Tag Archives: Paranormal

The Soul Collector Tour

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Urban Fantasy / Paranormal
Date Published: 8/28/19
Publisher: Story Bound Publishing
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As I lay trapped inside this quiet realm, 
My soul adrift, my body earthbound,
A magical book guards my flight,
Will it keep me safe till morning’s light?
It begins with darkness. Are they dead, or trapped inside a horrible dream? No one can hear them, see them. Has the world forgotten them? Are they invisible? Not to the Soul Collector. They have stepped into her Kingdom, and she is waiting for them.

EXCERPT

Chapter 1

The biggest boxing match of the season landed on a Friday the 13th. But a little thing like superstition had no effect on the newcomer, Jonathan Bayfield, and heavyweight champion, Lou Turlock. The fight fans agreed, stomping their feet while chanting “Fight! Fight! Fight!” inside the packed, brightly lit arena. Sportscasters got up close and personal, claiming ringside seats for an in-your-face camera view.  

Bayfield locked his gaze on his opponent, his right ear taking in Coach’s words. 

“Go to the body. Don’t overreach. Straight punches. Got it?” Coach gripped Bayfield’s shoulder. “Hey, eyes on me. Don’t let him get inside your head.”

Bayfield looked at Coach, giving him a slow nod, then reverted his focus back to Turlock, transmitting a defiant “this fight is mine” glare. 

Turlock reciprocated, taunting Bayfield with a “we’ll see” sneer. 

The vein in Bayfield’s forehead pulsed, spreading a surge of heat through his body. A fist to the gut. That would show the arrogant prick he had something to worry about, rattled through his mind. The ringside bell shattered Bayfield’s thoughts, bouncing him to his feet. Turlock came out swinging, and Bayfield pivoted while throwing a right hook, catching the corner of Turlock’s jaw. Turlock countered, landing a jab to Bayfield’s chest. The blow forced the air from Bayfield’s lungs, his body folding in half. But he quickly sprang upright, shaking off the sting, and fired off several consecutive punches straight into Turlock’s gut.

Turlock wobbled back and the crowd roared, shouting, “Way to go, Bayfield!” Bayfield bounced back and forth on his feet, tapping his gloves to the crowd’s cheers.

Turlock’s own pulse battered against his eardrums. Where was the respect? He was a champion, and these morons had the nerve to cheer for a nobody, some kid who’d happened to land himself a good manager. Adrenaline tipped the scales on the fighter’s rationality. Cognitive thought ceased. The whites of his eyes blazed as he hurtled his body like a weapon, slamming his skull against the kid’s. 

A crackling of bones ricocheted inside the ring, causing an eerie silence to fall over the area, before shouts from the crowd came from all sides. The ref barged in, spewing spit as he held Turlock back. Turlock’s gaze traveled over the ref’s shoulder, colliding with the kid’s vacant stare. He knew that look; like no one was home. He’d seen it in his grandpa’s eyes before he’d taken his last breath. An icy chill scurried down Turlock’s spine as the kid crumpled to the mat. Turlock stood still as medics, judges, and more refs flooded the ring, surrounding the kid’s lifeless body.

“I can’t find a pulse.”

“Start compressions.”

Coach pushed his way through the chaos to Bayfield. “Jonathan, can you hear me?” Coach’s voice shook. “Stay…” He blew out a breath. “Stay with me, buddy.”

Bayfield’s eyelids flew open, and with one push, he was on his feet. A weird and wonderful lightness affected his body, which made no sense, being as he weighed 200 pounds. Sounds rushed back, bouncing against his eardrums and forming words—Coach’s words. 

“Hold on, Jonathan. The ambulance is on its way.”

Bayfield focused his attention on Coach. “Ambulance?”  

“Just hold on.”

Bayfield laughed. “What are you talking about? Coach, I’m standing right behind you. Turn around.” 

Coach made no attempt, his focus centered on something in front of him. 

Bayfield’s tone rose an octave. “Coach, what gives?”

No answer came, not from Coach, nor from any of the other people hovering around him. 

Bayfield skimmed the faces of the crowd, searching for a clue or hint to enlighten him on what the hell was happening. Why was everyone ignoring him? 

“Step aside, people,” security broadcasted with authority, herding the crowd back. “Let the paramedics through.”

“Paramedics? Who got hurt?” Bayfield’s gaze darted to Turlock, where men in dark blue suits surrounded him, escorting him toward the locker room. Bayfield let his gaze grow distant. He had no memory of the fight ending, and his boxing gloves were missing. No one acknowledged him. None of it made sense. He gave his head a good shake. “Gotta be an explanation for all this.” As his vision cleared, it centered on the paramedics rolling a lifeless body away on a stretcher—his body! 

