Adriana Kraft

When it's time to heat things up...

Fantasy

LGBTQ+ Storytelling and a thriller from Patrick R. Field #Paranormal #Fantasy #LGBTQ+

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On the fifteenth of every month I write a column on LGBTQ+ romance at the Sweet ‘n Sexy Divas blog. Today my guest is Patrick R. Field, with his latest release, Servant.

Here’s what readers are saying about this book:

“Finally, a story where a gay couple’s biggest issue ISN’T being gay.”

“It’s really gratifying to see a gay couple as the lead characters in a book who just ‘happen to be gay, and not a main plot point. Refreshing and a welcome addition to the gay fiction genre.”

I hope for a future in which what is true for this book can be true for all of us – that variations in sexual orientation are normal, unremarkable, and valued.

Head on over to his post to find out more:

https://sweetnsexydivas.blogspot.com/2023/12/lgbtq-storytelling-servant-by-patrick-r.html

New Release! The Endless Sea Between Us, by Lucy Mason. #LGBTQ #Fantasy #Witch #Mermaid #F/F

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Title: The Endless Sea Between Us

Author: Lucy Mason

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 10/31/2023

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 66600

Genre: Fantasy, Romance, family-drama, witch, mermaid, magic, prince, quest, body swap

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Description

Five years ago, Faeryn Moss lost her family and home to a plague that swept her village. As the sole survivor, she was rumored to be a witch—a rumor she never denied because it was the truth. Ostracized and cast out in fear, she now lives a quiet life in a cave on the beach, alone with her magic and the only thing that never let her down, the only thing she loves: the sea. But when she sings up a storm borne from her grief in order to collect a net full of the sea’s treasure, she gets more than she bargained for. There’s a mermaid tangled within it.

Zale, washed into the net by the storm, is full of questions about humanity. Banished from her society for rescuing a drowning human, all she wants is a chance on land to start over. Seeing an opportunity for both of them to get what they want, Faeryn creates a transmutation rune—but as they go from reluctant allies to something else and Zale thaws Faeryn’s frosty heart, they struggle with what’s more important…their chance at a new beginning or their budding romance.

Everything changes when the kingdom’s witch-hunting prince decides to take Zale as a member of the royal court and the potential future queen against her will. Faeryn must follow her across the sea so their transmutation rune can be completed by the next full moon or risk losing her love and her life to the very magic she cherishes.

Excerpt

The Endless Sea Between Us
Lucy Mason © 2023
All Rights Reserved

Faeryn

The seaside village of Acantha was convinced the only way a girl could be the sole survivor in a house struck down by plague was if she was either a witch or was cursed. Little did they know, the village stopped thriving not because I had survived but because my mother hadn’t. Not all witches wove spells of bad intention; she blessed the town all her life, ensuring good fortune, plentiful crops, and favorable weather. She spent my first thirteen years murmuring words of protection, resilience, and well-being over me before kissing my forehead and telling me good night. It was the only thing that saved me—I had no proof, but I knew it as sure as I knew her blood, witch’s blood, ran in my veins.

The village had burned my house—and several others—to the ground to keep the plague from spreading, though I had saved and hidden my mother’s references and spell books. Where she had closely guarded her secret, I never denied their assertions about my magic, even as the threat of witch-hunts spread outward from the capital like a deadly ripple. I had been encouraged to move along to another town. I had not-so-respectfully declined and went about my business, because if Acantha was going to hate and fear me, I was going to give them a reason to do so. If they wanted a villain, a pariah, I’d give them one.

I rebuilt my life in a cave off the beach, only venturing to town for Wednesday market to buy goods I couldn’t procure myself and sell the gifts the sea brought me. I hoarded my blessings and spells; I used them to keep myself dry and warm, to carve runes in the stone to conceal the entrance and entice fish to swim into the small pool that filled every time the tide rose and trapped them when it fell.

I occasionally used magic for less scrupulous things—but only when I had to. The sea gladly turned over its riches to me, and I didn’t care to take advantage of it, but sometimes money was a necessity. So, on the afternoon of my eighteenth birthday, I whispered words of dryness and care, dipping my fingertips into the small dish of ground seashells and the ash of burned driftwood and running them over the fabric of my dress and up and down the leather of my boots. I marched down to the beach clutching my net, a giant thing I’d made myself, hours and hours spent weaving golden thread—bounty, vitality, security—into the hundreds of knots holding the ropes together.

I waded into the water, to my knees, then my hips, then my chest. The waves washed in and out, and I felt the current—but remained dry. I swam out and tied the net to a buoy I had anchored there, then attached the other end to a buoy farther down the beach. I ducked under, my eyes stinging, and traced a symbol like a bow, for closure, capture, finality. It glowed briefly then faded, pulsing very dimly in the murky depths. There wasn’t much I could do below the surface; runes were always more effective when they were imbued with the intention of spoken words.

