Showing posts with label paranormal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label paranormal. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 14, 2017

"Ghost Slayer" by Majanka Verstraete

Ghost Slayer
(Ghost Slayer Book 1)
by Majanka Verstraete

Ghost Slayer (Ghost Slayer Book 1) by Majanka Verstraete

Ghost Slayer by Majanka Verstraete is due for release in April 2018 but is currently available for pre-order. This book tour is brought to you by Bewitching Book Tours. The tour stops here today for an excerpt. Please be sure to visit the other tour stops as well.

For more books by this author, please check out my blog post on The Soul Thief and my blog post on the Weirdville series.

Twenty-one-year-old Kaelyn has spent half her life hunting ghosts and killing them. But she’s not like the other ghost hunters who have to rely on spells and curses to banish ghosts back to where they came from, hoping that they don’t come back. When Kaelyn kills a ghost, they stay dead.
But in Mortimer Hall, a behemoth of a house, Kaelyn is about to face the most powerful and life-threatening ghost she ever met, and what she doesn’t know is that the ghost has been waiting just for her ...

Chapter 1
The toddler's wicked laugh echoed throughout the basement, bounced off the walls, and traumatized my ear drums. I cringed and strengthened my grip on the dagger until my knuckles turned white.
Despite the danger I was in, I had trouble staying focused. Today had been a long day. After spending six hours cooped up in class trying to wrap my mind around criminal psychology, I had spent another two hours in the library crouched over dusty newspapers with pages yellowed from age, trying to find out as much as I could about the specter I'd dubbed the Main Street Basement Ghost. Then I headed to Main Street, to an apartment building straight out of a post-apocalyptic movie, and here I was, face to face with the ghost.
Well, maybe not face to face, since the toddler-ghost was playing a game of hide and seek.
The toddler laughed, and I followed the noise, farther into the darkness. I'd brought a flashlight, but the batteries had died about five minutes into the investigation. Usually, I had moonlight to guide me, but in this windowless basement, stark darkness was the only thing greeting me as I groped my way through stacks of boxes, mannequins, and things better left forgotten.
I caught a glimpse of a white, glowing figure moving in the back of the room. Knocking over several boxes, I rushed to the spot as fast I could.
The darkness worked as a disadvantage for the ghost. He was crouched behind a tower of books — nevertheless, the eerie glow surrounding him gave him away. In the daytime, he would've been much harder to spot, but in the darkness, he was a glowing beacon.
I stopped in front of the pile of hard covers and glanced at the glow resonating from behind it. The eerie light barely reached my torso. Getting rid of adolescent ghosts was never easy and a pang of guilt tugged at my heart. But this kid had killed three people already, I reminded myself.
At that moment, the kid launched himself at the books, toppling them over, crushing me. I raised my hands to my head for protection while I was continuously bombarded, trying to keep my balance at the same time.
He towered over me. His dark hair was disheveled, and he wore nineteenth- century clothes stained with blood. His head tilted slightly to the right. Half of it had been cut off, as if whoever had decided to rid the kid of his head, didn't have the stomach to complete the job. His eyes were dark and hollow, and they stared at me with unmatched venom.
Leave me alone.
His lips didn't move, but his voice was clear as day. Hatred glistened in his eyes. He snarled and launched himself at me with his fingers clawed, growling like an animal.
I took a step back and braced myself for the collision. His full weight hit me right in the chest, and I fell backward. I grabbed the ghost and held him away from me, while he gnarled, bit, spat, and clawed at me.
Go away!
Drops of sweat dripped down my forehead, and blood oozed where he scratched me. I grimaced and pushed the ghost away with all my strength. It flew several meters backward, but instead of dropping to the floor, it hovered mid-air. Its eyes sparked with black flames, and it hissed at me.
Guess I pissed it off for real this time.
I scrambled around on my knees in search of the dagger I dropped to the floor when the ghost knocked me over. The search was proving useless as I couldn't spot it anywhere.