His brain skidded to a stop—no pause, no rewind, no press play. Just a complete stop. Was he being punk’d? Was this some kind of sick joke? His gaze followed the stretcher, catching the tail end of it slipping inside the ambulance. Coach followed, his hands running through his salt and pepper hair. The look of sheer terror etched across Coach’s pale face slammed against Bayfield’s brain. This was no joke. This was real, and that ambulance was about to take off with his body.

Bayfield launched across the ring, catapulting over the ropes and sailing inside the ambulance seconds before the doors closed and the siren sang out. He plopped down next to Coach, his gaze transfixed on his own body lying across from him. One massive, purplish bruise swallowed up his bloodied forehead. Bayfield couldn’t explain it—couldn’t understand it. “I’m sitting here, but also lying there. How is that possible?” In a momentary shift, his eyes found Coach’s, thirsty for an answer. None came. The silence sent a chill down Bayfield’s spine. 

A paramedic with tattoos blazing down his arms informed, “Got a pulse,”—his intense blue eyes narrowed—“but it’s thready.”

The paramedic behind the wheel, sprouting a six o’clock shadow, lobbed a reply over his shoulder. “Letting dispatch know we’re five minutes out.”

Coach gripped his hands, squeezing the blood from his knuckles. “Getting a pulse, even a weak one, is a good thing, right?” 

The tattooed paramedic waited a good minute before saying, “For now, yes.”

About the Author

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LAURA DALEO is the author of five books. She is best known for her storytelling of the vampiric persuasion. Her most recent work, The Vampire Within, is the third book in her Immortal Kiss series. The series is an interesting twist on the Egyptian pantheon being the original vampires. Her current project, The Doll, is her first horror tale, with a touch of mystery. She lives in sunny San Diego, California, with her three dogs, Stuart, Morgan, and Dexter.
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Urban Fantasy / Paranormal Date Published: 8/28/19 Publisher: Story Bound Publishing As I lay trapped
  PREORDER ALERT!!!! The Enforcer is coming your way September 19... He is hers. Her
How To Be The Best Damn Faery Godmother In The World (Or Die Trying), Book
Kincaid Strange, not your average voodoo practitioner, is back in the freshly imagined and hugely

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SHIFTER PLANET: THE RETURN by D.B. Reynolds Blog Tour

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SHIFTER PLANET: THE RETURN

by D.B. Reynolds
Shifter Planet, #2
Publication Date: October 14, 2019
Genres: Adult, Entangled: Amara, Paranormal, Romance, Standalone, Romance

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SYNOPSIS

Rachel Fortier is a much sought-after expert when it comes to exotic planets—especially the deadly kind. So when she’s hired by Earth Fleet’s most respected scientist to join a mission to the tightly closed planet Harp, it’s a dream come true. Until she discovers their mission is to capture shifters and sell them to the Military.

Shifter Aidan Devlin is on patrol far from his clan when he sees a shuttlecraft landing where it definitely shouldn’t be. As the invaders emerge, he’s surprised to see a lone lovely woman, who doesn’t seem to belong. But when he’s captured and put in a cage, he has no one but her to help him escape.

Drawn together by a hunger they can’t resist, and desperate to discover who betrayed Harp, Aidan and Rachel first have to survive a deadly journey to the city. But once there, they find themselves confronted by a conspiracy that goes even deeper. Because Harp is harboring a traitor. And he’s willing to destroy their world—and everything in it—to get what he wants.

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EXCERPT –

INVADING SHIP LANDING

He watched as a definite new threat settled onto the planet’s surface. The noise and stink of the vehicle disturbed the Green’s usual peace, but the landing place was well-chosen for all that. By avoiding any damage to the trees, themselves, the ship minimized the possibility of the forest sending out an alarm right away. Which was alarming in itself. Whoever was onboard that ship knew enough to conceal its arrival, which meant they were almost certainly up to no good. One thing he knew for sure, they had no business being way out here at the outermost edge of Harp’s mountain range. His mountain range. The Ardrigh ruled the city, but the de Mendoza clan chief ruled the mountains, and with Rhodry gone, Aidan was his de Mendoza surrogate.

He had to find out who the hell was in that ship. Harp was a closed planet. No one, and that meant no one, was permitted to land a ship here—a restriction insisted on by the Ardrigh and supposedly enforced by Earth Fleet. And that brought up yet another worrisome point—that ship sure as hell hadn’t snuck through a reentry into Harp’s atmosphere. The planet had a perfect, natural defense mechanism in the form of a violently destructive electromagnetic anomaly that dominated the atmosphere. Any ship making that passage was easily detectable by the fleet’s science center in the city, which was partially responsible for enforcing the planet’s embargo. Any ship trying to break the embargo was marked and targeted for destruction. Given the already hazardous atmosphere, it didn’t take much to destroy an incoming ship. The fact that this ship had managed to evade detection and land way the hell out here, in the middle of nowhere, told Aidan that it hadn’t evaded detection at all. Someone in the science center had been bought off.

