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

Thursday, April 5, 2018

"Moonlight City Drive" by Brian Paone

Moonlight City Drive
by Brian Paone

Moonlight City Drive by Brian Paone

Moonlight City Drive by Brian Paone is currently on tour with Goddess Fish Promotions. 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.

11:18 p.m. Subject is checking into the Desert Palms Motel, accompanied by an unknown female.
Snapshot in the parking lot. Man and woman embrace. Betrayal, I see it every day, like my own reflection in the mirror staring back at me. Another case, another bottle of booze, life is no longer a mystery to me …
… Because I’m the private eye, hot on your trail; the top gun for hire. You’ll find me lurking in the shadows, always searching for a clue. I’m the bulletproof detective. I got my eye on you …
What’s a little sin under the covers, what’s a little blood between lovers? What’s a little death to be discovered, cold stiff body under the covers? I’m digging you a desert grave, underneath the burning sun. You won’t be found by anyone. Vultures circle in the sky, and you, my dear, are the reason why.
… I was always easily influenced.

Book Video

Smith spit out another peanut shell onto his Chevy’s floorboard as his gaze stayed trained on the Desert Palms Motel’s front entrance. His fingers instinctively found the opened bag in the complete darkness and pinched another nut. He squeezed his eyes closed to ward off the simmering residual headache from the most recent blackout. The sound of the rain pelting the windshield was soothing.
“Come on. Where are you? You took the last two nights off. I can’t imagine you being on vacation.”
Headlights turning into the parking lot diverted his attention from the motel’s front door. He squinted to decipher the make and model of the vehicle through the downpour. A Bentley. He sighed and returned his focus to the motel as he fingered the brim of his newly purchased replacement fedora and then tossed it next to him in frustration.
Smith removed his revolver from his shoulder holster and checked that all six chambers were loaded for the umpteenth time. He secured the weapon and grabbed the small notebook from underneath his discarded fedora, lying on the passenger seat, where Wynn should be sitting. But she had maintained radio silence throughout the past two days since storming from Hank’s office. He shook his head in disgust for letting Wynn’s drama distract him from the job at hand.
He swiped the Chevy’s dashboard with his palm to clean off the thick layer of dust that had collected from months of neglect. He wiped his hands on his pants, leaving a graying smear across the fabric covering his thighs. He reached into his trench coat’s inner pocket and removed a silver flask. He opened the top and looked at the engraved insignia on the front. His index finger traced the shining eyeball hanging freely in the cut-out middle of a pyramid. Taking a swig from the decorated flask, he grimaced as the brown liquid hit the back of his throat.
Smith retrieved the Polaroid from the dashboard and cleared his throat. “Let’s see what tricks you’re playing on me now.” He flicked the corner of the photograph as he sighed deeply in expected disappointment.
[Want more? Click below to read a longer excerpt.]

Praise for the Book
“I feel very fortunate to have stumbled upon author Brian Paone at the dawn of his career. I read Yours Truly 2095 this past summer and thoroughly enjoyed his story telling, characters and prose, but I also could see room for improvement. And lo, his latest novel proves that his talent is on a trajectory that will see him as a household name sooner than later. Moonlight City Drive is the kind of story that you think about for days after finishing it.” ~ Christopher Ruland
“Very well written, I was not sure who to root for, who to like, who to hate, and how I wanted it to end. Definitely has dark tones to it with many twists and turns and surprises. Thrilling, exciting read!” ~ Monica
“It's a perfect fusion of the classic detective story and some unexpectedly dark occult horror story. A film noir with fedoras, trench coats, whisky and cigars, but demons and witches are waiting on the corners and in the alleys. I recommend to read it for everyone who's into detective stories, horror stories, or just wants a great book and isn't afraid of living dead ghouls.” ~ Erky-Nagy Katalin
“The story's creativity guarantees its page-turning quality. Highly recommended for those who love to read an engaging thriller.” ~ Dawn Taylor
“This book is hands down the craziest book written about one of my favorite albums ever. Do yourself a solid favor and buy it. I promise you won't be disappointed.” ~ Derrick

