Showing posts with label urban fantasy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label urban fantasy. Show all posts

Monday, May 29, 2017

The Lightning Luminary by RS McCoy | Blog Tour



Title: The Lightning Luminary
Author: RS McCoy
Genre: Urban Paranormal Romance
Cover Designer: Kit Foster Design
Now Available



Talia Stanley may look like the typical wealthy New Yorker, but she's hidden her secrets for more than a thousand years. One of the last surviving members of an ancient race called Luminaries, Talia has suppressed her ability to control lightning in exchange for safety. 

And for generations it worked. Talia's hermit lifestyle protected her from strong Luminaries that want her power. All that changed the day Mason Rathbone walked into her life. 

A good-looking artist, Mason is just the guy to get Talia out of her penthouse apartment and show her what it means to live again. But just as she starts to get comfortable, Talia gets sucked right back into her vicious past.







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To read my review of The Lightning Luminary, click here.







Dr. Hershey’s waiting room was as colorful and bright as she was. The walls were the color of fruit punch with large white polka dots. A massive swatch from Minnie Mouse’s wardrobe. The left side of the room was covered in large, multi-colored waffle pieces, with a tiny Crayola table with chairs, a box of toys, and a wall of kiddie books.

Mason froze mid-step. Clearly he was in the wrong place.

“Come on in, Mr. Rathbone.” Someone called from the depths of the office labyrinth. Mason followed the voice until he found Dr. Hershey buried behind a desk. It was cluttered with stacks of files and papers, binders and books, with jars of candy mixed in. Her pen scratched against a yellow legal pad, her brow knitted with concern over whatever it was she wrote.

“I thought I was in the wrong—”

She pointed her pen around the room without looking up. “My associate, Dr. Lemore, is a child psychologist. It helps them feel comfortable before their appointments.”

Mason looked around her white office. Various degrees and certificates hung on the walls. A few awards, even. Apparently, the sweet, little Dr. Hershey was quite accomplished. “And what about you? You pass out chocolates?”

Dr. Hershey reached into the nearest jar and fetched a fun-size Twix bar. Without looking, she tossed it at his chest. Mason caught it and smiled.

She put down her pen and leaned back into her chair. The new distribution of weight sank the chair back toward the ground. It almost looked as if she might tilt over backward. “How are you feeling today?”

Mason shrugged and thrust his hands into his pant pockets. In fact, he woke up rested and relaxed. He actually slept in a bit thanks to his appointment. “My brain didn’t try to kill itself, so I guess I’m feeling fine. And a nice lady gave me a chocolate.” He winked at her.

Dr. Hershey’s cheek twisted into a half-hearted smile. From the lively giggles of yesterday to this morning’s dreary mood, Mason could hardly believe it was the same person.

“You okay, doc?”

She nodded and put on a fake smile he was sure she used often. “One of my patients committed suicide last night. I was just going over her file—” Mason swallowed as Dr. Hershey rubbed her eyes. “But now, you’re here.” This time, the smile was easier, less forced.

“Aw, thanks doc.” His bashful act was dampened by the mention of her tragedy. Mason felt compelled to add, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

She nodded her thanks. “Who have you lost, Mr. Rathbone?”

The question made him uncomfortable, as if Dr. Hershey had known to ask. It wasn’t often he talked about his past, especially not with people he’d just met. Still, this was his doctor. “My mom. Breast cancer three years ago. My dad and brother when I was in high school.”

“Which explains why you have no next of kin.”

Mason thought that was a very polite way of saying he was an orphan.

“Any change in your condition?”

“Nope. Slept pretty well. And it’s only been twelve hours since I saw you at Sinai…”

“Have you tried using the microwave yet?”

“No, but—” Too late Mason realized she teased him. He shook his finger in the air and chuckled. “That’s a good one, doc.”




Rachel McCoy is a Texan living in New Jersey. Between binge-watching MTV reality shows and baking gluten-free treats, she writes paranormal fantasy and science fiction novels.

She is the self-published author of the Sparks Saga trilogy, The Alder Tales series, and The Extraction Files. Back when she lived in the real world, Rachel earned a degree in marine biology, which contributed to her die-hard love of manta rays. 



To connect with RS McCoy (or swap recipes), visit her on her website (www.rsmccoyauthor.com) or check out her Facebook page (www.facebook.com/AuthorRSMcCoy). You can also join her newsletter to receive release updates, free stories, and bonus extras (http://eepurl.com/YItp1). 


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Thursday, December 8, 2016

#PNR and #UF Giveaway Party! December 8 -11, 2016

Welcome to the #PNR and #UF Giveaway Party!

