Author Archives: Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez

About Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez

My Niece and Nephew joke that I could open a used book store with all the books that I own. I love to read, that is my addiction. I can't go a week without going to a book store. I love crocheting. I love to write stories and poetry. I also love my family, even though they make me crazy at times. I am a huge Donald Duck Fan.

Code of Reanimation Blitz

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Spin-off of the Father of Contention series

 

Paranormal Thriller, Science Fiction, Horror

Date Published: 11-14-2023

 

 

Freedom is a state of mind.

Brigita Nowak has only ever wanted one thing—her freedom. Labelled
psychotic and committed to a mental institution at seventeen, she missed the
chance of a “normal” life. She never held a job, owned her own
place, or experienced love. Until now.

After awakening sprawled on the common room floor—the hospital in
ruins, the staff and patients missing—she realizes it’s her
chance to escape. Seeking sanctuary with her sister, she meets “the
boyfriend” Renner Scholz, a vile yet brilliant geneticist. He has
developed a bioweapon, the Code of Reanimation, destined to destroy the
world. Or so Brigita believes. She’s been seeing zombie hallucinations
as of late, a sure premonition of the highly contagious bioweapon getting
out of hand. Why the connection? Because the bioweapon reanimates dead
organisms into bloodthirsty killing machines.

Brigita has typically experienced death-based hallucinations, blamed on her
mental illness. She, however, always felt they were psychic premonitions.
Convinced that Renner intends to release the bioweapon at a public
fundraising event, she teams up with a handsome love interest to thwart the
catastrophe. But, as Brigita’s visions kick into hyperdrive and
timelines blur, she must determine which events are based on reality or
delusional constructs of her subconscious mind…

before it’s too late.

About the Author

Lanie Mores

Lanie Mores is the award-winning author of the science fiction and fantasy
book series, Father of Contention. She has an Honours Bachelor of Science
Degree, a Masters Degree in Clinical Psychology, and she is an active member
of the Canadian Authors Association. When she isn’t writing, you’ll find her
reading, binge-watching Netflix, baking, and slaughtering zombies and other
monsters on her Xbox. She lives in Ontario with her family and forever
barking fur babies, Batman and Petri.

 

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The Morbid Alphabet Book Blitz

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Children’s Book

Date Published: July 2022

 

 

The Morbid Alphabet Book combines a love of the macabre with learning the
alphabet. This fully illustrated book is the perfect educational tool for
children curious about the world around them. Each page features a different
letter paired with a morbid word and corresponding definition. Not only will
children learn their alphabet, but they will expand their vocabulary at the
same time!

From A to Z, The Morbid Alphabet Book is sure to educate and
entertain.

 

 

About the Author

Gabrielle Ferrara

Gabrielle Ferrara is an artist and entrepreneur who creates
Victorian-inspired art and jewelry with ethically sourced animal remains.
She has a master’s degree in Museum Studies and undergraduate degrees in
Anthropology and Art History. Gabrielle enjoys spending her free time with
family, venturing down the rabbit hole of obscurity, and talking about
dinosaurs.

 

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Darker Teaser

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Maw of Mayhem MC, Book 2

Paranormal, Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: March 15, 2024

So much for sanctuary. Kit Parson doesn’t feel any safer than she was
before she first stepped into the Maw of Mayhem, and things are going from
bad to worse. Something big is definitely going down in the paranormal
community… and inside Kit. Now that her inner beast has awoken, all
it wants is out. The only thing Kit wants is Grim, but he’s got issues
of his own.

Fingered for a crime he didn’t commit and injured by the
witch’s spell, his cat Darke has control of their form. He
doesn’t play well with others, and tensions with the crew are at an
all-time high.

With the witches’ elite assassins on their trail, can Darke and the
crew put aside their differences to keep Kit safe and get back to the MC?
And as the clock ticks toward the vote with Grim’s reputation in
shambles, will there be an MC to go back to?