Guest Post by the Author
My Writing Quirks
I don’t think an author realizes their writing quirks until they are a few pieces deep into their career. So, it wasn’t until my wife and my editor were reading/working on my third novel, Yours Truly, 2095, when they both noticed different things about my writing.
My editor noticed that the theme of redemption always plays a part in the outcome of either my novels or short stories. I’m a big Star Wars fan, and I think the redemption of Anakin Skywalk/Darth Vader at the end of Return of the Jedi must have made an impact on me as a child. I didn’t realize it until she brought it to my attention, but I do seem to always have one character, who is a really terrible person in the beginning, eventually find the right path.
My wife noticed that I always reference The Wizard of Oz in EVERYTHING I write. Somewhere in the narrative there might be a metaphor where I use a Wizard of Oz character as a reference, or one of my characters mentions the movie or references a scene in dialogue. I was completely unaware that I did this. A fellow author friend of mine, Douglas Esper, told me that he thinks it’s because everything I write tends to hang just slightly over the center line of reality, and The Wizard of Oz is a good example of that happening plot wise. Obviously, watching that as a child molded how I see my own fictional worlds. Not that my stories are fantasy in nature, but obviously that approach bleeds into even my most straight-forward dramas.

About the Author
Brian Paone
Brian Paone was born and raised in the Salem, Massachusetts, area. Brian has, thus far, published four novels: a memoir about being friends with a drug-addicted rock star, Dreams are Unfinished Thoughts; a macabre cerebral-horror novel, Welcome to Parkview; a time-travel romance novel, Yours Truly, 2095, (which was nominated for a Hugo Award, though it did not make the finalists); and a supernatural, crime-noir detective novel, Moonlight City Drive. Along with his four novels, Brian has published three short stories: “Outside of Heaven” which is featured in the anthology A Matter of Words; “The Whaler’s Dues” which is featured in the anthology A Journey of Words; and “Anesthetize (or A Dream Played in Reverse on Piano Keys)” which is featured in the anthology A Haunting of Words.  
Brian is also a vocalist and has released seven albums with his four bands: Yellow #1, Drop Kick Jesus, The Grave Machine, and Transpose. He is married to a US Naval Officer, and they have four children. Brian is also a police officer and has been working in law enforcement since 2002. He is a self-proclaimed roller coaster junkie, a New England Patriots fanatic, and his favorite color is burnt orange.

Enter the tour-wide giveaway for a chance to win a $50 Amazon or B&N gift card.


Wednesday, March 28, 2018

"Crossing the Line" by Ellen Wolfson Valladares

Crossing the Line
by Ellen Wolfson Valladares

Crossing the Line by Ellen Wolfson Valladares

Crossing the Line by Ellen Wolfson Valladares is currently on tour with YA Bound Book Tours. The tour stops here today for an excerpt and a giveaway. Please be sure to visit the other tour stops as well.

Laura, who died thirty years ago, enlists the help of a tenacious high school reporter named Rebecca, who is very much alive. Rebecca, although skeptical and conflicted by her supposed encounters with a spirit, determines to learn the truth about Laura’s tragic death. As the clues unravel and their worlds collide, Rebecca finds herself at a dangerous crossroads.
Laura, now pulled back into everything she left behind when she died – her old high school and memories of her life and death - has been in training for this exact moment. And nothing means more to her than succeeding at her assignment.
It is her one chance to make sure that what happened her does not happen to anyone else, and especially not to her new friend, Rebecca.

