Glenn Rolfe's Blood and Rain - Review and {Giveaway}

My thoughts
Anyone who thinks the werewolf thing has been done...and done again...well, you need to read Blood and Rain. I haven't been this captivated by a werewolf story since seeing "American Werewolf in London" when I was a girl...or maybe "The Howling". It seems these days, werewolves have become less scary, as we get to know their human side before we really know their beast side. I'm talking about "True Blood" or Anne Rice's new werewolf series. Not to discount those awesome storytellers (everyone knows Rice is my favorite author), but it's just refreshing to read about a werewolf and to be really scared and horrified. Rolfe did not pull any punches in this book. We get the fear and we get the gore...and it's luscious (for lack of a better word). I've been reading a lot of great horror lately (via the terrific publicist, Erin of Oh, for the Hook of a Book fame) and this one ranks near the top.

Blood and Rain is a riveting monster novel that keeps you guessing until the end. Thanks for bringing me back to the scary werewolves. It was a wild ride!

About the book

The light of a full moon reveals many secrets.

Gilson Creek, Maine. A safe, rural community. Summer is here. School is out and the warm waters of Emerson Lake await. But one man's terrible secret will unleash a nightmare straight off the silver screen. Under the full moon, a night of terror and death re-awakens horrors long sleeping. Sheriff Joe Fischer, a man fighting for the safety of his daughter, his sanity and his community, must confront the sins of his past. Can Sheriff Fischer set Gilson Creek free from the beast hiding in its shadows, or will a small town die under a curse it can't even comprehend? One night can-and will-change everything.

Find Glenn Rolfe at: http://glennrolfe.com/ as well as Facebook and Twitter.

Excerpt
Stan Springs stared at the curse in the night sky. His curse. He clenched his jaw, and bit back the grunts that demanded release from within his sweat-covered body. His muscles tightened and took turns throwing fits. He could feel his heartbeat’s thunderous barrage at work inside his heaving chest. It was only a matter of minutes before the changes would come.

He ripped his gaze from the clouds, moved away from the window and knelt down next to the bed against the concrete wall. He slipped one shaky hand beneath the mattress and found the small incision he’d made when he first arrived at the institution. He had traded a guard, a heavyset fella by the name of Harold Barnes, his prized Ted Williams rookie card in exchange for a copy of the key. Parting with this gold mine had been necessary. Stan Springs had nothing else of value with which to barter. Harold trusted him enough to make the swap; he told Stan there were crazies here by the dozen, but he could tell that Stan was not one of them.

No, Harold, I’m something far worse.

Key in hand, Stan stepped to the unlocked door and cracked it open. The hallway was clear. He moved down the corridor, as stealthily as during his heydays working on the force in New York. Hearing footfalls ahead and to his left, he fell back and pressed his large frame against the custodial door. Hidden by the entryway’s shadow, he watched Nurse Collins—a tall, thin woman with a dark complexion—pass fifty feet from where he stood, before she disappeared into the nurses’ break room.

Barefoot and dressed in only a Red Sox T-shirt and his sleeping shorts, Stan made a break for the staircase across the hall. His breaths were coming faster now. If he didn’t hurry, he wouldn’t make it outside. He crept down the steps leading to the main hallway.

Through the small window on the stairwell door, he could see Harold Barnes’s haunted jowls illuminated by the laptop screen in front of him. The old man’s eyes were closed, his mouth open. Harold hadn’t even made it an hour into his shift before he was out. Stan knew Harold also ran his own antique shop in the neighboring town of Hallowell. He’d told Stan that working both jobs on the same day, which was sometimes unavoidable, made it difficult for him on the night shift. It was another shared nugget Stan had stored away for nights like this one—the nights the beast in him needed to get out.

Easing the door open, Stan skulked his way along the shadows on the wall, and tiptoed to the main entrance door. Despite the cramps now rampaging through his calves and thighs, he slipped the procured key into the lock, slow and steady. The door clicked open, and he stepped out into the night.

As the cool breeze brushed against the sweat of his brow, the tendons and bones in his face began to shift. The rest of his body followed suit. He dropped to one knee and cried out. His skin, his scalp, his eyes, his muscles were all too tight. He reached behind him and managed to push the door shut.

If you could see me now, Harold.

The private roads out front were deserted. He launched from the building’s stairs and landed on the lawn below, making a beeline for the woods to the left of the large property.

He was twenty feet from the forest when the change hit him like a massive wave, crashing him to the ground. His muscles clenched and squeezed and tore, while the bones of his face continued to crack and grow. His teeth began to fall out in place of the monster’s. Down on all fours, he crawled to the tree cover and vomited. A mix of last night’s cafeteria meat loaf, black coffee, loose teeth, and blood splashed the ferns before him. Stan’s fingers extended as his claws dug into the soft soil of spring’s floor. He moaned and grunted his way through the rest of the fluid process.

In full beast mode, Stan Springs stood and howled at the cloud-covered sky. The creatures of the night became ghosts among the trees. He felt the strength flowing through him and the hunger begging to be sated.

He burst forward, headed north. Despite Stan’s best effort to control the beast’s killing zone, he found himself heading home.

About the author

Glenn Rolfe is an author, singer, songwriter and all around fun loving guy from the haunted woods of New England. He has studied Creative Writing at Southern New Hampshire University, and continues his education in the world of horror by devouring the novels of Stephen King and Richard Laymon. He and his wife, Meghan, have three children, Ruby, Ramona, and Axl. He is grateful to be loved despite his weirdness.

He is the author the novellas, Abram's Bridge, Boom Town, and the forthcoming, Things We Fear (March, 2016), the short fiction collection, Slush, and the novels The Haunted Halls and Blood and Rain (October 2015). His first novella collection, Where Nightmares Begin, will be released in March, 2016.

He is hard at work on many more. Stay tuned!

Praise for Blood and Rain
“A major new talent rises from the Maine woods…Rolfe is the real deal, and Blood and Rain is a classic monster novel, full of blood and teeth and the kind of razor sharp writing that makes the pages sing. Small town horror is back, with a vengeance!” –Nate Kenyon, award-winning author of Sparrow Rock, Diablo: Storm of Light and Day One

"With slashing claws and blood-soaked fur, Blood and Rain will have you howling in terror and delight. A welcome addition to the werewolf mythos, and proof that we're in the presence of a rising star in the genre. Highly recommended!" -Ronald Malfi, author of The Floating Staircase

“Rolfe tells a tale that captures your attention like King without all of the wordiness. He also spills the red stuff like Laymon…” – Into the Macabre

“Blood and Rain is a monumental piece of horror fiction. It represents everything I love about werewolves, creature features, siege films, and everything else in between. It is still early in the year, but this is a clear cut candidate for my favorite book of 2015.” — Horror Underground

“Wow! Easily one of the best werewolf books I’ve ever read.” – Hunter Shea, author of Tortures of the Damned and The Dover Demon

“Some good ‘ol fashion violence and gore…” – Jason Parent, author of Seeing Evil

“Glenn Rolfe takes a swing at the werewolf genre and hits a home run.” – Russell James, author of Q Island and Dreamwalker

“…not just another werewolf story, Rolfe has managed to take the werewolf to a-whole-nother level…” – Horror Novel Reviews

“The best werewolf novel I’ve read since Jeff Strand’s Wolf Hunt.”–Horror After Dark

Buy the book
Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Samhain

Giveaway!!!
For a chance to win a print copy of Glenn Rolfe’s short story collection, Slush, or a chance to win your choice of any of his titles in e-book format, go to the link below for the Rafflecopter sign-up. Good luck! The print copy is only good for those in the United States. Questions can be referred to Erin Al-Mehairi, publicist, at hookofabook(at)hotmail(dot)com.

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/231aa30b22/?

Jason Parent's Seeing Evil - Exclusive Excerpt and {Giveaway} #SeeingEvil

Excerpt

Stepping back so as not to alarm the child, Samantha scanned Michael for wounds, but she couldn't find the source of the blood. She hoped it wasn't Michael's, but she saw no evidence, no tracks or prints, that suggested Michael had been anywhere near the bodies. Then again, shouldn't he be in a crib or something? What's he doing in here? There's no part of this that he should have been forced to witness. 

Samantha moved in for a closer look. His hands rested on his thighs, the blood on them dry and cracking on his skin. Something protruded from beneath them, something dark and metallic.

Samantha gasped. "Michael, don't move, okay?"

Michael seemed oblivious to her presence, swaying to a beat only he could hear. It was as though she wasn't part of the world he was seeing. Slowly, she reached for the object with the caution of one taking a bone from a snarling dog. Only Michael wasn't snarling. He seemed uninterested in her, still rocking and staring blankly through her, unblinking and locked on that same focal point.

Maybe he's in shock. Maybe he does understand what happened here. His unresponsiveness was certainly beyond mere willful ignorance. Samantha didn't think he would notice if she lit a firecracker in front of him. He seemed out of touch with reality. For the moment, Samantha preferred him that way.

With a hand as steady as a surgeon's, Samantha reached for the pistol Michael was huddled over like a bear protecting her cub. She avoided contact with him, fearful of what would happen if she disturbed his trancelike state. Her fingers treaded over the barrel, searching for its grip.

She pulled the handgun, a black Smith & Wesson M&P 9mm, from beneath Michael. The barrel brushed against his thigh. With cold, empty eyes bulging open like those of the drowning, Michael gazed into Samantha's. She felt exposed, as if with only a look, the child could delve into the recesses of her mind, revealing her every secret. The thought terrified her. So did Michael.

