Dead Sexy Sales Blitz

EPIC AWARD Finalist and Winner of the GOLD STAR AWARD at JERR

"Move over vamp heroes. The zombies are coming to town and they're DEAD SEXY." ~ Cynthia Eden, USA Today Bestselling Author

"Loved this book. Paige Tyler has a real flair for combining hot romance with the paranormal." ~ Desiree Holt, Bestselling Author

 Author's Note: NO PEOPLE WERE EATEN IN THE MAKING OF THIS BOOK

SYNOPSIS

Can her love save him from a curse worse than death?

Romance author Simone Kent thinks she might just have found the most perfect guy in all of New York City - in bed and out.

But Drake Parrish is about as far from perfect as any man can get. Eight years ago, he was cursed by an evil Voodoo priestess to live part of his life as a zombie. Since then, he has lived like a recluse on New York’s Upper East Side, afraid to go out for fear he’ll suddenly turn into one of the walking dead.

The sex is the hottest either of them has ever experienced and Simone discovers just how naughty she can be with Drake, while he finds himself feeling things for Simone he hasn’t felt in a very long time. When the Voodoo priestess learns of their relationship, however, she comes after him again. She's determined he won't have a future with Simone, even if that means killing both him and the woman he loves.

EXCERPT

As she led him up the steps to the second floor, Drake found himself wondering if she would ask him in. And wondering what he’d say if she did. When they came to a stop outside the door to her apartment, Simone turned to give him a smile.

“I had a great time tonight.”

“Me, too.”

She caught her bottom lip between her perfect white teeth and chewed on it thoughtfully as if unsure what she wanted to say next. It was probably an unconscious gesture, something she did whenever she was thinking, but to him, it was sexy as hell and all he could think about was kissing her.

Surely, one kiss couldn’t hurt. He desperately wanted to. He hadn’t kissed a woman in so long. It would be nice to see if he still remembered how.

Before he could stop himself, Drake tilted Simone’s face up to his and pressed his mouth to hers.

She tasted just as sweet and delicious as he thought she would. Her lips were soft and pliant under his as she kissed him back, her tongue eagerly seeking his out.

Drake groaned and slid his hand into her hair, deepening the kiss. Simone sighed into his mouth, running her hands up the front of his shirt to grasp his shoulders. The feel of her touch was like a tonic to his deprived soul and he let out another groan, deeper this time.

He ran his free hand up her side and around to her breast, cupping it through the soft material of her dress. He couldn’t stop himself and apparently, Simone didn’t want him to. She moaned and arched against him. He could feel the heat of her pussy through their clothes as she pressed up against his hard cock. Damn, she felt good.

Drake drew her bottom lip into his mouth and gently suckled on it before slowly kissing his way along the delicate curve of her jaw. Simone clutched his shoulders and tilted her head back. He eagerly trailed a path of hot kisses down her neck, then back up, his mouth finding hers again. Simone looped her arms around his neck, pulling him in even closer as their tongues met.

Down the hall, a door slammed, reminding him where they were.

Drake dragged his mouth away from hers, his breathing ragged as he tried to regain control. He had to get it together because he was about five seconds away from doing something really stupid. Like taking her to bed. “I should go.”

Her lips curved into a sexy, flirtatious smile. “Or you could stay.”

God, how he wanted to. But as much as he’d love to spend the rest of the night exploring every inch of her body, he couldn’t take the chance he might go zombie on her right in the middle of sex. Talk about coitus interruptus. And it had already been almost four days since he last turned, which meant he was already pushing his luck.

“You don’t know how much I want to,” he groaned. “But I can’t.”

Simone looked up at him with those big, blue eyes. “Why not?”

“Because I…” He hesitated, trying to come up with something that would sound believable. “I have a column due in the morning and I haven’t even started on it yet.” She knew all about deadlines, so she would understand that. Besides, he did have a column to write, it just wasn’t due until next week. “Rain check?”

She looked disappointed, but she smiled anyway. “Absolutely. How does coming over for dinner tomorrow night sound?”

It would be crazy to agree when he could be so close to having an episode, but he couldn’t say no. Not when she asked in that soft, sultry voice. “Sounds great.”

“Good. Be here at seven.”

“Seven it is.”

She pulled him down for another long, slow kiss on the mouth. “Don’t be late.”

His mouth twitched. “I won’t.” He bent his head to kiss her again, then groaned. “If I don’t go now, I’ll be here all night.”