Chapter 2 - Laura
I bolted out of my chair, ran out of the library, across the lawn, and up the twenty-some steps of Academy Hall. I couldn’t wait to tell Danny and everyone my good news. I looked up at the red brick bell tower and realized the bells hadn’t chimed. What was I hurrying for? Class wasn’t starting yet.
I sat down at the top of the steps. It was a gorgeous, sunny, breezy day, as always. Students were sitting by the lake, walking on the paths, and hanging out on the lawn. I’m finally getting used to this place, I thought.
I looked over at the wide, green lawn area, remembering my first day here.
“You’ve been selected to attend The Academy,” a voice had said to me.
Then suddenly, I was sitting on a big field of damp grass with a bunch of other kids my age. I was sure I had finally woken up.
“I guess it was a dream,” I said.
“What?” A boy sitting next to me had overheard me.
“Where are we?” I asked him.
“The Academy. They didn’t tell you?”
I ran my fingers through the soft blades of grass. It felt so real.
“Yeah,” I said. “But where exactly are we? This might be a strange question, but we’re alive, right?”
Then this boy, who was wearing a Members Only jacket, broke out into annoyingly loud laughter. He stopped abruptly when he saw that I wasn’t finding it funny.
“Oh, no,” he said, catching his breath. “You’re still dead. I promise.”
“Oh.” If it was true, assuming this kid knew what he was talking about, it was just so different from anything I’d experienced so far.
“Are you sure?” I questioned him. “Because this all looks so real. You look real. I think I can even smell the air.” I inhaled. “Yeah. That’s nice.”
He nodded and smiled. “I know. It’s amazing, isn’t it? I can’t get over it either. They want us to feel like we’re really in school. It’s like this agreed-upon visualization stuff they do in the Spirit world, I forget what they call it. Like the hospital I was in before here. Man, it felt real, ’cept no drugs or nothing.”
The boy reached out his hand. “I’m Gary.”
“Hi. Laura.” When I shook his hand, I knew he was right. What I felt wasn’t the touch of another person’s skin. It was more like the subtle energy bumps I’d gotten used to in the Spirit world. Where I’d been was nothing like this place, though. After my death, some beautiful angels and my Aunt Rita, who’d passed away from cancer, had led me to this place called the Transition Zone. They told me I would rest and rejuvenate there. It was this vast oasis of light and all of us there were formless bodies of light within it. Strangely enough, while there were no physical bodies to distinguish us, we still had some individual energy that helped us recognize others. I was told by this important being of light to think about what I desired next. The options were endless, including going back to a new life in the physical world. All I knew was I wanted to help others and then I ended up here. Now I had a body again, and from what I could tell, I looked and felt pretty much the same. There were other people around me, and grass I could feel, and buildings in the distance, so much like the physical world. What the heck was going on?
Gary got up and put out his hand.
“C’mon. Ceremony’s about to start.” He pulled me up.
[Want more? Click below to read a longer excerpt.]

Praise for the Book
“Ellen Valladares delivers a unique coming of age story that delves deep into teenage angst with a believable and fresh take on the supernatural.” ~ Book critic Oline Cogdill
“What a great read! I did not want to put it down, and it kept me interested and curious right up to the very satisfying end.” ~ Lisa V.
“This book is one of a kind, captivating and engaging no matter what your age. The story is creative, the characters are well developed, interesting and totally relatable if you were ever a teenager, parent, or adult.” ~ PrudentPennies
“Such a creative story! The dialog was spot on and it really made you think about the beyond! I am not normally a believer of spirits and mediums, but this book definitely had me imagining the possibilities. Very entertaining for all ages!” ~ Dana

About the Author
Ellen Wolfson Valladares
Ellen Wolfson Valladares is an award-winning writer/author, workshop facilitator, community volunteer, and mother. A native Floridian, she grew up in St. Petersburg and graduated with a bachelor’s degree in Journalism from the University of Florida. She has worked as an editor, public relations professional, and freelance writer. Her newest release, Crossing the Line from WiDo Publishing, is a young adult novel about a teenage spirit from the 1980’s who befriends a current-day high school girl in the hopes of preventing a similar tragedy from occurring again.
Her first book, a middle grade novel entitled Jonathan's Journey to Mount Miapu, received several awards, including a Mom’s Choice Gold Award and the 2009 Coalition of Visionary Resources Visionary Awards Book of the Year award. She also has a meditation CD, entitled “Healing and Manifestation with the Archangels.”
After her first child was stillborn in 1995, Valladares became dedicated to helping families suffering a similar loss. She volunteered as a peer counselor to help bereaved moms, ran a support group called “Surviving Pregnancy After a Loss,” and helped create and run an annual event for grieving families. In addition, she is a past president of the Board of Directors of Healthy Mothers-Healthy Babies Coalition of Broward County, Inc.
Valladares has also taught numerous workshops in the South Florida area on a variety of metaphysical topics, including angels, intuition, meditation, and life purpose.
Today, Valladares continues to work as a freelance writer. Currently, she writes for several alumni magazines at Nova Southeastern University in Davie, Florida. She is a member of the Society of Children’s Book Writers & Illustrators (SCBWI) and a member and former Board member of the Florida Authors and Publishers Association (FAPA). She also enjoys working as a college essay coach for high school students and helping other writers realize their dreams.
She has been married to her husband, Manny, for close to 30 years (May 2018) and they have two sons, Gabriel and Michael, two dogs, Flash and Chili Pepper, and a crazy cat named Zelda. They live in Weston, Florida.