With reflexes beyond one of his age, Michael grabbed the gun with both hands. Samantha quickly pulled it away. Unnerved as she was, she still had Michael's safety at the forefront of her mind. She removed the weapon from the boy's reach, at all times conscious of its threat. When she found the safety smeared in blood, she clicked it on and breathed a sigh of relief. As she'd expected, there had been a bullet in the chamber. She dropped the gun into an open evidence bag held by Tagliamonte.

Michael's eyes remained on her. They were blue and cloudy like the sky before a rainbow, a fire as bright as the sun burning behind them. His mouth creaked open as though tiny gears controlled its laborious motion. When his chin dropped so low it nearly rested on his throat, a sound, low and indistinguishable at first, emitted from somewhere deep within the boy. As it amplified, its sharp clamor made Samantha's blood ice within her veins.

At once, Samantha knew that not only did Michael comprehend what had happened to his parents, but also that he felt it in the worst sort of way. His wail was ghostly and ghastly, the cry of one seized by agony. Samantha was afraid, both for him and of him, and of what such trauma might cause him to become. Backing away, not knowing how to comfort the lost child, Samantha knew it would not be the last she would see of Michael.

About the book

Fate in plain sight.

Major Crimes Detective Samantha Reilly prefers to work alone—she’s seen as a maverick, and she still struggles privately with the death of her partner. The only person who ever sees her softer side is Michael Turcotte, a teenager she’s known since she rescued him eleven years ago from the aftermath of his parents’ murder-suicide.

In foster care since his parents’ death, Michael is a loner who tries to fly under the bullies’ radar, but a violent assault triggers a disturbing ability to view people’s dark futures. No one believes his first vision means anything, though—not even Sam Reilly. When reality mimics his prediction, however, Sam isn’t the only one to take notice. A strange girl named Tessa Masterson asks Michael about her future, and what he sees sends him back to Sam—is Tessa victim or perpetrator?

Tessa’s tangled secrets draw Michael and Sam inexorably into a deadly conflict. Sam relies on Michael, but his only advantage is the visions he never asked for. As they track a cold and calculating killer, one misstep could turn the hunters into prey.

About the author
In his head, Jason Parent lives in many places, but in the real world, he calls New England his home. The region offers an abundance of settings for his writing and many wonderful places in which to write them. He currently resides in Southeastern Massachusetts with his cuddly corgi named Calypso.

In a prior life, Jason spent most of his time in front of a judge . . . as a civil litigator. When he finally tired of Latin phrases no one knew how to pronounce and explaining to people that real lawsuits are not started, tried and finalized within the 60-minute timeframe they see on TV (it's harassing the witness; no one throws vicious woodland creatures at them), he traded in his cheap suits for flip flops and designer stubble. The flops got repossessed the next day, and he's back in the legal field . . . sorta. But that's another story.

When he's not working, Jason likes to kayak, catch a movie, travel any place that will let him enter, and play just about any sport (except that ball tied to the pole thing where you basically just whack the ball until it twists in a knot or takes somebody's head off - he misses the appeal). And read and write, of course. He does that too sometimes.

Please visit Jason on Facebook, on Twitter, or at his website for information regarding upcoming events or releases, or if you have any questions or comments for him.

Praise for Seeing Evil
“… Parent writes in such a fluid, mesmerizing and realistic way that I found I couldn’t stop!” – My So-Called Book Reviews

“Seeing Evil is one of those books that takes off at a fast pace and doesn't slow down.” – Carries Book Reviews

“Jason Parent tortures us right alongside his characters. The world building is excellent and very real.” – I’m a Voracious Reader

“…one of the best suspense thrillers I have read in a very long time. In lesser hands it would have been a decent read but the author's skill in setting the scene, character development, and story telling makes this a far superior novel.” – Book Nutter’s Book Reviews

“Seeing Evil has some very special moments and is a very fast read. There's no denying Parent has talent.” Glenn Rolfe, author of Blood and Rain, Boom Town, and Abram’s Bridge

“Wow! That was just brilliant! Every single chapter straight from the very beginning had me gripped.” – Andrew Lennon, author of Keith and A Life to Waste, a Novel of Violence and Horror

“Superbly fast paced from beginning to end meaning you will not want to put it down. A plot that will keep you guessing to the very end but not in a confusing way. Brilliant characters that gel together perfectly. A bloody good book.” – Confessions of a Reviewer

“This is one seriously entertaining, thought provoking read.” – Adam Light, author of Taken, Toes Up, and The Corpus Corruptum

“This book was a police procedural/thriller/psychological horror story-it doesn't neatly fit into any category except for: ‘damn fine read’.” – Char’s Horror Corner

“The entire story was strong, driven, and merciless in all regard from beginning to end. Even when you think you know where it's going, there's yet another--logical--twist.” Horror After Dark

“Seeing Evil is a perfectly-paced book, with intriguing characters and white-knuckle, edge of your seat tension. The villain is particularly haunting in an all-too-plausible way, and even a few days after having finished reading the events of the book are still vividly etched in my mind. Parent's writing here is top notch - sleek, efficient and with surprising emotional depth.” – Evans Light, author of Arboreatum, Screamscapes, and Harmlessly Insane.

Buy the book

Amazon

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Red Adept Publishing

Giveaway!!!

Sign up to enter to win one of five books from Jason Parent! There is one print copy of Seeing Evil, one print copy of Bad Apples 2 collection, 1 e-book of What Hides Within, and one e-book of Dead Roses. All winners get Seeing Evil bookmarks! Random draw chooses winner. First name drawn receives first prize, and so on. Any giveaway questions may be forwarded to Erin Al-Mehairi, publicist, hookofabook@hotmail.com.

Click the link to enter:

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The Works of Xavier Axelson - Exclusive Excerpt and {Giveaway} #AxelsonBlitz #HalloweenReads

Earthly Concerns is an erotic nightmare, with a fable element. It really is a story about the power of generosity, generosity of spirit and the price of selfishness. While there is an erotic romance involved, there are forces at work in the story that scare me and hopefully will frighten readers too. Enjoy this special excerpt….

Earthly Concerns Excerpt

The psychic echoes coming from the broken cars overwhelmed me. It wasn’t until Barrett spoke that I felt the vibrations settle. His voice sounded far away.

“Here it is,” he said.

I felt my heart stumble and my stomach fall. “My God.” I could hear the shock in my own voice. The entire front of the car was gone. I found it hard to drag my eyes from the missing front end. The attendant walked away, the sound of gravel under his feet crunching. “How are you not dead?” I asked before moving closer to the wreck. There were such strong vibrations, smells, and emotions coming off the remains that I wasn’t sure what to tune into, it felt chaotic and cruel.

“I don’t know,” was Barrett’s succinct answer.

I shook my head. “I bet you don’t.” I inched closer, held my hand out and resisted the urge to walk back to my car and leave. Something dark was emanating from the wreckage. I could feel my senses begin to tremble with the anticipation of a vision.

“Should I leave you alone?”

“No!” I heard the edge in my voice, looked back and saw his head drop. “No, I need you to show me where Hilary was sitting.”

“Do you feel anything?” he asked hopefully.

“Barrett, where was she sitting?” I followed him as he moved past me and walked to the back of the car.

“She was sitting just behind me,” Barrett said as he opened the back door.

A sickening smell, animal-like and fetid, poured from the opening. We both fell away from the car as if we had been hit.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Barrett yelled and then started coughing.

My eyes began to burn and I could not only smell the horrid stench, but could also taste it, and what I tasted wasn’t just rank, it was evil. I shook my head violently, forced a hand across my mouth and edged closer. I could still hear Barrett gasping and coughing behind me when I looked into the back seat and saw the place where Hilary had been sitting now empty, blackened, as if something had reached from hell itself and burned it with a demonic blaze.

I reached forward, fingers twitching; I had to touch it. Sounds began to screech through my mind; the shrieking brakes, glass shattering and behind each sound the wail of a little girl.

Daddyyyy!

Then the thing, the blackness, I saw it reach with sharp curving claws, heard the nerve shattering sound of teeth grinding and a voice that shut out all the lights in my head.

You or her?

Then it was gone.

About the books of Xavier Axelson

Earthly Concerns

Between love and loss, there is obligation…
It was a peaceful night when Barrett and his daughter were driving home… then something happened. Something sinister.

Between shadow and light, there is uncertainty…
Now the only person Barrett can turn to for help is Anson, a man gifted with psychic abilities beyond reason. But Anson is also his ex-boyfriend, a man whose heart he’d already broken.

If you can see, you have to help.
As Anson delves deeper into the circumstances surrounding Barrett’s accident, he begins to realize that he’s not only in a race against time, but in a battle against his own broken heart and the terrifying understanding that whatever has taken Barrett’s child is a force of evil beyond anything either man has ever encountered.

And between decision and consequences, there are… Earthly Concerns

Lily

What does one say when they realize their child is gone? Better yet, what does one say when that child returns, but is different?

This is the question Pryor must ask himself after his daughter, Lily, is dragged into the woods by a wolf and her body is never found. It isn't until he sees a wolf in the woods with eyes that resemble Lily's that he feels hope. And then something is whispered from deep within the woods, a promise for him to see Lily again.

One day...

But which day and for how long?

And then Pryor meets Ned, a silversmith who brings out desires that Pryor hasn't felt in years and helps him hatch a plan to keep Lily with him.

