobson’s sleeping cellmate. “And what about that one?”

          “That’s, uh, Gomez. Got drunk and stabbed a fellow over a game of cards.”

          “OK,” Haigwood said, reassured that the two men who might overhear his conversation didn’t much matter. He told the guard, 

“Thank you very much, Mr. Cantor, I’ll

be fine here,” as he took the final few steps that brought him face to face

with Walter Swale through the bars of his cell.

Brian Downes learned to read at a young age. He is now a novelist who lives in Orlando, Florida. His other novels are The Berlin Fraternity and The Carrefour Crisis. He also writes for the website Florida Geek Scene.

Twitter  https://twitter.com/bdownesauthor

Instagram https://www.instagram.com/briandownesauthor/

Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/Brian-Downes-Author-241226129234925/

Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/9870711.Brian_Downes

Book Tour For THE DEMON WITHIN By Josh Gagnier

The Demon Within

The Last War #1

Josh Gagnier

Genre:  Urban Fantasy

Date of Publication:  February 2015

ISBN:  9781520103358

ASIN:  B00T69ZCRC

Number of pages:  213

Paradise or The Abyss, you decide

Joe grew up listening to the voice in his head. It helped him through school, helped him gain wealth in his career.

The final temptation of power was too much. He hadn't considered the cost.

Now he must find a way to defeat The Demon Within.

Little does he know, his every move is being recorded. Every misstep is being judged. As he gets ever closer to winning over his demon, heavenly eyes watch from above. Some root for his success while others hope he'll fail.

While Joe fights his demon on the battlefront, the angel Michael fights for his Soul.

Will Joe win out?

Will Michael be able to save Joe's soul?

Or will the Demon win and thrust Joe into the Abyss.

Amazon

        Excerpt:

“You must be new
to these parts.  Name’s Belath,” says a
figure standing over a young man lying against a large trash compactor.  A look toward the sound of the voice reveals
what appears to be an older man who, by the looks of him, has had, to put it
lightly, a less than spoiled life.  His
dark skin is loose with an almost leathery roughness, like a stretched hide
left in the sun too long.  Several of his
teeth have long escaped the captivity of his smile and those left plot against
the warden.  The lines of time can be
seen through his mostly grey with spattered black scruff.  His posture is the only thing that doesn’t
match his rundown appearance.  He stands
straight and proud holding his shoulders square, almost in a protest, refusing
to look weak.  He bears the righteous
indignation of an innocent man facing the gallows. 

“Just passing
through,” replies a shaky voice trying to sound formidable.  A young man, thin, but seemingly fed well
enough, slowly stands and dusts himself off.
His posture seems closer to a beaten animal than a grown man.  His boots are scuffed and old, but the heel
gives him a few inches in height, which is probably why he wears them.  His knuckles are cracked and healing; more likely
from the heat than any type of hard labor.
The dark circles under his eyes and his unkempt appearance hint that he
hasn’t slept an entire night in years.
His jacket makes him appear even smaller, as it is a few sizes too big
and has small rips that don’t appear to be from wear and tear.  He probably fished it from a dumpster.  His jeans seem to be the least worn of the
man.  Though dirty, they're nearly
new.  This poor sap doesn’t look like he
could fight his way through a paper bag.
The only things that don’t match his overall demeanor are his eyes.  Visibly swimming between pale yellow and
bright green, they draw you in and make you trust him. 

“Well, ya may
want to make yourself scarce before patrols make their rounds.  They let me stay because I’m the only one
within a few hundred miles with a distiller.
I can’t guarantee they won’t haul you off to camp,” Belath warns.
“What’s your name son?”

“Don’t want to
know you.  I’m not your son and I’m not
staying.  Just need a little rest,”
replies the young man.  He pulls his hood
over his head and turns to walk down the alley toward the main street. 

If he were
watching where he was going instead of ignoring the world around him, he would
seen the group of four large men, obviously armed, moving quickly toward
him.  He would have heard Belath’s
warning, and wouldn’t have cost himself such precious time.  Belath reached him just in time to be added
as a target.  The young man realized what
was happening a moment too late.  A fist
hit him square in the side of the head, knocking him to one knee.  Belath runs to his side and helps him to his
feet.  The men must have recognized
Belath because three of them took a few steps back.  Even the big one, the apparent the leader,
took a hesitant step backward.  They must
have decided they had the advantage because they began to advance yet again. 