Enter the tour-wide giveaway for a chance to win one of three signed copies of Crossing the Line by Ellen Wolfson Valladares.


Wednesday, February 21, 2018

"The Nightmare Room" by Chris Sorensen

The Nightmare Room
(The Messy Man Series Book 1)
by Chris Sorensen

The Nightmare Room (The Messy Man Series Book 1) by Chris Sorensen

The Nightmare Room by Chris Sorensen is currently on tour with Bewitching Book Tours. The tour stops here today for a guest post by the author and an excerpt. Don’t miss out on downloading your FREE copy to 23 February. Please be sure to visit the other tour stops as well.

A boy in a basement, a man in a booth and a darkness that threatens to swallow them both ...
New York audiobook narrator Peter Larson and his wife Hannah head to his hometown of Maple City to help Peter's ailing father and to put a recent tragedy behind them. Though the small, Midwestern town seems the idyllic place to start afresh, Peter and Hannah will soon learn that evil currents flow beneath its surface.
They move into an old farmhouse on the outskirts of town—a house purchased by Peter's father at auction and kept secret until now—and start to settle into their new life.
But as Peter sets up his recording studio in a small basement room, disturbing things begin to occur - mysterious voices haunt audio tracks, malevolent shadows creep about the house. And when an insidious presence emerges from the woodwork, Peter must face old demons in order to save his family and himself.

Book Video

The man threw open the basement door. A rush of mildewed air rose up from the darkness, like the hideous breath of some subterranean thing. He flicked on the light, and the cascade of descending stairs came into view. Among their number was the treacherous one midway down, the one that bent like a bow at the slightest weight.
“Are you going down on your own or do I have to make you?”
The boy looked up at his father. The anger that had fueled him thus far was fading, seemingly sapped by the trip from the boy’s bedroom. Instead, his father looked pained. If he didn’t know better, he might think the Old Man was about to cry. But his father had said he was tired. Dead tired. And perhaps it was as simple as that.
"I'll go," the boy whispered, and he took the first tentative step down.
The change in temperature was immediate; it was like diving into a cold pool. He took another step down, and another.
He paused on the third step and looked back at his father. The bare bulb above paled the man’s countenance. The grey circles under his eyes made him look like he’d been bludgeoned.
“Git!” the Old Man snarled. The boy went. When he reached the sagging step, he stopped, took a breath and leaped over it. His heel hit the lip of the next step, but the wood was damp, and the boy came down hard on his butt.
“Get some sleep. And no more dreams.”
As if he could help it.
His father closed the door, and the lock clicked. It would not open again until morning.
The boy descended the final few stairs and stepped onto the floor. Ice-cold cement sucked heat from his soles. He squinted, trying to adjust to the dark.
The usefulness of the light bulb ended a few feet into the basement. And there was no more source of light until he reached the…
The gears in his head ground to a halt, stopping short of allowing the dreaded name to be uttered.
He started picking out objects around him. The solemn metal face of the furnace, a stack of water softener salt bags, the frame of an old bicycle.
Straight ahead lay a distance of twenty or so feet before he'd come to a door. Three-quarters of that stretch was in pitch black. To get to the door, to get to the room, he had to dash through the darkness until his hand found the doorknob. Then, he would throw the door open, reach to his right, flip the wall switch and presto. An island of light in an ocean of black.
He girded himself for the sprint.
He hesitated…but why? He’d already made this run two times this week. Both Monday and Thursday, he’d awakened screaming, bringing down the Old Man’s wrath, and sending him here. To the penalty box. To time out. To the Night—
The boy startled at the sound of his own voice, and he lurched into motion. He hurtled into the darkness, his feet slapping the floor, echoing off the walls in hollow applause.
He bumped into something and spun, temporarily throwing himself and his inner compass off balance. He skidded across the floor and came to a stop.
Heart pounding in his chest, he quickly located the lit stairs off to his left. He made a rapid calculation and turned to face the invisible pathway to the room. He bolted, coming to a halt only when he slammed head-on into the door.
His hand floundered before finding the knob. He launched into his practiced routine. Open door, flip switch, step inside.
In seconds, the boy slipped into the room and slammed the door shut. A pink light overhead bathed him in imaginary warmth—he had made it.
He stepped back and sank into the waiting beanbag chair, facing the door. The small room with its mint green walls and rollaway bed felt almost welcoming, an odd feeling for a place that was meant as a punishment.
The boy pulled a quilt from the bed and wrapped it around him tight. For the first time in his life, he felt safe here in this room—in the Nightmare Room.
Because he hadn’t bumped into something out there in the dark. He had bumped into someone.
He was almost certain of it.
He kept one eye on the door as the minutes hummed past on the illuminated clock on the nightstand. He busied himself with crayon and paper, doodling to keep his mind quiet. Soon, his vision began to flutter; the room began to strobe. And, in the space between two breaths, the boy sank into his beanbag chair and fell into a fitful sleep.
The doorknob twitched.
The boy bolted upright. He pressed back into the chair. His whole body started shivering, and he feared he would wet himself for the second time that night.
A thought…no, a voice crept into his head.
Coming in.
The door quivered as if someone was leaning against it, trying to stifle a laugh. Nails scratched against the wood.
“Dad?” the boy whispered.
The door shuddered.
“Is that you?” Knowing it was not.
“Please don’t.”
[Want more? Click below to read a longer excerpt.]