Now the question isn't about how much time Pryor will have with Lily, it's about how far he'll go to keep her with him.

About the author
Xavier Axelson is a writer and columnist living in Los Angeles. Xavier's work has been featured in various erotic and horror anthologies. Longer written works include The Incident, Velvet, and Lily. Xavier covers Fringe Culture for the Los Angeles Examiner. Connect with Xavier on his website at www.xavieraxelson.com, on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/xaviersaxel and on Twitter at https://twitter.com/XaviersAxel.

Praise for Xavier Axelson’s work
“This book was an excellent short read. It has a little bit of everything. Lost love, tragedy, paranormal beings, and the hint at a second chance.” Close Encounters with the Night Kind

“I really liked the psychic element to the story, sometimes in books that just isn't done very well or done in a very cliché way, but I found it came across very well in this read.” Book Devotee Reviews

“Axelson writes from the emotions and in doing so he draws the reader in. It is close to impossible not to react to his stories.” Reviews by Amos Lassen

 Buy the books

Earthly Concerns

Amazon
Barnes and Noble

Seventh Window Publications

Lily

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Seventh Window Publications

Giveaway!!!
Enter to win either a copy of Lily (2 e-book format to giveaway) or a copy of Earthly Concerns (2 e-book format to giveaway). Anyone may enter. Questions can be referred to Erin Al-Mehairi, Publicist, Hook of a Book Media, hookofabook@hotmail.com.

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A Special Halloween Treat! Ira Gansler's Things in the Darkness - Excerpt and {Giveaway}

Excerpt
Father Frank hung up his robe on a hook next to the door. He offered Kevin some coffee and Kevin accepted. Father Frank brewed the coffee and chattered while he did so about the recent activities in the church and how much he had missed the Tremmels’ presence, not only on Sundays but at many of their outreaches that had taken place since Kevin’s accident. He came out with a tarnished silver tray carrying the pot of coffee, two mugs, cream, and sugar. He sat the tray down on a table that sat on the inside of the L formed by the couch and chairs.

Once he and Kevin had fixed their cups of coffee, Father Frank sat back in one of the chairs as Kevin sat caddy-corner on the couch near him. Father Frank sipped his tea, while waiting for Kevin to start talking, which was another trick Kevin was sure he must have picked up during his days in the mental health field.

Knowing that it was up to him to start, Kevin decided to just lay all his cards on the table and blurted out, “I think I’m possessed.”

Father Frank did not bat an eye at this statement and Kevin felt himself able to breathe. This did not mean that the priest believed him, but it did indicate that he was willing to listen and that was all Kevin could ask at the moment. Finally, the priest spoke up. “When did you start to feel this way?” Kevin felt no judgment in the question and began to feel even more relaxed.

“Shortly after the accident,” Kevin said. “Maybe even right after it. I can vaguely remember some of the dreams or visions I had before I briefly came to in the operating room...” He trailed off and hesitated for a moment to share the point he thought might be vital, but one he didn’t know if the priest had any knowledge of. He thought to himself, “You’ve gone this far, you might as well not stop now.” He took a deep breath, looked into his coffee as if trying to read the future in the swirls of cream, or at least discover some vital secret behind existence, and then finally stated, “When I was dead.”

Father Frank did not drop his gaze and only took a brief second before saying, “I assume you mean clinically dead? Your heart had stopped?”

Kevin shook his head emphatically, “Yes, they used some kind of new resuscitation technique on me, but even so, they said I set some kind of record for how long I was dead before they were able to bring me back.”

“And you think that perhaps you brought something back with you from the afterlife?” Coming from anyone else, this would have felt like they were placating or even teasing him, but Kevin heard the sincerity in Father Frank’s voice and was willing to go on.

“I don’t know exactly. I only know that I haven’t been myself ever since I woke up from the coma.”

“How so?” Father Frank leaned forward and studied Kevin’s face and body language as he asked the question.

“I have been extraordinarily short tempered. I have felt rage at the slightest perceived or real threat or insult. I find myself critical of the very things I used to believe so strongly in, like my students and my family. I am
suspicious of everyone I meet and see ulterior motives in every action.” “Surely there must be more. You are an educated man. If this was all you were experiencing, I imagine your first thought would not have been demonic possession, but a mood disorder of some kind resulting from the trauma of your accident.”

Father Frank’s eyes bored into Kevin’s as if he could read the truth behind them. Kevin felt exposed and for a brief moment wished he had never came. Then he thought of Sarah, Chloe, and Jacob and the grisly visions he had seen when he lost his temper the previous day. He knew that he had to continue, no matter how crazy he would sound.

“I’ve been hearing a voice,” Kevin looked down at the floor. He was determined to get this out, but he could not meet the priest’s eyes as he said this part. “It urges me to do horrible things. Things of such a level of depravity that I find myself disgusted with the very thought of them once I come to my senses. It speaks of this darkness and urges me to join with the darkness. I dream every night of a pitch blackness, with creatures of some sort in the swirling in the background which become clearer every night.”

He looked up at the priest, and the look of desperation in his eyes was impossible to miss as he continued on. “These creatures, Father, I think if I see them in their entirety I really will go crazy. I don’t think any human mind was ever equipped with the ability to see them as they are.” Now the tears began to flow, but he had given up any pretenses at maintaining a sense of dignity or pride in this situation. “I see the most horrible things as if they are really happening. Violence, death, sexual perversion, and it is like I am actually committing these acts, it seems so real. My wife and children…I saw myself hurting, torturing, and killing them, and for a brief moment, I actually enjoyed the images until I came to my senses.” Kevin completely broke down into tears at that point and Father Frank placed a hand on his shoulder, but said nothing.

After a couple of minutes, Kevin was able to continue. “I would never actually harm them, Father. I would sooner damn myself to an eternity in Hell through taking my own life before allowing any harm to come to them. But it is so real. If this isn’t the work of a demon, then I don’t know what to think anymore. Six months ago, I would have thought that the notion of a demon in the literal sense was laughable. But now...now I don’t know what to think.” Kevin grabbed the priest’s hands and the desperation blazed in his eyes. “You have to help me, Father, you just have to!”

About the book
An accident puts Kevin Tremmel into a coma. Upon waking, he is not the same. Is it psychological trauma or something darker at work?

Until recently, Kevin Tremmel was at peace with his life. He had a wonderful family, a meaningful career, and his life is finally settling down. Everything seems to be going great - until the night he dies in a car accident.

When the doctors revive him, it's evident that he's not the same. Strange urges and images haunt his waking hours, and he finds himself fighting frightening new impulses. Has the trauma of the accident caused a mental illness -- or has he brought some malevolent being back with him?

In order to save his sanity, his sense of self, and his family, Kevin must discover what force is at work on him and how to overcome it. It’s that, or give up all he loves and become a servant to the things in the darkness.

Praise
"Terrifying and engaging, impossible to put down." Henrique Couto, Writer/Director of Babysitter Massacre and Director of Haunted House on Sorority Row and Scarewaves.

"Creepy, contemporary riffs on Lovecraftian themes!" John Oak Dalton, Screenwriter - Among Us, Haunted House on Sorority Row, and Scarewaves.

About the author

Ira M. Gansler is the father of three girls whom he adores and hopes to one day mold into fellow horror fans! He has been married to his fantastic, supportive wife for almost twelve years. Ira focuses on honing his writing craft through fiction, blogging, and screenwriting. He was one of the writers for the film Scarewaves, having written the screenplay for the “Office Case” segment.

Ira has been an avid horror fan since the time at age five when he ran screaming back to his bed after having witnessed the scene in A Nightmare on Elm Street where Freddy was dragging a bloody and dying Tina across the ceiling. Since then, he has embraced all types of horror. The Shining, anything by H.P. Lovecraft, and the original Night of the Living Dead will always hold a special place in his twisted heart. He prays that when the zombie apocalypse does come that it consists of slow zombies and that the Elder Gods show mercy on us all.

You can follow Ira M. Gansler on his blog, The Rage Circus Vs. The Soulless Void at http://ragecircus.blogspot.com, on twitter @RageCircusBlog, or on Facebook at www.facebook.com/ragecircusblogger. Ira also writes reviews and conducts interviews for the From Dusk Till Con Network at www.fromdusktillcon.com.

GIVEAWAY

Enter to win one of two great prizes during the #DarknessEmerges Tour. Ira is giving away a GRAND PRIZE of a signed print copy of his book, The Things in the Darkness, plus a signed copy of his “Office Case” segment from the movie, Scarewaves. As a second prize, he’s giving away another signed print copy! Enter to win through the Rafflecopter below. Enter now until Dec. 1, 2014. This is a tour wide giveaway, and open to U.S. Residents only due to shipping. If you want to enter from outside the U.S., and you can, but if you win, you’ll receive an e-book.

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Hunter Shea's The Montauk Monster - Spotlight with Excerpt

Publisher’s Weekly named the upcoming thriller, THE MONTAUK MONSTER, one of the best summer books of 2014! Not only that, they gave it an awesome review. Here’s a snippet:

The urban mythologies of the Montauk Monster and the government labs on Plum Island unite to cause staggering levels of mayhem when mutant animals with toxic blood descend on a Long Island town. This wholly enthralling hulk of a summer beach read is redolent of sunscreen and nostalgia, recalling mass market horror tales of yore by John Saul, Dean Koontz, and Peter Benchley. — PW

About the book/Advanced praise"Shea combines ancient evil, old school horror, and modern style." --Jonathan Maberry, New York Times bestselling author

It Kills. . .