He frowned. All around him, the Green remained silent, waiting. Whoever had advised the intruders had done their job well. The forest didn’t see them as an immediate threat. At least, not yet. But they hadn’t gone to the trouble and expense of sneaking onto the planet in order to do good works. Aidan was certain of that, but he took his cue from the trees, watching and waiting. So far, the intruders hadn’t done anything but land far from the city, which was suspicious enough that he considered racing directly back to the Clanhome to raise an alert. But he needed more information, and he was also reluctant to leave the ship out here alone. Even with a shifter’s speed, the journey to Clanhome would take many days there and back. Who knew what damage the intruders might do in the meantime?

When the Earthers had first rediscovered Harp, more than two years ago, a handful of fleet personnel had wiped out an enormous circle of forest and razed an ancient grandfather tree nearly down to its roots. They’d paid for it with their lives in the cataclysm, but nonetheless, they’d been nothing but a small group of fools who’d thought the rules didn’t apply to them. He was looking at a well-armed shipload of potential danger.

Decision made, he took off in the direction of the uninvited vessel. He’d cross the swamp and survey them first—evaluate the threat, and then, if necessary, rally some of his cousins out of Clanhome, which was a lot closer than the city. Whoever these invaders were, he was certain they’d never met a hunting party of shifters. Because if they had, they wouldn’t be alive to tell of it.

 

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ABOUT D.B. REYNOLDS

D.B.Reynolds is the RT and EPIC award-winning author of the popular Vampires in America series, as well as other paranormal fiction. She lives in a flammable canyon near Los Angeles, and when she’s not writing her own books, she can usually be found reading someone else’s.

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OUT OF CONTROL by Toni J. Strawn Publication Date: October 14, 2019 Genres: Adult, Entangled:
BENI by Bethany-Kris Guzzi Legacy, #4 Publication Date: October 7, 2019 Genres: Adult, STANDALONE, Romantic
CHRIS by Bethany-Kris Guzzi Legacy, #3 Publication Date: September 2, 2019 Genres: Adult, STANDALONE, Romantic
CHRIS by Bethany-Kris Guzzi Legacy, #3 Publication Date: September 2, 2019 Genres: Adult, STANDALONE, Romantic

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Guardian of Angel Tour

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Book 2 of the Father of Contention series
Science Fiction and Fantasy, Paranormal
Publisher: Tellwell Talent
Date Published: July 29, 2019
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When evil finds a way, man becomes beast.
In the small town of Thunder Bay, 2002, Angelika Juris becomes unexpectedly linked to her guardian angel, Gavin, after a suspicious near-death experience. While trying to figure out the complicated nature of their connection, they uncover a plot so disturbing, it threatens to shift the delicate balance between life and death and eradicate the precious human gift of free will.
When her sister goes missing, Angelika must search the unforgiving terrain of the Rocky Mountains, with her guardian angel as her guide. But they find more than just her sister—a   familiar face, Renner Scholz—and a secret lab teeming with his ongoing, unhindered experiments, including the most powerful of his offspring—the triplets.
Now, Angelika must find a way to free her sister from her evil captors, along with a newfound love interest—Anthony—Renner’s only normal son. Will they be able to thwart Renner’s malevolent schemes and escape with their lives, or will they suffer the same fate as so many of his previous victims?

Excerpt 

Chapter 1

Tomas – 1984

Tomas Scholz sits upon a throne beside his father above the stones

of fire. Surrounded by splendour, he bursts with pride as all bow

down and honour them, bestowing gifts of great riches: precious

gems and stones—sardius, topaz, diamond and onyx—silver and

gold, and the rarest of artifacts collected from all over the many

realms. This destiny, although not yet achieved, awaits him after

this world has passed away, or so the shadow has promised.

In time. He must be patient.

A three-toed woodpecker, normally a quiet, shy, little bird,

hammers out a tune on a nearby dead spruce, redirecting Tomas’

thoughts away from his daydreams and back to the matter at hand.

Carrying the device with painstaking care, he reaches a clearing

in the mountains. This flat fold of land has been carefully selected

for the job, unchartered territory, a place no man has previously

travelled. The device is light despite its enormous potential for

destruction, light enough for his nine-year-old hands to carry.

The wind swells in unpredictable gusts sending uprooted weeds

and debris to tumble across the dry landscape. It is not ideal

weather to test out his experiment, on the contrary, but he is

impatient, insistent. If it were anyone else attempting this feat

they would be prudently dissuaded, encouraged to wait for more

opportune conditions. The summer had been a dry one, and the

arid conditions mixed with the gales of wind are a recipe for

disaster.

But Tomas is not like other children. His abilities are powerful

enough to defy even the wind.

Besides, Tomas is too excited to see how it finally works, unable

to wait a moment longer. Adrenaline almost palpable as he flits and

floats across the glade despite his clubbed foot, preparing for the

initial trial of the weapon he has designed and built all by himself.

