Tag Archives: Blog Tours

Welcome to Part 2 of “THE MEREST LOSS” Blog Tour! @StevenNeil12 @4WillsPub #RRBC

Q & A THREE

Getting to know Steven Neil, the author of THE MEREST LOSS.

A story of love and political intrigue, set against the backdrop of the English hunting shires and the streets of Victorian London and post-revolutionary Paris.

 

The Learning Process

 

  1. The ability to write is a gift. True or false?

It is a gift that most of us have, to a greater or lesser extent. What is missing is usually application. Having said that, not all writers are created equal and some people do seem to have the ability to write effortlessly. Lucky them.

  1. Some people think that writing cannot be taught. What do you think?

Clearly no one can teach you to be a great writer. You have to have some feeling for language and a story to tell. However, I think the craft of writing, the technical ability to write grammatically, to be able to describe character and to be competent in building the arc of a story, can be taught. It is no certainty, however, that the skills will be learnt.

  1. How did you learn to be a writer?

I studied English Literature and Creative Writing at the Open University. It took me five years to complete my degree. I enjoyed it so much I carried on and took a one year Masters in Creative Writing at Oxford Brookes. I also read almost a lifetime of books!

  1. What experiences have been most useful to you in honing you skills?

My formal education and my reading helped me, but I have probably learned most from getting feedback from other authors on my drafts.

  1. Have you read any helpful texts on writing?

Stephen King: On Writing

  1. Which authors do you regard highly for their technical excellence?

Amongst nineteenth century writers I think Anthony Trollope is the master craftsman. Amongst modern writers Kazuo Ishiguro, Hilary Mantel and William Boyd are technically excellent but they are also great storytellers.

  1. Would you recommend creative writing courses?

I would absolutely recommend courses, but I do understand that my courses were taken at a time when tuition fees were much lower than they are now and it is hard to justify the cost of a degree course.

  1. What is the best piece of advice you have been given?

Stick to your guns. Whilst all the advice I have been given along the way has been helpful, one particular development editor thought I should rewrite The Merest Loss from a different point of view. I’m glad I took the conscious decision not to change it.

  1. What do you wish you had known before you started writing?

I have mixed feelings about this. I am proud of my novel The Merest Loss and pleased with the critical feedback. However, if I had understood the true economics of publishing, where even a successful novel brings meagre financial rewards for an author, I might have done something else with the time I invested. Who knows?

  1. What would you recommend to someone setting out as a writer?

Read a lot. Write a lot.

 © Steven Neil

THE MEREST LOSS is available in paperback and eBook in the UK, US, France, Canada and Australia.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Merest-Loss-Steven-Neil-ebook/dp/B077D9SHB5

https://www.amazon.com/Merest-Loss-Steven-Neil-ebook/dp/B077D9SHB5

https://www.amazon.fr/Merest-Loss-English-Steven-Neil-ebook/dp/B077D9SHB5

https://www.amazon.ca/Merest-Loss-Steven-Neil-ebook/dp/B077D9SHB5

https://www.amazon.com.au/Merest-Loss-Steven-Neil-ebook/dp/B077D9SHB5

Follow Steven Neil on https://twitter.com/stevenneil12 for information on how to purchase the paperback through an independent bookseller in the UK.

4Wills Blog Tour

 Book

The Merest Loss by Steven Neil  ISBN: 1788039718

Blurb

‘A story of love and political intrigue, set against the backdrop of the English hunting shires and the streets of Victorian London and post-revolutionary Paris.

When Harriet Howard becomes Louis Napoleon’s mistress and financial backer and appears at his side in Paris in 1848, it is as if she has emerged from nowhere. How did the English daughter of a Norfolk boot-maker meet the future Emperor? Who is the mysterious Nicholas Sly and what is his hold over Harriet?
Can Harriet meet her obligations and return to her former life and the man she left behind? What is her involvement with British Government secret services? Can Harriet’s friend, jockey Tom Olliver, help her son Martin solve his own mystery: the identity of his father?’

Genres

Historical Fiction and Victorian Historical Romance

Bio

Steven has a BSc in Economics from the London School of Economics, a BA in English Literature and Creative Writing from the Open University and an MA in Creative Writing from Oxford Brookes University. He has been a bookmaker’s clerk, bloodstock agent, racehorse breeder and management consultant amongst other professions in his varied career. He is married and lives in rural Northamptonshire, England. The Merest Loss is his debut novel.