On a hot summer night in Montauk, the bodies of two local bar patrons are discovered in the dunes, torn to shreds, their identities unrecognizable. . .

It Breeds. . .

In another part of town, a woman's backyard is invaded by four terrifying creatures that defy any kind of description. What's clear is that they're hostile--and they're ravenous. . .

It Spreads. . .

With every sunset the terror rises again, infecting residents with a virus no one can cure. The CDC can't help them;FEMA can't save them. But each savage attack brings Suffolk County Police Officer Gray Dalton one step closer to the shocking source of these unholy creations. Hidden on nearby Plum Island, a U.S. research facility has been running top-secret experiments. What they created was never meant to see the light of day. Now, a vacation paradise is going straight to hell.

"Hunter Shea is the real deal.. . .intense." --Gord Rollo, author of Valley of the Scarecrow and Crimson

"Shea delves deep into the unknown. A thrill-ride of a read!" --Alexandra Holzer, author of Growing Up Haunted

Called “Most Anticipated Summer Read of 2014” by The Horror Bookshelf along with Stephen King’s Mr. Mercedes and Brian Moreland’s The Vagrants.

Purchase
Amazon
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Raves for Hunter Shea

Forest of Shadows

"A frightening, gripping story that left me too frightened to sleep with the lights off. This novel scared the hell out of me and it is definitely a creepy ghost story I won't soon forget." --Night Owl Reviews

Sinister Entity

"This is the real deal. The fear is palpable. Horror novels don't get much better than this." --Literal Remains

". . .Culminates in a climactic showdown between human and spirit that keeps you glued to the pages!" --Horror Novel Reviews

Evil Eternal

"Hunter Shea has crafted another knockout. At turns epic and intimate, both savage and elegant. . .a harrowing, blood-soaked nightmare." --Jonathan Janz, author of The Sorrows

Swamp Monster Massacre

"If you're craving an old-school creature-feature that has excessive gore. . .B-horror movie fans rejoice, Hunter Shea is here to bring you the ultimate tale of terror!" --Horror Novel Reviews

About Hunter Shea
Hunter Shea is the author of paranormal and horror novels Forest of Shadows, Swamp Monster Massacre, Evil Eternal, Sinister Entity, which are all published by Samhain Horror. The June 3, 2014 release of his horrifying thriller Montauk Monster is published by Kensington/Pinnacle.

He has also written a short story to be read prior to Sinister Entity, called The Graveyard Speaks (it’s free, go download!), and a book of stories called Asylum Scrawls. His next book from Samhain Horror, titled HellHole, came out July 1, 2014, and is his first western horror. As you read this, he has a few more books in the works from both Kensington and Samhain and release dates should be announced soon.

His work has appeared in numerous magazines, including Dark Moon Digest, Morpheus Tales, and the upcoming anthology, Shocklines : Fresh Voices in Terror. His obsession with all things horrific has led him to real life exploration of the paranormal, interviews with exorcists, and other things that would keep most people awake with the lights on.

He is also half of the two men show, Monster Men, which is a video podcast that takes a fun look at the world of horror. You can read about his latest travails and communicate with him at www.huntershea.com, on Twitter @HunterShea1, Facebook fan page at Hunter Shea or the Monster Men 13 channel on YouTube.

Montauk Monster Truth or Fiction

Is the Montauk Monster made up for the book or an urban myth? Is there some truth that propels the story? You can find out more about the real Montauk Monster story here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Montauk_Monster

Excerpt from The Montauk Monster
The bat suddenly felt like a lead weight in his hands. Brian took a step back. He couldn’t make out any details in the dark, but he could see that they had to be dogs, big ass ones to boot. His plan had worked, in that his little surprise had gotten them to stop rooting through the garbage. The one drawback, and it was a big one, was that they weren’t the least bit afraid. Not of him. Not of the bat in his hands.

They took a step forward. The one on the right flicked a paw, crashing the can into the side of the house.

Brian tried to shout. All that came out was a soft, stammering hiss of nonsense.

The dogs came closer.

What the hell was wrong with them? Brian could feel the heat of their savage intention coming off them in steady waves.

He tripped as his heel came in contact with the raised brick of the patio. Daring a quick glance to his right, he wondered if he could make it in the door and slam it shut before they got to him. It would be close.

They’d gone disconcertingly silent.

Drawing in a deep breath, he pivoted and started to run.

He didn’t go far.

The other garbage can took the brunt of his flight. His shin cracked into it and he somersaulted over the can, landing on his side. The pain in his leg was excruciating.

The ticking of nails on concrete made the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end as the dogs rounded the corner with confident strides.

Brian scrabbled to get back on his feet. The open door was just six feet away. In there was safety. In there was light and a first aid kit to take care of his leg.

In there was a place where pissed off, giant dogs could not go.

His yard was swiftly flooded with light.

“Brian, what the hell are you doing out there?”

The light and Sam’s angry voice put a good scare into the menacing dogs. They dashed back down the alley as fast as greyhounds. One of them brushed against the can on its way out, giving it one last ear-splitting clatter against the house.

Hands clasped over his battered shin, Brian couldn’t find the words to answer his neighbor.

Michelle Franklin's Tales from Frewen, Volume 2 - Excerpt and {Giveaway}

 
Read-Along: The Rat, Pt. 6

The cat charged, knocking the empty dish rack over, and out skittered the rat from the shadows, its leg wounded, its countenance vicious and unseemly, its hide matted, its ears crumpled, its teeth protruding. It hastened toward the giant, divagating as it ran, its injured leg making it impossible to run straight. The cat leapt after it, biting and clawing, the rat shrieked and swiped. It tried to run into the storeroom, but the cat caught it by the tail and, with a jolt, flung it into the air. It wriggled and turned, trying to right itself, that it might land on its feet, but the black metal of Rautu's blade flashed, the sword came down, and as edge of the sword touched the ground, the body of the rat fell one way, and the head another. The terrifying and ferocious creature was no more, lying dead at Martje's feet, and she nearly danced in triumph.

"Ha, ye bastard!" Martje exclaimed, in a fever of maniacal glee. "That's you done in, and you're sure never comin' back!" and it was under this charm of a resounding victory that she turned to the giant, nodded to him, and even smiled at him.

Never a friend to the cook, Rautu was horrified by her sudden admiration. He stepped back from her, in dread of her possibly embracing him, picked up the rat's body by the tail, bid Khaasta to take the head as a prize, and said, "Your rat is dead. The Tyfferym dark, Mhojhudenri."

"Aye, aye, a'right, monster," she humphed. "I'll bring it to you. Make the cat go outside with the head if he wants it, and don't touch anythin' with what you got in your hand."

The slab of Tyfferim dark was brought, Rautu accepted it with mild complacence, and as Martje handed it over, she said, "And remember, monster: you're not tellin' anyone I asked you for help and that's that."

"I do not need to tell anyone," said the giant, plucking the chocolate from her hands. He tucked the chocolate into his belt. "Your mate already knows."

Martje's nose curled and her brow furrowed. "How's that?"

Rautu pointed toward the yeoman's quarter entrance, and there, standing at the top of the steps, was Shayne, watching his wife, smiling to himself, and shaking his head.

"There's nothin' wrong with askin' for help, Martje," said Shayne, approaching her.

"Sure there is," Martje snuffed. "You don't mind askin' Tomas for help 'cause he's your partner and all--"

"But you gotta lower yourself and condescend and that to ask your enemy for help. I know. A real terrible thing, asking people for help. Then you gotta thank 'em for doin' the job right."

Shayne raised a brow and gave Martje a wry look, and Martje pouted and turned aside.

"I ain't thankin' the monster for nothin'. He got his chocolate outta me. He don't need nothin' else."

However pleased the giant was with his prize, he was still more gratified in Martje's capitulation. Watching her struggling against herself to surrender her integrity, lay by all reservations, and entreat him to help was all his sagacious elation. He grinned in spite of himself and marched outside, calling for Khaasta to join him, and he walked into the far field, glad that someone had seen Martje's concession, and wondering where on his heap of pelts his new prize should go.

Martje glunched and stamped her foot. It was unfair that the giant had got his way, but there was nothing to be done for it now, and Shayne was coming to embrace her and console her, and she must learn to forget that she ever conceded to ask for the giant for help, though he had performed his office so well.

"'Mon," said Shayne, in a soft accent, "let's clean up and get the tea made. I'm starvin' somethin' terrible."

"Aye," Martje moped.

Shayne touched his wife's shoulder and rubbed the top of her back. "There, there, aye? Wasn't so terrible to ask him, was it? He's not the mallacht, Martje."

This was a point to be vehemently refuted, but just then, Gaumhin and Brigdan entered from the field, the former carrying his Westren osprey, and the latter with his goshawk sitting on his shoulder.

"Oh, is it caught, then?" said Brigdan, glancing round the kitchen. "We were going to let our birds have some sport with it."

"Aye," said Gaumhin. "Mah gurl's been gaggin' for a hunt these few daes, aye? Sittin' in the mews, a-botherin' everaebodae."

"Aye, it's finished," said Shayne. "Den Asaan just walked out with it."

Martje's stared at her husband, her lips pursed, her expression furious, and Shayne looked repentant and made a nervous laugh.

"I suppose it is to be a secret as to who killed the rat," said Brigdan, smiling. "Very well. Gaumhin and I will promise not to say anything," but the damage had been done, for someone now knew that the giant had been allowed to kill it, and Martje sulked and went to the tea board, grumbling about how careless and useless husbands were.