Simone laughed. “Would that be such a bad thing?”

“Not to me, but my editor at Money Issues might not be too understanding when he doesn’t find my column sitting in his inbox tomorrow.”

She sighed. “Deadlines can be a real pain in the butt sometimes. Okay, go home and write your column. I’ll cuddle up with a bowl of ice cream instead.”

He chuckled. “Sounds better than taking a cold shower, which is what I’m going to be doing when I get home.” He closed his mouth over hers once more. “See you tomorrow night, beautiful.”

Resisting the urge to pull her into his arms again, Drake turned and walked down the hallway toward the stairwell. At the top of the steps, he glanced over his shoulder to see Simone standing where he’d left her, a sexy curve to her lips.

It took every ounce of strength he possessed not to go back and pin her against the door for one more long, lingering kiss. God, what he wouldn’t give to spend the night with her. Man, it was going to take more than a cold shower to get her out of his head.

BUY LINKS

http://www.amazon.com/Dead-Sexy-ebook/dp/B00E1S8EPU/ref=sr_1_15?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1374339234&sr=1-15

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Paige Tyler is a bestselling author of sexy, romantic fiction. She and her very own military hero (also known as her husband) live on the beautiful Florida coast with their adorable fur baby (also known as their dog). Paige graduated with a degree in education, but decided to pursue her passion and write books about hunky alpha males and the kickbutt heroines who fall in love with them.

Find her books at Ellora's Cave, Blushing Books, and soon Sourcebooks.

She is represented by Bob Mecoy.

WEBSITE:  http://www.paigetylertheauthor.com

FACEBOOK:  https://www.facebook.com/PaigeTylerAuthor

TWITTER:  https://twitter.com/PaigeTyler

GOODREADS:  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2300692

GIVEAWAY

LINK: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/share-code/ODQ1M2I4MDljZjljMDM0NWU1NjQ1MzAxMmE0MzQxOjU=/

My Life as a Teenage Zombie Book Tour and Giveaway

Hi Dana, thanks for letting me stop by your cool blog as part of my Book Launch Blog Tour for Girl Z: My Life as a Teenage Zombie, which was released August 1.

* Be sure to comment for a chance to win assorted prizes. Leave an email, blog or website link to contact you.*

Synopsis for GIRL Z: My Life as a Teenage Zombie:

Sixteen-year-old Rebecca Herrera Hayes' life changes forever when her cousin Spence comes back to their small Wisconsin town carrying a deadly secret—he's becoming a zombie, a fate he shares with her through an accidental scratch.

The Z infection, however, has mutated, affecting younger persons like her, or those treated early enough, differently. Now she must cope with weird physical changes and habits no girl wants to be noticed for.

But time is running out... Becca needs the help of her friends and other cousin to fight off hungry zombies and find their missing mothers.

Most of all, she needs to find something, anything, to stop this deadly transformation before it is forever too late...

Excerpt:

A virus. A freaking virus.

I'd been sick before, you know, measles, mumps…kid stuff…but not really sick.

Never like this.

This...this couldn't be happening.

I tuned back in to the doctor's explanation…new diet, pills, blah-blah-blah…and let his words fade again into the background.

Gone was the golden tan I'd nurtured over the summer with tanning cream and hours sunbathing by the pool with one of my cousins. My skin had a weird grayish tone, like I'd rubbed myself with fireplace ash.

I gazed at my legs, now mottled with strange gray blotches, and my pretty pink toenails peeking out from beneath the sheet.

The machine next to me made a frantic beep-beep.

I turned and caught my reflection in the metal canister sitting on the table next to the bed. Whimpering, I rubbed a hand over my cheek, wondering at the scaly texture, while at other times I felt almost nothing.

Large, deep brown eyes under ebony bangs stared back. I saw a decent nose.

Spots.

I took in the pinkish patches and my uneven skin tone, which reminded me of those old battleships on the PBS show I'd watched with my aunt.

For the first time in my sixteen-year-old life I was...ugly.

I struck the bed frame over and over, the pain barely registering. The machine's whir-click-whir turned into a wail almost louder than mine—beep-beep-beeeeeeep.

A nurse in blue scrubs rushed in and tried to reassure me, even as she attempted to keep me immobile on this slab they called a bed.

"Relax, it'll be fine," she said.

"No, it won't," I yelled, "it won't!"

How could looking like freaking King Tut without his wrappings ever be fine?