The ghost's mouth grew large enough to swallow a small person, forming a black, gaping hole. Its eyes became small slits, like a snake's. It launched at me again, as fast as a leopard.
Running was out of the question. This thing, zigzagging toward me, its face the material of nightmares, was a lot faster than I was.
My gaze darted left and right, still in search of the dagger when I caught the silver sparkling in the ghost's glow. It was behind him. Just my luck.
Lunging up, I ran forward toward the ghost, dropped to the floor, and dove below the phantom, straight at the dagger. My sleeve ripped and I bumped my elbow into the wall, but at least I had my dagger back.
The ghost howled like a wounded animal. Turning around, it pulled back its arm and swung at me. I grabbed it mid-swing with my left hand, clenching my teeth as I used all my strength to stop the attack, and with my right hand, I plunged the dagger straight into its belly.
The spirit and I stared at each other for a beat. He screamed, a sound that went through marrow and bone. Then he vanished.
Relieved, I stumbled backward. My knees were wobbly, and I had to hold on to the wall for support. Taking deep breaths, I tried to steady my heartbeat. With the ghost gone, the basement had gone from illuminated-by-eerie-ghost-glow to pitch black darkness.
When I'd recovered a little, I fumbled through the pockets of my jacket until I found my cell phone. The battery was almost dead, but I was hoping it would hold out until I got out of here.
Groping my way through the darkness, I bumped into a million different things, and almost suffered a heart attack when I ran into a life-sized mannequin. It seemed to take forever before I managed to make it out of the basement. I slipped twice on the stairs going up, and by the time I reached the hallway, I felt as if I'd just survived a year in Alcatraz. There were lights in the hallway, although they were on emergency setting; they went on and off every few seconds.
My backpack still lay where I'd left it, right outside the entrance to the basement. I slumped down against the wall, opened up my backpack and grabbed a bottle of water. I drank half of it, and poured the other half over my head in an attempt to cool off. Next, I pulled out my pocket mirror and inspected the damage to my face. Green eyes, thin, black eyebrows, a straight nose, high cheekbones, a small bruise under my left eye, and a cracked lip stared back at me. But at least my teeth seemed fine, and the bruise was small enough to cover up with concealer. My hair was a mess, though.
I loosened my ponytail and ruffled through my long, black hair. With caution, I searched my scalp inch by inch, looking for wounds. I had hit my head pretty hard the first time the ghost launched at me. But apart from a growing bump at the back of my head, the rest seemed fine.
My arms hadn't been so lucky. They were covered in scratch marks where my sleeve had ripped. Another jacket ruined. My ankle throbbed and my head hurt, but all in all, the damage was minimal. Which was to be expected, considering that the Main Street Basement Ghost was a piece of cake compared to some of the other specters I'd fought.
I stumbled a little when I got back up. After hoisting my backpack over my shoulder, I walked through the hallway and out of the abandoned apartment building.
Another ghost had been sent straight back to the afterlife, and another paycheck awaited my collection tomorrow. My employer would be glad his building was ghost free, and that he could now safely find new tenants for the fourteen apartments above the haunted basement. As for me, I was glad I'd be able to pay the rent for another month, and buy some food for the table. A girl had to eat.

Praise for the Book
"Story starts off fantastic and continues that way till the end. Look forward to seeing how this series will progress with some of the other amazing talents her friends possess." ~ Maranda
"OMG an absolutely fantastic read with brilliant characters. I loved Kaelyn. She was my favourite character. Did not see that coming. What a twister of a read. Chilling and dark. Highly recommended." ~ Susan Angela Wallace
"Absolutely adored this book! As soon as I finished I went off to search for more by this author. It scared the daylights out of me. [...] Descriptive, scary, fun and great characters, I really hope there's a sequel." ~ Gemma
"I can highly recommend this bone-chilling ghost story full of mysteries and a strong female main character with secrets of her own not even she herself is aware of at first. Can’t wait until the sequel comes out." ~ Janine
"I found it to be an engaging story that I didn't want to end. I want to read the next book in the series." ~ Susan