He is a genius. Wisdom doesn’t grow on trees; it is inherited.

Or prepared in a lab. Both methods are responsible in Tomas’ case.

Born of Renner’s sperm, he has inherited the genes for brilliance,

but his earthly father further manipulated Tomas’ genetic structure

to enhance his potential for genius. In this Renner has been

successful.

Just a child, Tomas is already capable of recombinant DNA

technology and minor medical procedures. Always the perfect

pupil. Always eager to learn more. Technology and inventing

advanced weaponry are his preferred hobbies, skills that come

to him naturally, and had he been allowed to go out in public to

submit these innovations for patenting, he would earn millions,

perhaps billions. But they are billionaires and have no need for

more money. And he is not ready to go out in public, to be exposed

to the world—the world not ready for him yet. For Tomas’ talents

don’t stop there.

Surpassing his higher level of intelligence are his supernatural

abilities, having both fathers to thank for this gift. By the shadow

entering Renner’s body that fateful night in the abandoned chapel,

his DNA changed, which was then passed on to his offspring.

These changes increased the development of DMT produced by

the pineal gland and the subsequent presentation of supernatural

abilities, the like of which have never been seen in humans.

Renner had also manipulated Tomas’ genes, splicing them with

favourable animalistic traits to increase his special abilities. The

final product is a boy who has powers that are both profound and

intense. Unrestrained. In this Renner has also been successful.

Tomas is a telepath, able to read other people’s thoughts

and desires with great ease. Most impressive are his telekinetic

capabilities, able to teleport any object, from the size of a grain of

sand all the way up to a massive Gothic castle to any location he

so desires. Able to transport his own body.

But impressive though this is, Tomas is not perfect. None of

them are. Flaws remain in Renner’s recombinant DNA techniques,

glitches he still struggles to correct with each series of experiments.

There is always an element of trial and error when it comes to

experimenting in new unexplored areas, but he has faith he will

overcome these limitations and the supernatural abilities that all

the offspring display prove he is on the right track.

Tomas is the most handsome of them all if you could call

him handsome. Hair, worn long and unruly. Taller than most

nine-year-olds, he is more muscular as well but not a giant like

some of his brothers. He prefers to wear mostly jogging pants,

jeans, T-shirts, and sweaters for there is no need to dress up here.

No one to impress. His eyes are as black as pitch and empty. Dead

embers.

Born with a cleft palate, Tomas underwent corrective surgery

as a young baby, but Renner being untrained in cosmetic

procedures, the repair didn’t go as well as planned. Tomas can

feed and communicate much better than he would have without

the surgical procedure, but a resultant lisp when speaking words

that contain the letter s has Tomas training extensively to articulate

his words. The lisp now more of an extended, exaggerated s sound.

The speech impediment isn’t as bothersome as the thickened scar

tissue between his nose and upper lip. Tomas plans on visiting

a real cosmetic surgeon who will correct the botched effort his

father performed and eliminate the scar—when he is older, when

he is permitted to venture out into the real world. He also has a

clubbed right foot that gives him a mild limp. These deformities

are considered minor compared to his brothers’. So, he has little

to complain about, this he knows.

His brothers, on the other hand, have not fared as well. The

flaws in Renner’s experiments far more evident. The deformities

more intensive, requiring massive reconstruction, the likes of

which do not yet exist. Tomas is already working diligently on

this limitation, inventing his own brand of prosthetics that will

help the remainder of his triplet brothers—his womb-mates—and

other siblings to help them be more aesthetically pleasing to the

eye or at least less abhorrent while simultaneously helping them

to channel their own gifts. Augment them.

But again, in time.

Tomas’ preparations slowly come to completion. He lopes

across the field through tussock grasses and stunted shrubbery to

the location he has deemed most beneficial for his test. He stops

amidst a patch of denser grasses and wildflowers, adjacent to a

stand of tiny gnarled aspens. Mounds of rhododendron underbrush

proudly display their yellow and white puff ball-shaped flowers

tinged with pink and lavender.

Soon their beauty will be extinguished.

The sound of a river rushing at highs speeds can be detected from

this vantage point, an important proponent for this experiment to

function smoothly.

He looks over to see if the shadow—his other father, the one

that matters most—is watching, desiring his praise. A moment of

insecurity?

But, the moment of weakness is short-lived. As soon as Tomas

senses approval, he commences, extending his right arm towards

the surrounding rhododendron mounds and dry grasses. Clumsily,

he fastens the contraption to his extended right wrist with plastic

straps and buckles. The weapon, a flame thrower, is like no other.

It is controlled by Tomas’ mind alone, lacking buttons or switches,

with nothing to turn it on or off, no dials to increase or decrease

its power, except by his mind’s will.

