Thursday, June 28, 2018

Cardboard Castles by K.L. Young

Cardboard Castles
Genre: YA Fantasy
Release date: May 17th 2018
Graye Castle Press

When seventeen-year-old Josilyn begins to see the fantastical world of her father's imagination, she can't help but wonder if he isn't insane at after all, or that she might be.
Living in a crumbling cardboard castle under the park bridge and struggling to care for her mentally ill father, Josilyn's life has been anything but regal since her mother's death. But when a former friend discovers Josilyn's secret and leads Child Protective Services directly to her, her father's visions of grand feathered dragons and treacherous dark knights become the least of Josilyn's problems.
Now separated from her father and terrified for his safety, Josilyn sees his imaginary world, forcing her to consider the possibility that someone may be desperate to see her father dead--and her in chains.
In a stunning twist of reality, survival may not be a matter of sanity, but who to trust, and who to kill.
ON SALE for only $2.99 (FREE on Kindle Unlimited) through July!
**A portion of all sales from the book are being donated to Chattanooga's Community Kitchen, which serves the author’s city homeless population (https://www.homelesschattanooga.org/).** 

Download the first five chapters of Cardboard Castles for free! http://dragonflycorps.kendrayoung.com/

Advance Praise: 
“CARDBOARD CASTLES is by turns introspective, heart-wrenching, brilliant, and daring. Young’s prose seized me like a dragon’s talons, never letting go…” –Keith Willis, author of the Knights of Kilbourne series

“CARDBOARD CASTLES is by turns introspective, heart-wrenching, brilliant, and daring. The world-building is outstandingly well done, and Young’s talent shows here especially. While both worlds Jos inhabits are intricate and complex, Young brings them each to vivid, sometimes painful reality. I’ll be honest—this is not a book for the faint of heart. Ms. Young explores some dark themes here—homelessness, mental illness, betrayal. And yet despite this, there is humor and hope and love abounding in Josilyn’s story.” –Keith Willis, author of the Knights of Kilbourne series.
About the Author
K.L. Young's fascination with all things fantastical comes out in her writing, whether it’s dragons, vampires, or ghosts – if it has wings, fangs, or goes bump in the night, she’s writing about it.
She lives in beautiful Chattanooga, Tennessee with her husband, Tim, who’s responsible for making her believe all her writing dreams will come true. Together they have two daughters, Savannah and Tabitha, who both enjoy art and writing as well. By day, she teaches eighth grade in a suburban middle school where she shares her love of writing and dreaming “big dreams” with her students.
Social Media Links: 
Excerpt 
Every molecule of oxygen evaporates from the room. My mouth collapses in on itself, unable to form words to admit what she already knows. How could I be so stupid? The syllables claw at my throat, desperate for release, but years of practice clamp my mouth shut. 
Livi reaches out to touch my hand, but I recoil and grip the arms of the chair tighter. My fingertips are numb. The room’s unbearably hot and my heart beats way too fast. I consider throwing up again, but this time it’s not because I want to. 
“It’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you.”
I glance up at the abominable officer, and I’m not so sure about that. What I wouldn’t give for him to be my father, here to take me away from this mess. He turns his head and rolls his shoulders back, his face contorting into a mask of contempt. The air in the room thickens and I squint my eyes shut. My face goes completely numb, like someone has punched me with a fistful of Novocain. 
“Can you hear me?” Livi asks.
I slide from the chair to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest. I blink again, and my back isn’t against the chair but an enormous boulder, cold and covered with dew. I arch my spine, fitting the curve of it against the stone, trying to ease the prickling sensation that makes me want to rip the clothes from my body.
Livi’s voice pulls me back again, but her sentences are broken. Maybe it’s because she’s so far away – still in the conference room, but I’m here. Wherever here is. A hyacinth-scented breeze tickles my cheek as I let my hands trail through the grass so that it sticks up through my fingers. I turn my face into the breeze to find a young girl, maybe twelve or thirteen, racing toward me from about thirty yards away. The girl screams, her fear raking against me. 
“Princess!” she wails. Not once, but three times. She hikes up her long skirts, her hair tumbling free from the top of her head and spilling around her shoulders. Her arms pump at her sides as she digs harder into the run. 
This can’t be real. 
Livi’s voice cuts through the distance again. She says things like “panic attack” and “shock.” The truth of it punches me in the gut and leaves me desperate to find my way back to her voice.
The girl looms over me. Her face fades in and out of focus, as if she’s made of oil on water. 
“Princess. Please don’t leave us again. Knights march toward the castle. We are in danger. Your father—you must remain with us.” Her fingers dig into my shoulders, yanking me toward her. Another breath, and the grass slips from between my fingers; the edge of a chair pressing into the back of my head replaces the coolness of the stone. 
I blink again, swallowing back my own puke, and the conference room snaps into focus. They’re both hovering over me, concern on Livi’s face and confusion on the officer’s. They lean back so I can sit up.
Nurse Anne hurries back into the room, pushing through the space they’ve made, and presses a cold towel to my head. “It’s okay, deep breaths." 
The kindness in her voice overwhelms me so much I start to cry, no matter how hard I try not to. At first, my tears are hardly noticeable, but soon they turn into horrible, choking sobs. My heart stutters at an alarming pace and sweat coats my palms, making my grip on the chair's legs slick. I uncurl my fingers and press my hands into the carpet, pushing the tips of my fingers into individual loops in the pile.
The reality of what’s happening slams into me. My pulse quickens and the tingling sensation spreads from my face and down my arms into the tips of my fingers. Blackness closes in from the edges of my vision, creating an elongated tunnel of the central part of the room. Livi hovers over me, her face distorted by the shift in my vision.
I grapple for the seat, anything to ground me in reality. Father’s face flickers in my mind. I’m unable to even consider what might be happening to him at this same moment, not to mention the only plausible explanation for me believing, for even a second, I was sitting in a field of some sort with my back against an imaginary stone. And the girl, so lifelike. 
I am my father’s daughter. And I am terrified of that fact. 
GIVEAWAY