Twitter

@stevenneil12

IAN author page

https://www.independentauthornetwork.com/steven-neil.html

Email

stevenneil1@aol.com

To follow along with the rest of the tour, please visit the author’s tour page on the 4WillsPublishing site.  If you’d like to book your own blog tour and have your book promoted in similar grand fashion, please click HERE.  
 
Thanks for supporting this author and his work!

 

 

 

Spotlighting #RRBC and #RWISA Author @JohnJFioravanti

Greetings! Today, I am hosting RRBC Spotlight Author John Fioravanti! 

Take it away, John. . .

The REFLECTIONS Blog Tour

I’m grateful to my host of this seventh post of the REFLECTIONS TOUR, and to Nonnie Jules and the #RRBC Team who arranged it all!

 

 

Reflection 46 • What Winners Have that Losers Don’t

 

” Winners view ticking clocks as precious time, and work fervently to accomplish much before the sun goes down.

 

Losers view ticking clocks as the means to get them closer to the end of their 8-hour work day.”

 

~ Nonnie Jules

 

Nonnie Jules, founder and President of Rave Reviews Book Club, inspires those around her to be the very best they can be, both in their personal life and their professional life. She is an excellent writer in her own right, as well as a loving mother and wife. She dedicates enormous hours, in any given day, to promote the well-being of others.

 

The central idea behind this quote is the most significant ingredient in any formula for success, and that is a person’s work ethic. We all know people who work hard at whatever they do and those who seem to be allergic to honest work. I have known families where not all the children grow up with strong work ethics, despite the fact that they had a good example from their parents. I have often wondered why one child in a family is incredibly lazy, while another works very hard at everything. There is so much not understood about human development, but I suspect that a good work ethic is the result of both heredity and environment. A predisposition to exert yourself could be an influential factor.

 

Having said that, I do believe that responsibility is learned. Parents must teach their children about priorities and then model those lessons. Not only must we teach the important priorities, but also that priority activities are completed first. One other aspect to this teaching is the importance of giving our work our best effort every time. We need to instil work principles: a job isn’t done until it is done well; it’s important to strive to improve our performance each and every day.

 

When a child grows to maturity having mastered and internalized these lessons, how can they not be the winners Nonnie Jules references? My parents modelled hard work and taught their children the lessons outlined above. Yet, I recall that it took a long time for me to develop my work ethic. I could have earned much higher grades in high school and university if I hadn’t been so lazy then. I did only what had to be done and that was all. I wasn’t prepared to expend any extra effort. Perhaps it was immaturity. I do understand laziness to a degree – it’s easy. Unfortunately, it is a one-way ticket to Loserville.

 

I turned the proverbial corner and began to develop my work ethic after my first year of teaching. My attitude changed because my work became very important to me. I chose to become the best teacher I could be, and spent the next thirty-four years working each day to be a better educator than I was the day before. It was, and is, a mindset.

 

This quote describes how winners view the passing hours on a clock. I immediately identified with Jules’ words. That’s how I feel, I thought. But for me, the concept of the sun going down is more figurative than literal. As a young man beginning my career in education, my whole life stretched out before me. Now, most of my life is behind me. There is an urgency within me spawning my second wind. I have unrealized dreams and I don’t have decades more to achieve them. The hours of each day are precious… not to be wasted… but filled with the best efforts I have to give. I begrudge the hours of sleep my body needs each day.

 

Am I a winner? I know that I may never achieve my dreams – either because my days ran out or skill was lacking. But as long as I stay in the race and put my heart and soul into my work, then yes, I’ll die a winner. My dad taught me as a teenager that the perfect man is one who never quits in the face of failure. I have tried my best to live that way, and I’m grateful to mentors like Nonnie Jules for the wisdom and inspiration to fight the good fight and run the race.

Author Bio:

 

John Fioravanti is a retired secondary school educator who completed his thirty-five year career in the classroom in June, 2008.

 

Throughout his career, John focused on developing research, analysis, and essay writing skills in his History classroom. This led to the publication of his first non-fiction work for student use, Getting It Right in History Class. A Personal Journey to the Heart of Teaching is his second non-fiction work; it attempts to crystallize the struggles, accomplishments, and setbacks experienced in more than three decades of effort to achieve excellence in his chosen field.