BUY:
Amazon:  *Canada - China - France - Germany - India - Italy - Japan -Spain - US - UK

* Books-A-Million   *Barnes & Noble   *IndieBound   * Powell's

Website: http://cverstraete.com

Blog: GirlZombieAuthors - http://girlzombieauthors.blogspot.com

1. Tell me a little about your inspiration for GIRL Z.

Like most everyone else, I got hooked on The Walking Dead, but I've long been a horror, monster, and zombie fan. (Night of the Living Dead, Dawn of the Dead). But I wanted to do a story from the point of view of someone who is part-zombie and part-human yet.

2. What is your favorite character from the book and why?

Only one? I love my main character, Becca. She's sassy, funny, and not always sure of herself, but that's okay. She finds her way. But her cousin, Carm, is no pushover, either.

3. Tell us about your favorite three zombie movies and TV shows.

I loved Zombieland. Fun and funny.

Typical, yeah, I really like The Walking Dead.

And... there's still something fascinating about re-watching the original Night of the Living Dead.

4. What five things would you want with you in a zombie apocalypse?

Funny thing is I'm not a weapons fan, but in that world it's a necessity. So: gun, huge knife , baseball bat, flame thrower, and it might be impractical, but gotta have my dog.

5. Cheeseburger or sushi?

Burger, but I like Turkey.

6. Favorite ice cream?

Anything chocolate.

7. Plotter or panster?

I plot and outline, but do get different ideas to add while I write.

8. What must you have on your writing desk?

Notebooks. I like to write ideas down longhand.

9. What are you working on next?

A horror book with a historical figure and a GIRL Z sequel, along with assorted short stories.

10. What do you want readers to get from your book?

Being different is okay. Ignore the naysayers and be yourself.

Bio: Christine Verstraete is a big Halloween fan who enjoys a good scare or two. Her short fiction has appeared online and in anthologies including Timeshares and Steampunk'd from DAW Books. Her new YA book, GIRL Z: My Life as a Teenage Zombie was released August 1. Stop by her website at http://cverstraete.com or blogs, http://girlzombieauthors.blogspot.com and http://candidcanine.blogspot.com.

*** Don't forget to follow along the rest of the tour! ***

GIRL Z: My Life as a Teenage Zombie Book Launch Blog Tour - August 5-15

Monday, 8/5 - Marian Allen,- http://www.marianallen.com

Tuesday, 8/6 - Armand Rosamilia, http://armandrosamilia.com/

Wednesday, 8/7 - GirlZombieAuthors, http://girlzombieauthors.blogspot.com

Thursday, 8/8 - StraightFromHel, Helen Ginger, http://straightfromhel.blogspot.com/

Friday, 8/9 - Dana Wright, ZombieGirlShambling, http://zombiegirlshambling.blogspot.com/

Saturday, 8/10 - GirlZombieAuthors, http://girlzombieauthors.blogspot.com

Monday, 8/12 - AR Von, Dreamz of Dragons, http://dreamzofdragons.blogspot.com/

Tuesday, 8/13 - B. Swangin Webster, Books, Shoes, Writing, http://booksshoeswriting.blogspot.com/

Wednesday, 8/14 - DB Corey, http://dbcorey.blogspot.com/

Thursday, 8/15 - Wrap-up - GirlZombieAuthors, http://girlzombieauthors.blogspot.com

The Harvesting: A Spotlight and Giveaway

The Harvesting  

The Harvesting Series, Book 1
Melanie Karsak

Genre: Horror/Urban Fantasy

Publisher: Steampunk Press

ISBN-10: 1479327247

ISBN-13: 978-1479327249

ASIN: B009GI3YBY

Number of pages: 394

Word Count: 71000

Cover Artist: Michael Hall Photography

TV interview with book info:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xGHrhTv5YAA

Amazon    Smashwords

Book Description:

When mankind finally consumes itself, can any spark of humanity survive? Layla fights to keep those she loves alive when the zombie apocalypse unfolds, but she soon learns that zombies are not the only problem. With mankind silenced, those beings living on the fringe seek to reclaim power. Layla must learn who to trust, fast, if she hopes to save what is left of our kind.

The Harvesting            Chapter 1

“If you ever need to slice someone’s head off, this is the blade you want,” I said as I lifted a curved sword off the table in front of me. “We’ve been practicing épée and foil so far, but tonight I want to introduce you to the sabre.” The practice sabre’s curved blade reflected the orange streetlight shining in through the window. A grant from the Smithsonian where I worked allowed me to teach my two passions: ancient weapons and their arts. “The sabre is a slashing weapon,” I continued and then lunged, showing the wide-eyed and excited students a few moves. “And in general, it’s my favorite,” I admitted with a grin.

