Tag Archives: dark fantasy

Marissa Unbound Teaser Tuesday

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Unbound, Book 5

Paranormal Romance, Suspense, Dark Fantasy

Release Date: January 20, 2023

Publisher: Changeling Press, LLC

 

When Marissa learns her abusive husband, Arfon Hanson, plans to murder her
so he can take another wife, Marissa flees. She hopes to find sanctuary at
the convent where she was educated, but fate intervenes when Steffan Gwinett
rescues her from the henchmen Arfon sent to bring her back.

Years ago, Marissa and Steffan had been in love, but her father broke off
their relationship, sending her away. Their chance meeting rekindles all
their old feelings for each other. After they make love, Steffan vows to
expose Arfon for a would-be murderer.

Marissa won’t let Steffan take on the dangerous job alone. She
disguises herself as a boy, and they begin an investigation of Arfon. They
get more than they bargained for when they discover her husband is the
leader of a demon-worshiping cult — and is making plans to offer a local
boy as a sacrifice. Can they rescue the victim and find a happy ever after
for themselves?

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EXCERPT

Copyright ©2023 Rebecca York

 

Steffan Gwinett rode past the darkened house and dismounted in the pasture
where Darias, his horse, could graze as he would. The moon was almost full,
and the sky danced with stars, the heavens giving him enough light to guide
his steps. He stood for a moment looking toward the spot where the bee boxes
had stood. He could see no sign of them now.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said to his steed, before turning
toward the cottage.

It was not an imposing dwelling. The main room had a packed dirt floor.
When he’d lived there, the only furnishings had been a large fireplace
for warmth and cooking and a table and chairs for sitting and eating. Up
above, on the opposite side from the fireplace, was a narrow loft where he
had slept. Beyond the main room lay another, barely large enough for a
mattress, where his parents had slept until his mother had died. Then it was
only Steffan and his grizzled old father — until his father, too, had
succumbed to years of hard labor.

Steffan’s father had been a farmer whose fortunes rose and fell with
the vagaries of the weather. When the crops were good they ate well, with
extra coin for buying necessities they could not make themselves. Sometimes
they could even afford a few luxuries, like sturdy fabric for his mother to
sew into clothing.

Steffan had known that hardscrabble life was not for him. He’d
dreamed of running off with the girl he loved, though that had only been a
foolish fancy.

After reality had crashed over him, he had gone off to join King
Norwen’s troops. That had not worked out either. Three years of
enforcing the king’s draconian edicts had been enough for him.
He’d declined his next enlistment and taken the coin he’d
managed to save during his time of service.

Now here he was, having another look at this land, wondering if he could
make it work for him in a way his father had never considered.

He was almost to the front door when he stopped short. Since childhood
he’d enjoyed a talent other people did not possess. He had no name for
it, yet somehow he always knew when he was not alone.

That sixth sense had saved his life more than once when he’d been a
member of the royal troops — like the time they’d been ordered to
clear a town of troublemakers. One of the ruffians had been waiting with a
heavy club at the intersection of two streets. Sensing him, Steffan had
stopped in his tracks and turned the tables on the would-be assailant.

That same ability slowed his steps now as he approached the cottage.
Stopping short of the entrance, he drew his knife and reached for the knob,
easing the door inward a few inches. At the same time, he stepped to the
side so that he would not be an immediate target. With the door cracked, he
stood in the cool night air — listening. He could hear nothing. The house
looked as though it was abandoned, yet his instincts told him that was not
true. Pushing the door open a bit farther, he peered into the darkness,
waiting for his eyes to adjust to the shadowy interior. When he could take
in details, he scanned the room. The table and chairs were gone, as was all
the cooking equipment near the fireplace.

He tipped his head up, directing his attention to the loft. Someone could
be up there in the shadows, waiting to leap down on anyone who entered. A
quick glance told him the access ladder was also missing. Unless an intruder
had pulled it up after himself, there was no way to reach the sleeping
platform.

Who would be in here? From the squalid looks of the interior, obviously not
someone who had made a home in this empty cottage. Perhaps it was a ruffian
using it as a temporary hideout.

With the main room cleared, his next target was the bedroom. Quietly he
crossed the packed dirt and listened at the ripped curtain that still hung
there.

Steffan detected nothing — until the curtain flew open and a dark figure
leaped out at him, the only thing clearly visible the glint of moonlight on
steel.

Only Steffan’s instincts and his hours in the practice yard saved him
from a serious knife wound. He twisted away from the assailant and thrust
out his foot, sending the knave sprawling and their blade skittering
away.