 

John’s first work of fiction is Passion & Struggle, Book One of The Genesis Saga, and is set within Kenneth Tam’s Equations universe (Iceberg Publishing). He claims that, after two non-fiction books, he’s having the time of his life bringing new stories and characters to life! Book Two is Treachery & Triumph.

 

At present, John lives in Waterloo, Ontario with Anne, his bride of forty-six years. They have three children and three grandchildren. In December of 2013, John and Anne founded Fiora Books for the express purpose of publishing John’s books.

 

 

 

Welcome to the “PREY FOR THE DEAD” Blog Tour! @SusanneLeist @4WillsPub #RRBC

Greetings to all my readers! It is an honor and a pleasure to welcome author Susanne Leist to The Indie Spot today! Please make Susanne feel welcome by leaving a like and a comment below.

Take it away, Susanne. . .

PREY FOR THE DEAD Blog Tour

A masquerade party where a human vampire wears a vampire costume. Where is this? Oasis, Florida. Vampires and hybrids like to play. They own the night!

Enjoy an excerpt of PREY FOR THE DEAD where Todd and Gregg show their fangs in their quest for Linda. Shana is coupled with Sheriff Sam. The rest of the players have vampire blood running through them.

 

 

Todd stepped in front of Linda. Dressed in a black outfit with a long cape, she could tell it was him even though the matching mask concealed the top half of his face. Todd wears his arrogance well.

     He scowled at her.

     She tapped Gregg’s shoulder with her finger and nodded toward Todd. Gregg wrapped his arm around her waist and frowned at Todd.

     Todd leveled his dark stare at Gregg.

     Shana rushed to greet them. “Hi, Linda, Gregg.”

     After dragging her eyes from Todd’s, Linda smiled at Shana. “What a gorgeous costume. Are you Cinderella?”

     “Yes, I am.” Shana spun in her blue gown, her auburn hair in a sleek chignon, her green eyes peeking from behind a gold mask with blue feathers. “And Sam is Prince Charming.”

     Sam, wearing a white jacket, mask, and gloves, winked at her. Tassels hung from his gold epaulets; red pants completed his outfit. He favored Linda with a rakish grin.

     Linda felt Todd’s gaze on her. She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Kind sir, who are you this evening?”

     Todd moved closer and bowed. “Dracula, madam, at your service.” He spread his long, black cape and rewarded her with a fanged smile.

     “You might upset the vamps.” Linda held back a grin.

     “Vampires admire Dracula; he’s a legend.”

     “He wasn’t real. Was he?” Shana asked.

     “He was.” Todd smiled.

     Shana’s face fell.

     Sam took Shana’s hand and led her to the dance floor.

     Gregg cleared his throat before bowing. “Linda, can you honor me with a dance?”

     “Yes, thank you.” She stepped into Gregg’s arms.

     Todd stood alone, his countenance forlorn. He spun on his heel and walked across the dance floor.

     Gregg’s left hand curled around her waist while the fingers of his right hand twined with hers. A tingling sensation traveled along her arm. Feeling safe in Gregg’s arms, she relaxed and watched the guests. Kings danced with Queens; Peter Pan twirled with Tinkerbell—an impressive sight; a gathering of strangers and acquaintances alike, the masks disguising vamps from humans and even a friend from a foe.

     Across the room, Todd conversed with a blonde couple. The Duke and Duchess she’d met at Diane’s party. The two vampires Todd trusted most. Duke Alan Rutherford wore a moss green, brocade outfit with a gold crown, while his wife appeared regal in a burgundy gown with a white, stand-up collar at the back of her neck. From a distance, the dark color resembled wine or blood.

     “Are those the Duke and Duchess Rutherford with Todd?”

     Gregg’s gaze followed hers. “Oh, yes. Todd’s favorite vampires, dressed as Henry VIII and his beheaded wife, Ann Boleyn. Perfect. The king had a lust for blood.”

     Dancers banged into them. Laughter and shouts rang loud. The guests became a blur of color for her, their outfits racier, more skin and pointy teeth came to the surface. Real or fake blood dripped from a few masked faces.

     Gregg’s mouth nudged her ear. “Care to stroll in the moonlight?”

     Todd watched as Gregg led Linda to the pool deck, his arm around her shoulder, his head bent to hers.

SUSANNE LEIST BIO

I have always loved to read. Agatha Christie, Alistair Maclean, Robert Ludlum, and many other authors filled my young imagination with intrigue and mystery. When I wasn’t reading late into the night, the TV shows—Murder She Wrote and Columbo—entertained me with tales of murder and suspense.