About the Author
Majanka Verstraete
Author Majanka Verstraete has written more than twenty unique works of fiction. A native of Belgium, Majanka’s novels explore the true nature of monsters: the good, the bad, and just about every species in between. Her young adult books include the acclaimed Mirrorland (YA Dark Fantasy) and Angel of Death (YA Paranormal) series of novels.
Majanka is currently developing a new YA shifter series with a fresh take on fierce female detectives called The Adventures of Marisol Holmes which will be published by Monster House Books in October 2018.
Her NA paranormal romance series, Ghost Slayer, has been picked up by Fire Quill Publishing. The first volume was be released in April 2018.
When she’s not writing, Majanka is probably playing World of Warcraft or catching up with the dozens of TV series she’s addicted to.


Wednesday, October 11, 2017

"Touched by Death" by T. L. Martin

Touched by Death
by T. L. Martin

Touched by Death by T. L. Martin

T. L. Martin's Touched by Death is currently on tour with Bewitching Book Tours. The tour stops here today for my interview with the author and an excerpt. Please be sure to visit the other tour stops as well.

What if Death was more tempting than you had ever imagined?
With Grams’s recent passing and a boyfriend who cares more about his next drink than her, Lou Adaire only wants to run. To start over somewhere new - maybe in a town where her family has history.
But when a storm sends Lou’s truck plunging into Tuttle Creek Lake, she discovers exactly what it’s like to fight for your life. To gasp for air only to have your lungs fill with icy water. To die.
What comes next changes everything.
Dark eyes. Consuming presence.
Death. As vague as a dream yet as intense as the lightning flashing above her still heart.
Everything about him calls out to her, tugging at her with the warm vibration of his pull. He’s supposed to take her; they both know it. She wants him to.
When she wakes in the hospital in a new town, she can’t forget what she saw ... That impossible sensation of him breathing life back into her, a strong beat playing in her chest and a flutter running down her spine.
Trying to move on with her life in a foreign place is hard enough, but when he comes back for more - his burning touch against her skin, his consuming presence weaving in and out of her life, and his own scars running far deeper than hers - Lou begins to realize there’s more to Death, and to the sleepy Kansas town, than she ever expected to find.
Lou lived. But what if she’s not the only one in need of saving?
Note to readers: This book contains some profanity, sex, and some scenes featuring child abuse.