My waterproofing charm was wearing off—drips of water collected in my boots and my skirts clung to my legs, not wet yet but just faintly damp. The first five or six times I’d done this, I had come out looking like a drowned sailor, my hair in dripping snarls and my boots so heavy with water I could hardly walk. Practice, time, and patience had improved me—I stood on the beach and lifted my arms and whispered. The little droplets of water clinging to me and dampening my dress evaporated.

If I was the heedless nightmare they feared, I would do the next step without warning the villagers. Instead, I made the quarter hour’s walk into town. Well, I say town—it was really nothing more than a small cluster of houses, a blacksmith, a tavern, a butcher, and a cobblestone square for the market to set up in while vendors passed through. The children, towheaded and wide-eyed, dared each other to get close to me. They huddled together and whispered, “It’s the sea witch! She’ll turn you into an eel!” as I walked past them. I kept my eyes straight ahead on my way to the blacksmith’s shop, barely able to resist the urge to lunge and hiss and make them scream in terror. My mother would be disappointed to know I had done it before; my father would have been delighted. I’d inherited my temperament and inability to suffer superstitious fools from him.

Someone had started the rumor that if children misbehaved, I’d drag them down to my seaside cave and turn them into a fish—or worse, eat them. It was meant to make little ones behave, to come inside when their mothers called them, but I had never exactly refuted the outrageous claim. Sometimes fear was a powerful tool. It was the only thing keeping them from attacking me—the only thing keeping them quiet.

The tall, gawky apprentice at the blacksmith’s was bent over the forge, his dark hair stuck to his forehead, damp with sweat. He was one of the few who didn’t find me frightening; he facilitated most of my communication with Acantha at large. His family had been my family’s neighbors until the sickness took my mother and father, when they had retreated to the far end of Acantha to escape contamination. We had played together as children. He still had the friendly, cheerful manner and sweet disposition of a boy who hadn’t lost everything, though, and the loss of my parents hung like a veil between us. A veil he couldn’t see or feel, but one I was always painfully aware of.

“Owen.”

He didn’t startle or turn to look at me, a gentle clink from the fire as he withdrew a piece of metal glowing cherry red. Once he quenched it in a barrel of water, clouds of steam billowing around us, he coughed, clearing the air with his hand. Through the haze I could see his hopeful grin.

“Faeryn! What can I do for you today?”

“There’ll be a squall tonight.”

His face fell, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes fading with his smile. “Oh. Okay. Natural, or…?”

“Unnatural. Only rain will touch the town. I can keep the winds confined to the beach. Spread the word. Don’t let anyone wander down there, and don’t let any boats near the water.”

Owen tossed his thick, sturdy gloves onto his workbench. “Thank you for the warning. I’ll let everyone know. You don’t have to go just yet. Would you like some tea?”

His master wouldn’t be wild about the idea of a witch in his workshop. Eckhart disliked me as much, if not more, than most other villagers. Owen was his at-will employee; catching him in my company could be the end of his promising career. So I shook my head, because it was a lonely life, but I wouldn’t let him take the fall. The village had turned its back on me when I’d been orphaned, and if I’d made it this long on my own, I wouldn’t let a boy pity me for it.

“If you change your mind, I always have a pot brewing.”

“I’m afraid Eckhart wouldn’t be terribly pleased to find me here…or that you’d shared his tea with me. The answer is still no.” Every time he asked, and every time I refused. The days of playing together were long gone; too much grief had gone under the bridge since then.

He frowned, a little wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows. “Someday I’ll be a proper blacksmith, not just an apprentice, and you can come in whenever you like. Eckhart doesn’t have any say in what I do after work, though. Tea later?”

I backed away, exasperated. “I said no. Good day, Owen.”

“Goodbye, Faeryn! I’ll see you later!” he called after me, and I ran for the beach, away from him and the people who had turned their backs on me and my family, my boots kicking up small clouds of dust on the path. It was easier to cling to the bitterness that kept me afloat than drown in the sorrow.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Lucy lives in rural southern Illinois with a frankly ridiculous amount of yarn and books. During the day she works in adult education and by night she’s a writer and dabbler in yarncrafts. She knits, loves video games and podcasts, and cries over fictional characters regularly.

Website | Twitter

Giveaway

One lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code!

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New Release: Rise ~ Queer Sci Fi Anthology #Giveaway #LGBTQ #FlashFiction

by

Queer Sci Fi has a new flash fiction anthology out: Rise. And there’s a giveaway.

RISE (Noun, Verb)

Eight definitions to inspire writers around the world, and an unlimited number of possible stories to tell:

  1. An upward slope or movement
  2. A beginning or origin
  3. An increase in amount or number
  4. An angry reaction
  5. To take up arms
  6. To return from death
  7. To become heartened or elated
  8. To exert oneself to meet a challenge

Rise features 300-word speculative flash fiction stories from across the rainbow spectrum, from the minds of the writers of Queer Sci Fi.