The students laughed.

“Is that why you have it tattooed on your arm?” Tyler, one of my best fencers, asked.

My hand went unconsciously toward the tattoo. The ink was a sword interlaced with other once-meaningful symbols. “That’s not just any sabre,” I said, mildly embarrassed. “Here, let me show you. I brought something special tonight.” Setting the training sabre down, I lifted a rolled bundle. I laid it down on the table and unrolled it to reveal weapons in various elaborate scabbards.

“Some are épée, foils—you can tell by the hilt—a broadsword, a claymore, a katana, a scimitar, throwing daggers,” I said, pointing, “but this, this is a Russian shashka.” I pulled the shashka from the bundle. “It’s like a traditional sabre, but has no guard. She’s light, single-edged, wielded with one hand, and good for stabbing or slashing. Not awkward in close quarters like a Scottish claymore, but it will kill you just as dead,” I said with a smile. I unsheathed the weapon and gave it an under- and over-hand spin around my head, shoulders, and back.

The students grinned from ear to ear.

I put it back in its scabbard and handed the shashka to them. “Pass it around, but keep in mind it is sharp enough to cut a blade of hair in half.” I then turned my attention to Tyler. “Now, since you’re so interested, let’s see how you do with the sabre.” I tossed one of the training swords to him.

Tyler, already in his gear, jumped up and lowered his fencing mask. “But you’re not in gear,” he said.

I shrugged. “Hit me--if you can.’”

We stood at the ready, made the ceremonial bow, and began. Tyler was not overly aggressive, which is partially why he was so successful. He waited for me, moving slowly. He was smart, quick, and often tried to over-tire his opponent.

I waited, dropped my sword a bit, and let him make the lunge. He took the bait.

The swords clanged together, and we clashed back and forth across the strip. He lunged and slashed while I dodged and blocked. He was fast. I was faster. When he lunged again, I ducked. With an upward movement, I went in.

“A hit,” Kasey called.

They clapped.

“Man, that’s what you get for taking on a former state champ—and the teacher,” Trey told Tyler with a laugh.

Tyler pulled off the mask and smiled at me.

Just then, my cell rang. I would usually ignore it, but something told me to answer.

“Everyone pair up and start working with the training sabres,” I said and pointed to the sword rack. I went to my bag and grabbed my cell.

Before I could say hello, she spoke.

“Layla, Grandma needs you to come home,” my grandmother’s voice, thick with Russian accent, came across through static. I was silent for a moment. My grandmother lived 500 miles away, and she never used her telephone. With the exception of her T.V., she hated technology. She’d cried and begged me to take away the microwave I’d purchased for her one Mother’s Day.

“Grandma? What’s wrong?”

“Come home now. Be here tomorrow,” she said. She hung up.

I lowered my cell and stared at it. Confused and worried, I dialed her back. The phone rang, but she did not answer. I had obligations: practice, bills to pay, groceries to buy, tons of work to do, and a date for god-sakes. But my grandmother was the only one I had left in the world.

“Sorry, guys. Emergency,” I called to my students.

Disappointed, they groaned.

“Sorry. Let’s pack it up for the night.” My hands shaking, I slid the shashka back into the bundle and rolled up the weapons. What had happened? Maybe Grandma was sick. Maybe she had some problem. Or maybe she had seen something.

The monuments on the Mall faded into the distance behind me as I made my way to my Georgetown apartment. It was Friday night. Wisconsin Avenue was packed. The upscale shops and restaurants teemed with people. In the crowd you could see the mix of international tourists, Georgetown students, and designer-dressed hotties headed to clubs. I sighed. For the last month I had turned myself inside out trying to get the attention of Lars Burmeister, the German specialist the Smithsonian had brought in to consult on our new medieval poleaxe exhibit. He had finally asked me to dinner; we were going to meet at Levantes, a Turkish restaurant near Dupont Circle, at nine that night. I had dreamed of authentic dolma and a chance to sit across from Lars somewhere other than a museum. I had even bought a new dress: black, strapless, come-hither.