Who’s ready for a giveaway you can get your hands on? A bunch of authors got together to bring your this Big Box of Paperbacks Giveaway! One lucky winner is going to win SIXTY-TWO (62) Paperback Books! How’s that for an epic Book-Lover’s Prize?! If you are a fan of Urban Fantasy, Dystopian Fiction, or Paranormal/SciFi Romance, you’re going to want to get in on this! The best part is that even if you don’t win, you’ll be subscribed to the sponsoring authors newsletters for a chance to grab some freebies, snag some special offers, and enter more giveaways!

Here are a couple of sneak peeks!


Mary Hades Extract

The smell of exhaust fumes sneaks in through the open car window. The leather seats stick to my bare thighs, and the sound of honking horns is my soundtrack as everyone decides to try to travel on the motorway at the same time. In the front of the car, my parents argue while holding the AA road map across the dashboard. I lean back against the head rest of the back seat in our stationary vehicle, and zone out the traffic jam, parental swearing, and fumes by plugging in my iPod and escaping into the music.

A few hours later—after a greasy meal at the motorway service station—we leave the major roads behind at last, and navigate the twisting rural lanes of North Yorkshire. It’s moorland here, heather growing amongst the spongy grass, stretching out for what feels like forever. Jagged rocks peek out of hillsides. The occasional sheep looks up and stares at our car, chewing its grass in a languid, deliberate motion, as though its mind is occupied elsewhere.

I lean forward, hitting the back of Mum’s seat with my shoulder. “There’s nothing here. What are we going to be doing?”

“We’re not there yet,” Dad reminds me, grinning at me in the rear view mirror.

 “Positive thinking, Mares.”

I sigh and lean back into my seat. I guess he’s right. I let my head swing to one side, watching the world go by. This bit—I like.

I love the way the greens and browns merge together as the car travels through the countryside. Beneath me the car rocks like a cradle. I used to read wherever we went somewhere, but now I follow the landscape with my eyes, picking out the occasional stream, the flowers in the grass verge, and the black and white splodges of cows.

A fleeting memory pops into my mind—driving through the countryside with Dad, him slowing the car to a crawl so I can reach out of the open window and pick the long flowers swaying above the reedy grass. He had one of those ‘Dad’ smiles—the ones where their eyes are sad because you’re growing up so fast. Then he whispered, “Don’t tell your mum. If she knew you’d had even a finger out of that window…” I’d giggled. Knowing that we were breaking Mum’s car-rules made it even more fun.

But then the world changes. That safe feeling is pulled out from underneath me, as though I’ve leapt high into the air before glancing down to see the trampoline disappear. My heart freezes before it quickens and the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. My throat tightens. I clutch the edge of the seat so hard I feel the blood drain from my hands.

You would think I’m used to seeing them now, but I’m not. I never will be.
Standing like a scarecrow in the middle of a crop field, is one of them. Its skull shines through its face, and haunting sunken eyes stare at me, dark as night. A chill passes over my body.

This is a warning.

________________________________

Fire in Frost Excerpt
Alicia Rades

I blinked back tears as I thought of Olivia’s tragedy. The whole idea of death brought a lump to my throat and resurfaced memories that I thought I’d gotten over. Emma rubbed my back to comfort me because she knew the subject of death was a touchy one.

As I stared at the floor, afraid to look up for fear that tears might start falling, an invisible force—something unknown willing me to look—pulled my chin up. My gaze fell upon the empty hallway to the right of the commons area where students hadn’t yet been released to roam for the day.

In the middle of the hallway stood a tall, beautiful girl with blonde hair and dark brown eyes. She looked at me across the distance, her eyes full of emotion. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what she was trying to say with her expression, except that I knew it was urgent.

As soon as I spotted her, the bell rang, announcing that students could now go to their lockers and prepare for class. The crowd dispersed from the commons into the hallway and blocked my view of the girl. The students hurried down the hall as if they didn’t see her. I kept my eye on where she was standing, but I didn’t see her again.

“Crystal.” Emma’s voice seemed far off, a distant hum in my confusion.
The faintness I felt just moments ago returned. My heart pounded in my ears, and for a second, my knees felt unstable. I gripped the edge of the fundraising table for support.

Emma snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Crystal,” she said again as her voice came back into focus.

I was suddenly whipped back into reality, dazed. “Wh—what?”

“Are you okay?” Emma asked with a tone of serious concern. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I let the statement sink in for a moment. “Yeah,” I said. But I wasn’t answering her initial question. I was agreeing with her latter statement.

But I didn’t see a ghost. I couldn’t have. An odd sensation stirred as a chill spread from my spine to the end of my fingertips. This was the same type of chill I used to get when I had my imaginary friend Eva over for tea before I started kindergarten. I’m imagining things, I told myself, mostly as reassurance.
But I had seen her clear as day. Olivia Owen had stood in the hallway and begged for my help with nothing but an expression. Yet how could that be when she died a year ago?

Emma took my arm and led me to our lockers as I silently assured myself I wasn’t crazy.


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