About the Series

Every year, Queer Sci Fi runs a one-word theme contest for 300 word flash fiction stories, and then we choose 120 of the best for our annual anthology.

Publisher | Amazon | Apple Books | Barnes & Noble | Bookshop.org | Google Play | Kobo | Scribd | Smashwords | Thalia | Vivlio | Goodreads | Universal Buy Link

Giveaway

Queer Sci Fi is giving away a $25 Bookshop.org gift card with this tour:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47301/

Excerpts

Rise Meme
It’s a simple recipe.

Passed down in whispers and hands tracing hands through flour and faith. Never written down, paper being too precious for such a small spell, some might say. Like something must be loud to have worth.

A common myth, one that serves her quiet magic well.

She sits pretty in commonhalls and houses, empty eye-sockets and a cloak of harmless charm enough for most to dismiss her. Certainly, her weaving or kneading is all her pretty head can handle.

She listens, and her hands move. Each stitch another secret, gossip kneaded into every loaf.

—From Simple Recipes for Small Magics – Ziggy Schutz

It wasn’t the principles that Matt Harden objected to. The principles were fine: Limited planetary resources. Circle of life. The wrongness of playing God.

But, he thought as he spread the herbs on the basement floor in the prescribed way, the principles were bullshit when you were faced with reality. When the only man who’d ever held your heart was stolen from you by a moment’s distraction behind the wheel. When you never had the chance to even say goodbye. When your body in bed was as cold and alone as a corpse in a coffin.

When the night mist was clammy on your neck and the grave-dirt heavy on your shovel.

—From Principle and Reality – Kim Fielding

“He’s here,” Matt said, slamming the door behind him. “You ready?”

“Think so,” Rory said. He’d finished the salt circle, and quickly moved on to placing the candle in the center.

“Will this work?”

“It’s this or nothing.” Once Tiff told them she’d survived a run in with the killer known as The Hook, Rory knew they were as good as dead. Supposedly this bastard had been killed before, but he never seemed to stop. Much about The Hook seemed unreal, but Rory thought it was the only weapon they had – the unbelievable. Besides, they were gay; those characters always died first.

From Best Served Cold – Andrea Speed

“You do realize,” the nurse said gravely, “that without your parent permission form, this procedure can only be temporary.”

“I do,” Sharon said nervously. Sharon. That was a good name, right? Sounded like Shawn, but wasn’t. Was a girl’s name. A woman’s name. She liked Sharon.

“And that given your parent’s lack of support for this, there will be a counselor assigned to your home to ensure your safety?” The nurse continued, checking the talking points on her tablet with precision.

“I won’t need it,” Sharon said nervously. “They think it’s a phase, but they’re not, you know, hostile.”

From A New Day – Amy Lane

Author Bio

This year, 554 authors entered the Rise contest. 120 of them were chosen, and their stories are included in this anthology:

  • Jordan Abronson
  • Aisling Alvarez
  • CJ Aralore
  • Ellery Arden
  • Anusha Asim
  • K. Aten
  • Drew Baker
  • Jeff Baker
  • Evelyn Benvie
  • Eytan Bernstein
  • L. R. Braden
  • Sorren Briarwood
  • Kayleen Burdine
  • Siri Caldwell
  • Sonja Seren Calhoun
  • Jennifer Caracappa
  • T. D. Carlson
  • Caro
  • Minerva Cerridwen
  • Amanda Cherry
  • Dawn Spina Couper
  • Monique Cuillerier
  • Lynden Daley
  • Claire Davon
  • Ef Deal
  • Francine DeCarey
  • Nicole Dennis
  • Sarah Doebereiner
  • Kellie Doherty
  • Allan Dyen-Shapiro
  • Markus McCann Edgette
  • Kim Fielding
  • Tom Folske
  • Athena Foster
  • Ani Fox
  • Beáta Fülöp
  • Jendia Gammon
  • Storm Grant
  • Chad Grayson
  • Gabbi Grey
  • Kaje Harper
  • Narrelle M. Harris
  • Kelly Haworth
  • Chisto Healy
  • Megan Hippler
  • Joanna Michal Hoyt
  • Grace Hudson
  • Meghan Hyland
  • Jeff Jacobson
  • Erin Jamieson
  • W. Dale Jordan
  • Adrik Kemp
  • Olivia Kemper
  • Jamie Lackey
  • Aidee Ladnier
  • Amy Lane
  • Tris Lawrence
  • Brenda Lee
  • Katrina Lemaire
  • Gordon Linzner
  • Jayne Lockwood
  • Clare London
  • Nathan Alling Long
  • Patricia Loofbourrow
  • J.C. Lovero
  • Ilyas M.
  • Stacey Mahuna
  • Paula McGrath
  • Atlin Merrick
  • Amanda Meuwissen
  • Eloreen Moon
  • Jaime Munn
  • RJ Mustafa
  • Oliver Nash
  • Annika Neukirch
  • Jess Nevins
  • Rory Ni Coileain
  • K.L. Noone
  • Milo Owen
  • Chris Panatier
  • J Piper
  • Nia Quinn
  • Mere Rain
  • D.M. Rasch
  • Kazy Reed
  • LS Reinholt
  • Alexei Madeleine Reyner
  • Emerian Rich
  • Rie Sheridan Rose
  • Anna Rueden
  • Curtis Rueden
  • Carol Ryles
  • Jamie Sands
  • Rodello Santos
  • Sumiko Saulson
  • Aradhya Saxena
  • Ziggy Schutz
  • C.J. Scott
  • Alex Silver
  • Roxanne Skelly
  • sparks
  • Andrea Speed
  • Chloe Spencer
  • Robin Springer
  • Andrea Stanet
  • Nathaniel Taff
  • O.E. Tearmann
  • Tori Thompson
  • George Underwood
  • Avery Vanderlyle
  • Joz Varlo
  • Dawn Vogel
  • Rhian Waller
  • Dean Wells
  • Devon Widmer
  • B Wilkins
  • Holli Rebecca Williams
  • Paul Wilson
  • X. Ho Yen
  • Jamie Zaccaria

