Thus comes the third installment from Eden Freed‘s Garden. This one is a fairy tale based on Slavic and Balkan tales, written in collaboration with Dimitri Romanov. Enjoy this short read on Kindle or Kindle Unlimited. Glimpse the world of magic and fairy tales with Tartarus Bellows.
Blurb:
Our perfectly flawed hero Erroris embarks an adventure to discover that love is as ancient as the forest Baba Yaga lives in and maybe just as dangerous. Journey to the heart of the matter and find out if good really does triumph over evil and whether or not the devil does get his due. This short story is based on old Slavonic and Balkan tales with a modern twist. Would you be willing to brave the perils on earth and dive into the depths of hell for the sake of love?
Excerpt:
“Erroris, you pitiful excuse for a demon, get in there and drag out the wicked for judgment!” Likho screeched and angrily cocked his one eye at the lesser demon. “If I didn’t know any better I would think that you pitied these deviant mortals. Tartarus has a place for demons that fail to serve.”
Likho’s words caused Erroris to hold his tongue, lest the coals be raked across it again. He had no heart for his job. How could he help bring the wicked to justice when he had no concept of true evil? Can one know evil without first seeing good? There has to be more to this existence than torment and torture. What I would give for one mortal lifetime!
As if Likho could hear his thoughts, he walked over and squeezed Erroris’ mouth open forcing his tongue to hang out like the three-headed beast Cerberus’ after a run. Without releasing the pressure on the hollows of Erroris’ cheeks, Likho bellowed, “I don’t see it in there, but if you have even the smallest piece of goodness in you we will scare it out, once and for all. You will go live among the mortals. Once your talons begin to show, you’ll be back here and Zmey, the dragon guardian of Tartarus will slowly devour your black heart.” Likho loosened the grip on Erroris’ face and grinned a wicked smile that could inspire fear even in a demon.
Mustering what little courage remained, Erroris asked, “And if I’m good?”
Doubled over and clutching his abdomen with two clawed hands, Likho laughed. It was a sound that anyone in Tartarus seldom heard and it struck a dark chord of fear in even the bravest demon. The sound reached Zmey and roused the dark beast from slumber. It shook ash off its leathery wings and sharpened its claws on the jagged obsidian rocks where it bedded down. Erroris felt the sudden and unmistakable sensation of claws digging into his shoulders.
But before we venture into the Halloween spirit of her supernatural world, lets enjoy a drink that Reyna personally recommends:
The Drink: Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster
I first encountered this drink reading Douglas Adams’s “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” and I was smitten. It was described as “like having your brains smashed out by a slice of lemon, wrapped ’round a large gold brick.” It has also been described in the novel as “the alcoholic equivalent to a mugging; expensive and bad for the head.” Yum.
Ingredients and Instructions:
Fill a 28-oz. hurricane glass with crushed ice. Add the following in order:
1 oz. Everclear® (The ice should sizzle.)
1 oz. Bacardi® 151
1 oz. apricot-flavored brandy
1 oz. triple sec
1 oz. lemon juice
1 oz. orange juice
1 oz. pineapple juice
1 oz. Tom Collins mix
Stir, then top off the glass with ice. Drink. Slowly.
WOW! My only comment is that if I were to drink this slowly, I’ll never get to check out Rayna’s book. So how about grabbing a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster, kicking back and relaxing with her book in hand. Now we can start indulging!
The Book Blurb:
Troubled psychic Fia leads a double life. As a ground pounder for Search And Rescue, she finds the lost and vulnerable living and brings them to safety. As a servant to an ancient and indifferent Psychopomp, her mission is no less crucial – to help the suffering dead cross over to the afterlife. Her worlds collide after a distraught woman with a gun disappears into the woods and the rescue becomes a body recovery.
When a frantic hammering erupts from the empty SAR team trailer, Fia appeals for help to Cam, irascible Brit, mentor and Psychopomp aficionado. But nothing is what it seems and a straightforward case soon goes sideways. Will Fia and Cam be able to uncover the shocking truth behind the final act of a desperate woman and free her tortured earthbound spirit?
Book Excerpt:
“Can you tell me about the baby?”
