Tag Archives: URBAN FANTASY

by Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez | September 16, 2024 · 5:00 am

Taken by the Necromancer Teaser

Paranormal Women’s Fiction, Urban Fantasy, Vampires

Date Published: September 20, 2024

Briley Reed never expected to be a vampire or thought she’d find
herself heading to Eerie, but a brutal attack changes everything. When a
mystery man sends her to Eerie to find Atticus, she realizes just how much
her life has changed.

But could it be for the better?

Atticus Maguire wants to be left alone. He’s had his heart broken and
he’s done with love. Then Briley shows up in his life and it’s
turned upside down. He wasn’t planning to fall in love, but the magic
never lies.

Right?

EXCERPT

Atticus stood on his front porch and stared out at the water. He’d
lived in Eerie his entire life and loved his place on the edge of the lake.
The waves calmed him. He could think here. Could let his magic languish. Not
be forced to use it or help someone who wasn’t interested in being
helped.

He could be the old man yelling at kids running on his lawn.

He snorted. He had a lawn, but it wasn’t much — mostly sand and
rocks with a little grass mixed in. Kids didn’t venture to his side of
the lake, so no one trespassed on his property.

He’d accepted that he’d be alone. Who wanted to be with someone
who manipulated magic? Who could read the future and the past, and could
animate the dead? No one he knew.

When he’d visited the bars, he’d been given a wide berth. Women
didn’t approach him. He shouldn’t be annoyed by the actions, but
he was. He didn’t want to be alone.

Who did?

But he couldn’t find anyone who wanted to be with a being imbued with
magic. His former fiancée couldn’t handle his power or his
unintended ability to read the future. He knew the moment he’d met her
that she’d leave him, but he’d fallen in love with her anyway.
He’d given his heart, knowing it’d get broken.

She’d been a fun, vibrant light in his life — until she decided he
wasn’t good enough. She hadn’t been thrilled with his abilities
or his decision to live on the lake. She wanted life and noise and someone
who couldn’t read the future in her eyes.

When she left, despite him knowing it would happen, he retreated into
himself.

He rested his hands on his hips and watched the water move. The ripples
lulled him. Nothing mattered right now. Just the water moving, the chirp of
the birds and the flecks of sunlight through the trees. The warmth of the
sun danced on his skin.

His thoughts turned to Lydia. She’d been the first woman he’d
wanted to live with. The one he’d thought he’d love forever.
He’d never been good with women. He tended to be too shy and
didn’t say much. Lydia had claimed his silence was cute. She liked
when he brooded because she never quite knew what he was thinking. Except
when she wanted to know what he had on his mind, and he didn’t say
anything. She wanted him to open up. To talk more. To be more social and
take her out.

He didn’t mind going out, but he couldn’t dance and his ability
to see the future tended to get him into trouble. Lydia didn’t want
him reading her mind and got angry when he clammed up. She’d chew him
out for not talking, then when he did talk and it wasn’t what she
wanted to hear, she chewed him out again.

His skin tingled. A vision formed in his mind. A woman approaching and his
brother warning her to find him. He frowned. Who was this woman, and why
would his brother appear in his vision? He tipped his head. Who was she? He
wasn’t sure. The vision wasn’t clear enough.

He glanced over his shoulder. The woman wasn’t even in Eerie, but he
felt her. Another vision formed in his mind. This time, the woman stood in
his living room and wore nothing.

A nude woman in his home.

What was he getting himself involved in?

He’d figure it out when she arrived. If he knew one thing more than
anything else, fighting the future wasn’t smart. The future would
happen no matter what he did.

Still, he wished he knew more about this person trying to locate him. She
might end up hating him. The nudity might be because she was getting
revenge… on him? Someone else?

The more he thought about this woman, the more the vision of her nude in
his living room came into focus. Slender, curly brown hair down to her
shoulders, wide eyes, blushing from her hairline to her chest, breasts just
right for his hands and curves to make his mouth water. He longed to touch
her. He hadn’t even met her yet, and she’d stirred his
magic.

He wondered what her kiss would taste like.

He shook his head. Her kiss! She might not even want to kiss him.

The water sloshed against the bank and tore his attention from the woman.
His woodland oasis would be invaded. Did he mind?

Not really.

He headed back to the house as a shiver ran the length of his spine. The
woman hadn’t reached Eerie, but she was on the outskirts. She also
needed his help.