I circled my block three times before I finally found a parking space. Regardless, I loved Georgetown. It was early fall. The mature trees had turned shades of deep red and orange and were losing their leaves. The air was filled with an interesting mixture of smells: the natural decay of autumn, dusty heat from the old cobblestone streets, and the mildly rancid odor of too many people. In my 4^th floor attic apartment of an old Brownstone, I could occasionally catch the sweet scent of the Potomac River. It reminded me just enough of home.

The apartment was ghastly hot. The small, one-bedroom had been closed up all day. I lifted the window and let the noise of the city fill the room. The street lamps cast twinkling light across my apartment. The weapons I had mounted on the wall, swords, shields, axes and the like, glimmered. I peeled off my sweaty practice clothes. Pulling a bag from the closet, I threw in several changes of clothes and a few other supplies. On my coffee table, my laptop light blinked glaringly. An overflowing email inbox, an article on bucklers that needed editing for a peer-reviewed journal, and a PowerPoint on Medieval Russian swords for a presentation for next week’s symposium all called me. My coffee table was stacked with paper. I was flooded with work; half my department was out on sick leave. There was a bad flu was going around. Thankfully, I had not yet gotten sick.

I pulled my cell out of my bag. I stared at the phone for a moment; Grandma’s recent call was still displayed on the screen. I dialed Lars’ number. My stomach shook when he answered.

“Guten abend, Lars. It’s Layla.”

“Ahh, Layla, good evening,” he replied.

I loved his German accent. He’d learned English from a British teacher; he said arse with a German lilt. It made me smile. I could tell by his tone he was trying to hide his excitement. I didn’t let him get far. I told him I had been called away for an emergency. I could sense his disappointment.

“I’ll be back by Monday. Let me make it up to you. Dinner at my place Monday night?”

He agreed.

“Gute nacht,” I said as sweetly as possible, hoping I had not pissed him off, and stuffed my phone into my bag. I stared out the window taking in the view. I did not want to go back, not even for a weekend. I loved my life. Hamletville was an old, ghost-filled place: too many memories, too much heartache. Yet I knew my grandmother. If she said I needed to come home, then I needed to come home.

I closed the windows, slid on a pair of jeans, a black t-shirt, boots, and a light vest. I looked again at the display on the wall. At the center I had crossed two Russian poyasni or boot-daggers. One dagger had the head of a wolf on the hilt. The other had the head of a doe. I grabbed them and tossed them in my bag. I then headed back downstairs and into the night. It was the last time I would lay eyes on D.C. for many years.

About the Author:

Melanie Karsak, steampunk connoisseur, white elephant collector, and caffeine junkie, resides in Florida with her husband and two children. Visit the author at her blog, melaniekarsak.blogspot.com, to learn more about upcoming projects.

http://melaniekarsak.blogspot.com/

https://twitter.com/MelanieKarsak

https://www.facebook.com/AuthorMelanieKarsak

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6539577.Melanie_Karsak

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Evil Girlfriend Media: Submission Calls

Submissions
Evil Girlfriend Media is accepting submissions for:

Manuscripts

65,000-150,000 word manuscripts set in dystopian, sci-fi, horror, paranormal, apocalyptic, post-apocalyptic, steampunk, or fantasy worlds. Novels can have a wide range of romance in them or none at all. We will consider anything from aliens to zombies. We are fascinated to see Young Adult with male co-leads. We accept LGBT and would like to see manuscripts in which the characters live in a diverse world (unless it’s part of the story line that everyone be the same).

However, we are not looking for fan fiction, it has it’s place and we value all you great writers out there who enjoy writing it.

Please send the first 50 pages of your novel to us using the form on the right. Only submit one manuscript at a time! We will negotiate deals per manuscript. We will not have a sample contract until after January 1 for review. Keep it simple.

Anthologies

Love writing short stories? We’ll be releasing three anthologies this year under our series line entitled, Three Little Words. Yep, you guessed it, each story in the respective collection must use the three little words in the title. Cute, huh?

Stories between 5-15,000 words will be considered.

Roms, Bombs, and Zoms – Have you always dreamed of writing an explosive romantic zombie story? What about a war torn computerized society where everyone marches around drooling for RAM in 1987? We want stories involving a bomb (this can mean many things), romance, and zombies. Deadline April 1, 2013.