“Gentlemen, do
not ring a bell you can’t unring,” says a stern, direct voice.  It came from the young man who, only moments
earlier, seemed too weak to speak.  “This
is a fight you will not win, regardless of your numbers,” the young man
continues.

In response, the
leader grabs a bat from one of his men and swings at the young man’s head.  Before anyone can realize what is happening,
the young man lunges at the leader.  In one
motion, he sidesteps the life ending swing, pulls a long black knife from a
sheath under his jacket, and plunges it deep into the leader’s temple with his
right hand while grabbing the bat from the ground with his left.  With his next step, he swings the bat at his
second target, and finds such purchase the man’s head nearly spins
backward.  Next, the young man yanks the
blade from the leader’s head and stabs the third man in the side of the neck,
almost as a cobra striking its prey.  The
young man looks for the last of his adversaries, and sees him running down the
alley toward the main streets.  The young
man takes a deep breath, lifts the bat, takes aim, and hurls it at his
target.  The bat’s aim is precise and the
man falls to the ground, screaming in pain.
As the young man calmly walks toward his now-felled enemy, he cleans the
blood off of his knife on his pant leg, and puts it away with such dexterity it
can’t be known exactly where the sheath is hidden. 

“Today you
benefit from being last, sir,” says the young man as he sits on the ground by
the last man’s head. “Enough whimpering! You merely broke your ankle on my
bat.  I have no desire to take your
life,” he says as he pulls out a cigarette and lights it. “You will do
something for me.  To that end, I spare
you life.” His voice is calm yet direct, “You will tell whomever you work for
it was Jekyll who reduced these men to corpses.
You will tell him this and,” he takes a long, slow drag of his
cigarette, and continues, “you will tell them this, and you will tell them,
they do not wish to meet Hyde.  Do we
have a deal?” the last being more statement than question. 

The man,
believing he is being played, but not wanting to die, gives an exaggerated
nod.  The young man stands and begins
walking back to where he had been resting and calls out over his shoulder. 

“Belath, I guess
I’ll be staying a while longer,” once again speaking in the same shaky voice he
had spoken with earlier. 

                               

Visit the Author:

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15556787.Joshua_Gagnier

https://www.facebook.com/joshgagnierauthor/

Josh has had a knack for writing from a young age; mostly poetry.  The Demon Within is his debut novel and, according to Josh, nearly wrote itself.  He is a US Army veteran and has been deployed to the Balkans and Middle East.  He has been an IT professional for about a decade. 

 

Many of the events in The Demon Within were taken from Josh's life and "put through the fiction blender" as he puts it.  When pressed for more details, he said he couldn't give specifics for fear of "giving spoilers," but, he did say the book includes fictional spins on things ranging from childhood bullying to being placed in the Las Vegas foster care system.

He currently lives in Columbus OH with his family and is working on book two of his 'The Last War' series.

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Book Tour & Giveaway For THE ONE APART By Justine Avery

The One Apart

Justine Avery

Genre: Paranormal

Publisher: Justine Avery

Date of Publication:  December 4, 2017

ASIN: B076B7RDWY

Number of pages: 568

Word Count:  109k

Cover Artist: Oishii Designs

Only one obstacle stands in his way of enjoying a normal life. He remembers—every life he's lived before.

Tres is about to be born... with the biggest burden any has ever had to bear. He is beginning again—as an ageless adult trapped in an infant body.

He and his teenage mother face life filled with extraordinary challenges as they strive to protect, nurture, and hide how truly different he is. But Tres alone must solve the greatest mystery of all: who is he? The answer is linked to the one question he's too afraid to ask: why am I?

In his quest, Tres discovers that all is considerably more interconnected and dynamic than he could ever imagine—and fraught with far more danger. He cannot hide from the unseen threat stalking him since his birth.

Life as he knows it—as all know it—is in peril. And Tres is the only one aware.

Amazon

The One Apart by Justine Avery – Excerpt 

“He needs a name,” Maria said,

pouring scrambled eggs onto the plate decorated with a face of bacon strips.

Sancha stared at her plate. “He has one,” she said.

The hot iron skillet slipped from

Maria’s hand; she sighed her relief as it landing safely on the stove burner.

“What... did you decide?”