He grabbed his keys, then tucked his phone into his front pocket. Once he
locked up the cabin, he rushed out to his motorcycle. He sped out of the
shed toward the gravel path, then the road. Living on the far side of the
lake meant he’d waste precious minutes rounding the body of water to
get to her, but his magic swore she was closer than he’d
thought.

Atticus sped down the back road to the edge of town. Her car wasn’t
broken down, but she had a follower. He couldn’t see the person in the
truck tailing her. Didn’t matter. He’d use a cloaking spell to
hide her from the other driver. He spotted her little car, and his heart
skipped a beat. He’d never met her, but he had a connection to
her.

He pulled out onto the main road between her and the truck, blocking the
following vehicle from getting to her. At the same time, he spoke the words
to the spell and enveloped her in the invisible cloak. She’d never
know he was behind her, but she would know the truck was gone.

Now he could deal with the truck.

About the Author

Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author
of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing
since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary
and paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her
works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her
characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s
been nominated at the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best
Ménage, Best BDSM and Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the
bestseller lists on various e-tailer sites.

When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as
well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but
football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends
of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library.

Author Links

Author on Facebook

Author on Twitter

Author on Instagram

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress

Pre-Order Today

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Tagged as Megan Slayer, Paranormal Women's Fiction, Taken by the Necromancer, URBAN FANTASY, Vampires

by Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez | July 3, 2023 · 5:00 am

Taken by the Siren Teaser

Paranormal Women’s Fiction, Urban Fantasy, Action Adventure

Date Published: July 7, 2023

photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

Michael Blessing thought he had everything he ever wanted when he met his
wife. Then he found out the truth, and his world was shattered by a car
accident. Coming home to Eerie was supposed to be his time to heal his
broken heart.

The siren had other ideas.

Lia Darling never forgot the shy, handsome young man she’d known when they
were children. Seeing Michael again awakens a need within her she can’t
explain or deny, but she’s been hurt before. She doesn’t want another dead
end, and when she looks into his eyes, she sees forever.

Maybe this second chance is just what they need to heal, move forward and
find love… together.

EXCERPT

“Home,” Michael Blessing murmured as he drove past the city limit line into
Eerie. He hadn’t been back in so long. Seemed like the day he left was the
last day he thought about his hometown. Silly, really. Eerie wasn’t a bad
place. It was quaint. Like a storybook town. The buildings were whimsical,
full of gingerbread and swirls, plus glitter and bright paint. The streets
were clean and the sidewalks wide. The flowers blossomed brighter, and the
people seemed to welcome everyone back.

There wasn’t a stranger in Eerie — except humans. They were all strangers,
but he wasn’t a human. His Fae father had married a woman who knew
witchcraft. They’d been a good pairing, and Michael had the best childhood.
Everyone thought his mother was human, but he hadn’t cared. He was
loved.

His parents were still alive and still cared about him. He was their son,
and they’d always love him, but they had no idea the depths of loneliness he
felt. They didn’t understand the grief he dealt with on a daily basis.

The woman he loved was dead. The moment he’d seen Chloe, he knew he wanted
her for the rest of his life. She’d be the best partner and eventually would
make him a father.

Then she had, but she died.

He hadn’t been able to manage the grief, not even a year and a half later.
He needed somewhere to hide. Eerie wasn’t the place to hide. Most everyone
in town stood out. Witches, Elves, Faeries, gargoyles, shifters and every
other kind of paranormal creature was there.

But he had a cabin in the woods on the other side of town, with a pier on
the lake and plenty of space to be quiet, to hide and regroup. No one would
bother him. He could write and be alone with no one bugging him, making him
come out of himself or pleading with him to be social.

He didn’t have any social in him.

Not today. Not this week. Maybe not ever.

His magic had dried up, too.

Did he care? A little, but not as much as he should. He drove through town,
then onto the side road leading to the woods. The beauty of Eerie was that
everyone had a space. The lake, the village, the little cottages, the woods…
If a paranormal creature wanted a space, there was one. If he wanted to hide
at his cabin and write, then practice his magic, then he could.

No one would annoy him.

He pulled into the dirt path that led to his cabin. The second he wound
through the trees to his little house, he felt better. Like he
belonged.