 

Over the years, my taste in TV expanded to include such shows as Supernatural and The Originals. I searched for paranormal, murder mysteries but found few at the library or bookstore. So, I wrote one.

 

A career in writing has been a big leap for me. Accustomed to the number-crunching field of budgeting and the hectic commodity markets, I left my first career and M.B.A. in Finance behind to pursue my dream. I do not regret my foray into literature for one moment. Fellow authors helped me make my way through the competitive field. I write every day and even tried my hand at poetry. If someone tells you it’s too late in life to try something different, they are wrong. It is never too late to follow your heart.

 

The Dead Game is the first book in The Dead Game series. It brings fantasy and the surreal to the classic murder mystery with dead bodies, suspects, and clues. It offers vampires, vampire derivatives, and a touch of romance to give spice to the mix. Once you read The Dead Game, you will never look at a dead body the same way.

 

In Book Two, Prey for The Dead, the suspense continues as The Dead use an exclusive club in Disney World and infiltrate the rich and famous. The Dead grow in power, and not even the sun or the swamps of Florida can weaken them. Linda–my main character–and her friends join with the human vampires or hybrids to defeat the evil forces threatening to control their town.

 

I hope you enjoy my books. The third book of The Dead Game Series is waiting for me to write.

 

SUSANNE LEIST’S SOCIAL MEDIA & BOOK LINKS

 

Book trailer:  https://youtu.be/pILNxaD5XlI

PURCHASE LINKS:

Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07PB9KG4P

Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1130732773?ean=2940161260111

SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS:

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/SusanneLeist

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/susanne.leist.98

Instagram:  https://www.instagram.com/susanne.leist/

BookBub:  https://www.bookbub.com/authors/susanne-leist

 

To follow along with the rest of the tour, please visit the author’s tour page on the 4WillsPublishing site.  If you’d like to book your own blog tour and have your book promoted in similar grand fashion, please click HERE.  
Lastly, Susanne is a member of the best book club ever – RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB {#RRBC}! If you’re looking for amazing support as an author, or if you simply love books, JOIN US! We’d love to have you!
Thanks for supporting this author and her work!

“TREAT” Reads Blog Hop! Day 13

“Greetings!  Welcome to the 2nd RRBC “TREAT” Reads Blog Hop!  These members of RRBC have penned and published some really great reads and we’d like to honor and showcase their talent.  Oddly, all of the listed Winners are RWISA members!  Way to go RWISA!

We ask that you pick up a copy of the title listed, and after reading it, leave a review.  There will be other books on tour for the next few days, so please visit the “HOP’S” main page to follow along.

Also, for every comment that you leave along this tour, including on the “HOP’S” main page, your name will be entered into a drawing for a gift card to be awarded at the end of the tour!”

Author, Victoria Saccenti

 

 

Book: DESTINY’S PLAN 

 

 

Book Blurb: One empty bus seat. Two aching hearts. A future written by Fate…When Raquelita Muro’s overbearing mother rips her and her little sister away from their beloved Papa, one tiny, rebellious corner of Raquelita’s heart is grateful that the bus is crowded, and the only seat left is out of Mama’s sight. Next to a handsome young man.

 

Matthew Buchanan’s beautiful traveling companion is more than something pretty to look at before he ships out for Viet Nam. Deep in her sad, whisky-colored eyes he glimpses a new dream to replace the ones he’s leaving behind. It breaks his heart to leave Raquelita in her tyrannical mother’s hands, but she gifts him with a token of love and a tender promise to exchange letters in secret.

 

But their first, shy “hello” has reached the ears of Fate. Fate is in the mood to see how far it can push two lonely hearts—to the brink of temptation, desperation, and despair—before they break. Perhaps beyond any hope of healing…

 

 

Twitter: @VictoriaSAuthor

“TREAT” Reads Blog Hop! Day 4

“Greetings!  Welcome to the 2nd RRBC “TREAT” Reads Blog Hop!  These members of RRBC have penned and published some really great reads and we’d like to honor and showcase their talent.  Oddly, all of the listed Winners are RWISA members!  Way to go RWISA!

We ask that you pick up a copy of the title listed, and after reading it, leave a review.  There will be other books on tour for the next few days, so please visit the “HOP’S” main page to follow along.