Queer Sci Fi Website: https://www.queerscifi.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/qsfdiscussions

Mastodon: https://mastodon.otherworldsink.com/@queerscifi

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Guest Post – Character Interview with The Shadowdancer @Libraryoferana #Fantasycharacter #darkfantasy #Fantasy #Meetacharacter

by

INTERVIEW

CHARACTER NAME: You can call me The Shadowdancer

  • Tell us a little about yourself.

How do you know I’ll tell you the truth? In fact how do you know what is the truth? It’s such a fluidic term.

I am the shadows, they obey me. I am he who walks unseen, unheard. I am he who brings swift death and then is gone. I am he who serves none but the Oncoming Storm.

  • Tell us why you’re embarking on this adventure?

My master the Oncoming Storm wishes it and so I wish it to be so.

We help those who cannot help themselves, we bring a freedom, of sorts in a land where freedom is sold to those who have the gold to buy it. We remove monsters, and those who inconvenience our plans.

We free elves – for they have no freedom, we rescue where we can and avenge where we cannot rescue.

  • Do you have a moral code? If so, what might it be?

*Laughs. I have killed more people than I can remember – men, women, even children once or twice for mercy, I have slain monsters and I have brought death to the highborn and the lowborn alike. There is no lock, cell or door in the whole of Erana that can keep out the Shadowdancer if he wants ingress. The laws of Erana mean nothing to me, I am beyond the law for I have no law.

Those who are my allies have my unwavering loyalty and the sharpness of my blades. Those who are my enemies – fear the shadows – for there I may be.

  • Do you believe in magic and the gods?

I am an adept – I use a magic of sorts although I am not a spellcaster.

Magic in Erana is complex, it goes where it will and shows itself in many forms. I am fast, faster than most, I can use the darkness and the shadows to cloak myself. If I do not wish to be seen, then I am not seen unless the looker is another adept or already knows someone is there.

I am not pious, I’m far too cynical to be a zealot but I pay homage to the gods if I need to. Do they exist? Yes, of course but whether they bother with the lives of mortals is another matter.

  • Are you a good man? What do ‘good and evil’ mean to you.

*Laughs again. Have you not been listening?

But good and evil are such relative terms in this land. The Witch-Hunters claim they are the force of good – they ‘protect’ the population against the mages and the elves, they keep order, they ensure the roads can be travelled safely….

It’s all bullshit – they oppress the elves – elves and half-elves and anyone not human has no rights, no regress to law. If an elf is attacked in the street – the Order of Witch-Hunters will not intervene, in fact they may even arrest the elf for being an elf. Magic is illegal – sorcerers such as my master should not exist. The only good mage is a dead mage, and all that nonsense. But of course they use magic for their own devices. The best healers are magical, the best weaponsmiths and blacksmiths are magical, and the Order knows it.

My master’s lady was taken, raped and beaten almost to death because she was an elven mage. She was kept as a slave and past around her Keeper’s friends because she had no right to law, no rights as a woman to her own safety or body, and no property.

The Order rule by fear, the dissemination of lies and propaganda; they take a cut from the slavers – who kidnap elves, and sometimes humans.

And for the record – the roads are lousy. There are bandits all over Erana – outlawed men and women who either are living that way because they have no choice or who choose a modicum of freedom – at the risk of capture and death.

I kill, I steal, but I’ve never lain with a woman without her consent, I’ve never killed a mage simply because they are a mage, or dragged someone off to be a slave because it’s a lucrative business.

I’ve risked my life to save strangers, to return something which was taken from an elf widow who had nothing but a worthless trinket from her husband, I’ve poisoned lords, and slit the throats of young men barely old enough to shave because of bad choices they made.

You tell me – am I a good man or a bad one? And either way, I do not care.