My sweater chafes my shoulder blade, and I wince as it irritates the raw, tender skin. I hadn’t thought much about the injury since leaving the hospital, having had other things to focus on—or focus on avoiding—but now the memory resurfaces in my mind: rain smacking against the windshield, trees and darkness spinning around me, the booming crack of my window breaking, and shards of glass flying at me.
I pull my sweater off. Eyes closed, I reach an arm across my chest and over my shoulder, tracing the tips of my fingers along the thick, three-inch cut that hasn’t quite scarred yet. It’s smooth beneath the stitches. Too smooth, and it feels foreign; a piece of my body I don’t recognize. I’ve always thought scars were meant to represent strength; all this one does is remind me that I shouldn’t be alive right now.
That I’m lost.
My eyelids flutter open, and my breath catches at the sudden touch of strong, warm fingers moving over my own. A slow, gentle stroke glides over the wound, but it’s not from me. It can’t be. My hand is stuck, frozen in place over my shoulder blade as though not daring to move. The mirror before me proves I’m alone in the bathroom, and yet, I feel it again, the same presence I felt several nights ago. Heat radiates behind my body as though someone is standing right there.
Another stroke caresses the wound, and it’s even lighter this time, like a feather brushing over me. The feeling of skin against skin is as real as anything. I can almost hear my heartbeat pounding within my chest. The fingers move past my wound, never breaking contact with my skin, and slowly trail upward, toward my neck. Though the texture feels strong and almost rough, the touch itself is impossibly gentle, treating me like something fragile.
No matter how loud my mind screams to fight it, my muscles are relaxing like jelly under the heavy sensation. My uplifted arm drops helplessly to my side. The warm touch strokes the side of my neck, wandering up further still until it’s almost in my hair. It’s light enough to send a shiver to my toes, and my eyelids start to close on their own, my head rolling slightly forward.
The presence behind me inches closer, and I hear breaths again. Just like the other night, they’re deep and controlled, right by my ear.
I have no idea what’s happening to me. Half of me is struck with a pang of fear, unease over the impossible experience. Yet the other half can’t help but be soothed by the calming tingles running through the length of me. There’s a trust I can’t explain, like a gentle, unspoken lullaby, and I know I’m safe. The heat, the masculine touch, the warm breaths soft as a whisper that rise and fall at the nape of my neck. I don’t want to think at all right now. I just want to feel.
The caress slides back down the right side of my neck, almost skimming along my collarbone, when it stops. Draws back. I hear a hitch in the breathing, a tremble for a fleeting moment, the smallest hint of the effort it takes to pull back. Then the touch returns, but only to my scar, traveling down the length of it with incredible slowness, taking its time. As though savoring every moment of contact with me, in a way I’ve never experienced. A sigh pours from my lips, and when my head falls back, it’s caught by the solid warmth behind me. It’s real enough that I could swear I’m pressed up against the presence right now, a presence that sure as hell feels like a man—tall, strong, sturdy. The feeling is so vivid I find myself thinking in terms of him instead of it. 
A shake breaks his steady breathing again, another warm tremble in my ear, and I feel the tightness of his body rise and fall with each breath.
I’m letting myself go, relaxing every part of me until the only thing keeping me upright is his body, and as I do, the hard curves of muscle tense against my back.
Something in the air changes, and the presence behind me wavers. It’s completely solid one moment, and in the next it’s fluid, as though nothing more than a strong breeze props me up. Soon it’s not even a breeze, just a puff of air, and I’m grabbing the edge of the counter with both hands to keep from tumbling backward.
My legs wobble, struggling to support the rest of me. When I catch sight of my reflection now, my face is flushed. I let out a loud exhale when I remember how to breathe and command myself to get a grip. I’m still feeling like a sloshy puddle when I slip my sweater back on over my head and drag myself to the front door of my room, unlocking it and yanking it open.
I need fresh air like a drug right now, and I can’t stumble down the stairs fast enough. I hear Claire’s bubbly greeting when I fly past the front desk, but I don’t stop until I’m standing on the sidewalk, bending forward with my hands on my knees and soaking up the crisp winter breeze.
What the hell is happening? This can’t just be in my head. I know I’ve been a little off since Grams’s passing, but there’s no way I’d be able to dream up something so freaking real.
It was here. He was here.
Whoever he is.
[Want more? Click below to read a longer excerpt.]

Praise for the Book
"This book ruined me ... the plot extraordinary ... I was left shocked and surprised all the way through ... beautiful and heart-wrenching all at the same time ... This is a paranormal romance that will be with me for a while." ~ Author Samantha Armstrong
"Touched by Death was so much more than I ever expected ... It was so beautifully written, that I was sucked completely into the story from page one ... mysterious, slightly angsty, and sometimes just devastatingly beautiful ... with some of the most captivating writing I've read." ~ Author Danielle Lori
"... pulling you in with a mixture of stellar description and a vocal character who is not only relatable but also hilarious ... The mystery in this story unfolds flawlessly ... the star of this book is definitely the romance ... an amazing romance that has become one of my favorite stories. If you love mystery and stomach butterflies, this book is for you. If you love a good story, this book is for you." ~ Author Sarah Collingwood