Abruptly he stops, eyes fastening on the shadow as the sound of

a woman’s scream pierces his mind. The sound is heard through

his gift, although the actual source is not much further than their

location, yet still safely out of harm’s way. Their eyes make contact,

full of mutual understanding. It is Milena, once more in the throes

of labour.

“It will be a boy,” he tells the shadow.

“Yes, yes, I know,” the shadow responds.

They are all boys, so it is a natural conclusion. However, Tomas

knows this on another level, knows it for a fact as the baby’s

thoughts can already be heard, although he is not yet born. “He

is different,” Tomas adds, before returning to his task without

further explanation.

A shiny, black crow bursts out of the shrubbery and furiously

flaps its wings, escaping barely in time, somehow anticipating

the fire that will quickly follow. Tomas telepathically transmits

a message to the weapon to eject a far-reaching rope of flame

from its tip, and the contraption immediately obliges, bathing the

mountain glade in fire. He slowly spins in a circle creating a ring

of fire around him, the flames dancing and rising as if in adoration

and worship. The intense orange from the fire’s light is reflected

in his black eyes as if tiny flames have been sparked from within

the lifeless black embers.

“It works!” he exclaims. “Father, can you see it?”

The flames continue to rise.

And rise. And rise higher still, the flames licking and lapping at

Tomas’ face and body and limbs. Searing, melting, binding. Until

flame and skin become one.

About the Author

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Lanie Mores enjoys travelling to alternate realities, often found with her head buried in a book, binge watching Netflix, or playing video games. Although fantasy and science fiction are her obsession, she enjoys most forms of literature, and has been writing poetry since she was a wee bairn.
She has worn many hats throughout her life: cashier, medical records secretary, psychotherapist, hypnotherapist, personal trainer, and most importantly, mom. Her son is the moon of her life, her sun and stars, and she would do anything for him…destroy Terminators sent from a future realm, deflect an Unforgivable curse with her motherly love, and travel through the Upside Down to find him, even if she had to face the Demogorgon himself.
Inspired to write by Stephen King, Diana Gabaldon, Jean M. Auel and Margaret Atwood, she has big shoes to fill, but has always been a huge dreamer and has the determination to aim higher than the stars. GUARDIAN OF ANGEL is the second novel she has written and published, book 2 in the FATHER OF CONTENTION series.
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Book 2 of the Father of Contention series Science Fiction and Fantasy, Paranormal Publisher: Tellwell
Science Fiction and Fantasy, Paranormal Romance Date Published:  April 9, 2018 Publisher: Tellwell Talent  
Science Fiction and Fantasy, Paranormal Romance Date Published:  April 9, 2018 Publisher: Tellwell Talent  
Book Description Publication Date: December 25, 2014 When a stranger tells her she's a mage,