The man was hardly an experienced fighter, Steffan noted as he followed the
attacker down, trapping him against the packed earth floor.

The man? No, it must be a youth. In their frantic struggle he detected
little meat on the assailant’s arms, and little muscle mass. This boy
had no idea how to fight off a warrior — luckily for Steffan. “Stop
struggling before you get hurt,” he growled.

Probably realizing that further combat was dangerous, the assailant took
his advice — which gave Steffan time to evaluate the body that lay beneath
his. He had expected a shallow chest to go with the spindly arms. The
reality was quite different. Instead of a boy’s upper trunk, he felt
the swell of nicely rounded breasts. Confusion grabbed him as he stared down
into glaring green eyes. Familiar eyes — eyes that took him back to another
time and place.

He gasped, feeling as though he had taken a hard blow to the gut in a
jousting match. For heartbeats he was frozen in place — as was the girl who
glared up at him.

Finally he was able to choke out, “Marissa Dumfries.”

About the Author

New York Times and USA Today Best-Selling Author Rebecca York began her
career as a journalist writing articles for newspapers and magazines, but
after several years decided to try writing fiction. She’s a highly
successful author of over 50 romantic suspense and paranormal novels and is
the head of the Columbia Writers Workshop. Her many awards include two Rita
finalist books. She has two Career Achievement awards from Romantic Times:
for Series Romantic Suspense and for Series Romantic Mystery. Her Peregrine
Connection series won a Lifetime Achievement Award for Romantic Suspense
Series. She collects rocks, and enjoys cooking, walking, reading, gardening,
travel, and Mozart operas.

 

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Publisher’s Instagram/Facebook/Twitter: @changelingpress

 

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Broken Souls Blitz

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Seasons of the Cycle, Book One

Fantasy, Epic Fantasy, Dark Fantasy, Fantasy Romance

Release Date: September 22, 2022

Publisher: Prometheus LLC

 

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Bothvar Beorcolsson

Through fire and ice I will fight to find honor. Whether it be giants or
creatures of the night, I’ll fight. Pain is my comfort, and sorrow is
my companion. Death follows wherever I go. Even the sun hides from my
sight.

Bothvar they call me. My journey isn’t an easy one. It follows a long
and broken road full of the bones of those who I couldn’t save and
those who got in my way. My blades are soaked in the blood of my enemies,
but my heart is left in shattered pieces, broken by the costs of my actions.
All for what? Honor? Glory? I don’t know anymore.

Maybe I have gained honor, but all I have to show for it is pain, yet I
must carry on. I must earn my place among the halls of the gods so I can see
my loved ones again. That is why I carry on to fight again. And I will not
stop until I am reunited with them.

Whether it be giants or the gods themselves, I will always fight on.

Lura Syllana

I will do whatever it takes to save my family. Afterall, it is my fault
they were enslaved. If I had only listened to my father. If I heeded his
words and did what was right instead of what was easy they wouldn’t have had
to pay for my mistakes with their freedom. Now it is up to me to do whatever
it takes to find a way to free them.

Even if it means sacrificing myself and my own freedom. I don’t care
what happens to me. I’ll gladly pay any price to save them.

Of course, I said that, but I had no idea what was going to be asked of me.
What price I’d have to pay. I didn’t know what I’d have to
do to save them. Even so, I’d sacrifice everything to see them free.
Even my own freedom. Even my own soul. Which I will soon find out is the
very price I must pay.

Join Bothvar and Lura as they go through pain and sorrow and climb
mountains and cross seas, all to save and protect the ones they love. Follow
their journey as they discover true love, honor, and glory.

Broken Souls is a Dark Fantasy with a bit of romance. It’s inspired
by Viking culture, but it is no way an accurate portrayal of historical
Viking culture. It takes place within a fantasy world that’s heavily
influenced by ancient mythology and lore of many different cultures among
other things. That being said, this book contains some pretty graphic and
controversial topics such as slavery, sexual assault, death, war, violence,
blood, mental health, drug addiction, and many other controversial topics.
This novel includes The Bound Soul and The Damaged Soul which makes up the
first third of the book.

 

Broken Souls tablet, paperback, phone

 

About the Author

Troy Calkins was born in northern Michigan and was adopted at a young age.
He never knew his birth parents and seeks to find them. During college, he
developed a blood clotting disease and spend most of his time in and out of
the hospital. During his time in the hospital, his form of escape was
through fantasy. He spent most of his time reading and writing, building an
epic world that this book takes place in. After many surgeries and
procedures, he was able to return back to college and graduate to eventually
write this book.