"Think I'm sleepin' in the stables th'night," said Shayne.

"They are not so uncomfortable, master smith," said Brigdan. "You might find the hay loft very pleasant indeed. Vyrdin used to sleep there himself betimes when he was just training his horse. You might make a friend or two while there."

Shayne glanced at Martje, and then behind a raised hand, he whispered, "Don't mean no offense by it, but sleeping beside the nags'll be more peaceful than sleepin' beside the nagger."

"What's that, Shayne?" said Martje, in a sharp tone.

"Oh," Shayne hemmed, "nothin', Martje."

"Aye, sure thought so."

Brigdan and Gaumhin stifled a laugh, and Shayne stepped toward the basin and away from his wife.

"Does His Majesty know that the rat been killed?" Brigdan asked.

"Don't think so," said Shayne.

"I will gladly inform him, My Lord Regent," said Dobhin, who was passing in the hallway behind them.

Dobhin was on his way to the tailor and was walking beside Pastaddams, who was looking rather displeased, for the tailor had undergone a most frightful time with the baize that Her Majesty wanted, had seen some very horrible costumes at the Royal Theatre, and was very ready to sit at his sewing table and grumble to himself about the wrongs of the fashionable world.

"Absolute frights, every one of them," said Pastaddams, marching toward the tailor, speaking more to himself than he was to Dobhin. "How can they possibly think it acceptable to put that much frill at the bottom of so short a dress? What a job they have done, making themselves look ridiculous."

"Quite right, sir," said Dobhin, as they came to the tailor door. "I don't know what they would be at. Some of those colours were atrocious--"

"No, don't talk of it," Pastaddams cried, suddenly overcome, sinking under the power of his disgust. "Don't talk of it, Commander, I beg you." He passed a hand over his eyes and looked vexed. "It is too painful to consider that someone would dare sew puce next to evergreen."

"Indeed, sir. Quite a horror."

"Indeed it is. Such a mockery of hues, such a waste of fabrics--" The tailor stopped, closed his eyes, and inhaled. "I must stop thinking about it or I shall go mad. My needle and patterns will calm me."

He opened the door to the tailor, and where Dobhin entertained a hope of their catching the Majesties in the throes of violent passion, the king and queen were standing at the centre of the room, Alasdair adjusting his new jerkin, and Carrigh standing behind him.

"Oh, Your Majesty," said Pastaddams, with a polite bow to the king. "I see Her Majesty has finished the alterations. What an exquisite design it is, isn't it, Your Majesty?"

"It is a beautiful piece," Alasdair heartily agreed, looking down at his chest and passing his hand over the embroidery. "Did you see Carrigh's matching bodice? Here, my darling, show him."

He stood aside, brought Carrigh forward, and drew her to his side to show how their matching pieces fit together, the pattern at Alasdair's waist continuing at his wife's.

"It is uncommonly lovely, Your Majesty. And such a welcome sight after what I've seen just now. Puce and evergreen together. Would you believe it? I should not, if I were you, for I never thought any tailor in Frewyn capable of making such a blemish, a stain, a disgrace. Such scandalous pieces as never I saw..."

Pastaddams went on in the same style, drawing Carrigh's attention and leaving Alasdair to sidle Dobhin and say, in a whisper, "Were you hoping to catch us again?"

"Of course, Brennin," said Dobhin, with a wry smile. "I should have knocked if I didn't mean to catch you."

Alasdair gave him a flat look, and Dobhin was all sagacious self-assurance.

"I thought you should know, Brennin," said Dobhin presently, "that the rat has been caught and killed."

"That is a relief," Alasdair sighed. "Now we might all eat in peace again knowing that nothing has been gnawed on or walked over. And," colouring and looking demure, "I suppose I should thank you for detaining Pastaddams."

"No need to thank me, Brennin. It was frightfully easy. The man talks on forever about fabric and thread count. When I told him that the Frewyn Players just received their new costumes from a rival tailor, he demanded that we visit the theatre directly, that he might tell them all how shabby they look and see how shoddily the costumes were done. He was there above an hour, decrying the poor seams and slatternly hems and contemptible materials. I do believe he enjoyed it, despite how heated he is about it now, and I think he means to make them all new costumes. He says it would be an outrage to allow them to perform in such a scandalous wreck."

Alasdair smiled and studied Pastaddams in the height of his passion, raving about mismatched colours and the excessive use of sequins, which was always an unforgiveable offense, and wondered that the poor tailor did not contrive to have the creator of such unpardonable horrors assassinated at once. "I think he might be at this for some time," Alasdair smiled.

"Perhaps we should leave them to themselves and see how the Den Asaan is getting on with his new ornament."

Alasdair looked bemused. "Rautu killed it?"

"I saw him walking with its body slung over his shoulder as we came in from the theatre. He was looking rather pleased with himself."

"He must have done something to make Martje angry if you saw him smiling."

This was eagerly agreed to, and as Dobhin excused himself and turned into the hallway, the call for afternoon tea was made. Searle came, in all his anxious solicitation, to tell the king that the rat was gone, that the kitchen cleaned, and that toast on table.

"We'll be there shortly. Thank you, Searle," said Alasdair, and as everyone began to congregate in the kitchen, Alasdair thought to himself that he never had a morning more agreeably spent, and wondered if another rat could not be found, that he might be prevailed upon to suspend proceedings for the afternoon session in favour of spending a few more hours locked away in the tailor with his lovely wife.

About the book
Featuring appearances from thirty of the Haanta series' most beloved characters, Tales from Frewyn Volume Two pays tribute to the animals that inhabit the world of the Two Continents. From Mr Cluck, the rooster that refuses to crow, to Tuatha, the stubborn Westren longhorn, the series boasts a multitude of strange and wonderful creatures, including traveling mice, mischievous mares, vicious rats, and eloquent gulls. Join everyone in Khantara Ghaasta, the Diras Castle keep, and the far reaches of Westren and Haantaledhran in honouring their feathered companions and furred friends with this collection of their most daring and delightful episodes.

Buy the book at: Amazon | Barnes and Noble | iTunes | Smashwords

About the author 
Michelle Franklin is a small woman of moderate consequence who writes many, many books about giants, romance, and chocolate.

Follow the author at: Website | Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway is open internationally and ends on December 25, 2013. Winning entry will be verified prior to prize being awarded. No purchase necessary. You must be 18 or older to enter or have your parent enter for you. The winner will be chosen randomly via Rafflecopter and announced on the widget as well as emailed; they will have 48 hours to respond. Failure to respond will result in a new winner being selected. This giveaway is in no way associated with Facebook, Twitter, Rafflecopter, or any other entity unless otherwise specified. Number of eligible entries received determines odds of winning. Giveaway was organized by Paper Crane Books and sponsored by both the press and the author. Void where prohibited by law.

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Amy Lignor's The Sapphire Storm -- Interview and {Contest}

Can you tell us a little about yourself?

I was born and raised in an extremely small town in Northwest Connecticut. One of those towns where watching the leaves change was really the only big event to look forward to every year. (LOL) I grew up writing and researching. My mother is a career librarian, so books were definitely my thing. I love being inside a library; the smell of the books is as addictive to me as the smell of the ice is to a hockey player. I love history, I am a movie fanatic, and I am Mom to the most amazingly smart and beautiful girl on the planet. I love humour (sarcasm, but in a nice way), and I basically just get a real kick out of life.

Where did you come up with the idea for your new book?

I worked in a somewhat dull industry for a few years to pay the bills, and a co-worker and I were sitting in the office one day during the holiday season. No one was there; no phones were ringing, so we had coffee and chatted, and she began talking about her horoscope. She looked up this site to see what was coming up for her and I spotted a strange notation about the 13thsign. That night, literally, a monumental puzzle formed inside my mind. That was the night Leah Tallent and Gareth Lowery were born. ‘The Sapphire Storm’ came to me in a dream, if you can believe that, about a very famous cave.

How did you come up with your characters?

‘Tallent & Lowery’ came from that original puzzle. I could see Leah Tallent extremely clearly. She works in the building I desperately want to live in (NYPL). She’s on the sarcastic side, and she has this card catalogue of a mind that I so admire about librarians. Gareth Lowery was created to be her opposite. I needed to create a man that was strong, courageous and intelligent, but did not have that overwhelming ego you see so much in literature. Leah needed to meet someone who she could banter with, teach, yet learn from all at the same time. So his strength and his back story formed in my mind after Leah’s was already complete. I get a kick out of fans who ask if he’s real because they want to marry him. I completely understand; I want to marry him too. But, alas, not real. If there is one that charming out there, please let me know. (LOL)

Who did you show your first draft to and why?

My mother reads all of my first drafts. She is a career librarian and she cannot lie—seriously. You can tell by her expression if she can’t stand something. And seeing as that she’s read everything (this is a woman who reads about ten books a week minimum), she can always tell me if something’s already been over-explored, or changes need to be made, or something essential is required to enhance a story. So when she read ‘Tallent & Lowery’ for the first time and she literally couldn’t put it down, I knew I was on to something.

Do you have plans for a follow-up?

There have been three adventures for ‘Tallent and Lowery’ thus far: ‘13’, ‘The Sapphire Storm’, and now ‘The Hero’s Companion’, and there are seven scheduled for the series. I am now working on Book 4: ‘The Charlatan’s Crown’.