Interview With the Author
T. L. Martin joins me today to discuss her new book, Touched by Death.
For what age group do you recommend your book?
There’s some sensitive content (and explicit content), so I’d recommend it to readers 18+.
What sparked the idea for this book?
I saw this movie called In Your Eyes on Netflix (I love Netflix), and there was something that really struck me about the connection the two main characters had. Is was both surreal and addictive. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
During this same time, I had been searching for a romance novel with Death (aka the Grim Reaper) as the Hero, and I couldn’t find one anywhere. I’m a writer, yes, but first I’m a reader, and man, was I craving a romance with Death as the lead! (I never said I was a "normal" reader ...) So of course I did what any writer would do and decided to write the book myself ;)
I couldn’t tell you exactly how it happened, but these two concepts began to blend together, and the next thing I knew, it had taken on a life of its own.
So, which comes first? The character's story or the idea for the novel?
Hmm, for me this is a fine line, because my characters usually come with a lot of baggage, and so do my ideas. I have a hard time separating the two, they’re so connected from the start. That being said, my characters are the ones who drive the story, rather than the plot. I can start writing with one concept in mind, but once the characters’ voices gain momentum, it always ends up somewhere else by the end.
What was the hardest part to write in this book?
I don’t think there was any one scene that was particularly harder than the rest, but the biggest thing for me was nailing the character development in a well-rounded fashion. Almost every character in Touched by Death goes through their own journey from the start of the story to the end, and they’re each very important to me. So I wanted to make sure I got the balance right for everyone.
How do you hope this book affects its readers?
I hope it makes them think, makes them smile, makes them laugh, cry, and sigh. I hope they close the book with a friend inside the pages and emotions tangling with their heart.
Beautiful! How long did it take you to write this book?
I don’t get a chance to write every day (no matter how much I wish I did!), and when I do get the time it’s in the middle of the night. But, overall, this one took me about 6-7 months from writing the first word to getting that final draft to my editor.
What is your writing routine?
Get all the kids to sleep by around 9:00pm, then (with my son wrapped in one arm and my laptop in the other) work until my eyes start shutting down. Of course, by "work" I mean: write a little, do some pleasure reading, check social media, write some more, daydream, check YouTube for new music videos, yell at myself to get back to work, and write a little more. Mind you, that’s on my good days ...
Haha. How did you get your book published?
I self-published. Actually, I did submit it to a few agents early on, when I was still going back and forth on which route I wanted to take (traditional or indie). Within 24 hours of submitting, however, I decided to move forward with self-publishing. It wasn’t until I was well into the self-publishing process that an agent responded with interest in my book, but by then Touched by Death was already fast-approaching its already announced release date.
What advice do you have for someone who would like to become a published writer?
First, finish writing your first book. I know it seems obvious, but it’s not always the case. Then decide which route you’d like to pursue: traditional or indie. Regardless of which you choose, remember two things: 1) This is your work. Make sure it’s something you’re truly proud of before pursuing either route. 2) This is your work. Your sweat, your tears, your heart (if you’re doing it right). And no one can take that away from you.
What do you like to do when you're not writing?
One thing or another with my family (kids, husband, cats). Ideally, I’ll have a book in my hand, too.
Of course! What does your family think of your writing?
None of the other adults in my family read (I know, what are they?!), but they’re very supportive, and for that I’m thankful.
Please tell us a bit about your childhood.
I adored my childhood. There are things I realize now that I’m older, such as my parents’ struggles in having to work so much to support me and my sisters, and how they divorced while we were very young, and how often my father had to leave the state for his job, but none of these factors entered into my mind as a child. I was happy, and I’m so grateful for the loving life I was given.
Did you like reading when you were a child?
Absolutely. I was that girl in second grade who spent every second of the class’s library time sniffing new books or getting lost in the pages.
Me, too! When did you first realize you wanted to be a writer?
I’ve always written, but I didn’t realize I wanted to be a writer until after I was grown and married. I think in my mind, writing has always been a natural part of me, much in the same way eating and sleeping are. It was never this separate thing I had to (or could) become in and of itself.
Did your childhood experiences influence your writing?
Yes. I’ve always been more of an observer than a participant, and while that contributed to some socially awkward years in my teenaged days, it only enhanced my ability as a writer. In fact, there were many little things I thought made me different, even if I was usually able to blend in enough for my introverted nature to go unnoticed, and each of them played a big role in shaping me as a writer.
Which writers have influenced you the most?
If you’d asked me that question when publishing my first book, I’d have had a very different answer for you. Today (and with Touched by Death), my biggest inspirations are authors like Mia Sheridan, Brittainy C. Cherry, and Pam Godwin.
Do you hear from your readers much? What kinds of things do they say?
I do, and it’s my favorite thing about being an author. The most popular thing I’ll get is a reader thanking me for writing, and for being such seemingly simple words, those move me the most.
Fantastic. What can we look forward to from you in the future?
Now that I’ve dipped my toes into adult romance with Touched by Death, I can’t see myself writing anything else. So you can expect a lot more within that genre (from contemporary to paranormal to dark romances).
Thank you for taking the time to stop by today. Best of luck with your future projects.