“I didn’t.” Sancha prodded at her

eggs, recovering her bacon art one eye at a time.

“I thought you—”

“He has one already. I just don’t know what it is.”

Maria’s subconscious almost

recognized the truth in the statement before it was buried by her conscious

again. “Don’t be silly. Did you choose a name? If not, I will have—”

“No, you will not,” Sancha ended the conversation.

* * *

In the fenced back yard Maria

referred to as “the garden,” sat a rusting swing set for two: Sancha’s favorite

spot in the whole world. Swinging there—in and out of the shade of the

broad-reaching maple tree—seemed to slow time and shoo away all teenage

troubles.

“I have to name you,” she called

out to her bright-eyed baby resting in a basket nestled in the grass below her.

She swung her pale legs to propel herself higher into the morning sunlight, her

glittering hair swirling around her. “But you won’t tell me what yours is,” she

pouted.

Her polka-dotted summer dress

fluttered in the breeze as her legs scooped up another pocket of air. “I guess

you can’t,” she concluded on a downswing. “Yet,” she shouted into the air.

  

Justine Avery is an award-winning author of stories large and small for all. Born in the American Midwest and raised all over the world, she is inherently an explorer, duly fascinated by everything around her and excitedly noting the stories that abound all around. As an avid reader of all genres, she weaves her own stories among them all. She has a predilection for writing speculative fiction and story twists and surprises she can’t even predict herself.

Avery has either lived in or explored all 50 states of the union, over 36 countries, and all but one continent; she lost count after moving 30-some times before the age of 20. She’s intentionally jumped out of airplanes and off the highest bungee jump in New Zealand, scuba dived unintentionally with sharks, designed websites, intranets, and technical manuals, bartered with indigenous Panamanians, welded automobile frames, observed at the Bujinkan Hombu Dojo in Noba, Japan, and masterminded prosperous internet businesses—to name a few adventures. She earned a Bachelor of Arts degree that life has never required, and at age 28, she sold everything she owned and quit corporate life—and her final “job”—to freelance and travel the world as she always dreamed of. And she’s never looked back.

Aside from her native English, Avery speaks a bit of Japanese and a bit more Spanish, her accent is an ever-evolving mixture of Midwestern American with notes of the Deep South and indiscriminate British vocabulary and rhythm, and she says “eh”—like the Kiwis, not the Canadians. She currently lives near Los Angeles with her husband, British film director Devon Avery, and their three adopted children: Becks, Sam, and Lia. She writes from wherever her curiosity takes her.

Avery loves to connect with fellow readers and creatives, explorers and imaginers, and cordially invites you to say “hello”—or konnichiwa.

www.JustineAvery.com

Twitter: @Justine_Avery

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/JustineAvery



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Book Tour For THE MONSTER OF SELKIRK By C.E. Clayton

The Monster Of Selkirk

The Duality of Nature #1

C.E. Clayton

Genre: YA Fantasy

Print Length: 329 pages

Publisher: DevilDog Press

Publication Date: April 18, 2017

ASIN: B06XSXB14F

Monsters come in many forms, and not everyone knows a monster when they see one. After three hundred years of monstrous, feral elves plaguing the island nation of Selkirk, everyone believes they know what a monster is. Humans have learned to live with their savage neighbors, enacting a Clearing every four years to push the elves back from their borders. The system has worked for centuries, until after one such purge, a babe was found in the forest.

As Tallis grows, she discovers she isn't like everyone else. There is something a little different that makes people leery in her presence, and she only ever makes a handful of friends.

But when the elves gather their forces and emerge from the forests literally hissing Tallis's name like a battle mantra, making friends is the least of her troubles. Tallis and her companions find themselves on an unwilling journey to not only clear her name, but to stop the elves from ravaging her homeland.

Amazon     BN     Kobo     iTunes     Smashwords     Goodreads

C. E. Clayton was born and raised in Southern California where she worked in the advertising industry for several years on accounts that ranged from fast food, to cars, and video games (her personal favorite). This was before she packed up her life, husband, two displeased cats, and one very confused dog and moved to New Orleans. Now, she is a full time writer (mainly in the fantasy genre), her cats are no longer as displeased, and her dog no longer confused.

More about C.E. Clayton, including her blog, book reviews, and poetry, can be found on her website: http://www.ceclayton.com

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