But that was always the way he felt when he came here. His heart was in the
woods, among the trees and peace. Maybe he was always meant to be alone.
Chloe had seen the most in him — more than anyone — but she was gone, and
he had to pick up the pieces.

He pulled into the dirt patch next to the cabin and parked. As the engine
cooled, he debated what to do. He needed to put up the carport to protect
the Jeep — not from the falling branches, but the leaves, rain and debris.
He supposed he could use his magic to protect the vehicle, too. Probably
should do that. It’d be a reason to practice his magic and prevent too much
damage to his Jeep.

Despite needing to put the carport together, he left his vehicle and headed
into the cabin. The place would need a lot of cleaning up, but he could use
those tasks to procrastinate instead of writing.

He carried his bag into the cabin, then set about to put the tarp, PVC and
canvas carport up. If nothing else, the carport would hide his vehicle, and
maybe if anyone saw the lights on, they’d leave him alone.

He hated being so despondent and crabby, but he’d been hurt and had no idea
how to get over his loss.

An hour later, he managed to secure the Jeep in the carport and even
cleaned up the living room enough for living. He added a bit of magic to the
carport, adding extra strength to the canvas to protect his vehicle. He’d
murmured the words and checked to ensure the spell had gone correctly. Sure
enough, it had, and he grinned.

At least one thing had gone his way.

He headed back into the house, and his stomach grumbled. He should eat, but
there wasn’t anything in the fridge. Hell, the fridge hadn’t even been
turned on. He needed to make a run to the store, but also should set up the
Internet, too.

He cleaned the dust from the living room, then set about getting the
kitchen in order. He removed the sheets around the house to reveal the
furniture and, as he worked, he swore he heard music.

A familiar song. Sweet, too.

He paused, and his thoughts turned to a song he remembered from his
childhood. A girl he’d known had sung the song, but probably never where she
thought anyone could hear her.

He chuckled to himself. He hadn’t thought about that girl or the song in
ages. What was her name? She’d been a sweet young woman, with flame-red hair
and fiery eyes. She rarely spoke, but she’d filled out quickly and wore
revealing clothes. She grabbed attention wherever she went, but no one
really got to know her.

He knew her name. He’d lusted after her the entire time they were in
school.

Lia.

About the Author

Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author
of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since
2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and
paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her
works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her
characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been
nominated at the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best Ménage, Best
BDSM and Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on
various e-tailer sites.

When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well
as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football
is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends of the
Keystone-LaGrange Public library.

Author Contact Links

Author on Facebook

Author on Twitter

Author on Instagram

Publisher on Facebook, Twitter & Instagram: @changelingpress

Pre-Order Today

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Tagged as Action & Adventure, Megan Slayer, Paranormal Women's Fiction, Taken by the Siren, URBAN FANTASY

by Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez | June 22, 2023 · 5:00 am

Death’s Despair Virtual Book Tour

Kassidy Simmons, Book 3

Urban Fantasy

Date Published: June 6, 2023

Publisher: Acorn Publishing

Born to a family of witches, Traci Leeds has always been connected to
magic. A direct descendant of the goddess of witchcraft, she was destined to
succeed her mother as leader of her coven. Her powers were dormant until
trauma resulting from being kidnapped activated her abilities. Dissatisfied
with their development Traci tapped into magic forbidden by those in her
line. Kassidy Simmons, the Death God, continues her quest to
return lost souls to their proper place in the afterlife. She and her
Reapers are charged with maintaining harmony between life and death, but a
recent decision to resurrect a soul has shifted that balance. A rising blood
moon and supernatural occurrences involving witchcraft send Kassidy on a
journey to the steps of the Underworld where she learns of the darkness
surrounding Traci’s decision to tap into forbidden magic..
With an ancient prophecy looming and nightmarish visions of the apocalypse
haunting her waking mind, Kassidy must rise up and withstand the fury of a
Titan to save all she holds dear.

EXCERPT

“Dude,” began the Suburbanite, “let’s get the fuck outta here. You know she’s gonna call the cops.”

Kassidy sensed a great deal of fear in him. Even without the benefit of her supernatural empathic abilities, that was clear. So, at least he was smart. Switchblade was different. There was fear there, but there was also, stupidity, determination, and . . . arousal. Not so much inspired by her, but by the violence. He wanted to be a badass. He got off on it. It was likely that this entire night was more about showing off in front of the Suburbanite than asserting himself against a woman alone in the park.