 

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Sisterhood of Evil Blitz

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To Snare A Witch Book 2

Dark Fantasy, Gothic Horror

Date Published: 26th July 2022

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Terror as a reluctant sorceress discovers that once you enter the deadly
world of magic, there’s no turning back…

Elizabeth Fiennes thought her troubles solved with one desperate act of
enchantment, rescuing her wrongly accused husband Jack from the gallows. But
she soon learns that, in mystical 17th century England, magic is a cruel
mistress and for every spell cast there is a devastating price to be
paid.

Now both face a future of damnation, Elizabeth dragged deeper and deeper
into the mystical life of curses and invocation, while Jack is forced to
abandon every moral belief he once held sacred.

As dark act follows dark act their love and innocence is stretched to
snapping point, projecting them into the heart of a demonic conflict between
the coven who seek to harness Elizabeth’s extraordinary witchcraft
skills and the ruthless magistrate determined to destroy all her kind.

But who will live and who will die?

 

About the Author 

Jay Raven

Jay Raven is the author of Gothic chillers and historical horror reminding
readers that the past is a dangerous place to venture, full of monsters and
murderous men. He blames his fascination with vampires, witches and
werewolves on the old TV reruns of horror classics he watched as a teenager,
but living in a creepy old house on the edge of a 500-acre wood may have
something to do with it.

If you would like to be informed of new releases, enjoy bonus short stories
and exclusive behind the scenes material, simply join the Jay Raven VIP
Readers Club. It’s free and you can unsubscribe at any time.

For more details, visit: www.jayraven.com

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The Devil’s Necromancer Sale Blitz

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Paranormal Romance, Dark Fantasy, LGBTQ, Murder Mystery

Date Published: October 2021

 

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On Sale for $0.99 for a limited time

Lionel, a necromancer and consultant for the Brunswick Police Department,
wants nothing to do with immortals. Specifically, he wants nothing to do
with Lucifer, who shows up on his doorstep one day with a ridiculous
proposal. Lucifer, also known as the Devil, wants Lionel to be his pretend
boyfriend. Except the pretend part is something the Devil doesn’t
really seem to care for.

Lucifer has read enough romance novels to know that a good dose of forced
proximity might be just the thing to get the stubborn necromancer he desires
into his bed. The Devil’s plans are soon complicated when Lionel
proves more uncooperative and oblivious to love than Lucifer could ever
anticipate.

While the Devil wants to claim Lionel, all Lionel wants is to get away from
Lucifer. Meanwhile, magic users are being murdered in the city. Lionel
cannot escape the implications of those murders for long, and the case soon
takes a different turn. Will Lionel be able to escape the Devil’s
thrall, or will the necromancer fall for the immortal seducer?

 

Publisher’s Note: The Devil’s Necromancer contains scenes
involving dubious consent that some readers may find offensive.

 

EXCERPT

Copyright ©2021 Alexa Piper

 

It was past midnight, and the stars that looked like sprinkles of white
chocolate in the velvety dark night sky were overshadowed by the city lights
and the waxing moon. I lay on the embankment, North Bridge’s metal
frame rising just to my right and further hiding the chocolate sprinkle
stars. My feet were wet, but I didn’t mind, not the embankment or the
wet feet or the stars melting away in the light and the artificial
structures around me. The zombie was oozing all over me from its — his —
caved-in skull, and I did mind that. Zombie ooze was a bitch to get out of
clothes, even if I’d given up on wearing colors years ago. Black
simply was the safest bet for a necromancer.

Zombies reeked when they weren’t really fresh, and this one was ripe
— fish-market-in-the-summer-heat-three-days-after-closing ripe. I looked up
and considered my life choices, all of which had led me here.

“Do you need CPR?” someone said. It was a warm, manly voice,
and I was reasonably sure it could make chocolate melt, star-shaped or
otherwise.

I stuffed my self-pity away and turned my head to get a better look at the
speaker. He was as handsome as a devil, with skin that looked like marble in
the glow of the city at night. His hair shimmered liquid black, but it might
have been some shade of brown in proper lighting. It went well past his ears
and looked styled with care to get that messy, I just got up out of bed
after a night of hard fucking look.

“Why the fuck would I need CPR?” I asked. My voice didn’t
sound like I’d just considered crying a moment ago, and I was proud of
that.

The guy shrugged. “It’s hard to tell with humans. Your kind is
so accident prone, and you seem to be having trouble breathing. Or maybe you
hit your head? Do you remember how you got here?”