Darker teaser

 

EXCERPT

Shades of the past tore through the consciousness Darke shared with his
man, threatening to swallow Grim whole. He fought against their poisoned
bite, but the witch’s spell had weakened the big cat’s
skin-brother and freed the memories from their fetters. They lashed at Grim
with inky black tentacles of torment. His agonized screams rose within the
crescendoing squall, raging through their split psyche. A growl welled in
Darke’s chest, ruff bristling at their assault.

Mine! — he snarled, lunging into the fray. Sharp claws and teeth rent
the shadowed memories of the bad time from his man, scattering them back
into the depths of their mind. Grim was his. Him. A self separate, yet one.
His skin-brother. Darke nuzzled him close, tongue rasping over Grim’s
flickering light.

heal

Kit… his man whimpered, curling into a ball. His light dimmed,
giving up control of their form to the big cat.

ours — Darke rumbled, shifting their body and sending Grim what
strength he could. Fur sprouted, limbs cracking and reforming. Two legs
became four, and a tawny gray mountain lion lay sprawled on the bed where
the others had lain his man to recover.

Within, his skin-brother’s light strengthened, its low glow holding
steady.

Darke ran a paw over his face, licking at his pad. He sneezed at the scent
of old blood, the room thick with the patina of its tang and the decaying
musk of the undead. A low growl rumbled in his chest, his pupils dilating to
take in the room’s blend of muted color.

Heavy furniture dominated the space, its angles stark amidst the gloom.
Tendrils of scent threaded through the room, age and linseed seeping from
the wood to twine with the rest of the civilized rot assaulting his nose. He
pushed off the bed, padding across the thick carpet. His shadow grayed the
fingers of scant moonlight streaming in from long, amber-tinted
windows.

Darke paused, his lip curling over his canines, disdainfully eyeing the
city spread out below him before turning his face to the bulbous moon.

Had Grim’s female changed and released her animal?

Clay’s cat had promised Darke a mate. Teased him with her scent,
captured within the weft of the afghan on Grim’s bed. The desperate
longing it evoked proved the connection. The tip of Darke’s tail
twitched. He’d trusted it would be so. Waited for so long. Too long.
Kit’s scent matched the afghan’s. That meant the beast within
her was his.

Darke chuffed his frustration. Sensing his mate without being able to claim
her was torture. He paced the breadth of the room, eyes narrowed at the
heavy oaken door leading out. Beyond it, faint voices pricked at his ears.
Part of his skin-brother’s pride was near. His crew. Darke growled at
the snippets of the MC’s inner cats’ near-unintelligible
murmuring punctuating the two-legged babble. That he could understand the
crew’s stupid yapping better than his own brethren’s yowls
irked.

A pang of loneliness shot through Darke’s chest. He missed Clay. When
his father’s inner lion had spoken, his deep rumble was clarion. The
lynxes out there? Yowls and hissing. Darke could pick out maybe one hard-won
word in six, and they couldn’t understand him at all. It had been the
same with his littermates, Grapple and Shiv, leaving Darke to rely on
instinct when forced to interact.

It got him into trouble. Lynxes were shady and the two-leggers lied. Said
things they didn’t mean, then hurt you. Clay had been different, but
he was dead while his murderer walked free.

Reaper.

Darke shivered, ears flicking back, remembering the bad time. The man who
called himself their uncle needed to die, and Grapple and Shiv with
him.

Darke’s temper spiked, his tail swishing. Keenly feeling the loss
locked within his mind again, in this stinking place of undead. His
skin-brother shared his sorrow at their father’s murder, but not
Darke’s isolation.

And now Grim had left him, too.

Darke shouldered through another door into a smaller room lined with tile.
It smelled faintly of excrement and strongly of fabricated pine, the water
in the bowl stale and chemical-laced. Darke shook droplets from his maw and
chuffed his distaste, returning to the window.

Soft footfalls approached from the beyond the oaken door.