Witches, Stitches, and Bitches – What if you had the power to sew up the mouth of the evil bitch who called you fat in 10th grade? How would you deal with a curse that caused you to be infertile because you stole the heart of someone else’s love? Would you choose love or the ability to have children? We are looking for 13 stories involving a witch, a stitch, and a bitch. The stories will revolve around the witches’ calendar which begins with October. We would like five stories in the book to involve holidays (Samhain-we will take two- one to open the book and the other to close it, Yule, Beltane, and Mabon). If you plan to write a holiday story please identify this in your submission letter. Deadline May 1, 2013.

Stamps, Vamps, and Tramps – Have you always wanted to know what tattoos were used for in Roman times? What if a vampire was the one giving them out? How would a vampire prostitute handle her own with Jack the Ripper in foggy London while the local tattoo artist watched? We are looking for stories that include the history of tattoos (any time period), vampires (your preferred mythos), and tramps (whatever your definition of a tramp is). Human main characters are fine but vampires have to be in the story. There are 15 openings for this anthology. Submission deadline June 1, 2013.

Payment for anthology stories is $20 USD and a copy of the anthology. In return, you give us exclusive rights for one year from the date of publication, after that you are free to submit the story to other publications as long as you acknowledge us as first publisher. We only ask that for five years after date of publication that you do not self-publish the story on Smashwords, Barnes and Noble, Amazon, or any other self-pub medium.

Okay folks. These sound like awesome writing prompts. If you want to learn more about the awesomeness that is Evil Girlfriend Media, check out their Facebook page and make sure you sign up to follow them on Twitter @EvilGMedia. 

Stay tuned for more updates and an uber cool interview with Katie, the woman behind the magic. Get your writer thinking caps on and lets get ready to write about some witches, vampires and zombies people!

Redemption by J. R. Turner: The Virtual Tour and Guest Post

Redemption

By JR Turner

               

Blurb:

Half-angel Savannah Mantas smells the sulfuric stench of wrath when it enters her city, Iron Point. Resurrected by the archangel Michael, she’s hunting for redemption and half-demon Nico Montenegro is her prey. He comes from the Fringes, the border between the city and the toxic wasteland beyond. When they meet, Nico tells her a story, one of genocide and confiscated bodies. Not revenge, but justice is his purpose and his target is the most admired family in the world–Commander Hathaway and his daughter.

Hathaway’s soldiers are slaughtering Fringers and secretly feeding them to Revenants, mutants who survived the bio-bombing of 2120. They have a twisted idea they can train these clever creatures like dogs and keep them out of the city long enough to mobilize an evacuation for the wealthy and well-connected. Savannah knows better. Revenants are what killed her. When they attack, the last of humankind may be wiped out completely. Stopping Hathaway might just be enough to gain her redemption and escape a hellish fate.

Amazon http://www.amazon.com/dp/1475073771

Kindle  http://www.amazon.com/Redemption-ebook/dp/B008EZ2Y02

Createspace  https://www.createspace.com/3830999

The green eye overhead scans me for obvious weapons. My tawny hair glows emerald in the reflection on the glass, my pale skin an alien sea-foam green. Security clears me and the doors open. Instantly the smoky haze thickens and the music is deafening.

thud–thud–thud–thud

There are no words to this melody–it's the sound of prowling for relief and release, the rhythm recognized by humans for centuries. I may have changed, but I'm not so different from the couples writhing on the dance floor. My human half responds to the seduction of losing myself in the throng, to pretend I don't know what I do. The temptation is delicious.

Wrath waits.

His scent comes from my right, not far. I squeeze into the crowd, wondering if I should return once I've dispatched this man. Why I wasted most of my mortal life working so hard is a deep regret. Perhaps if I had indulged in more normal interactions with non-military personnel, or if… If, if, if. I've done this to myself a million times and I'm not going there now.

The music changes–new song, same beat. The couples, threesomes, and foursomes never pause, riding a wave of wantonness. Clean sweat, colognes, and perfumes assail me from every direction–a heady mixture not entirely unpleasant. My heart wants to fall into the faster beat, pick up this pulsing noise.

thud–thud–thud–thud

At the bar, I shove a token across the scarred top and watch my peripheries. Waiting. He will make himself known. This close to him, I gain another scent, one deep from within his veins. He will sense me, if he hasn't yet and act soon. The wrath builds.

A girl, hardly out of her teens, maybe still a teen, all of five feet tall and weighing as much as a bottle of Amethyst (named after Commander Hathaway's daughter) hollers above the music. "What'd you want?"

I shout, "Black on red."