Monday, June 25, 2018

Butterfly Blood by Rebecca Carpenter - COVER REVEAL

Butterfly Blood (Metamorphosis #2) 
Genre: YA Sci-fi
Release Date: August 2018
Lakewater Press

A sixteen-year-old girl who cheated death continues her fight for survival as she goes up against real-life monsters, desperate for her unique blood, while risking everything to reunite with the love of her life, who is battling his own soul-sucking demons.
Pre-order on Amazon
The first book in the Metamorphosis series, Butterfly Bones, has a redesign!

An excerpt from BUTTERFLY BLOOD
Darkness consumes him.
Choking.
Suffocating.
His lungs burn as if they’ve been lit on fire.
He reaches out for something.
Anything.
But nothing is familiar.
The smells.
The sounds.
The voices.
And he can’t feel anything.
Except numbness.
Someone speaks.
But it’s a foreign language.
Foreign and muffled.
Light enters his brain, blinding and as painful as staring into the sun.
The brightness grows, with it the sharpness of a thousand needles.
He wants to scream.
He opens his mouth to scream.
But only a weak cry slips over his parched lips.
So dry.
So dry.
The light retracts.
Darkness slithers toward him, coiling up his leg …
Moving ever so slowly until it reaches his mouth and slips inside.
And all he wants to do is drink it up.
So thirsty.
So thirsty.

Rebecca Carpenter is a native of western Colorado. She is married with two grown children and has been blessed with four amazing grandchildren. She owns and directs a large childcare center where she shares her love for books. In her spare time, she freelances as a copy editor, helping others attain their writing dreams. She finds solace and clarity while spending time with her husband exploring the beautiful mountains of Colorado.
Author Links:
Cover Reveal Organized By:

Thursday, June 14, 2018

The House by Jo Michaels

Title: The House
Author: Jo Michaels
Genre: Psychological Thriller
Editor: Tia Silverthorne Bach with INDIE Books Gone Wild
Publication Date: June 4th, 2018
Hosted by: Lady Amber's PR
This house is cursed, and everyone who lives there is in grave danger.
Ever wonder what stories you’d hear if walls could talk?
What if those walls witnessed unimaginable horrors?
Inside these pages is the story of one such house. What it sees, the people it meets, and what happens when a terrified spirit is invited to stay.
Story 1 – The Butcher
Story 2 – Marna, Fred, and Kimberly McDade
Story 3 – Lacy Mae Ritter
Story 4 – Mark and Olivia Cullpepper
Story 5 – The Writer
The House is a collection of short stories that ties in with the Pen Pals and Serial Killers series by Jo Michaels. You’ll find a couple of those characters named, and discover how one grew the teeth he used on the women he captured later.
Spoiler alert! You need to read Intensification (Pen Pals and Serial Killers, #3) before you read The House.