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The Soul Collector Blitz

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Urban Fantasy / Paranormal
Date Published: 8/28/19
Publisher: Story Bound Publishing
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As I lay trapped inside this quiet realm, 
My soul adrift, my body earthbound,
A magical book guards my flight,
Will it keep me safe till morning’s light?
It begins with darkness. Are they dead, or trapped inside a horrible dream? No one can hear them, see them. Has the world forgotten them? Are they invisible? Not to the Soul Collector. They have stepped into her Kingdom, and she is waiting for them.
Excerpt
Chapter 1
The biggest boxing match of the season landed on a Friday the 13th. But a little thing like superstition had no effect on the newcomer, Jonathan Bayfield, and heavyweight champion, Lou Turlock. The fight fans agreed, stomping their feet while chanting “Fight! Fight! Fight!” inside the packed, brightly lit arena. Sportscasters got up close and personal, claiming ringside seats for an in-your-face camera view.
Bayfield locked his gaze on his opponent, his right ear taking in Coach’s words.
“Go to the body. Don’t overreach. Straight punches. Got it?” Coach gripped Bayfield’s shoulder. “Hey, eyes on me. Don’t let him get inside your head.”
Bayfield looked at Coach, giving him a slow nod, then reverted his focus back to Turlock, transmitting a defiant “this fight is mine” glare.
Turlock reciprocated, taunting Bayfield with a “we’ll see” sneer.
The vein in Bayfield’s forehead pulsed, spreading a surge of heat through his body. A fist to the gut. That would show the arrogant prick he had something to worry about, rattled through his mind. The ringside bell shattered Bayfield’s thoughts, bouncing him to his feet. Turlock came out swinging, and Bayfield pivoted while throwing a right hook, catching the corner of Turlock’s jaw. Turlock countered, landing a jab to Bayfield’s chest. The blow forced the air from Bayfield’s lungs, his body folding in half. But he quickly sprang upright, shaking off the sting, and fired off several consecutive punches straight into Turlock’s gut.
Turlock wobbled back and the crowd roared, shouting, “Way to go, Bayfield!” Bayfield bounced back and forth on his feet, tapping his gloves to the crowd’s cheers.
Turlock’s own pulse battered against his eardrums. Where was the respect? He was a champion, and these morons had the nerve to cheer for a nobody, some kid who’d happened to land himself a good manager. Adrenaline tipped the scales on the fighter’s rationality. Cognitive thought ceased. The whites of his eyes blazed as he hurtled his body like a weapon, slamming his skull against the kid’s.
A crackling of bones ricocheted inside the ring, causing an eerie silence to fall over the area, before shouts from the crowd came from all sides. The ref barged in, spewing spit as he held Turlock back. Turlock’s gaze traveled over the ref’s shoulder, colliding with the kid’s vacant stare. He knew that look; like no one was home. He’d seen it in his grandpa’s eyes before he’d taken his last breath. An icy chill scurried down Turlock’s spine as the kid crumpled to the mat. Turlock stood still as medics, judges, and more refs flooded the ring, surrounding the kid’s lifeless body.
“I can’t find a pulse.”
“Start compressions.”
Coach pushed his way through the chaos to Bayfield. “Jonathan, can you hear me?” Coach’s voice shook. “Stay…” He blew out a breath. “Stay with me, buddy.”
Bayfield’s eyelids flew open, and with one push, he was on his feet. A weird and wonderful lightness affected his body, which made no sense, being as he weighed 200 pounds. Sounds rushed back, bouncing against his eardrums and forming words—Coach’s words.
“Hold on, Jonathan. The ambulance is on its way.”
Bayfield focused his attention on Coach. “Ambulance?”
“Just hold on.”
Bayfield laughed. “What are you talking about? Coach, I’m standing right behind you. Turn around.”
Coach made no attempt, his focus centered on something in front of him.
Bayfield’s tone rose an octave. “Coach, what gives?”
No answer came, not from Coach, nor from any of the other people hovering around him.
Bayfield skimmed the faces of the crowd, searching for a clue or hint to enlighten him on what the hell was happening. Why was everyone ignoring him?
“Step aside, people,” security broadcasted with authority, herding the crowd back. “Let the paramedics through.”
“Paramedics? Who got hurt?” Bayfield’s gaze darted to Turlock, where men in dark blue suits surrounded him, escorting him toward the locker room. Bayfield let his gaze grow distant. He had no memory of the fight ending, and his boxing gloves were missing. No one acknowledged him. None of it made sense. He gave his head a good shake. “Gotta be an explanation for all this.” As his vision cleared, it centered on the paramedics rolling a lifeless body away on a stretcher—his body!
His brain skidded to a stop—no pause, no rewind, no press play. Just a complete stop. Was he being punk’d? Was this some kind of sick joke? His gaze followed the stretcher, catching the tail end of it slipping inside the ambulance. Coach followed, his hands running through his salt and pepper hair. The look of sheer terror etched across Coach’s pale face slammed against Bayfield’s brain. This was no joke. This was real, and that ambulance was about to take off with his body.
Bayfield launched across the ring, catapulting over the ropes and sailing inside the ambulance seconds before the doors closed and the siren sang out. He plopped down next to Coach, his gaze transfixed on his own body lying across from him. One massive, purplish bruise swallowed up his bloodied forehead. Bayfield couldn’t explain it—couldn’t understand it. “I’m sitting here, but also lying there. How is that possible?” In a momentary shift, his eyes found Coach’s, thirsty for an answer. None came. The silence sent a chill down Bayfield’s spine.
A paramedic with tattoos blazing down his arms informed, “Got a pulse,”—his intense blue eyes narrowed—“but it’s thready.”
The paramedic behind the wheel, sprouting a six o’clock shadow, lobbed a reply over his shoulder. “Letting dispatch know we’re five minutes out.”
Coach gripped his hands, squeezing the blood from his knuckles. “Getting a pulse, even a weak one, is a good thing, right?”
The tattooed paramedic waited a good minute before saying, “For now, yes.”
About the Author

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LAURA DALEO is the author of five books. She is best known for her storytelling of the vampiric persuasion. Her most recent work, The Vampire Within, is the third book in her Immortal Kiss series. The series is an interesting twist on the Egyptian pantheon being the original vampires. Her current project, The Doll, is her first horror tale, with a touch of mystery. She lives in sunny San Diego, California, with her three dogs, Stuart, Morgan, and Dexter.
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Urban Fantasy / Paranormal Date Published: 8/28/19 Publisher: Story Bound Publishing As I lay trapped
  PREORDER ALERT!!!! The Enforcer is coming your way September 19... He is hers. Her
How To Be The Best Damn Faery Godmother In The World (Or Die Trying), Book
Kincaid Strange, not your average voodoo practitioner, is back in the freshly imagined and hugely