It was unfortunate that they chose this night.

More unfortunate that they chose her.

“Bro, shut the fuck up and let me handle this,” said Switchblade.

“You really should listen to your boyfriend,” said Kassidy.

“What? He’s not my boyfriend, bitch.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Right, that was insensitive. I meant to say partner. You should really listen to your partner. I’m old school. I just use girlfriend or boyfriend. I’m getting better though.”

“Bitch!”

“There’s that word again,” said Kassidy.

Switchblade lunged at Kassidy. In the corner of her eye, she saw the Suburbanite back away. She was growing impatient and felt a sense of urgency to get her true mission accomplished. Normally, she wouldn’t use her powers in front of mortals. Well, that wasn’t always true. She’d certainly had some fun at the expense of others in her teens when she was just a Reaper. Back then, she didn’t care if anyone said anything. She’d already been dubbed Krazy Kassie by her classmates, so in her mind, it didn’t hurt to fuck with them. She had power. True power. And the power she had back then paled in comparison to the power she had now. Using it against these two idiots wouldn’t bring as much joy as it had in her teens, but as was the case back then, she knew these two wouldn’t be telling anyone.

And if they did, who’d believe them.

As Switchblade came at her, Kassidy shimmered out of view, reappearing behind the Suburbanite. She grabbed a handful of his hair with her left hand and grabbed at his throat with her right. When the bewildered Switchblade spun, trying to figure out what had happened, she willed her right hand to transform into an onyx sickle, the tool of a Reaper. As she touched the tip into Suburbanite’s neck, she felt, more than sensed, his fear. His heartbeat was a jackhammer competing with the sound of the wind sweeping through the park.

“What the fuck are you, lady?” asked Switchblade, his eyes wide.

“I’m the one politely asking you both, one last time, to get the fuck out of here before I get really pissed,” replied Kassidy.

Kassidy closed her eyes, knowing that her next bit of magic would likely close the deal. In the Reaper ranks, when a psychopomp—a being that ushered souls to the afterlife—used their power, their eyes would shine silver. Kassidy’s had been silver for decades when she powered up. A couple of times in life, they’d shown black, the mark of the Wraith. Similar to Reapers, Wraiths had been created to be the secret police of Azra-El, the former Primus or Angel of Death, right hand to the original Death God, and Kassidy’s father, Thanatos. After Kassidy dispatched Azra-El she became the new Death God, in the absence of her father. Now, when she powered up, her eyes shown a metallic, unearthly blue, the mark of a god.

That’s what Switchblade saw when Kassidy opened her eyes.

“Run!” she screamed.

And he did.

About the Author

Dennis K. Crosby is the award-winning author of the Amazon bestselling
urban fantasies, Death’s Legacy and Death’s Debt. With a degree
in criminal justice, he spent six years working as a private investigator.
His love of learning about people led him to pursue a master’s degree
in forensic psychology. A staunch advocate of mental health reform, he has
worked in social service for over a decade, promoting social justice and
efforts to combat homelessness.Dennis completed an MFA program at National
University, and since the release of his first novel, he has served as a
speaker at the Southern California Writers’ Conference and as a
panelist at Comic-Con and the Fox Cities Book Festival. He’s been a
guest on a number of podcasts and has published seven short stories in
various anthologies. Death’s Despair is book three in the Kassidy
Simmons series. A self-proclaimed geek, the bourbon-loving Chicago Cubs fan
and deep-dish pizza connoisseur lives and writes in San Diego, CA.

Contact Links

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by Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez | June 13, 2023 · 5:00 am

Giant’s Garden Teaser Tuesday

(Celtic Magic, Book 4)

Action Adventure, Dark Fantasy, Paranormal Women’s Fiction, Romance,
Suspense, Urban Fantasy

Date Published: June 16, 2023

A grant to do doctorate work in a bleak corner of Northern Ireland is Penny
Gallagher’s last chance to find her wings and break free of her
oppressive industrialist boyfriend.

When she finds her time there has been engineered for her boyfriend’s
profit, it takes a voiceless giant of a man to help her discover her own
magic.

Excerpt

Penny

The Giant’s Causeway

Sean Feeney took another long drag from his pocket flask. Heavy gold chains
around his wrist grated against the flask’s metal rim. Penny Gallagher
watched him sway unsteadily in his skinny designer jeans and black Converse
high tops.