  • Who is your greatest friend?

The Oncoming Storm – he is my friend, my master, my mentor and the closest person to a father I have ever known or shall know. He saved my life, educated me, brought me freedom of a sort and wealth beyond that of any other elf in this land. He is kind to those worthy of it, and deadly to those who deserve it.

I would die for him.

  • Do you believe you will be successful in your quest?

I hope so. If we fail someone will pay for that.

  • What do you do on your days off?

I like good food, good books, walking in the hills. I am an alchemist as well, so I like to make things that go boom, or make other people regret meeting me. *Grins.

  • Do you have a lover?

Are you offering?

I have Ozena, a forest elf we assisted. She’s brave, and resourceful and her unworldliness is charming. For some reason I don’t understand she thinks I’m a good man.

EXCERPT

Excerpt from The Light Beyond the Storm Chronicles – Book I

“I trust you are the chief of this band, sir, for you seem confident enough to sit apart from your fellows?”

The bandit spun around, sword drawn, to see the figure standing at ease near to him yet beyond sword reach, cloaked with the shadows swirling around his feet. “Who are you, that you come here? You yourself are confident sir considering I am armed and you do not appear to be.”

Olek laughed and somersaulted with lightning speed over the bandit’s head, kicking the sword from the fellow’s hand, toppling him in the dirt and landing with his own sword against the man’s throat.

“Appearances may be deceptive, my friend, but I do not come here as an enemy, for if it was so, you would now be in pieces.”

The other bandits formed a circle, weapons drawn, as Olek sheathed his own sword and held his hand out to help the man up. “As for who I am and why I am here, I will discuss that with you at the fire, as a friend and not surrounded by a ring of swords. Believe me in what I say when I tell you that a good deal of you would fall to my blades before I lay slain and those who did not would feel the wrath of him whom I serve. But as I say, I come here in friendship.”

The chief nodded reluctantly and the bandits sheathed their blades. “You have balls, sir, I give you that. Now perhaps you would care to join me and my companions in a beer from the barrel.” The man gestured to the fire, walked to the barrel and fetched some beer.

He sat and motioned Olek down. “You know I have killed men for less than you just did.”

Olek smiled and took the beer, saying, “I do not doubt it, but if I wanted you dead you would be now lying in the dirt with your head removed, or simply you would not wake to see the dawn. I am not honourable enough to feel remorse for killing a man in his sleep should it suit my purpose. I am known, amongst other names, as the Shadowdancer, and I come from my master with a business opportunity.” As he sat, the cowl of the cloak fell enough to reveal his pointed elven ears.

The bandit chief smiled and held out a hand. “I am honoured to meet you, your reputation precedes you. My name is Tholin. I lead this band, but what could the Shadowdancer want with a band of rogues and outcasts such as us?”

Olek waited until the man was sipping his beer before drinking his own. “Ah, well, that is a good question. I have…other business to deal with and not even I can be everywhere, thus I find it useful to have contacts…eyes and ears around that I may use. Shadows in the shadows, you might say.”

One of the other bandits approached. “How do we know this elf speaks the truth, Tholin? He uses the name of the Shadowdancer yet it could be a lie. Elves lie.”

“Well, perhaps you should take it on faith, unless you want a personal exhibition of my skills…human,” Olek said with a smile like a cat.

The man drew his sword. “Sure, I have not shed blood for a few days, and yours will do nicely, elf.”

Olek simply laughed at the man and as he charged, side stepped and drew both his swords. The bandit charged again and Olek stepped back and disappeared into a patch of shadow beneath the trees to reappear behind the man, bringing his swords down a millimetre from the fellow’s face and a lock of the bandit’s hair fell past his eyes. He kicked the hand holding the sword and the weapon spun away. “Move one hair’s breadth and you are a dead man, bandit. I am the Shadowdancer, if you doubt me further perhaps we can continue this…entertainment, and after I leave you scattered for the wolves, I will take my business elsewhere.”

The bandit paled and held his breath until the swords were removed. “Apologies, sir, for the insult,” he managed with a squeak.

Olek nodded and shrugged, pulling the cowl back to shield his face. “It is best to be cautious in your dealings. Now after so much dawdling, perhaps we may talk business, my time is short. Witch-Hunters pass these roads. It would please my master if they were to be delayed…removed…inconvenienced. The Witch-Hunters seek not only users of magic but those of us who, through choice or necessity, live apart from what they term as law. If you are caught, you will hang, if not worse. The ‘hospitality’ of the Order is well known for its brutality. Now do you not think it would suit us all for them to be inconvenienced?”

Tholin looked at him in awe. “The Shadowdancer has a master? This man must be truly great or truly to be feared. What you ask is dangerous.”

Taking a slow swig, Olek merely replied, “The man I serve is both, for he is the Oncoming Storm. Now I can easily take this request elsewhere. You are bandits; you are supposed to be tough outlaws, the menace of the highways. It seems, however, that this is not the case.”