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Guardian of Angel Blitz

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Book 2 of the Father of Contention series
Science Fiction and Fantasy, Paranormal
Publisher: Tellwell Talent
Date Published: July 29, 2019
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When evil finds a way, man becomes beast.
In the small town of Thunder Bay, 2002, Angelika Juris becomes unexpectedly linked to her guardian angel, Gavin, after a suspicious near-death experience. While trying to figure out the complicated nature of their connection, they uncover a plot so disturbing, it threatens to shift the delicate balance between life and death and eradicate the precious human gift of free will.
When her sister goes missing, Angelika must search the unforgiving terrain of the Rocky Mountains, with her guardian angel as her guide. But they find more than just her sister—a   familiar face, Renner Scholz—and a secret lab teeming with his ongoing, unhindered experiments, including the most powerful of his offspring—the triplets.
Now, Angelika must find a way to free her sister from her evil captors, along with a newfound love interest—Anthony—Renner’s only normal son. Will they be able to thwart Renner’s malevolent schemes and escape with their lives, or will they suffer the same fate as so many of his previous victims?
Chapter 1
Tomas – 1984
Tomas Scholz sits upon a throne beside his father above the stones
of fire. Surrounded by splendour, he bursts with pride as all bow
down and honour them, bestowing gifts of great riches: precious
gems and stones—sardius, topaz, diamond and onyx—silver and
gold, and the rarest of artifacts collected from all over the many
realms. This destiny, although not yet achieved, awaits him after
this world has passed away, or so the shadow has promised.
In time. He must be patient.
A three-toed woodpecker, normally a quiet, shy, little bird,
hammers out a tune on a nearby dead spruce, redirecting Tomas’
thoughts away from his daydreams and back to the matter at hand.
Carrying the device with painstaking care, he reaches a clearing
in the mountains. This flat fold of land has been carefully selected
for the job, unchartered territory, a place no man has previously
travelled. The device is light despite its enormous potential for
destruction, light enough for his nine-year-old hands to carry.
The wind swells in unpredictable gusts sending uprooted weeds
and debris to tumble across the dry landscape. It is not ideal
weather to test out his experiment, on the contrary, but he is
impatient, insistent. If it were anyone else attempting this feat
they would be prudently dissuaded, encouraged to wait for more
opportune conditions. The summer had been a dry one, and the
arid conditions mixed with the gales of wind are a recipe for
disaster.
But Tomas is not like other children. His abilities are powerful
enough to defy even the wind.
Besides, Tomas is too excited to see how it finally works, unable
to wait a moment longer. Adrenaline almost palpable as he flits and
floats across the glade despite his clubbed foot, preparing for the
initial trial of the weapon he has designed and built all by himself.
He is a genius. Wisdom doesn’t grow on trees; it is inherited.
Or prepared in a lab. Both methods are responsible in Tomas’ case.
Born of Renner’s sperm, he has inherited the genes for brilliance,
but his earthly father further manipulated Tomas’ genetic structure
to enhance his potential for genius. In this Renner has been
successful.
Just a child, Tomas is already capable of recombinant DNA
technology and minor medical procedures. Always the perfect
pupil. Always eager to learn more. Technology and inventing
advanced weaponry are his preferred hobbies, skills that come
to him naturally, and had he been allowed to go out in public to
submit these innovations for patenting, he would earn millions,
perhaps billions. But they are billionaires and have no need for
more money. And he is not ready to go out in public, to be exposed
to the world—the world not ready for him yet. For Tomas’ talents
don’t stop there.
Surpassing his higher level of intelligence are his supernatural
abilities, having both fathers to thank for this gift. By the shadow
entering Renner’s body that fateful night in the abandoned chapel,
his DNA changed, which was then passed on to his offspring.
These changes increased the development of DMT produced by
the pineal gland and the subsequent presentation of supernatural
abilities, the like of which have never been seen in humans.
Renner had also manipulated Tomas’ genes, splicing them with
favourable animalistic traits to increase his special abilities. The
final product is a boy who has powers that are both profound and
intense. Unrestrained. In this Renner has also been successful.
Tomas is a telepath, able to read other people’s thoughts
and desires with great ease. Most impressive are his telekinetic
capabilities, able to teleport any object, from the size of a grain of
sand all the way up to a massive Gothic castle to any location he
so desires. Able to transport his own body.
But impressive though this is, Tomas is not perfect. None of
them are. Flaws remain in Renner’s recombinant DNA techniques,
glitches he still struggles to correct with each series of experiments.
There is always an element of trial and error when it comes to
experimenting in new unexplored areas, but he has faith he will
overcome these limitations and the supernatural abilities that all
the offspring display prove he is on the right track.
Tomas is the most handsome of them all if you could call
him handsome. Hair, worn long and unruly. Taller than most
nine-year-olds, he is more muscular as well but not a giant like
some of his brothers. He prefers to wear mostly jogging pants,
jeans, T-shirts, and sweaters for there is no need to dress up here.