Cam lifted a shoulder and then stared at the bottle in his hands. “Not much to tell, really. It was 1975 and I was working a job in Kings Worthy.” Glancing at me, he elaborated. “That’s in England. It’s a very old place. It was listed in the Domesday Book – you know, the survey taken in 1066?”
I bristled a little. “By William the Conqueror after the Norman Conquest. I know. I was a history major, remember?”
Nodding, Cam took up the story again. “Anyway, I was busy trying to lay the ghost of a Victorian clergyman who had taken up residence in the old church. At the same time, there was an archaeological dig taking place in the churchyard. They were interested in the old Anglo-Saxon burials and they eventually unearthed the skeletal remains of a young woman.” He took another drink and affected nonchalance as he continued the story. “Lying between the long bones of her legs, they found the skull of a full-term infant, but the fetal leg bones were still clearly within her pelvic cavity.”
“A coffin birth?” My eyes went wide at this thought.
Cam nodded again. “It happens. A pregnant woman dies and is buried and because of pressure from the gases that build up during decomposition, the dead fetus is expelled from the equally dead mother.” Looking down at his hands again, Cam picked at the label on the bottle. “Anyway, shortly after this find, the cries of a baby could be heard coming from the graveyard. It so disturbed the archaeological team that no one wanted to dig anymore and the work came to a grinding halt.”
“And did it also disturb you? Cam, I can tell this is difficult to talk about.”
Cam rolled his eyes and exhaled deeply, his words were clipped. “Yes, right. It bothered me a great deal. The baby was an innocent and completely blameless, yet she was left to suffer horribly for centuries.”
“But wasn’t the mother with the baby? How did you finally help her to move on?”
“I went into the churchyard with Zackie late one night to find the baby. The mother was nowhere to be found, so I assume she crossed over shortly after her death.”
“She left the baby?” My mouth hung open, aghast at the thought of just taking off and leaving an infant.
“She probably didn’t know the baby remained. In her time, the belief was that unbaptized infants went to Limbo, so in all likelihood, she died assuming that the baby would find its way and be taken care of.” Cam shrugged again. “Who knows? All I know is that earthbound souls of infants are a rarity, so most of the time, they move on with no difficulties. Something went wrong for this one.” Cam frowned as he stared into the middle distance for a beat. “But, you know, as soon as she saw Zackie, she quieted and stopped crying. Getting her to go through the portal was a breeze compared to the clergyman. I had to work another two weeks before the clergyman moved on.”
About Reyna:
REYNA FAVIS holds a Ph.D. in biology and brings a scientist’s critical eye to the unseen world, imposing logical consistency and mechanistic detail to the unexplained. A proud and militant introvert, Reyna exerts her power as mistress of the dark arts of introversion through her blog, Introvert Broadcasting Network. When not writing, she responds to callouts as a canine handler for search and rescue. She lives in Warren County New Jersey with her husband, a search dog and a coterie of pets.
This week we are featuring Haven Cage, author of an adult, dark urban fantasy novel Falter and the first book in the Faltering Souls series.
But before we check out her book, let us hear directly from Haven on what cocktail does she recommend for tonight.
My favorite drink is Apple Pie on the rocks:
1 oz. Vanilla Vodka
1 oz. Fireball Whiskey
4 oz. Organic Apple Juice
Pinch of Ground Cinnamon
Brown Sugar for the rim (Grind a little finer for more successful sugaring)
Optional: Cinnamon Stick for Garnish
Ice
I found this gem on Pinterest, credit belongs to Jackie of Vegan Yack Attack…super yummy!
I’m also very partial to Lemon Drop Shots: Sugar the rim of the shot glass. Pour favorite Vodka, Gulp it down, then chase with a lemon wedge!
In FALTER, a dark New Adult/Adult Urban Fantasy novel, Nevaeh Richards thinks she has found a chance to leave her homeless life behind. When the spirit of the only father she knows is wrongfully taken to Hell, Nevaeh is hurled into a world haunted by monstrous demons, rogue Guardian angels, love that is beyond her control, and a soul-threatening choice between the inherent evil inside her and the faltering faith she is struggling to grasp.
Nevaeh and George have lived on the streets as father and daughter since he found her, alone and unconscious, many years ago. When they start a new life employed at Joe’s cafe, Nevaeh experiences debilitating visions and frightening apparitions. Adding to the troubling path her life has taken, George suddenly becomes ill and an Animus demon takes his soul hostage in Hell. Unfortunately, the ransom may be more than Nevaeh can afford.