She turns, long black hair fans from a high ponytail as she fetches the bottles and pours a healthy base of Amethyst, then adds the colors. The black entwines with the red in a sea of plum liquor. Orgiastic figures form and fade within the liquid clouds. I watch the hypnotic blend, like I'm not seeking the source of the thick, wicked aroma. By the time she slides my drink to me and takes the token, I know where wrath stands.

He is behind me.

I spin the thin straw in my glass as if he and I don't know we are there with a purpose: I and my need for redemption, he and his need for revenge. He is a Halfling–part man part demon. He can heal, but he can't regenerate. A swift slice between certain vertebrae, severing the brainstem, and he is another death in a dying world.

My impatience flees and I'm willing to wait. Is he?

thud–thud–thud–thud

Am I choosing my moment or is this hesitation based on human vulnerabilities I no longer have? The relics of these mortal emotions are a struggle for me. Not so long ago I feared the same possibilities as everyone: injury, sickness, a return of The Wasting, and death. My determination is stronger than these fears, I tell myself. Yet without the duster, only my long hair covers the bare skin above my corset. Awareness of him and of my true frailties increases. Immortal yes, impervious to pain, no.

I sip my black and red, feel the tangle of opposites flowing down my throat, nearly hear the soft moans of pleasure–and he takes one step closer. A couple beside us are making out. His hand is beneath her spangled top, forcing her back against the bar. For one brief moment, as the drink hits my system, I feel his hand on my breast and then the sensation is gone. They are oblivious to everything, including the wrathful Halfling and the dark angel beside them.

thud–thud–thud–thud

"I know what you are." He speaks loud because of the heavy bass, but the words come on a wave of warm breath against my neck.

Deep, his voice is filled with darkness and need, despair and determination. I want to close my eyes, indulge in more of the sense-heightening Amethyst and listen to the rich baritones smooth all the roughness from my edges, dampen all my thoughts like an exotic shroud over my mind.

The Guest Post:

My favorite Xbox360 game is Left 4 Dead 2 and I love both the Resident Evil games and movie franchise. When I first saw 28 Days Later and saw how the infected weren’t just slow-moving starving monsters but exceptionally fast and vicious, I got a huge adrenalin rush. So when the idea for Revenants hit me when writing Redemption, I knew exactly how I wanted them to behave.

Savannah, my half-angel heroine, dies in the very beginning of the book. She has to, in order to be resurrected and made immortal. Writing her death scene at the claws and teeth of the Reves was totally awesome. Never before in my career as an author had I been given the chance to write a leading character’s death in such a way. If I had this much fun on chapter two, I couldn’t wait to see what happened in the rest of the book.

Revenants were created from the humans who survived the bio-bombing. Their genes were altered by the toxin and each generation became more feral and less human. When Savannah is attacked by them in the line of duty, they’ve become hellish creatures with burning green eyes, great gaping mouths filled with teeth, and strong, stretched bodies that move incredibly quick.

Each scene with the Reves denotes some of my most favorite moments in the book. Savannah really gets to shine when she’s defending Fringers (impoverished people) from attack. The mix of high action and horror is wonderful to write and with the growing romance  between Savannah and Nico, a half-demon, was just the icing on the cake.

I hope you have fun reading Redemption. Thanks so much for hosting me!

Warmly,

Jenny

Thanks Jenny. I did!

Overall:

From the first page of the book, you can feel the wind in your hair and the sensations that Savannah experiences. Her awareness of the happenings in her city and the tactile language author Jenny Turner uses to bring Savannah to life is epic and I really loved being drawn into the story like I was. 

Reading is my vacation and this book took me there. I love the age old battle between angels and demons. This is a story that will keep you turning the pages. The plot is engaging, the dialogue spot on and the descriptions of the scenes are perfection. The use of music  brought the story to a higher level as I read the scene where Savannah enters a club and she could feel the pulse of sounds around her. Excellent!

If you love a book filled with pulse pounding moments of Revenants in a dystopian society  with an eternal battle of good and evil then you have a story that will keep you up nights. I was late getting this post up because I read too long. 

4.5/5

About the Author:

J.R. Turner is the Executive Director of the Wisconsin Writers Association. She writes in a variety of genres including middle-grade adventures, young adult horror, romantic suspense, horror, military action, and urban fantasy. In her spare time she enjoys arts and crafts, traveling, and movies. Few things in life compare to her passion for the written word, except perhaps the pursuit of chocolate.

Website: www.jennifer-turner.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JRTurner17

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JRTurner