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Eliza: The Awakening by Eileen Sheehan #HauntedHalloweenSpooktacular
Excerpt
It felt like someone was swinging a hammer against the inside of Eliza’s skull. The early morning dew caused a damp muskiness on the earth that blended with the mold and dust that burrowed beneath the thick layer of leaves where she lay her aching burden; assaulting her nose and adding to her misery. Her chocolate colored eyes felt pinned shut, but her hearing was abnormally acute. By the sounds around her, she sensed her surroundings were familiar ones. If she was correct, she was near the small cave that was nestled in a knoll that began the acres of woods at the far end of her family’s farm. It was a place that she’d discovered at a young age and had frequented whenever she required alone time. Her surroundings weren’t the greater mystery. How she got there was.
As her faculties returned to normal, she sat up and realized that how she got there wasn’t the biggest mystery after all. It was superseded by the fact that she hadn’t a stitch of clothing on.
None of this made sense. How did she get there and what happened to her clothes?
Straining her mind, she reached into the fog for a replay of the night before. She’d gone with her best friend, Reba, to a newly opened dance club. The place was packed, and dance partners were plentiful. The exertion from dancing combined with the excessive body heat made the air feel so stifling as to be practically unbearable. She remembered stepping outside for a bit of fresh air. Did Reba join her? She struggled to remember, but the visions in her head showed very little.
Squeezing her eyes shut almost to the point that it hurt, she forced her mind to function. She needed to remember the chain of events that led to her waking up naked in a field at the edge of the woods. Had she gone home from the club and sleepwalked? Or had something sinister occurred? She just didn’t know.
About the Author:
Eileen Sheehan primarily writes hot, steamy romances (mostly New Adult) with a
sexy male and strong female. A few are steamier than others (see their description).
The majority of her novels are paranormal, but some are just plain novels about
people in love (contemporary or historical with the author name of Ailene
Frances). ALL of her stories have a bit of naughtiness, some excitement, a few
thrills, and maybe a touch of mystery mixed in with sometimes naughty,
sometimes sweet lovin'. She strives to write a novel length that will allow the
busy woman to be able to sit down in an evening or two and be taken on a
romantic journey without having a week go by before she gets to the end of the
story.
An incurable romantic, she has a love affair with at least one of her
characters... one book at a time. She hopes the same thing happens to you.
www.sheehan-author.info
https://www.facebook.com/groups/162542557665509
Jasper: The Beginning by Eileen Sheehan #HauntedHalloweenSpooktacular
Excerpt… Even though he’d drawn blood, it wasn’t the zombie character who pummeled him to the ground. He was still trying to piece it together, but he was certain that the beating came from another source. Two. No, three men.They came out of nowhere in wolf-like costumes and sliced off the head of the zombie dressed character with a large sword while Jasper was struggling to be free of him.Jasper’s first thought was that he’d stumbled into a gang war zone of some type. Gang battles were nothing to take lightly. Although death was often a result of such battles, beheading wasn’t something that he’d read about in the news.Traumatized to the point of being immobilized by what he’d just witnessed, he was unable to fight back when the three men proceeded to tackle him to the ground and pummel his body with fists, rocks, and, finally, a crowbar. It wasn’t until much later that he questioned why they’d left his head intact.
The attackers desire to closely mimic the character of the costumes they wore was both frustrating and shocking. He could only reason that there was some sort of contest or gang challenge that they were participating in to make them behave with such dedication even while mugging someone. If memory served him right, he was clawed and bitten by one of them as well.
Left broken and barely holding onto life, he felt certain that he wouldn’t survive more than a few hours. The possibility of someone of strong moral character stumbling upon him in that dingy alley and calling for medical help was bleak. If by some miracle someone did come along to rescue him in time, he’d definitely have to get tested for diseases that could have entered his bloodstream via these wounds.
He grew weaker and weaker as he faded in and out of consciousness. Whenever his mind got coherent enough to realize his situation, he was surprised to discover that he was still able to inhale life giving air. He shouldn’t have survived such a brutal attack. Yet, the searing pain that coursed through every inch of his body told him that he’d done just that.
The question was… for how much longer?
Summoning enough strength to move his hand to his pants pocket, he was surprised to discover that his money was still there. He could feel that the designer watch that he’d purchased to replace the watch he’d inherited from his grandfather and had been stolen in a mugging while in his early twenties had also been left on his wrist. Things weren’t making sense. Getting drunk and, then, acting in character and attacking in such a way was one thing, but since when did robbers beat a man to mere inches from his life and then not rob him? Then, were they really robbers? They’d beheaded a man, after all.
About the Author:
Spooktacular Guest Blog by Catherine Stine #BewitchingBookTours #HauntedHalloweenSpooktacular
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Excerpt:
If I only had a week in this glorious beach town, I wanted to catch up with sleep and plunge into as many escapades as possible—even bewildering, outlandish ones.
We walked in, to the jangle of Mr. Dune’s door chimes. I skated around, ogling the floor-to-ceiling shelves brimming with leather-bound books on cosmic mysteries, spiritualism, and witchcraft. Two immediate standouts were Ten Ways to Practice Mentalism and Dona Bella, Memoirs of a Southern Witch. These were my fare, similar to a favorite book at the public library—a tome on dark magic. The most stirring part was about each witch dynasty having its own grimoire, a sort of magical recipe book. I had no clue as to why dark tales tickled me so, and often wondered about my taste.