Did he fucking think I was suffering from amnesia or a head injury or
something? “I’m having trouble breathing because I have a
fucking dead zombie on my chest, asshat,” I said. In my considered
necromantic opinion, I was being perfectly polite, even though I
couldn’t be sure what kind of creature the guy was. I’d given
him a quick glance with my mage sight, and human he was not.

Jeez, I hated gods and otherworldly beings.

“All zombies are dead,” Mr. Sexy said. “It’s a
prerequisite. This one seems to have had its brainstem properly destroyed,
however.”

“Oh, smarty-pants, thanks a bunch for the lecture. The basics of
necromancy have ever escaped me, even after I raised my very first corpse
thirteen fucking years ago.” It had been a blackbird that had died
when he crashed into a window at my school. I had cradled the poor thing in
my hands as it breathed its last, had cried, and that had triggered my
necromancer power. Pretty boy did not need to know that. Every other person
I’d ever told had made fun of me for it.

“You could have suffered a head injury with amnesia. How am I
supposed to know what you know?” He walked toward me. His movements
were silent, cat-like, and more elegant than was right. Even despite the
zombie oozing out on me, my cock couldn’t quite ignore him. Seriously,
though, what was up with his fixation on first aid and amnesia?

He grabbed the zombie by the legs and pulled the dead-dead corpse off me.
“Oh. You caved in its skull with a rock,” he said when he saw
the murder weapon in question, the goo glistening on its stony surface.
Well, it wasn’t really a murder weapon, seeing as how the zombie had
been dead, but details. “How traditional.” He held out a hand to
me, and I took it and let him pull me back to my feet. “I’m
Lucy, by the way. Short for Lucifer, but I prefer Lucy. As in Lucy Westenra,
the woman who almost single-handedly turned Dracula into the first reverse
harem romance novel ever before she made the wise decision to claim
immortality instead. She was such an underrated character, and I really
don’t know why people don’t like her more.”

I dusted myself off. Didn’t help with the wet feet or the zombie
ooze, which I really only distributed, like soft butter on hot toast. The
shirt I was wearing was ruined. Good thing I had a dozen other plain black
shirts just like it back home. “Maybe because she fucking ate
children.”

He shrugged. “Well, everyone has a craving now and then. No one
judges women’s monthly chocolate cravings, and I don’t see how
that was so much worse.”

My brain caught up with the conversation. Lucifer? The Lucifer? The fucking
Morning Star, seducer of stuffy virgins and lover of apples? I looked at
him. Up at him. Asshole was tall and handsome, the kind of guy I could only
ever talk to with about three drinks in me. “You’re the Devil?
Satan? Beelzebub?”

“Lu-cy,” he said, slowing down as if he was reconsidering the
brain damage thing. Even his eyebrows were perfect, which I only noticed
because he pulled one of those up, something most people couldn’t do
in real life. He could. And he looked hot doing it. Hotter.

About the Author

Alexa Piper writes steamy romance that ranges from light to dark, from
straight to queer. She’s also a coffee addict. Alexa loves writing
stories that make her readers laugh and fall in love with the characters in
them. Connect with Alexa on Facebook or Instagram, follow her on Twitter or
TikTok, and subscribe to her newsletter!

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Witch Wolf Teaser Tuesday

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Paranormal Romance, Gay,  Dark Fantasy

Date Published: June 10, 2022

Publisher: Changeling Press

 

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Will is a witch wolf, a werewolf who can do magic, but his life so far has
been anything but magical. He was sold by his own pack and for four years,
Will suffered as a slave to his captors — who used him any way they wanted.
Now, after a leap of courage has brought him to Colin’s doorstep,
Will’s past should be just that, his
past.            

Colin can see the new apprentice he’s supposed to teach magic has
been hurt. Colin wants to comfort the young werewolf who takes to magic much
more easily than he takes to human contact. Their attraction seems mutual,
but how can Colin be certain Will even knows what he wants?

As slow affection grows between Colin and Will, Will’s magic does as
well, and he allows himself a sliver of happiness. Except the dark past Will
thought he escaped from is not quite done with him, and now, it’s not
just Will’s life on the line, but also Colin’s, the witch Will’s
heart is beating for.

WARNING: Witch Wolf contains references to past sexual assault (with none
of it happening on the page), which may be triggering for some
readers.

Witch Wolf teaser

EXCERPT

 

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2022 Alexa Piper

Will

Once upon a time, Will had sent wishes to the full moon with his howls, but
what had come true for him were the slick slaps of skin against skin,
stinking breath against his face, the taste of his own blood and other,
unspeakable things. Will, instead of meeting a prince under the full moon,
had been sold to beasts.