Also, for every comment that you leave along this tour, including on the “HOP’S” main page, your name will be entered into a drawing for a gift card to be awarded at the end of the tour!”

Author, Peggy Hattendorf

 

 

Book: SON OF MY FATHER 

 

 

Book Blurb: It was always “Father” never “Dad.” The love and respect was manifest so was the distance – the distance not as evident. Christiana Lynn Barrington’s life was a carefully constructed world built, presented and controlled by her billionaire father, Jonathan Robert Barrington. She never knew anything else.

 

Frequently, she wondered if her father had wished to have had a son instead of a daughter but never posed the question. Maybe she was afraid of the answer.

 

As the only child of Jonathan and Elizabeth Matthews Barrington, she was the heir apparent to the behemoth Barrington Holdings International. But a threat to her hard-earned succession waits in the shadows ready to take everything she’s worked for away from her.

 

 

Twitter: @PeggyHattendorf

Introducing Vashti Quiroz-Vega: #RRBC Spotlight Author

We’re getting 2018 started on an exciting note. Today, I have the privilege of sharing my blog with a highly-touted up-and-coming indie author. Introducing Vashti Quiroz-Vega. . .

VASHTI

Fall From Desire

By Vashti Quiroz-Vega

 

For my transgressions, I was cast out of Heaven and exiled to planet Earth.

My fall was brutal as my six large white wings caught fire entering the Earth’s atmosphere. I cringed and screamed as the flames consumed feathers and flesh. I looped and spiraled in the air, all the while stirring and reaching toward the flames, but there was no relief from the oppressive pain or the stench of roasted flesh. The fire was quenched when only the burnt bones of my wings remained. I wailed writhing in the air as the blackened bony frames were yanked from my skeleton by a powerful force. This is what the male angels I led astray with my insatiable carnal appetite experienced as they fell from grace. I deserve worse for corrupting so many.

I splashed into a swamp.

The only light source was the brilliance of a full moon.

The swamp was dominated by woody plants and teeming with animal life. The water pushed down on me from all sides. I floundered and flailed my arms and legs, which made me sink faster. I sank further and further into the swamp and away from the light of the moon. Soon, I was shrouded in darkness. My lungs burned for air. In horror, I screamed and warm, murky water filled my lungs. I shook and convulsed as alligators, snakes and all manner of swamp creatures witnessed the water take me away.

I opened my eyes. I was floating over the water. I survived? I was not sure how long I was unconscious, only that it was a different night—for the moon was no longer full. I trembled in fear and remained still, allowing the current to carry me wherever it may. As I came near the bank of the swamp, I took hold of a cypress’s knee, clambered to my feet and waded out of the water. I teetered and faltered, inexperienced in walking without wings. I am no longer an angel. The realization pierced my heart. What am I now? I broke the rules of celibacy in Heaven and tempted so many to do the same with my female ways. My lustful desires and sexual appetite were my ruin. Now I am alone, never to feel the pleasure of a caress.

 

My wide eyes flickered in every direction, trying to find a way out of the desolate and wild place. The potent, musky smell of decomposing vegetation and animal matter wafted into my nose, making me grimace with revulsion. There were no such smells in Heaven. Oh, how far I have gone from Heaven’s joyful fragrances!

I staggered in circles, my feet sinking into the spongy, wet ground. The humidity was so dense in this habitat that wetness covered everything. A film of moisture glazed my naked body. Water soaked my long, ginger hair and pulled my curls flat. I heard the hooting of an owl. I turned toward a nearby tree and there it was, lurking in the shadows. Its large glowing eyes stared at me. Snakes slithered around my feet. Alligators remained immersed as they peered at me with their strange eyes peeking over the surface of the water. Where am I? There are only wetlands as far as I can see. How am I to survive here? I was not sure I wanted to live––not here. My body trembled, and desperate tears meandered over my cheeks and mingled with the moisture on my face. No one can hear me cry. I walked for miles. There were many sunrises and many moonrises, yet I remained alone in a world of swamps.

Swarms of mosquitos tormented me with their stinging and their buzzing in my ears. I had to deter countless attacks from snakes and alligators. I was covered in welts, bumps, scratches, bites and bruises from such attacks. My body itched, ached and throbbed. I deserve no less for sating my erotic desires without a second thought for the countless archangels, seraphim and cherubim I debauched with my impious, enticing and lustful ways.