Open your book to a random page and tell us the first paragraph…

“The humming stopped. The jewels in the weapon blinked softly, looking like a million blue eyes just watching and waiting for the only one in this world who was permitted to hold it in their steady hands. As the snowflakes around him turned blue in the ancient light, the chamber once again grew peaceful . . . reverent . . . quiet—what it must feel like right before someone dies. And as sleep overtook him, Emmanuel begged the ‘powers that be’ to lead Leah Tallent safely through the sapphire storm.”

What is your favourite movie?

This is so difficult. Like my mother is with books, I have to see every movie that comes out. I am a nut about movies. I have a favourite for each and every genre, and even Top Ten lists for each genre are almost impossible for me to make up. The movie I’ve watched the most over the years, however, is the ‘Indiana Jones’ series.

What do you like to read?

Good books. (LOL) Reviewing for so many magazines and companies, I get a great deal; but my favourite author is Dean Koontz. He is the only writer I’ve seen who can scare me to death and in the middle of the scene throw in a dry joke that has me cracking up while still looking around to see if something or someone is watching me. The man is unbelievably gifted. Runner-up I give to Preston & Child and their amazingly addictive character, Aloysius Pendergast.

Where do you go to escape?

Directly into my books. I work out of a den with emerald-green walls and I walk in, boot up, get the coffee on, and travel into such amazing worlds with my characters that writing becomes not only my passion but my escape.

Do you have any pets?

A huge behemoth of a dog named Rueben, who’s both my critic and friend. He sits in that den with me and if I read something out loud he doesn’t like I receive sighs and snorts. If he likes where I’m going, his ears remain up and he looks truly happy. The only other time he looks happy is when ‘Sleepy Hollow’ is on TV – so...not quite sure what’s going on in my best friend’s brain. He could be as crazy as me. (LOL)

What advice do you have for aspiring writers?

So cliché, but this is an extremely tough industry. There are sharks in the water, there are hero’s who are so supportive they will be the best, most amazing friends you will ever make, and it’s a true roller-coaster ride. Just like life, writing can be a rough road. So, please make sure when you create your books, you are not thinking about agents or publishers while you write. If you love writing it has to come directly from your soul. Then the book will be published and the reader will know you gave it your all!

Would you recommend self-publishing or main stream publishing for first time novelists?

I have always stuck to traditional publishing. In this day and age it’s much easier because you can self-publish, but if you want to reach the masses or make this into a career one day, traditional publishers (although far more difficult to land), are the people who can help you do just that.

Where can we find you online?

I love talking to readers and writers. You can find me at:

https://www.facebook.com/alignor

http://tallentandlowery.blogspot.com/

http://the-angel-chronicles.blogspot.com/

Twitter: @HelloWritersAmy

www.TheWriteCompanion.com

http://www.pinterest.com/amylignor/

Or send a letter to amylignor(at)hotmail.com with ‘Reader Question’ in the Subject Line. I’d love to hear from you!

Purchase Links for the print & digital versions of Tallent & Lowery:

Amazon

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Smashwords

Goodreads

About the book

Title: The Sapphire Storm
Series: Tallent & Lowery
Author: Amy Lignor
Publisher: Suspense Publishing 
Formats Available In: Digital and Print
Release Date: March 5, 2013

After going up against a man who believed he was the Devil, himself, the beloved characters from 13 - Leah Tallent and Gareth Lowery - are beyond exhausted. Now they are about to embark on the most terrifying journey imaginable…a trip to meet Leah’s parents. When Leah arrives where the ‘home fires burn,’ her sarcasm burns even brighter, while Gareth Lowery - the handsome adventurer - uses his charm to sway the ‘odd’ Tallent clan. But when a frightening call from Gareth’s sister arrives telling him that her love has disappeared, the daring duo is soon running away from one horrific situation directly into another. A new puzzle from the past has come to life. Following clues left behind, the courageous couple becomes embedded in a world filled with liars, killers and greed.

And when the riddle of a famous ‘Bard’ is solved, a strange woman appears who has far more in common with Leah than she can possibly imagine! The heart-stopping suspense of this new quest takes them from Coptic Cairo to the magical world of Petra, in search of a cave deep underground that once housed a true ‘Illuminator.’

Yet again, they must find the answers and stay one step ahead of true villains who are determined to make sure that – this time – Tallent & Lowery do not survive.

Excerpt

Nothing mattered now except getting to the end of his journey…

A thunderous crash from up above sent Emmanuel’s heart into overdrive. The harsh winds had apparently slammed shut the door of rock that’d been built to protect the Treasury.

As he reached through the barrier of sapphire light to grab the object in front of him, Emmanuel screamed in pain as his flesh began to sizzle. Immediately, he ripped his hand from the ball of pulsating light and watched the steam rise off his now blackened fingers. A pair of cold blue eyes appeared and sent an evil hiss into the room.

Emmanuel found himself in a state of shock as the illusion simply disappeared. Holding his breath as pinpricks of yellow light appeared through the sapphire glow, he was mesmerized; they looked like tiny suns trapped in an intense blue sky. The excruciating pain of his burned flesh was forgotten when words appeared before his eyes. On and off like a light switch, the golden names materialized and danced along the shaft of the ancient weapon.

“I need Gareth Lowery,” Emmanuel whispered; his voice sounded foreign to him in the suddenly terrifying room.

Harsh winds raced down the staircase and pelted Emmanuel with shards of ice. He covered his face, trying to stop the sleet from blinding him, as the large weapon suddenly sliced through the air and knocked Emmanuel to his knees.

The golden names flashed brighter and brighter—faster and faster—familiar names from an ancient world. A shrill bell pealed through the room and Emmanuel covered his ears, as the chamber began to shake and mounds of snow cascaded down the narrow staircase like a white waterfall; an avalanche that successfully cut off any chance he had of escape . . . or rescue.

The rod hit the ceiling of the chamber and then plummeted to the floor. Emmanuel winced, praying it wouldn’t snap in two as it crashed to the ground. But the object simply stopped its descent, taking its original place between the two famous men. The sapphire light immediately dimmed and Emmanuel raised his gaze to stare through the now soft, blue beam, recognizing the one and only name that was now etched in golden script at the top of the shaft.

Emmanuel gasped. “It’s her?”

Crawling over to the staircase that was now buried by snow, he peered into the small pipe that stuck out from the wall. Emmanuel felt the pulse of the sapphire light coming from the center of the room; it felt as if the object was breathing. And once again he stared at her name, woven like a golden signature into the sapphire rod.

Closing his eyes, Emmanuel shoved his burned, raw hand into the snow bank that now barred his way to freedom. As his fingers went numb, he thought about the woman with eyes the exact same color of the magical artifact, and hope beat inside Emmanuel’s chest. She was brilliant. After all, she was the one who found Gareth the missing pieces of the puzzle that’d led him straight to the gate. It had been her strength, courage and wisdom that’d carried them through the darkness of a maniac’s mind in order to survive the first time . . . Her!

As a picture of the lovely lady appeared in his mind, Emmanuel smiled. She’d figure it out. After all, there was no better choice than a brilliant librarian who never took the facts at face value to follow in the footsteps of Shakespeare.

Emmanuel put his mouth against the pipe and screamed, “Leah!”

The shout echoed through the ancient pipes, and Emmanuel closed his eyes. His insides grew numb as the air inside the chamber began to freeze his soul.

“Leah,” his voice cracked. “Please help me.”

As the snowflakes around him turned blue, the chamber one again turned peaceful . . . reverent . . . quiet—what it must feel like right before someone dies. And as sleep overtook him, Emmanuel begged any and all ‘powers that be’ to help lead Leah Tallent safely through the sapphire storm.

Reviews

Ms. Lignor penned another great novel that grabs you immediately and takes you on the ride of your life. In this sequel to the novel, 13, we find Leah Tallent and Gareth Lowery heading to Leah’s parents’ house in Connecticut for the Christmas holiday.

This is the last place that Leah really wants to be right now, but Gareth is trying to convince her that it’ll only be for a few days. While kicking off the festivities, Gareth receives an unexpected call from his sister, Kathryn, and finds her hysterical on the other end of the phone. She says that her fiancé, Emmanuel, has gone off on some exhibition and he hasn’t called to check in with her. She feels that something is seriously wrong and fears that he could even be dead. Gareth explains his situation to the Tallent family and tells them that it’s a matter of life or death and unfortunately, he must leave. It’s at this moment Tallent & Lowery’s adventure truly begins. I loved this second story in the series and I’m eagerly looking forward to the next adventure.

Ms. Lignor has a way of interweaving historical facts with legends and she adds just enough magic to make you devour the pages in record time. This sequel is a fantastic addition to this amazing series. I highly recommend it! – Night Owl Reviews “TOP PICK”

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“A flat-out, slam-dunk, no-questions-asked-terrific-adventure. Try not to turn the pages too fast because the wonderfully complex characters deserve your time! This is truly a magical story that had me in its thrall from the very first page. It’s so exciting to discover a new talent like Lignor and have more books to look forward to.”—International Bestseller, M.J. Rose

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“Full of mystery, wrapped up in just enough historical fact to make it all seem so real, and with plenty of sizzle between the two main characters, “The Sapphire Storm” is a definite winner!” —Ellen Feld, The Feathered Quill

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“This masterfully told page turner is fresh, innovative, descriptive, and intense but I must warn you, prepare to stay up late because it’s not a story you can easily put down. I was blown away by Ms. Lignor’s knowledge and imagination and can’t wait to see what she comes up with next. I want more!!!!” —Cat Kalen, author of the RT’s ‘Top Pick’ Pride Series

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“After the brilliance of “13,” book one in the series, it would take a jewel to outshine it. Amy Lignor finds that jewel with “The Sapphire Storm.” It is a storm of brilliant writing and amazing characters. I cannot wait for the next installment of the Tallent & Lowery series. Encore!” —J.M. LeDuc, author of “Cursed Days”

The Big Thrill Magazine Feature (November Issue)

Purchase Links:

Amazon EBook
Amazon Paperback
Barnes & Noble
Barnes & Noble Paperback

About the author
The daughter of a career librarian, Amy Lignor’s first love has always been books. She began her career in publishing as the Editor-in-Chief of Grey House Publishing. Working in the industry for twenty years, she is now the Owner/Operator of ‘The Write Companion’, an editorial house offering authors a range of services.