Will carefully turned away from the large form next to him in the bed.
Everything seemed so loud in the darkness, the other man’s deep
breathing, Will’s own, panicked heartbeat which had not slowed while
he had waited for the small hours of the morning, refusing sleep. Will
moved, inch by inch, away from the other man. Will refused to think what the
other man — Ed — would do if he found Will sneaking out. What Ed had done
was already more than Will wanted to think about.

Will had considered packing a small bag, but that would have been too
dangerous. All he had dared was leave clothes under the bed, in such a way
it looked incidental, forgotten laundry.

The floor was cold against Will’s naked feet. Carefully, he stood. He
could say he’d just wanted to go to the bathroom if Ed woke now, but
Ed was still sleeping, and so Will got his clothes, slowly pulling them up
and onto his arms. He could not make too much noise. He had to get this
right.

Will didn’t dare put the clothes on in the bedroom — loup-garou
hearing was sensitive. He walked through the dark house and to the kitchen,
grabbing his shoes on the way. There were shards of a glass on the floor. Ed
had thrown it in fury when Will had been too slow in getting Ed his beer.
Will walked around the broken thing and quickly cleaned himself with a wipe.
He gave one last look to the dirty dishes in the sink, then pulled on his
clothes, more concerned with doing it as quietly as he could than about
doing it neatly.

Before he turned the knob, he listened to the house, but it was quiet. Ed
was still sleeping, and so was his pack of three, all of them loup-garous,
all of them vicious. They might still hear the door, but if Will was ever
going to run, then this was it.

He opened the door and crossed the threshold. Now, if they found him, they
would know without a doubt that he had tried to run, and they would punish
him.

Will closed the door as carefully as he could, but the mechanism made a
small sound. Behind the house, the alley was dirty. Trash bags rustled in
the wind, soda cans rusted and collected dirt. Will had to watch where he
stepped so he didn’t make any more noise. His heart was thundering in
his chest.

Out on the street, Will quickly broke into a run. He knew he had to put as
much distance between himself and them, because they could shift and just
hunt him down, and he couldn’t without the moon being full.

Winchester Boulevard, on foot, was quite a walk. It took Will an hour, and
he ran most of the time, so when he finally got there, he was sweaty from
running and trembling with the cold whenever he slowed down to catch his
breath. The house he wanted had a large planter by the front door with a red
and white plastic windmill in it. Ella had said the windmill would be there.
It was such a silly thing, and there wasn’t even any wind to move its
spokes, but Will nearly broke out in sobs with relief.

Will was scared to knock, but at this point, it was this or wait for Ed and
his pack to hunt him down. And Will knew they wouldn’t just kill him.
If it had been that — if he’d known that would have been the worst
he’d have to fear — he might have given up at any point over the past
four years, might have just accepted death. Everything else the loup-garous
would enjoy doing to him — that was what Will feared.

He was huffing when he stood in front of the door, but he didn’t
hesitate to knock.

Will looked over his shoulder as he waited to be let in. This neighborhood
was one of the nicer ones for New Elvenswood. The whole city tended to be
largely clean and touristy, even if Will had never been allowed to see all
that much of the place. The dilapidated house Ed and his pack had rented was
the exception more than the rule as far as Will could tell.

Across the street, there was a light on in an upstairs room. Will imagined
whoever was up was awake at this hour because of their own choosing. He
imagined they were working late or maybe just reading. Just living their
life. Will hadn’t lived in such a long time. All he’d been doing
since he’d met Ed had been surviving.

The door opened, and Will flinched.

“Yes?” the vampire asked.

Will had known it would be a vampire, but still. This one, his sheer
presence absolutely spoke to Will’s wolf nature, and the
vampire’s demeanor made Will want to show his belly and submit. He was
stunning to behold too, but in a sharp way: almost white-blond hair, icy
eyes that had a hard darkness to them, a thin mouth set in a pale
face.

With a last shallow breath, Will forced the words he’d prepared in
his head out of his mouth. “Ella said you can help people in trouble.
I… there’s a pack of loup-garous, and I need to get away from
them. I can’t pay you, but I’ll do what you want. I’ll
work for you.”

Will’s voice nearly gave out on the last part, because he started
shaking violently. It occurred to Will that the vampire looked like a
Viking, and his cold eyes were growing only more glacial in their regard.
Will doubted the man had laughed for more than a minute in the last hundred
years. And he wore nice clothes, really nice clothes. Will knew the vampire
was a lawyer, but he felt silly now for asking for help. He expected the
vampire to tell him to go and fuck off, just with nicer words.

“Come inside,” the vampire said instead and opened the door
wider.

 

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