He got up to leave and Tholin stood quickly, moving to stop him. “We accept. We patrol the roads from the edge of the Tremellic Valley to the bend in the Great River known as the Blasted Oak Crossing. I am sure the Witch-Hunters can be inconvenienced.”

“Good will payment,” Olek said, holding up a small bag of gold coins. “I can be contacted at the Sign of the Moon on the road from Eleiry to the Tremellic Valley. There is a box there, of bleached wood. You may leave a message there, and proof if needed. The message will get to me. If you please my master, there will be extra payment.”

BLURB

The Light Beyond the Storm Chronicles – Book I

In a dark world where magic is illegal, and elves are enslaved a young elven sorceress runs for her life from the house of her evil Keeper. Pursued by his men and the corrupt Order of Witch-Hunters she must find sanctuary. As the slavers roll across the lands stealing elves from what remains of their ancestral home the Witch-Hunters turn a blind eye to the tragedy and a story of power, love and a terrible revenge unfolds.

*18 rated for adult scenes and violence.

Available as ebook, paperback, hardcover, large print and audiobook.

BUY LINK

Universal Link https://www.books2read.com/Lightbeyondstorm1

 

The Shining Citadel – The Light Beyond the Storm – Book II

Who rules in this game of intrigue where magic is forbidden, and elves enslaved? Journey where beliefs shatter like glass, truth is unwelcome, and monsters from ancient times abound: share the romance and revenge, magic and passion, and the wages of greed in a world of darkest fantasy.

 

*18 rated for adult scenes and violence.

Available as ebook, paperback, hardcover, large print and audiobook.

https://www.books2read.com/ShiningCitadel

The Stolen Tower – The Light Beyond the Storm Chronicles – Book III

What stalks the land cannot be but is.

Where magic is outlawed a troll Shaman calls from her deathbed to her heiress, Mirandra Var, daughter of the storm. Mirandra vows to find her missing kin, sort friend from foe, and claim the dangerous secrets guarded by unthinkable creatures. If she succeeds, she will become the leader of her tribe. If she fails, there will be no tribe to lead.

*18 rated for adult scenes and violence.

Available as ebook, paperback, hardcover, large print and audiobook.

Universal Link https://www.books2read.com/StolenTower

AUTHOR BIO

British-born A. L. Butcher is an avid reader and creator of worlds, a poet, and a dreamer, a lover of science, natural history, history, and monkeys. Her prose has been described as ‘dark and gritty’ and her poetry as ‘evocative’. She writes with a sure and sometimes erotic sensibility of things that might have been, never were, but could be.

Alex is the author of the Light Beyond the Storm Chronicles and the Tales of Erana lyrical fantasy series. She also has several short stories in the fantasy, fantasy romance genres with occasional forays into gothic style horror, including the Legacy of the Mask series. With a background in politics, classical studies, ancient history and myth, her affinities bring an eclectic and unique flavour in her work, mixing reality and dream in alchemical proportions that bring her characters and worlds to life.

Alex is also proud to be a writer for Perseid Press where her work features in Heroika: Dragon Eaters, Heroika Skirmishers – where she was editor and cover designer as well as writer – as well as Lovers in Hell and Mystics in Hell – part of the acclaimed Heroes in Hell series. http://www.theperseidpress.com/

Awards:

Outside the Walls, co-written with Diana L. Wicker received a Chill with a Book Reader’s Award in 2017.

NN Light Book Heaven awards:

The Kitchen Imps and Other Dark Tales won the best fantasy for 2018

Echoes of a Song – one of her Phantom tales – won the best fantasy in 2019

Tears and Crimson Velvet won the best Short Story category in 2020

Dark Tales and Twisted Verses – won the best Short Story Category in 2021

LINKS

Blog https://libraryoferana.wordpress.com/about-a-l-butcher-fantasy-author-poet-author-promotion/

Facebook Author Page https://www.facebook.com/LightBeyondtheStorm/

Twitter https://twitter.com/libraryoferana/

Amazon Author Page http://amzn.to/2hK33OM

BookBub https://www.bookbub.com/authors/a-l-butcher

Goodreads http://bit.ly/GR2iqokvK

Linked In https://www.linkedin.com/in/alex-butcher-8342ab13b/

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

Tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/blog/libraryoferana

Pinterest https://www.pinterest.co.uk/abmonkey/

Books2Read newsletter sign up

https://books2read.com/author/a-l-butcher/subscribe/1/97541/

Independent Author Network https://www.independentauthornetwork.com/a-l-butcher.html

Google Play https://play.google.com/store/books/author?id=A.+L.+Butcher

Smashwords Author Page https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/ALB123

Apple Author Page https://books.apple.com/gb/author/a-l-butcher/id895849667

Apple Audiopage https://books.apple.com/us/author/a-l-butcher/id895849667#see-all/audio-books

Kobo Author Page https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/search?query=a+l+butcher

Perseid Press Author Page http://www.theperseidpress.com/?page_id=523

Barnes and Noble Author Page  https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/%22A.%20L.%20Butcher

 

Blog tour organised by Writer Marketing Services.