Appointed the Editor-in-Chief of a brand new traditional publisher–Hallowed Ink Press–Amy somehow finds the time to do it all while still putting out the most amazing series that has received every ‘Top Pick’ readers can think of!

Her popular YA Series: The Angel Chronicles (Until Next Time, Gilded Wings & A Privilege), introduced her to fans who now wait with bated breath for the next ‘Tallent & Lowery’ suspense/thriller to arrive.

Inducted into the International Thriller Writers Organization, Amy is also a writer/contributor for various magazines, companies, and review organizations; Authorlink, The Feathered Quill, Suspense Magazine and more.

www.tallentandlowery.blogspot.com

AMY’S SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS:

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Website
GoodReads

Check Out Amy Lignor’s HIT YA Series at:

The Angel Chronicles website
The Angel Chronicles Facebook page

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Book Tour: The Rebels--Excerpt and Giveaway

Thank you for stopping by and joining us for our stop on the Read-A-Long portion of The Rebels by Elizabeth Lang virtual tour. We are excited to post this segment of the story and we hope you enjoy it too!

The Rebels - Chapter 11

A hundred credits. Bryce brushed the broad rim on his dashing new hat, bending it back against the stiff material. It was too bad they didn’t use old fashioned currency anymore. The sound of coins jiggling in his pocket would have been magical.

An orphaned sunbeam reached down and warmed his face, and birds chirruped a cheerful song. They were a hardy bunch here, not going south for vacations in warmer climes. Like that panther thing, a chitterling, the locals called it. Kali had actually named the ugly thing. Eelie, or a pain in his posterior region, as the lieutenant would say.

A hundred credits. It wasn’t a fortune, of course, not like a hundred million credits. But when you didn’t have a dust mite to your name, a hundred was a lot. Well, a hundred minus twenty or so for the hat and some food, and whatever was left from the sale of the bands. Bryce ran his fingers along the brim of the hat and angled it a bit more to the left. He imagined it made him look like an adventurer from one of those holo-vids, the kind where the hero went on quests and came back with chests full of treasure and a buxom beauty on his arm.

Things were looking up. The locals had been mightily impressed by the job on the compressor and a couple wanted Adrian to fix a few more things. Having a business might be fun.

He whistled a happy tune from his childhood, something to do with springtime and diving into pools. Not even Eelie squawking at him and flapping its leathery wings as he passed, dampened his mood. He opened the door, took a step inside, ready to announce the good news when he saw Kali lying on the floor, still as a corpse.

It felt as if he'd been run over by a tank. Bryce stumbled over and dropped to his knees, his fingers trembling, feeling for a flutter of warmth under her nose. Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead.

Fear gripped his heart. He felt nothing. Or maybe he wasn’t doing it right. It’s not like he was a medic.

The still woman groaned. “Wha—happened?”

“Kali!” he shouted, relief bubbling over to joy.

Her face scrunched up as she touched the back of her head. “I was outside and…s-someone hit me.” Strands of midnight black hair netted her face and she brushed them back as Bryce helped her sit up. “Did you see anyone?”

“Dunno. I just got back and found you lying there. Gave me a right scare. I thought you were dead.”

“W—where’s Adrian?” Her hand tightened around his arm.

Bryce’s heart dropped—it felt like it was somewhere around his ankles—and he swallowed hard. Just when he thought he could relax, someone had to burst his bubble. “I’ll check.”

Other than the kitchen-living-workroom area and the bathroom, there was only a tiny bedroom which barely fit the bed and a clothes cupboard.

His feet dragged as he pushed open the door. Even before he slapped the light on, he knew it was empty. His voice quavered, “He’s not here.”

Kali’s face paled and she pulled herself to her feet. “Check outside.”

“I didn’t see him when I came in.”

“Do a sweep of the area. Wait…” She stared at the hook beside the door. “His coat is still here.”

“Well, that means…what does it mean?”