As Nevaeh spirals into this supernatural world, Gavyn—the handsome café-owner—tries to convince her that she belongs to a hidden race of people with God-given gifts known as Celatum, and she may be a key player in the Celestial war. However, even after all the otherworldly events she experiences, Nevaeh continues to deny her part in it all.
Meanwhile, Archard—a stranger she feels undeniably bonded to—mysteriously wanders in and out of her life, offering none of the answers she suspects he holds.
Will Nevaeh attain the faith it requires to fulfill her fate as a Celata and take part in the Celestial fight? Or will she give into the darkness that calls to her for the sake of George’s soul and damn herself to Hell?
I cursed under my breath and turned to walk away. My movement reflecting on the glass revealed a smudge on the smooth, translucent surface. I’d almost missed it. The smudge shimmered under the last sliver of sunlight inching its way out of Gavyn’s apartment. Its opalescent glimmer had a touch of gold, like mother of pearl on a seashell. The small, imperfect oval of film resembled a single fingerprint, yet there was no distinguishable print pattern.
I bent over to examine it closer, spotting a single fuzzy fiber sticking out from the center. It was creamy-white and soft as silk. I plucked the fiber from the spot and rolled it between my thumb and index finger. A familiar odor rose from the fuzz, pulling me into a vague memory. The smell was fainter than I remembered. It was intoxicating, indescribable, and invoked feelings that heated my cheeks to a rosy red.
I breathed in deeply, the vagueness of my memory clearing like rippling waters smoothing to expose the depths below. It was the same aroma from the bathroom on the first night of my stay here.
I closed my fist around the fuzz trying to place where it might have come from and how it got here. I opened my hand and lifted it closer to stare down at the small white strand, waiting for an answer to pop into my head. Finally, an “Aha!” moment. Down—the fuzz resembled down feathers. A bird must have flown to the sill and left the smudge and strand of feather.
I was happy to find a logical answer to at least one of my questions, though it didn’t render a reasonable connection to the familiar smell. I held up my palm and pursed my lips to blow the tiny feather away, but before the breath left my lips, the fuzz began to disintegrate. It crumbled into pieces so small I could barely see them, then drifted from my palm.
I stared at my hand in disbelief, flipping it over and back again, surprised by what I just saw. How does something just fall to pieces like that? It was solid when I held it—I was sure of that. This couldn’t be another trick.
I gulped, forcing saliva down my anxiety constricted throat. “George, do you remember a bird flying in? Did you hear any wings or rustling?” My voice trembled, afraid that I could be imagining this. I glanced over at the window. The smudge was still there. Not imagining.
“No, Nevaeh. What’s wrong with you?” He squinted, looking me up and down. Worry shadowed his face when he saw me standing by the window gawking down at my open hands, flipping them back and forth like I was losing my mind. I stopped flip-flopping the second I realized he was watching me and slowly lowered my arms to my sides. I forced a small smile to ease the stress I saw growing in the tight wrinkles on his forehead.
“Nevaeh…are…are you ok?” A wheezing came from under his gruff words.
“Do you remember when Archard left?”
“No, I think I had fallen back asleep before he went. Why?”
“You don’t remember him opening the window either?” My tone was as soft and calm as I could manage.
He coughed after every other word he spoke. “Dammit, Nevaeh, what is your problem with Archard, and what the hell is going on with the window?” His voice was louder and raspier than before, emphasizing that he would yell if he could.
“Nothing. Never mind. You need to relax. You’re using too much energy talking.” I tried to settle him back down and get his coughing under control.
“Well, quit asking me so many dag-blamit questions, and quit not telling me what they’re about.” The coughing subsided when his tone lowered.
I returned my shamed gaze back to the window, scanning the roof of the building across the alley, the narrow opening leading to the street, and the ground below. I was hoping to see something that could offer even the slightest clue of what left the evidence on the window. There was nothing. No animals, no people. There wasn’t even the empty boxes or trash you would normally see in an alley.