Praise for the Book
"The Nightmare Room is one creepy little gem! I highly recommend this fantastic 5 star read!" ~ Horror Maiden's Book Reviews
"This is one haunted house that had me running for the door! Blood frozen. Spine chilled. A must read." ~ Hunter Shea, author of We Are Always Watching and The Jersey Devil
"Chilling one moment, terrifying the next, The Nightmare Room will have you shopping for a nightlight." ~ Nick Sullivan, author of Zombie Bigfoot
"The Nightmare Room pulled me in right from the start with believable characters and a central mystery that forced me to keep reading to learn more. Prepare for all night reading once it enters its second act and then prepare to stay up all night hearing the sounds in your own house! A real delight for horror fans!" ~ Kendal Sinn, screenwriter of Nailbiter, Shadow Falls Memorial
"The Nightmare Room pulled me in right from the start with believable characters and a central mystery that forced me to keep reading to learn more...A real delight for horror fans!" ~ Kendal Sinn, screenwriter of Nailbiter, Shadow Falls Memorial

Guest Post by the Author
My Inspiration for Writing this Book
The Nightmare Room was born out of loss. My wife and I were the caretakers of her elderly aunt for a number of years. We divided our time between NYC and the NJ lake house where I now sit. During this same period, my father was undergoing cancer treatment in Colorado, so I was also traveling back and forth to Fort Collins.
When they passed, I became a haunted man.
I’d never experienced death in such a personal way. I’d never seen a person’s final breath. You think you’re ready for such things, but you’re not. You assume that your head and heart know how to process death, but they don’t - not really. Your insides are tipped upside-down, and as you struggle to right things again, the ghosts slip in.
That was the moment that The Nightmare Room was born.
The story has taken a number of different roads as I working to pin it down. Was it about the cold spot in the hallway where I always want to break into a dash? Was it about the voice I heard coming through the headphones as I narrated a book in the basement? Yes … and no.
I finally lit upon the answer to many of my questions when I realized that the story was not about fear but about love.
Love makes us vulnerable - to pain, to sorrow, to loss. But it also makes us strong. When my father was ill, a doctor told us that the pain we feel is equal to the love we give. I had been concentrating on the pain in my story; I’d forgotten about the love.
Maybe I was just ready to finally tell this story. Who am I kidding? I know that’s the case.
The Nightmare Room is about the lengths to which we will go to protect the ones we love. And if that means stepping into the darkness, so be it.

About the Author
Chris Sorensen
Chris Sorensen spends many days and nights locked away inside his own nightmare room. He is the narrator of over 200 audiobooks (including the award-winning The Missing series by Margaret Peterson Haddix) and the recipient of three AudioFile Earphone Awards. Over the past fifteen years, the Butte Theater and Thin Air Theatre Company in Cripple Creek, Colorado have produced dozens of his plays including Dr. Jekyll’s Medicine Show, Werewolves of Poverty Gulch, and The Vampire of Cripple Creek. He is the author of the middle grade book The Mad Scientists of New Jersey and has written numerous screenplay including Suckerville, Bee Tornado, and The Roswell Project.