Darke slunk into the deep shadow of an armoire as the heavy slab canted
open, then closed. Kit limped to the center of the room, favoring a leg. Her
arm was splinted, the opposite hand bandaged in gauze. A ruddy stain marred
its whiteness. She wrapped her damaged limbs around herself with a low sob,
the scent of fresh blood perfuming the air as she moved. Darke’s
nostrils flared at that thread of wrongness twining within the delicate
tendrils of citrus, cinnamon, and female musk.

His mate was presenting as wounded prey.

Darke bit back the growl building in his chest, fury pounding through his
temples. His claws extended and retracted from the carpet’s thick
pile. Healthy, she’d be a tempting prize for any predator.
Injured… He was going to kill —

No. Darke’s ears flattened against his skull. His man would think
before spilling blood.

But Grim thought too much.

Kit scanned the room, then dashed a hand across her face, stumbling to the
bed. Her feet froze at its foot, head snapping toward the bathroom, then
away. Another low sob eked from her throat, and Darke’s ruff stood on
end. He would destroy them. Destroy them all. Starting with those who had
failed to protect —

Hey! Boy Vengeance! You really just gonna let her think her think
he’s gone?

Darke jumped, fur bristling at the syrupy censure. He backed deeper into
the shadows, eyes wide and pulse pounding.

Aww. Here puss, puss, puss… I don’t bite

His lip curled over a canine, and a female’s mocking laughter flitted
through his mind as clearly as the gravelly chuckle of Clay’s beast
had. Darke’s heart leaped, his ears pricking forward, saliva pooling
in his maw.

He could understand her.

The beast inside Kit, his promised mate — when she spoke, her words were
clear, and she wanted to play.

 

About the Author

AK Nevermore enjoys operating heavy machinery, freebases coffee, and gives
up sarcasm for Lent every year. A Jane-of-all-trades, she’s a
certified chef, restores antiques, and dabbles in beekeeping when
she’s not reading voraciously or running down the dream in her beat-up
camo Chucks. Unable to ignore the voices in her head, and unwilling to
become medicated, she writes Science Fiction and Fantasy full time. AK pays
the bills writing a copious amount of copy, along with a column on SFF. She
belongs to the Authors Guild, is an RWA chapter board member, volunteers for
far too many committees, teaches creative writing, and on the rare occasion,
sleeps.

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

 

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Oaky With a Hint of Murder Blitz

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 Eastover Treasures, Book 2

Cozy Mystery

Date to be Published: 12 Mar 2024

Publisher: Blue Dragon Publishing, LLC

 

Aury and Scott travel to the Finger Lakes in New York’s wine country
to get to the bottom of the mysterious happenings at the Songscape Winery.
Disturbed furniture and curious noises are one thing, but when a customer
winds up dead, it’s time to dig into the details and see what
ferments.

Is there any truth to the Native American legends that cluster near Seneca
Lake? Is the warrior’s disapproval of wineries growing legs?

Aury will need to pour over the clues to unearth the mystery before the
winery’s reputation is crushed. With the annual wine festival just
around the corner, Aury harvests more than she bargained for when the killer
tries to bottle her up for good.

About the Author

Dawn Brotherton

Dawn Brotherton is an award-winning author of nineteen books and featured
speaker at writing and publishing seminars. When it comes to exceptional
writing, she draws on her experience as a colonel retired from the US Air
Force as well as a softball coach and Girl Scout leader. Her variety of
interests has led to a range of genres including mystery, romance, young
adult fantasy, middle grade sports, picture book, and nonfiction. When she
isn’t using her words, Dawn is in her craft room in Williamsburg, VA,
quilting, painting, or taking online classes. Her affection for travel and
all-things-crafty keeps her imagination in high gear for the next Eastover
Treasure Mystery.

 

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Fallen Anthology Teaser Tuesday

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Fantasy Anthology

Date Published: March 30, 2024

 

FALLEN ANTHOLOGY

 

Fall from grace…

In a twist of fate, these angels have done the unforgivable and have been
kicked out. Some are left to roam freely while they plot their revenge. Some
are immediately given a new job as a form of punishment. Some are even
innocent and try to prove it themselves. But can any of them find their new
purpose in the end?