My eyes pulled back to the filmy smudge. The subtle shifting hues of the darkening sky outside brought the shimmering print to life. The faint afterglow from the dying day shined through the print and carried the colors out into a funnel of rainbows, flickering to the floor. Dust specks twinkled like tiny sparks as they swam in the air, swirling inside the light path.
My angst and confusion stilled while I stared at the beautiful colors. It was breathtaking. Warmth caressed my hand as I held it in the beam of light and let the colors reflect off my skin. Then, I noticed that the amount of flickering colors was quickly depleting. My eyes bolted back to the glass pane. The smudge was shrinking. Something invisible was wiping it off the surface of the window. Within seconds, the smear was gone. I touched the glass to feel for anything, any sign of the beauty that was just there. The surface was smooth and dry.
All evidence was gone without a trace, just as the fuzz had gone.
What the hell just happened?
This—the little insane things—made me feel alien in my own mind. I dropped to my knees to catch my breath and keep from hyperventilating—and for God sake, stop the room from spinning.
I thought about everything that happened over the past few days: the strange dream I couldn’t remember, the hallucinations, the vivid odors, the fast-healing burn, Layla’s cut, and the strange little things that just disappeared for no reason. They had to mean something.
Then there was Archard. In the instability of my mind, he drew me in.
My insides grew numb. I realized how much energy I had recently wasted trying to understand everything. Maybe I wouldn’t ever understand. I slumped against the wall, too exhausted to hold myself up anymore.
God, why is this happening? Haven’t I had enough confusion and humiliation in my life already? Am I even supposed to figure this out? Or, is this some sick joke you’re playing to teach a lesson to someone who doubts you so much?
Other sites of availability include Apple, Barnes & Noble, Scribd, Oyster, Yuzu, Blio and Inktera (formerly Page Foundry).
Print edition is available on Amazon, or you can purchase a signed copy, as well as digital in any platform, directly from me at http://www.authorhavencage.com/buy-.html
To further learn about our author: Haven Cage, we have a wonderful interview below from Paperback Junkie:
Q:What inspires your writing?
Haven: I didn’t find my love of reading until I was around twenty-three years old. A friend gave me the first novel in the Twilight Saga by Stephanie Meyer and was hooked. After that, I researched Mrs. Meyer and found that a dream inspired her to write. I thought, “Hey, I could do that. I have thousands of crazy dreams locked away in my mind. Why not write a book about one?” I have always struggled with my spiritual side, not so much doubting my beliefs in God, but more myself and the “man-made” side of religion. I felt like writing would be a good way to work some of those inner demons and doubts out.
After years of learning the craft, and reading new books that opened my mind to the many worlds I could escape to, I finished my first novel. Now that I’ve nurtured my mind and soul into that of a writer’s, I don’t see myself any other way. This is who I am now. Though it’s still hard for me some days, I get a little better each day.
Q: Have you always wanted to be an author?
Haven: I had no idea that I would be an author as a child. Reading and writing was something I was forced to do in school, not something I did for fun. I was more of a visual arts kind of person, using paint and pencils to express myself, but looking back now, I know that I just hadn’t found the right book to spark the yearning in me. Thank God, I did later on!
Q: Who are your favorite authors?
There are so many authors that I admire and enjoy, but Leigh Bardugo, Karen Marie Moning, and Jamie McGuire speak to my soul and inspire me to be a better writer.
Q: What would you say to someone who is starting out as a writer?
Haven: Being a new writer myself, I would advise those following me to research everything on writing, publishing, networking they can. Get a good grip on the reality of it because publishing is an intimidating industry, and if you are not serious about it, you won’t get far, unfortunately. Discouragement is an emotion you will feel often, but I firmly believe that if you are diligent, you can make it. You may not have a fat wallet in the end, but it’s better to try and fail, knowing you gave it your best than avoiding the trials of being a writer when you could have been magical.
Q: Do you ever put any part of yourself in your characters?
Haven: My characters are very much based on fears and doubts that I have all the time. I also instill my sarcasm and emotions in them pretty regularly. On the flip side of that, they represent parts of me that I can’t be, or won’t allow myself to be, in real life as well.
Q: How old were you when your first book was published?
Haven: My release day is actually the day before my thirty-third birthday. I set it up as a new year’s resolution goal, determined to get this damn book published before my birthday!