Book Playlist
View the author's book playlist here or below.

About the Author
T. L. Martin
Author of romance and paranormal, T. L. Martin is also a wife, mother of three, homebody, animal lover, and hug enthusiast. She resides with her family in Southern California.
T. L.'s novels tend to involve the things she enjoys most as a reader: relatable and flawed protagonists, unexpected twists, slow burn romances, and a lively cast of secondary characters. (Being that she writes both young adult and new adult titles, please check individual book descriptions for any content warnings.)
T. L. is presently branching out into new adult contemporary romance!


Monday, September 25, 2017

"Unorthodox" by S. Peters-Davis

(A Kendra Spark Novel Book 1)
by S. Peters-Davis

Unorthodox (A Kendra Spark Novel Book 1) by S. Peters-Davis

Unorthodox by S. Peters-Davis is currently on tour with Bewitching Book Tours. The tour stops here today for a guest post by the author, an excerpt, and a giveaway. Please be sure to visit the other tour stops as well.

Kendra Spark, suspense-mystery romance author and communicator with the dead, is requested to hop on the first flight to D.C. Jenna Powers, FBI criminal analyst and estranged best friend of Kendra, gets ghosticized in a fatal accident before relaying all the details of the FBI killer case. Derek Knight, a dedicated FBI Special Task Force agent, leads on the case.
The investigation into the FBI agent killings continues as Kendra, Jenna (yes, even after death, and Derek work together on the case before Director of the Special Task Force Jackson Powers’ number is up. He’s Jenna’s father and the end-game of the killer’s target list. But somehow the elusive killer remains undetected, until Kendra’s unique ability produces results and a final possibility at stopping his killing spree before it’s too late.