Featuring stories by Michael Paige, Matthew Fryer, Bruno Lombardi, Barend
Nieuwstraten III, Kelly Barker, A.E. Lowan, C.L. Hart, and J.E.
Feldman.

 

Of Outer Gods and Fallen Angels by C.L. Hart

 

Story Genre

Lovecraftian Fantasy, Judeo-Christian Mythology,

 

Tropes

Friendship, Lost Love, Reincarnation

 

Gerry Clifford appears to be simply a small, frail older man who has fallen
victim to early-onset dementia.

Yadira Root appears to be an impossibly ancient woman who volunteers her
time at the care center where people like Gerry live out their final
days.

A conversation between the pair reveals unexpected truths about both of
them.

Excerpt

For eons, I have been looking for a way to right the wrongs committed at
the time of my birth. I have once again encountered Malak, son of Lucifer;
he with his heart burst open like a snowdrop’s pouting petals.
However, to my dismay, Malak, the world-builder and shadow-weaver, has
forgotten who he was. He is bound to a broken, dying body, although at
night, his soul roams free.

In our first meeting at the care center where he now resides, I approached
Malak cautiously, unsure of how he would respond to my presence. Bewildered
disorientation had replaced the once alert, inquisitive look in his eyes.
Like a spark struggling to ignite, I noted a faint glimmer of recognition,
but it was obscured by the murk of confusion overtaking his decaying
memory.

“Malak,” I said softly as I took his hands in mine. “It’s
your old friend Yadira. Do you remember who you once were? World-builder,
shadow weaver, beloved son of Lucifer.”

It was evident from his expression that his mind was seeking an elusive
memory. A longing for understanding replaced his puzzlement.

“Who… who am I?” he mumbled, his voice feeble and uncertain.
“I feel like fragments of a shattered mirror, lost in a labyrinth of
forgotten dreams.”

A pang of sympathy pierced my heart. Seeing this brilliant being trapped in
a decaying vessel, his bright, inquisitive soul longing for release, was
tragic. I took his trembling hand in mine, hoping my touch would serve as an
anchor, reconnecting him to his forgotten self.

“Malak, you were once a weaver of worlds, a creator of infinite
possibilities,” I explained. “Your mind held the secrets of the
cosmos, and your hands shaped realms beyond imagination.”

Despite the fragility of his body, a spark of ancient power flickered
within him as he struggled to break free from the fog of
forgetfulness.

“I remember whispers of worlds born from the rhythm of my
thoughts,” he murmured. “Visions of beauty and darkness once
flowed through me like a river of eternal creation.”

I continued to paint a picture of his former existence, hoping to unleash
the dormant power lying buried deep within.

“Malak, reclaim your identity,” I urged. “I will help you
mend the fractures in your soul, reuniting the shattered fragments, and
restoring the balance disrupted long ago. The broken body that confines you
is insignificant compared to the boundless potential within. The key to
redemption and rectification lies in you. Please assist me in redressing the
wrongs of the past. With you healed and my parents reunited, we will forge a
future where your power, reclaimed and revitalized, can help restore balance
to the cosmos.”

 

 

About the Author

C. L. Hart logo

C. L. Hart, the owner and sole employee of Naughty Netherworld Press, is
spoken of in hushed tones. She is described as The Mad Scribe of the
Northeastern Colorado Plains, The Terrible Old Woman, and The Author That
Should Not Be.

When not penning sanity-destroying works of dystopian fiction, Lovecraftian
fantasy, or old-school horror with the occasional sweet romance thrown in to
upset the cosmic apple cart, Ms. Hart enjoys creating baked goods she hopes
will be considered palatable.

Ms. Hart shares a home in a remote rural town of 134 souls with her adult
son and three cats. Her sense of fashion is best described as Early
Twenty-First Century Unmade Bed. This disabled former nurse can usually be
found arguing with herself about subplots or rehabilitating eldritch
horrors.

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