I continued to wander the soggy swampland and began to feel an unfamiliar burning sensation in my middle. My strength was depleting, and I dragged my feet and panted. Feeling faint, I collapsed. I lay on the water-saturated ground and looked up at the heavens. What is happening to me? What have I become? I lay frozen for hours, feeling so alone, waving off a plethora of insects trying to invade my body. I would rather draw my last breath than spend the rest of my days alone in this sodden nightmare.

 

“What are you?” A masculine voice asked.

I jolted upright in a seated position and stared at a magnificent creature. “I––I do not know what I am. I have only knowledge of what I used to be.”

“Very well, then what were you?” He squinted his eyes and his eyebrows came together as he stared.

“I was once called Rachiel––when I was an angel in Heaven.”

He looked at me sideways. “You do not look like an angel to me.”

“Have you ever seen an angel?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I have, and angels have wings.”

“I, too, had wings. Large white wings—six of them.” My voice quavered. “They were torn from me as I fell through the skies.”

He scrutinized me for a while with his piercing violet-blue eyes. “I believe you. I am not sure why, but I do. Perhaps something in your verdant eyes tells me you do not know how to lie.” His wide smile was stunning and dripping with a silent threat. “My name is Mendrion.” He was tall. His hair long, thick, the color of nightfall. Lengthy, heavy eyelashes framed his violet-blue eyes. His skin was like an ivory mist. He looked like divine pleasure. Enough, Rachiel! This is why you were cast out of Heaven! I shuddered and exited my own head.

I gawked at his muscular body while he stared at my face and came closer. He searched for some of my hair that was not soiled, grabbed some and sniffed. He proceeded to nuzzle his nose against my neck, my shoulder, the top of my breasts. I closed my eyes and shivered with both fear and pleasure. He breathed me in, taking in my essence. He looked up. I opened my eyes, and he stared into them. Then he walked around me, slowly, as he evaluated every inch of my bare body. He parted the long hair that fell down my back and saw the jagged stubs from where my wings used to stem. He passed his hands over them with a gentle touch, and then I felt him bring his face closer to smell the stumps. He came around to face me again.

“Are you in pain?” He did not look concerned but more curious.

“Since I have arrived on this planet, I have felt only pain, fear and sorrow.” I looked toward the ground.

“I can rid you of these malignancies.”

“How?”

“You need only say yes.”

I gazed at him. What am I to do? I am in much pain and I grow weaker with the passing of time. I shall not survive much longer without help. I bit my lip. I was unable to think with clarity.

“You do not trust me and I understand, for I have given you no reason to trust in me.” His voice was soothing.

“You are an elegant creature, but I do not know your mind.”

He grinned and lifted his muscular chest. He swaggered toward me and extended his arm. He passed his hand through my hair and caressed my face. Desire for him grew quickly inside me like a vine strangling all other emotions. Every fiber of my being was ignited. My chest heaved in rhythm with my shallow panting. It is happening again. I am overwhelmed with lustful desires.

“You, too, are beautiful to look upon,” he said. “But if you wish to rid yourself of pain and fear you must become what I am.”

“What are you?”

“I am vampire.”

I recoiled and gasped. In Heaven, I had heard stories of such creatures from the Observers––angels whose task was to observe the beings on Earth. Vampires are the spawn of Dracúl, the infamous son of Lilith and Satan. I flinched.

“You know of my kind?” He came closer.

“I do.” My lips quivered.

“You need not fear me. I mean you no harm. I only seek what you seek.”

“What do you think I desire?”

“Companionship.” He extended his hand. “Come with me and never be alone again.”

I stared at his welcoming hand for a while.

“I shall offer this only once.” His piercing eyes were fixed on me. I reached my trembling hand to meet his and he pulled me toward him.

He held me tightly and pressed his full moist lips against mine. After the kiss I became lightheaded. Through eyes half opened, I watched as he opened his mouth exposing large canine teeth growing into fangs. I gasped, but before I could move, he sank his fangs into the flesh at the base of my neck. A combination of his saliva and my blood streamed down my neck. I cocked my head back and moaned, my eyes rolling back in their sockets. Both pleasure and pain moved through me. My body tensed. My entire being was at peak response. As he drew my blood greedily, I felt my body meld into his. A delightful pressure began to build inside me. I gasped and groaned with pleasure. The pressure continued to build until I thought I would explode. My body went into spasms of incredible delight, and my mind was flooded with a variety of pleasurable sensations. Then I felt a wave of dizziness, my body slackened, and darkness began to close in on me.