No one to impress. His eyes are as black as pitch and empty. Dead
embers.
Born with a cleft palate, Tomas underwent corrective surgery
as a young baby, but Renner being untrained in cosmetic
procedures, the repair didn’t go as well as planned. Tomas can
feed and communicate much better than he would have without
the surgical procedure, but a resultant lisp when speaking words
that contain the letter s has Tomas training extensively to articulate
his words. The lisp now more of an extended, exaggerated s sound.
The speech impediment isn’t as bothersome as the thickened scar
tissue between his nose and upper lip. Tomas plans on visiting
a real cosmetic surgeon who will correct the botched effort his
father performed and eliminate the scar—when he is older, when
he is permitted to venture out into the real world. He also has a
clubbed right foot that gives him a mild limp. These deformities
are considered minor compared to his brothers’. So, he has little
to complain about, this he knows.
His brothers, on the other hand, have not fared as well. The
flaws in Renner’s experiments far more evident. The deformities
more intensive, requiring massive reconstruction, the likes of
which do not yet exist. Tomas is already working diligently on
this limitation, inventing his own brand of prosthetics that will
help the remainder of his triplet brothers—his womb-mates—and
other siblings to help them be more aesthetically pleasing to the
eye or at least less abhorrent while simultaneously helping them
to channel their own gifts. Augment them.
But again, in time.
Tomas’ preparations slowly come to completion. He lopes
across the field through tussock grasses and stunted shrubbery to
the location he has deemed most beneficial for his test. He stops
amidst a patch of denser grasses and wildflowers, adjacent to a
stand of tiny gnarled aspens. Mounds of rhododendron underbrush
proudly display their yellow and white puff ball-shaped flowers
tinged with pink and lavender.
Soon their beauty will be extinguished.
The sound of a river rushing at highs speeds can be detected from
this vantage point, an important proponent for this experiment to
function smoothly.
He looks over to see if the shadow—his other father, the one
that matters most—is watching, desiring his praise. A moment of
insecurity?
But, the moment of weakness is short-lived. As soon as Tomas
senses approval, he commences, extending his right arm towards
the surrounding rhododendron mounds and dry grasses. Clumsily,
he fastens the contraption to his extended right wrist with plastic
straps and buckles. The weapon, a flame thrower, is like no other.
It is controlled by Tomas’ mind alone, lacking buttons or switches,
with nothing to turn it on or off, no dials to increase or decrease
its power, except by his mind’s will.
Abruptly he stops, eyes fastening on the shadow as the sound of
a woman’s scream pierces his mind. The sound is heard through
his gift, although the actual source is not much further than their
location, yet still safely out of harm’s way. Their eyes make contact,
full of mutual understanding. It is Milena, once more in the throes
of labour.
“It will be a boy,” he tells the shadow.
“Yes, yes, I know,” the shadow responds.
They are all boys, so it is a natural conclusion. However, Tomas
knows this on another level, knows it for a fact as the baby’s
thoughts can already be heard, although he is not yet born. “He
is different,” Tomas adds, before returning to his task without
further explanation.
A shiny, black crow bursts out of the shrubbery and furiously
flaps its wings, escaping barely in time, somehow anticipating
the fire that will quickly follow. Tomas telepathically transmits
a message to the weapon to eject a far-reaching rope of flame
from its tip, and the contraption immediately obliges, bathing the
mountain glade in fire. He slowly spins in a circle creating a ring
of fire around him, the flames dancing and rising as if in adoration
and worship. The intense orange from the fire’s light is reflected
in his black eyes as if tiny flames have been sparked from within
the lifeless black embers.
“It works!” he exclaims. “Father, can you see it?”
The flames continue to rise.
And rise. And rise higher still, the flames licking and lapping at
Tomas’ face and body and limbs. Searing, melting, binding. Until
flame and skin become one.
About the Author

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Lanie Mores enjoys travelling to alternate realities, often found with her head buried in a book, binge watching Netflix, or playing video games. Although fantasy and science fiction are her obsession, she enjoys most forms of literature, and has been writing poetry since she was a wee bairn.
She has worn many hats throughout her life: cashier, medical records secretary, psychotherapist, hypnotherapist, personal trainer, and most importantly, mom. Her son is the moon of her life, her sun and stars, and she would do anything for him…destroy Terminators sent from a future realm, deflect an Unforgivable curse with her motherly love, and travel through the Upside Down to find him, even if she had to face the Demogorgon himself.
Inspired to write by Stephen King, Diana Gabaldon, Jean M. Auel and Margaret Atwood, she has big shoes to fill, but has always been a huge dreamer and has the determination to aim higher than the stars. GUARDIAN OF ANGEL is the second novel she has written and published, book 2 in the FATHER OF CONTENTION series.
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Book 2 of the Father of Contention series Science Fiction and Fantasy, Paranormal Publisher: Tellwell
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Science Fiction and Fantasy, Paranormal Romance Date Published:  April 9, 2018 Publisher: Tellwell Talent  
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