 

Blog Tour: Enchanted Ink, by Robin Lynn #LGBTQ #Giveaway #GayRomance #gaybookpromo

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BLOG TOUR

Book Title: Enchanted Ink

Author: Robin Lynn

Cover Artist: Art by Gio Guimaraes, Design by Katie Marlin

Release Date: June 1, 2023

Genres: LGBTQ Fiction, Contemporary Romance, Fantasy

Tropes: Fantasy/Magic/World-building, Tattoo artists, Hurt/Comfort, Meet-Cute, Secret Identities, Celebrities, HEA, Queer romance

Themes: Self-acceptance, trauma recovery, transformation, Demisexual representation.

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length: 60 000 words

It is a standalone book and does not end on a cliffhanger

 

Pre-Order Links

Amazon US | Amazon UK

 

When it comes to transformation, magic only fixes what’s skin deep…

 

Blurb

In a world where an artist’s magic brings tattoos to life, ink gone wrong can spell lasting heartache for those unlucky enough to experience it. Jaded and cynical on both life and love, tattoo artist Ashton is about to find out that even the most deeply-etched scars can be transformed into something beautiful when the right person is holding the pen.

“Enchanted Ink” is a ground-breaking romance that showcases how, with a bit of ink, some love, and a whole lot of trust, even the ugliest scars can be transformed into something impossibly beautiful.

Using the art of tattooing as a metaphor for life, “Enchanted Ink” makes it a mission to show even the most cynical and scarred of us that it’s possible to heal, to find love, and that it’s never too late to start all over again.


Excerpt
The twelfth annual “Enchanted Ink” Tattoo Convention has been in full swing for hours, but Ashton has yet to venture inside. It’s not as if he doesn’t know what he’ll find there: a fairly standard convention space, divided using equally standard black curtains hanging from predictable portable frames creating both booths and stations offering displays that are anything but ordinary. Various tattoo artists and their work, in the flesh—the best of the best, by both fact and opinion.

In addition to the booths, there are always several centralized showcase stands, right in the middle of all the hustle and bustle. Elevated platforms where human works of art strip down to their underwear and pose, proudly displaying full-body and wildly colorful tattoos boasting some of the most intricate and beautiful imagery that probably exists in the entire inked world.

This particular convention admits artists by invitation only, and while Ashton isn’t technically here to work this year, it’s an event he’s enjoyed immensely in the past. It’s bittersweet—perhaps a touch heavy on the bitter—hovering on the outskirts, wondering whether he’ll ever find himself behind a booth and promoting his work again. While that remains to be seen, there’s plenty here to worry about in the meantime.

The thought of Whitaker working somewhere inside the building behind him crosses Ashton’s mind and makes him grimace. He can practically feel the tentative nerve he’s so painstakingly gathered, the courage to finally wander through the front door, trickling away like water through a sieve.

Again.

Good thing it’s a nice day out, today. Sixty-eight degrees and sunny, not a cloud in the sky, and Ashton brought a book. He can wait. The courage to go inside will come.

Probably.

Sighing, Ashton rubs the sleeve of his too-dressy collared shirt across the backs of his eyelids. The button on the cuff pokes his eye, and it feels like a call-out. He’s too dressed up, he looks out of place. Too covered, if nothing else. Which isn’t to say that tattooed folks can’t be modest—naturally, that’s false and would be a terribly judgemental view to hold. Either way, the whole point of a tattoo convention is to show off one’s body and as much art decorating skin as possible. It’s supposed to be a positive, empowering experience.

That’s definitely the point, and his body is aesthetically pleasant to look at, both sculpted and toned—yet here Ashton is, buttoned up solidly from head to toe. Acting like he cares more about looking the part of a corporate stooge rather than flaunting the walking canvas he is. Lame. So lame.

Lame, but necessary, he reminds himself.

 

About the Author

 

Robin Lynn is a 36-year-old queer, autistic mother of two, an unabashed fangirl sometimes known as “Wings,” and a disabled former firefighter, paramedic, and registered nurse. She writes for queer audiences with the goal of reflecting and centering the lgbtqia2s+ community in more media, because everyone deserves to see relatable, imperfect main characters who mirror themselves simply existing and getting their happy endings.