He reached out and draped his bony arm around her shoulders. She
couldn’t tell whether it was to keep himself from falling over or an
awkward maneuver meant to be making a pass at her.

She hoped it was the latter. First off, they were standing at the top of a
cliff. Not just any cliff, but a bare, windswept cliff tumbled with black
hexagonal stone columns jutting out into the North Channel of the Irish Sea
between the north coast of Ireland and the west coast of Scotland. If Sean
dropped onto those lichen-pocked rocks it would mean a fatal mess involving
a lot of paperwork and long, dim conversations with uniformed authorities.
And if I fell… no, she told herself firmly, we’re not going
down that line of thinking right now.

Secondly, she hadn’t gotten laid since James Carbill threw her over
six months ago for some new interior designer he had fallen for. And to tell
the truth, she had not been laid decently for months before that.
James’s steel-blue eyes had started wandering elsewhere long before
that ugly day when he’d told her that she needed to move out of the
Beacon Hill apartment he had been keeping her in, and that both of her
positions — as his personal assistant, and as his sexual partner and dinner
party arm candy — were terminated effective immediately.

James had softened the blow a bit by pulling some strings to secure this
grant so she could finish her doctorate degree in psychology from
Boston’s Fauntel University, and that’s how she wound up
standing on top of a windy cliff, watching Sean’s long, shaggy blond
hair blow into his eyes, which were fixed vacantly on the horizon.

She reached up to her shoulder and twined the fingers of her right hand
with Sean’s, hoping to lower the odds that they’d both go off
the cliff. The smell of salt spray on stone mingled with alcohol fumes. She
reached for his flask with her left.

“Give me a hit of that,” she said, raising her voice over the
wind. “You can’t have all the fun yourself.”

He handed her the flask absent-mindedly, its cap dangling from a little
silver chain. She took a swig. Smoky, peaty whiskey seeped into her tongue
and the flesh of her throat, straight into her bloodstream. She would swear
it never even hit her stomach.

“All this,” Sean said, gesturing broadly with a wobbling sweep
of his arm. Penny braced her feet, but they did not topple over. “When
you write your… your… thing.”

“My thesis.”

“Your thee, your thing. On all this. You’ll make millions of
dollars. We’ll all make millions of dollars. Because everyone will
want it.”

Penny took another hit of the whiskey. It felt mellower this time, as if
she and the whiskey were getting acquainted. “No one ever made
millions of dollars on their psychology doctorate thesis,” she
said.

“Oh, but you will.” Sean turned around, his face close to hers,
and poked her hard in the chest with the point of his index finger.
“You will. I will. Everyone will. Because this,” he swept his
arm out again along the horizon, “this is the Giant’s Causeway.
You’ll write about why it makes people feel so good — you feel good,
right?”

Penny nodded skeptically. He didn’t wait for her response before
rambling on.

“Because it makes people feel so good that they will all want to live
here, and I’m selling my land to the American developer who will give
them all a place to live. And everyone else will too. Just as soon as you
are done.”

Penny smirked and shook her head. It’s true that her doctorate
proposal had talked about the intersection of landscape and psychology, and
the grant that James had helped her secure had sent her to this bleak,
forsaken, vertical drop-off to write about it. But in point of fact, she had
not yet started writing, and now that she was here, she could not for her
life figure out what to write about.

“Sean, you handsome devil,” she said. “It’s a pile
of rocks.” Basalt, she noted to herself, recalling one of the
guidebooks she’d read on the plane. Lava from a volcanic episode,
cooled slowly, formed hexagonal columns. Why do people find the myths more
interesting than the science?

About the Author

Siondalin O’Craig writes romance with the slow burn of a peat fire on
an autumn night deep in the woodland hills. Sip a glass of Irish whiskey,
turn the page, and let the magic overtake you. Siondalin lives in the
mountains of New England where she walks under the trees celebrating the
wheel of the year, grows a luscious garden full of magical herbs, and plays
a wicked Irish fiddle. Follow her on Facebook and email her at
siondalinocraig@gmail.com to sign up for her newsletter.

Publisher on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram: @changelingpress

Preorder Today

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Tagged as Action & Adventure, dark fantasy, Giant's Garden, Paranormal Women's Fiction, Romance, Siondalin O'Craig, Suspense, URBAN FANTASY