Jo Michaels is...
Hi, I'm Jo. Let's forget all the "Jo Michaels is blah, blah, blah" stuff and just go with it. I'm a voracious reader (often reading more than one book at a time), a writer, a book reviewer, a mom, a wife, and one of the EICs at INDIE Books Gone Wild. I have an almost photographic memory and tend to make people cringe at the number of details I can recall about them and/or their book(s). My imagination follows me around like a conjoined twin and causes me to space out pretty often or laugh out loud randomly in completely inappropriate situations.
I have a degree in graphic design, and my journey to the end was one few students who begin that program ever complete. However, this was one case where my memory and OCD tendencies helped me. Graduation was one of the most amazing days of my life. But, my most amazing day was when my now husband proposed. Every little girl dreams of being Cinderella someday, and he pulled off the proposal of fantasies.
At the risk of sounding cliché, I'm going to let it out there and say how much I absolutely adore the man I'm married to. Along with my children, he's my whole world.
I've lived in Louisiana, Tennessee, and Georgia, but I've had my feet in almost every state. Traveling is something I adore, and have plans to someday see the Mongolia I've written about in Yassa.
One of my favorite things is hearing from fans! You can find me on social media most any day of the week. Connect! I'd love to hear from you.
Author Links:
Buy Links:
Emancipation: https://amzn.to/2J6WOlt
Intensification: https://amzn.to/2HTpMk4
Story 2 – Marna, Fred, and Kimberly McDade
Kimberly was three when the McDades moved in, and they painted her room a soft pink, hanging lacy curtains over the windows and giving her a huge, low canopy bed that was covered in delicate gauze. Her dresser and mirror were white, and she had three boxes of porcelain dolls that looked way too expensive for a child below age ten.
One of the dolls looked like a mirror image of Kimberly. Long, blonde hair; rosy cheeks; and even a matching gingham dress. I was entranced with her right away. She spoke well for being only three, and she could communicate nearly anything with her parents, Marna and Fred, who cooed and fussed over their precious daughter every chance they got.
Fred was tall and gangly, with long limbs and thick glasses, but Marna was rounder with a softer face and short, dark hair that complimented her blue eyes wonderfully. When they came to paint the walls, she was the one who chose the colors. That wonderful pink for Kimberly’s room and light blue for Marna and Fred’s.
There was warmth unrelated to anger moving through me for the first time, and I wanted nothing more than to embrace the family, pulling them into love, protecting them forever from the outside world and men like The Butcher, or young boys like Claude. I didn’t want to think about what might happen if he ever decided to return to me and pay my new owners a visit.
Marna and Fred were such a beautiful thing to behold. They orbited around one another and their child any time they were all at home together. It was as if the couple knew where the other one was, and they were drawn together by some unseen gravitational force.
I was content.

Monday, June 4, 2018

The House by Jo Michaels- Release Day

Title: The House
Author: Jo Michaels
Genre: Psychological Thriller
Editor: Tia Silverthorne Bach with INDIE Books Gone Wild
Publication Date: June 4th, 2018
Hosted by: Lady Amber's PR
This house is cursed, and everyone who lives there is in grave danger.
Ever wonder what stories you’d hear if walls could talk?
What if those walls witnessed unimaginable horrors?
Inside these pages is the story of one such house. What it sees, the people it meets, and what happens when a terrified spirit is invited to stay.
Story 1 – The Butcher
Story 2 – Marna, Fred, and Kimberly McDade
Story 3 – Lacy Mae Ritter
Story 4 – Mark and Olivia Cullpepper
Story 5 – The Writer
The House is a collection of short stories that ties in with the Pen Pals and Serial Killers series by Jo Michaels. You’ll find a couple of those characters named, and discover how one grew the teeth he used on the women he captured later.
Spoiler alert! You need to read Intensification (Pen Pals and Serial Killers, #3) before you read The House.

Jo Michaels is...
Hi, I'm Jo. Let's forget all the "Jo Michaels is blah, blah, blah" stuff and just go with it. I'm a voracious reader (often reading more than one book at a time), a writer, a book reviewer, a mom, a wife, and one of the EICs at INDIE Books Gone Wild. I have an almost photographic memory and tend to make people cringe at the number of details I can recall about them and/or their book(s). My imagination follows me around like a conjoined twin and causes me to space out pretty often or laugh out loud randomly in completely inappropriate situations.
I have a degree in graphic design, and my journey to the end was one few students who begin that program ever complete. However, this was one case where my memory and OCD tendencies helped me. Graduation was one of the most amazing days of my life. But, my most amazing day was when my now husband proposed. Every little girl dreams of being Cinderella someday, and he pulled off the proposal of fantasies.
At the risk of sounding cliché, I'm going to let it out there and say how much I absolutely adore the man I'm married to. Along with my children, he's my whole world.
I've lived in Louisiana, Tennessee, and Georgia, but I've had my feet in almost every state. Traveling is something I adore, and have plans to someday see the Mongolia I've written about in Yassa.
One of my favorite things is hearing from fans! You can find me on social media most any day of the week. Connect! I'd love to hear from you.
Author Links:
Buy Links:
Intensification: https://amzn.to/2HTpMk4
Story 1 – The Butcher
My yellow paint; pretty, white shutters; and pristine porch were sullied by the first man who dwelt here. I call him The Butcher, but his name was Butch Campion, and he was thirty-seven. His face is one I’ll never forget, and the atrocities he committed are things I still shudder to think about. We met one month after I was born. He walked in, so proud and full of himself, his feet sending vibrations through my floorboards as he tromped through, checking every room like he was planning to bring a whole family in and bring them up. I thought we’d get along famously and was looking forward to warming the feet of small children as they played.
Once the papers were signed, and I was his property, things went well for a month or so. He’d go to work, come home, sit on the threadbare couch, and drink beer. To my chagrin, he didn’t seem to have a wife or children, so there was nothing for me to do during the day except sit here.
It was after that first month that I started to figure he might not be my ideal owner after all. My lawn was never cared for, and the ivy growing nearby was allowed to spring up, threatening to take over the cute porch the builders thought to add. Butch would go out and bring home booze of some kind, cigarettes, and fast food. He never cooked, and he left wrappers and empty boxes all over the place, making me smell like a trash can. Roaches scuttled in, intent on a good meal, and he’d squish the ones he saw, leaving their carcasses to decompose where they met their gruesome end.

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