Find out more and follow Robin for additional content and future projects

 

Giveaway

Enter the Rafflecopter giveaway for a chance to win

one of 5 ebook copies of Fire & Ice or one of 2 signed Enchanted Ink paperbacks with related swag: temporary tattoos and stickers.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

 

Blog Tour: Servant, by Patrick R. Field #Paranormal #Fantasy #Giveaway #LGBTQ

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GENRE: Paranormal Fantasy

BLURB:

Not long after their move into Blackstone, married couple Mitch and Buck begin to witness strange sightings of shadowy figures, physical manifestations and inexplicable events taking place in the former Sheppard family estate nestled in the Northern Poconos of Pennsylvania. Through séances, they learn from the spirit of Jedidiah Sheppard that he has not been able to cross over into the afterlife because the truth behind his sudden disappearance in 1965 has never been solved. During this journey, Mitch and Buck and an eccentric psychic, Gladys Munch aka Madame Fortunesta, encounter interference from the spirit of a Lenape medicine man, Mesingwe Medeu, who protects Jedidiah’s spirit. Mitch and Buck eventually realize that they must find Jedidiah’s remains and let the authorities discover through modern detective work the evidence needed to try and convict the murderer. But is it too late for Jedidiah’s spirit to find eternal peace?

EXCERPT

My curiosity finally getting the better of me, I ask, “What’s in your ‘concoction’?”

“Snaps and snails and puppy dog tails,” she chortles, a devilish smile beaming across her face as she continues uninterrupted. “I’m teasing. It’s your typical combination of magical plants…Mug wort, Wormwood, Mandrake, Sage oil, and a little Belladonna. Don’t want too much of that—we don’t need a hallucinogenic tonight. I have a feeling we’re going to see quite a show.”

“We’re not gonna eat that, are we?” I exclaim, after hearing the list of ingredients.

“No, silly, we’re going to wear it, on our faces. To trick anything nasty we might find down there that we’re not part of the living,” Gladys explains.

Instantly, Buck and I look at each other, our faces reflecting the same thought: “What the hell did we get ourselves into?”

“All right, that should do it,” Gladys states as she finishes molding her paste. She then opens the three velvet-covered boxes and pulls out three identical necklaces made of fine silver chains, with a round globe-like cage at the end that’s about three inches in diameter. Picking up one of the necklaces, she springs a catch on the cage, and it opens via delicate, simple hinges. Opening another box, she extracts what looks like a light brown carrot. The root looks like the body of a miniature person. “This is Mandrake root, a very powerful plant we will wear around our necks in these necklaces to protect us,” Gladys explains.

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

After twenty-five years in higher education, Patrick Field traded in teaching and textbooks to pursue his passion of writing spine-chilling fiction. Holding a Ph.D. in Anatomical Sciences and Neuroscience, his experience informs his writing, a unique blend of scientific knowledge with supernatural storytelling.

His non-scientific writing career began with Prince Patrick, a memoir of his precocious childhood that he wrote for his mother as she battled pancreatic cancer. This process was not only healing but helpful in stirring his creativity and marked the moment he was bitten by the writing bug.

An avid fan of Anne Rice, Edgar Allen Poe, and Joe Hill, Patrick’s subsequent novels were inspired by his favorite authors. His first fiction novel, The Malevolent, and his two latest novels, The Bedfordshire Warlock (release date in early 2024) and Servant were written throughout the isolation of the COVID-19 pandemic.

His latest novel Servant was inspired by the supernatural events that happened to the author, his husband, and friends that have stayed in their home in northeastern Pennsylvania. Taking a page from his teaching philosophy that those who teach must never cease to learn, Patrick found himself hungry to discover all he could about the area’s diverse cultures, including the Anthracite coal mining community and the indigenous tribe of the Lenape.

Patrick’s writing process is a mix between walking meditation and meticulous research. His novels form while he walks alone with his dogs, imagining plot lines and characters. Once he’s home, he quickly types notes on his computer before fleshing them out later. Research is a considerable part of his process- the scientist in him abhors “alternative facts.” When he encounters an idea or a historical thread unfamiliar to him, he researches all he can about it. While he writes about a world where the supernatural realm is prominent, the real world is always based on facts.

When developing characters, he usually has an idea of the destination he wants for each character but the journey to get there is often written by the character and the environment. Of all the characters he’s written, Gladys Munch in Servant is his favorite, as she’s an amalgam of delightful, humorous “mature” ladies in his life and physically inspired by British actresses Margaret Rutherford and Angela Lansbury.

In addition to writing, Patrick appears on the stage of his community theater and sings in the chorus of a local opera company each summer. He enjoys spending time with his husband, Matthew, and their dogs and exploring new destinations around the world, especially those that have a supernatural history. Haunted buildings and structures associated with the occult fascinate Patrick. His idea of a perfect day: drinking pints of Guinness draught with friends and family over scintillating and humorous conversation.

Website: patrickfieldauthor.com
Instagram: patrickfieldauthor
Facebook: actoranatomist

Links for purchasing Servant

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Servant-Patrick-R-Field/dp/1509248765/ref=sr_1_1

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/servant-patrick-r-field/1143071600

Walmart:
https://www.walmart.com/ip/Servant-Paperback-9781509248766/2686843043

GIVEAWAY INFORMATION 

Patrick R. Field will be awarding a $10 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.
a Rafflecopter giveaway