“Wherever he is, he didn’t go willingly.” She closed her eyes, her slender fingers pressing the side of her temple.

~~~

Adrian groaned, wishing he could throttle the crazed drummer beating a drunken tattoo inside his head. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but hazy images tantalized him, refusing to sharpen into focus. It was very irritating.

His eyes opened a sliver and were greeted by shadows creeping up the sides of a moisture-slick cave and the crackling of a primitive fire.

Flames licked towards him as a ghostly wind whistled past. The scent of burnt wood wrestled with a sharp tang he remembered from earlier and there was a briny smell from lichen-encrusted rocks.

The cave extended further back, hidden in shadows. Layers of milky quartz ran along the walls and straw-like stalactites hung from the roof.

From across the cave, the nameless bounty hunter watched him, his bulky frame blocking the mouth of the cave. He couldn't see the man's face but he had broad swimmer-shoulders and muscular bulges easily visible even under the leather jacket. Lifeless hair cascaded in limp strands from a wide-brimmed hat. From what Adrian remembered of the fight, despite his bulk, the man had the grace of a hunting cat, each movement fluid and precise, ready to pounce.

Just beyond, pinpricks of light struggled to illuminate the night sky through rolling banks of invading clouds. That meant most of the day had been wasted while he was unconscious and Kali—

A dagger-like pebble digging into his right hip disrupted his thoughts. He rolled back and looked down in surprise at an unexpected freedom of movement.

The ropes around his body were gone.

A bundle arced over the fire and plopped in front of him.

The bounty hunter’s voice rumbled, “Put that on. I don’t want you freezing to death before I collect the bounty.”

Adrian stared at the man. “I have no interest in making your life easier.”

“I could knock you out again.”

“Of course.” His voice had that particular bored, flatness of a scientist who wasn’t surprised that all of his assumptions were correct.

The man pointed the knife at him. “Do you enjoy being unconscious?”

“No more than you would, I imagine.”

“Then put it on.”

“Striking me on the head would not be a good move on your part. The Empire would not be appreciative if my brain were damaged. I doubt if you would receive the full bounty.”

“I could live with fifty million.”

Adrian glared at him.

“Besides,” said the bounty hunter, “there are many ways to knock you out without touching your head.”

“And you know all of them.” It wasn’t a compliment.

“Remember that the next time I tell you to do something. Now, put on the jacket.”

Adrian picked the bundle up, lifting it slowly. The material was lighter than he expected and appeared to be black or dark green.

Fine ribbed texture. Tough but flexible shell. He angled it towards the fire, intrigued despite himself. A light-absorbing polycarbonate covering. Military grade. So the man was likely a deserter. That narrowed the possibilities considerably.

He slid the jacket on, his brows pulling together when the sleeves hung considerably past his finger tips. It was warm though, the thin lining efficiently trapping the heat. He rolled the sleeves and tucked the ends in neatly.

A pair of handcuffs clattered against the stone. “These. In front,” ordered the bounty hunter.

“If you are so concerned, why not behind my back?”

“I have zero interest in helping you take a leak.”

The metal gleamed fiercely next to the fire and a flash of indignation tensed Adrian’s jaw. Just when he thought he was free from the most technologically advanced civilization in this galaxy, he was slugged into unconsciousness by a Neanderthal with a pair of handcuffs. It was more

than disappointing, but at least the bounty hunter didn’t know about the implant in his head. That would have been intolerable.

Speaking of which…

With a casualness he did not feel, that he could never feel, he slid his right hand towards his trouser pocket.

“Are you looking for this?” The bounty hunter held up the transceiver.

Adrian’s heart skipped a beat. “It’s nothing important.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

If he could kick himself, Adrian would have done so.

“It is valuable, but not in a way that you would understand.” Not technically, at least. He snapped a cuff around his left wrist, leaving it loose.

“Tight,” said the bounty hunter, his eyes flashing white in the flames. He slipped the transceiver back inside his jacket and Adrian looked away, squeezing the cuff tighter, trying to hide his relief. At least the bounty hunter didn’t know its purpose. He snapped on the right cuff and tightened it.

The bounty hunter grunted and leaned back against the sloped wall, returning to his dubiously artistic endeavors with the piece of wood.

The drummer continued pounding inside Adrian’s head and he flexed his neck to the side, stretching the tight cords. The lump on his head seemed to have a pulse of its own, beating a counterpoint of agony.

He was getting very tired of being at the mercy of those who considered him merchandise to be bashed around. A dozen rocks glinted invitingly from the cave floor, some with nasty jagged edges. If he were a soldier as well as a scientist, he might risk tackling this man.

If only he were a barbarian.

Adrian mentally sighed and drew his knees up, stretching his hands towards the fire. He had to get away from this man and find Kali and Bryce. There was no mental contact from Kali, but he had to believe that Bryce had returned and found her. He had to assume she was fine; the

alternative was an option he didn’t want to consider.

In hindsight, he realized he should have set up a security perimeter around the cabin, some kind of detection system to warn of barbarians and bounty hunters. A gremlin of guilt gnawed at him. It was an unforgivable oversight. Next time, he would be better prepared.

The heat of the flames snapped towards him and he jerked his hands back.

“The others said that we’re two of the most wanted men in the Empire,” said Adrian, keeping his voice neutral.

The knife was pointed at him. “That doesn’t concern you.”

“You’re not Jon Tucker. He’s far more charismatic, a little more refined.”

“I said, shut up.”

“You move like a soldier, most likely from one of the special units; masters at killing with stealth, though not with a lot of subtlety or creativity.”

“Keep going and I will show you how creative I can be.”

“That would be refreshing.”

“Do you like committing suicide?”

“I’m sure you’ll show an uncommon amount of self-control in order to sell me to the Empire.”

The hand tightened around the knife. “I do not sell people. I fulfill a commission.”

“Semantics from a barbarian, that is mildly amusing.”

The bounty hunter growled, “I might just bash you over the head and forget the bounty.”

“How amazingly creative.”

The bounty hunter’s chest expanded, swelling his t-shirt like an overstretched balloon before exploding in a sharp exhale. “You may think you’re smart.”

“Moderately.”

“Well, consider this smart man, you could very easily become a dead one. It’s your choice.”

“You won’t let that happen, not until you deliver me for the bounty.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that. Some people can be too smart for their own good and you’re really starting to get on my nerves.”

“There is no such thing as being too smart.”

“From the details on your wanted roll, you’re a prime example of one.”

Adrian’s back stiffened and he stared lasers at the bounty hunter. “You can believe whatever you wish.”

“I plan to. Now, unless you want me to tie your legs and cart you around like a sack of potatoes, you will learn to shut up.”

A gust of wind stirred the snow, sending swirling streams inside like thin, searching snakes.

“I have a suggestion,” said Adrian.

The knife flipped up. “Don’t you know the meaning of ‘shut up’?”

“Of course, and I might consider it if I had nothing to say.”

“Why would anyone want you back?”

“Not for any personal reason, I assure you.”

The bounty hunter barked a laugh. “I suppose not. At least you’re honest.”

“Yes. At least. Not exactly a survival trait.”

The bounty hunter looked at him quizzically, his forehead crinkling. A large drop of water splashed into the flames, sizzling into oblivion.

“Is that why they’re after you?” the man asked. “Because you were too honest?”

“That doesn’t concern you.”

The man laughed, this time it was a wry scratchy sound. “Alright. We’ll keep this strictly professional.”

“Selling people for money is considered a profession.”

The bounty hunter snapped, “I don’t sell people for money. You’re not property.”

“You must have missed that part of the commission. That’s exactly what I am.”

There was a stony, immutable quality to the bounty hunter, like a man carved in granite. Adrian had been around military people long enough to recognize a leader who sent others to their deaths with detached professionalism.

“It’s not going to work. I have a policy—never get involved. It’s not going to start with you,” said the bounty hunter.

“Convenient.”

“Now, are you going to shut up or am I going to have to gag you?”

“Not until I present my suggestion. You may find it useful.”

The bounty hunter rolled his eyes. “I know I’m going to regret this, but if it’s the only way to shut you up, then go ahead, but remember, I’m the one with the knife.”

“Don’t worry, I only forget what I wish to forget.” If only that were true.

They glared at each other, neither one missing the barely veiled menace.

“You’re concerned about being recognized when collecting your bounty,” said Adrian, continuing before he could be interrupted. “That’s why we’re here instead of the nearest Security building. Two of the most wanted men in the Empire. That’s what the Hunter said.”

“I should have killed him before he opened his mouth,” growled the bounty hunter.

“Hindsight is always perfect. For some, at least. But it leaves you with a dilemma: how to sell me without being sold in return.”

The blade lifted, it’s sharp blade glinting with menace.

“You didn’t think of that?” asked Adrian. “How very short-sighted of you. Once you deliver me, I have nothing to lose and I have no incentive to keep your identity a secret.”

“You’re not just irritating, you’re dangerous.”

Like a jungle cat, the bounty hunter flowed forward, his dark brown orbs becoming more distinct, like the gun portals of a ship opening, ready to fire a fatal volley.

“There is a reason I’m on the Most Wanted list.”

“I can see that and I think I will bind your legs. Just in case.” He sheathed the knife before dragged over a khaki rucksack. From its hidden depths, he pulled out a length of coarse rope.

Adrian’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the frayed cords. “You obtained that from the cabin.”

“You didn’t need it anymore.”

“You went inside the cabin.”

“Stretch your legs out.”

Adrian ignored him. He had no intention of helping this man tie him up. “Why did you go inside the cabin?”

The bounty hunter grabbed Adrian’s legs and pulled them straight. “You can’t fight me and you can’t persuade me, so you might as well give up.” He looped the rope around his legs and tied them together.

“Not until you answer my question. Why did you go inside the cabin?”

“None of your business,” said the bounty hunter, returning to the other side of the fire.

“Kali is my business. Did you bring her inside?”

The bounty hunter leaned back on the slope, folding his arms across his chest. Silence descended on the cave, a rare moment between drips of water and the restless blowing of the wind.

Adrian ground his teeth in frustration. There was no hope of shaking the answer out of the man, even if his own arms and legs were not bound, but he had to find out what happened to Kali. What would the devious psychostrategist do?

“Why did you do it?” asked Adrian.

“She was blocking the doorway.”

It was so easy that it was disturbing. “Then you did bring her in.”

The bounty hunter turned to look at him, a scowl on the only portion of his face not hidden in shadows. “Are you satisfied?”

“Far from it, but I have a reason to shut up now.”

“Then do it.”

Adrian pulled his knees up and rested his shackled hands on them, allowing himself a sigh of relief. At least Kali was safe. For now.

***********

Also Elizabeth Lang has shared with us an exclusive picture from The Empire Series

To read more of the Read-A-Long please follow the tour schedule…

02/03/2013 - The Edible Bookshelf - http://www.theediblebookshelf.blogspot.com/ - Chapter 1

03/03/2013 - Vixie's Stories - http://vickiejohnstone.blogspot.co.uk/ - Chapter 2

04/03/2013 - Decadent Decisions - http://wlynnchantale-decadentdecisions.blogspot.com - Chapter 3

05/03/2013 - Independent Writers Association - http://iwassociation.com - Chapter 4

06/03/2013 - Self Publish or Die - www.selfpublishordie.com - Chapter 5

10/03/2013 - Reviews From Beyond the Book - www.reviewsfrombeyondthebook.blogspot.com - Chapter 6

11/03/2013 - Great Alpha Speaks - http://atrussell.com/Blog/ - Chapter 7

12/03/2013 - The Kat Daughtry - http://thekatdaughtry.wordpress.com/ - Chapter 8

13/03/2013 - Sheenah Freitas - http://sheenahfreitas.com - Chapter 9

14/03/2013 - Natasha Larry Books - http://natashalarrybooks.com - Chapter 10

27/03/2013 - Castle Macabre - http://castlemacabre.blogspot.com - Chapter 11

28/03/2013 - My World - http://stephsgrn.blogspot.co.uk/ - Chapter 12

29/03/2013 - The Cro's Nest - http://p45crok.wordpress.com - Chapter 13

30/03/2013 - Tink's Place - http://myblog2point0.blogspot.com/ - Chapter 14

31/03/2013 - Reading, Writing And More - http://stephsgrn.wordpress.com/ - Chapter 15


Page Turner Book Tours and Elizabeth Lang have teamed together to set up an amazing contest, be sure to enter today for your chance to win a KOBO MINI!!

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Thank you for joining us and Page Turner Book Tours and Elizabeth Lang today on our stop.

About the book:
With Adrian's jump gate, the Empire is readying to take the fight to their enemies. The Rebel Alliance takes advantage of this opportunity to expand it's power and bring down this oppressive regime.

The charismatic Tucker and his second-in-command, Dain, are at the vanguard of this Rebel push, but is everything as simple as it seems?

Adrian is once again caught up with factions vying to use his brilliant mind when a bounty hunter recaptures him while Kali and Bryce try to save him.

Will they succeed? Are the Rebels their salvation or is there a hidden agenda that will destroy them all?

Charles Sester the psychostrategist is back and at his manipulative best, but whose interests is he serving this time?

Amazon UK | Amazon USA | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

About Elizabeth Lang:
I'm a science fiction writer who started off life as a computer programmer with a love for reading, especially science fiction, fantasy and mystery.

Being in computers, I found my writing skills deteriorating so I decided to take up writing. It became a joy to create characters, stories and worlds and writing soon became a passion I couldn't put down. As a writer, I like to explore, not only the complexity of characters but the human condition from differing points of view. That is at the heart of the Empire series, of which 'The Empire' and 'The Rebels' are the first two of a four books series.

You can connect with Elizabeth Lang at the following places:
Author Page on FaceBook | Blog | Twitter | Website

About Page Turner Book Tours:


Page Turner Book Tours is fronted by the face behind Read2Review Kate. Page Turner Book Tours has been put together to help promote authors and give something back to the writing world. Kate has put together a team of incredibly talented people to help with the project by incorporating their individual skills into making new, fresh and exciting promotional plans that we hope you agree are amazing. If you would like to book a tour with Page Turner Book Tours please check out their tour packages. If you would like to become a tour host with Page Turner Book Tours please check out their Tour Host page. You wont be disappointed!