[The scene – Derek has Kendra in a casual interrogation room inside the FBI building – D.C. location]
The door opened and Jackson Powers entered before I could respond.
He glanced around the room stopping when he saw me; his red rimmed eyes spoke volumes. I clearly remembered his presence, a straightforward man, full of confidence and direction, but in this moment he appeared like a man broken. I rose and reached for a hand shake. Instead, he grabbed my hand and pulled me into a big bear hug.
“I’m so very sorry about Jenna. Sorry for your loss, for my loss…” Muscles tensed around my vocals and cut off the words.
Tears spilled from both of us. Derek stepped out of the room, clicking the door closed.
“Jenna told me she was meeting with you today, going to show you the city sights.” Jackson held me for a few more minutes, patting my back and telling me it wasn’t my fault.
The thought of the accident initially being my fault had never entered my mind. Why would that thought cross his? I stepped back. Obviously he hadn’t received the latest details of the accident, but even so why would he consider that I’d feel responsible. Even if I questioned that maybe I could have done something to stop her in some way, she did save that boy. “Not sure what you mean…in thinking it could be my fault?”
His eyes widened, maybe a little startled at my blatant question. “I assumed Jenna ran after a little culprit that grabbed your purse or something much worse. She must have gotten caught up in the chase to run in front of on-coming traffic.” His face softened. “Kendra, I know Jenna, there was nothing you could have done to stop her. She’s always been head-strong…was always
head-strong,” he corrected himself, then his voice cracked, and suddenly something occurred to me.
Jackson isn’t privy to Jenna and Derek’s manhunt for the FBI killer, nor the reason I’m here. Of course. Jenna had tagged along to certain crime scenes while she was still in college, but from all that I remembered, Jackson wanted her profiling cases strictly inside the building. She had access to all the crime scenes from pictures and files on her laptop. At least she always used to complain about his restrictions, and I couldn’t imagine he would allow her in the field on a serial killer task force, unless things had changed in the last couple years.
There’d been a few close calls on other cases, some of the agent’s family members being abducted or being used for negotiation, leverage. While in college, Jenna told me all the rules her father had enforced if she were to join in any of the FBI cases. He protected her, and now she had returned the favor…to her demise.
Jenna and Derek were hunting the serial killer behind Jackson’s back.
There was a tap on the door and Derek stepped in. His brows were drawn close, eyes narrowed, perhaps his expression of concern. “Sir, I thought Kendra might be hungry. She hasn’t eaten all day.” He smiled at me, and then looked back at Jackson. “I’m headed out for a late lunch and thought I’d take her with me.”
Jackson’s lips pressed together. He finally lifted his chin toward me. “Well, of course. We certainly wouldn’t want anyone going hungry now, would we,” more of a statement than a question. He patted my shoulder. “Go on, Kendra. We can continue our talk later. I’d like to hear exactly what happened to my daughter from someone who was there to witness it.”
Derek grasped my elbow and led me toward the door.
Instead of following, Jackson released a long breathy sigh and sat on the couch. “Shut the door behind you, Derek. And tell Darla I don’t wish to be disturbed.”
My heart swelled huge behind my ribcage, again the confining weight pressing in on my ability to breathe. I couldn’t imagine the emotional maelstrom Jackson was going through. I knew only my own turbulent ride. Now I needed to get some facts straight; it was my turn to interrogate Derek.
[Want more? Click below to read a longer excerpt.]

Praise for the Book
"Murder, ghosts, psychics, the writer's life - this story had everything I so enjoy in a good book. It's certainly an 'unorthodox' tale. Well-written and captivating, this gripping thriller entices the reader from beginning to end. I look forward to more Kendra Spark novels." ~ Sandra's Book Reviews
"This book has everything I love. Suspense and paranormal. I felt the character development was well done. The story was very well written. You follow Kendra, Jenna and Derek (ghost whisperer, ghost and FBI) thru a thrilling ride of mystery with a ghost to help along the way. [...] I am excited that this is only book 1 because I can see big things coming with this series and author." ~ angelique burns
"This is a thrilling, suspenseful read that combines ghosts and solving crimes, and does it quite well. The book is very interesting and keeps you hooked, from start to finish, really pulling you right into the crime scenes, and the sad, untimely death of the FBI analyst." ~ Naturalbri (Bri Wignall)
"This book was really good. The touch of spook factor along with the suspense, mystery and paranormal (which is always fun) all blended together making the perfect combination." ~ GothicMom'S Reviewers
"Unorthodox is a suspenseful thriller that will keep you engaged from the very beginning." ~ Sapphyria