Upon opening my eyes, I saw the world differently. The colors of cypress trees became more vivid, and plants were verdant jewels. I almost felt the fragrances of nature. The alligators’ bellows and the hissing of snakes became mellifluous. I lay on the ground, and Mendrion sat next to me. He smiled, and I returned his smile. He kissed me on the lips, neck, shoulders and breasts. His hands caressed my body, and his touch was heavenly. As a vampire, my body was made for pleasure. I sensed so much more and every nerve ending in my body was excited. Every touch sent waves of pleasure throughout my body. I need not food, nor water—I may well live on his touch alone. I was in ecstasy, but then he stopped. He got to his feet.

“No, do not stop. I implore you.” I gazed into his eyes feeling affection for him and wholly devoted. “I love your hands and lips on my body.”

He extended his hand like he had done before. “Take my hand, Rachiel.” I beamed when he mentioned my name. “I shall allow you to keep your original name, for it pleases me. Now go and join the others.” I tilted my head and stared at him through narrowed eyes for his words filled me with confusion.

He pointed to the swamp.

I turned my face and gasped. My eyes opened wide with disbelief. There were other fallen angels like me in the swamp. They were all converted into vampires—no doubt in the same way as I was. There was not a happy face among them.

“Go on!” Mendrion pointed to the swamp. “Take your place among them. You are now a swamp vampire. You shall feed on the blood of alligators, snakes, beavers, frogs and other swamp creatures.”

“I shall not!” I stared at him with wide eyes and clenched my jaw while holding back tears. “You deceived me.”

“I told you only the truth. You no longer feel pain, am I right?” He waited for my response wearing a wry grin. “If you do not feed on the blood of these swamp creatures, you shall die a slow and agonizing death, and when you die the animals shall eat you.”

“I shall go away!” I turned my head this way and that, my eyes flickering in every direction.

“You have nowhere to go. You belong to me now and there is no escape, for your blood calls out to me and I shall find you wherever you go. Besides, you can no longer live without my touch.” He was right—losing his caressing is what I feared most. “Join the others now, or you shall never feel the gratification of my touch.”

Upon hearing his final words my face slackened. I shuffled through the bog and entered the dark, gloomy water. I stood amongst the others, merely another beauty in the murky swamp. The others glared at me––another to whom they must share him with. We were all doomed to the same punishment. Our bodies made for pleasure and overwhelmed with desire, condemned to long for ephemeral moments with our master.

AUTHOR BIO:

 

Vashti Quiroz-Vega is a writer of fantasy, horror, and suspense/thriller. When she isn’t creating extraordinary worlds or fleshing out powerful characters, she enjoys reading, traveling, kayaking, photography, and seeking adventures. She lives in Florida with her husband and fur baby, a Pomeranian named Scribbles (who’s also her writing buddy).

 

Twitter – @VashtiQV

Facebook – http://on.fb.me/1g0da7d

Website – http://vashtiqvega.wordpress.com

 

 

BOOK INFO:

 FALL

In The Fall of Lilith, Vashti Quiroz-Vega crafts an irresistible new take on heaven and hell that boldly lays bare the passionate, conflicted natures of God’s first creations: the resplendent celestial beings known as angels. 

 

If you think you know their story, think again.

 

Endowed with every gift of mind, body, and spirit, the angels reside in a paradise bounded by divine laws, chief of which are obedience to God, and celibacy. In all other things, the angels possess free will, that they may add in their own unique ways to God’s unfolding plan.

 

Lilith, most exquisite of angels, finds the rules arbitrary and stifling. She yearns to follow no plan but her own: a plan that leads to the throne now occupied by God himself. With clever words and forbidden caresses, Lilith sows discontent among the angels. Soon the virus of rebellion has spread to the greatest of them all: Lucifer.

 

Now, as angel is pitted against angel, old loyalties are betrayed and friendships broken. Lust, envy, pride, and ambition arise to shake the foundations of heaven . . . and beyond. For what begins as a war in paradise invades God’s newest creation, a planet known as Earth. It is there, in the garden called Eden, that Lilith, Lucifer, and the other rebel angels will seek a final desperate victory—or a venomous revenge.

 

“[A] compelling narrative that . . . strays far from traditional biblical text . . . A well-written, descriptive, and dark creation story.”—Kirkus Reviews

 

 

THE FALL OF LILITH