Still, I read everything I could get my hands on, even boring books that drifted me right off to the Land of Nod. At my nanny job, I was so desperate for stories I even read the tedious articles about cooking and how to throw a proper cocktail party in Mrs. Cuthbert’s Reader’s Digest and Home Arts magazines.
Mr. Dune strode toward us. His handsome aura and towering presence intimidated yet thrilled me. He was dressed in crisp, charcoal gray pants and a vest with a double-breasted pinstriped jacket. “Are you lovely ladies here for the séance?” He held out a long, elegant hand, studded with a silver ring. I barely collected my wits enough to shake it and nod. Dulcie’s hand whooshed out and hardly touched his before she clamped it protectively back to her side.
No doubt about it, he was the most striking man I’d ever seen. His thick mop of dark hair tapered into long sideburns, rendering his jawline a tad dangerous. I guessed he was in his mid-twenties. When his coffee-brown eyes gleamed at me, my breath caught, and a heat greater than any moonshine fired through me.
We paid the dime admission. He escorted us to a round, wooden table with lion-footed legs where we joined a heavyset older couple and a reedy gentleman with thin, blond hair. His lime-fizz eyes darted over to Dulcie, and then away. Two empty chairs still beckoned.
Dulcie looked terrified, so I smiled at her. She calmed enough to take a seat.
Mr. Dune strode to the window, loosened the crimson curtains, and lowered their heavy velvet over the windows, lending the already-pensive storefront a mystical aura.
About the Author:
Catherine Stine is a USA Today bestselling author of paranormal, urban and historical fantasy. Witch of the Wild Beasts won a second prize in the Romance Writers of America’s Sheila Contest. Other novels have earned Indie Notable awards and New York Public Library Best Books. She lives in New York State and grew up in Philadelphia. Before writing novels, she was a painter and fabric designer. She’s a visual author and sees writing as painting with words. Catherine loves spending time with her beagle Benny, writing about supernatural creatures, gardening and meeting readers at book fests.
Learn more at catherinestine.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/crossoverwriter
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TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@catherinestine7
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorcatherinestine
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/catherine-stine
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1018139.Catherine_Stine
Amazon author page: https://www.amazon.com/Catherine-Stine/e/B001H9TXJC
YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCiYPFXTOO0EQ2XRW72PJiyw
Newsletter: https://catherinestine.com/wp/get-the-newsletter-contact-me/
Vanessa Morgan's Halloween Cocktail Recipe and Evil Seeds: The Ultimate Movie Guide to Villainous Children
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Real Haunted Locations with Laura A.H. Elliott - The Point Sur Light Station
Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/Xx830AT-g2s
Excerpt:I stroke one cheek and then the other with blush and remember standing with Drew at the bonfire. The last night we went out as boyfriend and girlfriend. The last night he was human.
On your 13th birthday, you get the call. By your 14th birthday you find out what the call is.
Everyone I know is in the audience tonight––Ally, Mom, Dad, Brian, even my brother, Mitch, because he came home for my birthday. We’re having our family dinner tomorrow night since tonight the cast party’s at Drew's house, unless I decapitate him first.
“Roxie five minutes,” Hayden yells into the girl’s locker room. As usual I’m the last one out. I sweep my hair up to the side and try to remember my first line. For some reason it’s the one I always forget.
I open locker 316, grab my sword and just as I step outside of the locker room, Wanda runs up to me and starts talking non-stop about her nerves and how they’re getting worse and worse.
“What’s that?” she asks. I stop cold in my tracks at the backstage door.
“There are lots of words for things that don’t exist––the unseen. Like monsters and aliens and dragons and vampires and ghosts,” I say sort of in a trance.
“Yeah, so?” Wanda says, wringing her hands.
“If they don’t exist, why are there words for them? All the stuff I thought was crazy really isn’t crazy at all,” I say, finally getting what Drew was trying to tell me at the bonfire at the estate at homecoming. What the human Drew said before I danced with his shadow. My role in the unseen, the shadow world. Still, I don’t know so many things. Like, what happens to a shadow once I slay it? And where do humans go when their shadows invade? How can I save my human friends?
“Roxie, I caught you! I was so late because Brian’s car got a flat. He fixed it so great, I couldn’t believe it. It’s like he went to badass school or something,” Ally says, laughing.
“Ally. Finally!” We hug. I swallow hard. Brian. Fixed. A. Flat. I mean it’s not brain surgery. But believe me, if it doesn’t have an LCD screen, my brother Brian doesn't think it exists. He doesn’t know how to fix a flat. O.M.G. Brian is probably a shadow too.
About the Author:
As a teenager, Laura’s love for story began in the Amazon where she waterskied with piranha while learning of head hunters and curses. In addition to being a ghost, she’s the author of five books and is a contributor to lifestyle and travel magazines. She has a passion for travel, particularly life at sea, and makes her home in Santa Cruz, CA with her husband, daughters, and their families. No matter the language barrier, perceived danger, altitude, squalls, fashion faux pas, or ingested gluten, she writes to inspire with a focus on journeys of the heart—always on the lookout for great champagne and a pair of red shoes.
You can find her at Laurasmagicday.com,
@Laurawriting on Twitter, @book_laurasmagicday on TikTok, and on Goodreads too.
https://twitter.com/Laurawriting
https://www.instagram.com/laurasmagicday/
https://www.tiktok.com/@book_laurasmagicday
https://www.laurasmagicday.com/shadow-series/reader-bonuses/
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5043385.Laura_A_H_Elliott