Guest Post by the Author
Story-Star Interview with Kendra Spark – MC of Unorthodox
Hello Lynda and everyone visiting Books Direct. :) I’m S. Peters-Davis, author of Unorthodox, a paranormal suspense-thriller. I’ve got Kendra Spark sitting across from me. She’s a mystery romance author, the main story-star of Unorthodox, and she has agreed to answer a few interview questions.
I’m totally geeked as she’s always been on the ink-side of my pen, and now she’s ... well, wearing a gray and green jogging get-up that reminds me of Jenna’s (another story-star in Unorthodox). *smiles*
Without further introduction, I’m going to jump right in and if anyone else has a question or comment for Kendra, please feel at liberty to post it in the comment section – she’s ours for the day; )
SPD – Kendra, your eyes really are the most beautiful shade of violet in this lighting and your hair is longer then I remember, a lot curlier too. Do you wear tinted contacts?
Kendra – No. I don’t wear contacts or glasses, at least not yet; and my hair grew a bit longer since last we saw each other. Humidity determines the tightness of the curls in my hair, and it’s been crazy humid lately. I love the four seasons of Michigan, but boy, sometimes that humidity ... whew.
SPD – I hear you. You’re north of where I live, thought it would be milder. *chuckles* How about your writing? Clara Jones is your literary agent, right? *Kendra nods* How’s that relationship going?
Kendra – Clara’s happy for the moment, but she’ll be pressing for the first book in the next series. She thrives on productive authors and she’s good at inspiring performance. I just got back from California, signing a contract with Knixton House Publishing. Thankfully the publisher enjoys mysteries and romance ... and he’s willing to wait for the next series. I have a feeling that the upcoming case I’ll be working as an FBI consultant with Derek and Jenna (in Malevolent) will be jam-packed with story potential for my mysteries.
SPD – Oh, so you’re working as an FBI consultant? As in you decided to take the job?
Kendra – I just received a proposition from FBI Special Task Force Director Jackson Powers. Apparently my ability can be an asset in solving cases. My grandmother believes it’s my true calling over everything else, including my novel writing. I’m not sure about giving anything up yet ... only that I’ll be working on Director Jackson’s next case with Derek and Jenna.
SPD – So ... about Jenna ...
Kendra – Without giving away any spoilers ...all I can say is Jenna is still working cases as an FBI criminal analyst.
SPD – Okay, understood. I’ll move on to Derek. He’s an attractive single FBI Task Force agent ... one of the best, I understand. And you’re an attractive single mystery author. *I wiggle my brows* Anything you’d like to share?
Kendra – Yes, Derek ... striking blue eyes, dark wavy hair, dimple on his left cheek ... just up from the corner of his mouth when he smiles. *she stares off for a moment and catches herself then chuckles* It’s the writer inside me that gets a bit carried away with defining descriptions. *she shakes her head* All I’ll say is, yes, he is attractive, but his attractiveness goes much deeper than his good looks.
SPD – Interesting. And something to look forward to also, but for now, I’ll move on. What is it that annoys you most?
Kendra – Being called a psychic. Not just the name, but the inflicting tone used to say it out loud. That has a tendency to leave nasty burning holes in my confidence.
SPD – I’m sorry you have to deal with nay-sayers. I know you have an amazing gift and you’re putting it to good use. I agree with your grandmother’s thought about it being a "calling".
Thank you, Kendra, for your honest responses – I appreciate the chance to get to know you and to share this exclusive interview with your fans.
Kendra – Thanks for having me, Lynda and everyone visiting Books Direct – always a pleasure to spend time with readers who enjoy paranormal, suspense-thriller romances. Have an amazing week, everyone, and I hope you all enjoy my story. :)

About the Author
S. Peters-Davis
S. Peters-Davis writes multi-genre stories, but loves penning a good page-turning suspense-thriller, especially when it’s a ghost story and a romance. When she’s not writing, editing, or reading, she’s hiking, RVing, fishing, playing with grandchildren, or enjoying time with her favorite muse (her husband) in Southwest Michigan.
She also writes YA paranormal, supernatural novels as DK Davis.

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