Q: What books do you have out, and what are you planning for future publications?
Haven: I currently only have Falter up for publication, however, book 2 in the Faltering Soul series is under way. I also have the beginnings of a stand-alone novel in toe.
Q: What do you hope readers will take from your books?
Haven: I hope they find enjoyment in my story while considering the uncontrollable circumstances that drive people to make bad decisions. Life is not black and white, right and wrong.
Q: What do you do to get ready to write?
Haven: I am very much a creature that needs a good atmosphere. I mostly write at a fantastic local coffee shop, listening to rock music, and drinking the writer’s drug of choice…coffee! I personally don’t plan much when it comes to preparing. I’m more of a write-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of gal, leaving my outlining to a time after most of my thoughts are already on the paper.
Q: Do you ever get writer’s block? What helps you get past it?
Haven: I’ve been fortunate to avoid the dark abyss of writer’s block. If I do happen to be in a particularly difficult time of finding words, I tend to leave the work for a few days. Sometimes a little vacation can clarify the tunnel vision. This is also when the outlining comes in handy. I start going back through the chapters and summarizing them one by one, focusing on my plot and details. This usually brings me out of the slump.
Q: What is your favorite type of book to read? Does that type influence your books?
Haven: My favorite genres are fantasy and romance, and yes, it absolutely influences my own writing. I love being to get away from reality, to escape to worlds where anything is possible. As far as writing styles, I gravitate toward authors that use a lot of descriptive words. I need to play the scenes in my mind like a movie, which makes me a slower reader, but I enjoy it so much more.
Haven Cage lives in the Carolinas with her husband and son. After many years of dabbling with drawing, painting, and working night shift in the medical field, she decided to try her hand at writing. Unfortunately, her love for books came later in life and proved to add a healthy challenge during her writing journey. Determined to hone her craft though, she soaks up as much information as she can, spends her free time tapping away in her favorite local coffee shop, and keeps a good book in hand whenever possible.
Years have passed since she began to write and sculpt her first novel, and now it is finally ready for debut. What began as a hobby has grown into a way of escape and the yearning to take her journey farther, her love for writing and reading deepening along the way.
This week we are featuring Fantasy and Horror Author of Into the Myth, Toad Prince and bestselling horror stories One Way Out ,See No Evil and #Yourenext R. L. Weeks.
Her favorite drink is Sex on The Beach! So lets hear directly from our featured author:
I used to work in a cocktail bar and I just loved the combination of flavour from the cranberry and orange juice, and when mixed with my favourite alcohol, vodka and peach schnapps (or sometimes archers instead) it’s just an explosion of flavour! Plus, it gets me pretty tipsy quickly 😛
Ingredients:
Fill your glass with ice and add 1 oz Vodka, .5 oz of Peach Schnapps, 1 oz Orange Juice and 1 oz Cranberry juice, Garnish with a lemon wedge and Maraschino cherry.
The Blurb:
Edward was cursed to be a beast, but the new curse had a cruel twist to it that could put Bella in danger. The beast isn’t the only thing Bella should fear that roams within the castle’s walls. The rooms all hold cursed hearts and one man who could be the undoing of them all.
The Excerpt:
Bella
James peered over the boat, looking down into the clear blue water. The top of the water glimmered in the moonlight.
‘Careful,’ Bella said and pulled him away from the edge. ‘Remember what Papa said, there are mermaids in this lake.’
‘Mermaids are nice, though, aren’t they?’ he asked his mum.
‘No, they’re really not. They lure men into the water, drown them, then eat their insides.’
He jumped back and sat at the back of the boat, looking cautiously out over the water. ‘Why are we even here then?’
‘We have a task to do. Papa is ill. I told you, I paid a witch to tell me of anything that could help him, and she told me about a magical rose that’s guarded by a monster. It’s in that castle,’ Bella said and pointed at the castle that was growing bigger the closer they got to it. It sat on top of a massive rock; it was larger than most of the cliffs they had seen on their travels.
‘Yeah, but I still don’t understand why I’m here,’ James huffed.
‘I need you to pick the rose, only one who has an innocent heart can take it from the jar,’ she replied and continued rowing. Her arms were aching, she wasn’t shy to manual labour, but she had been rowing for three hours and her arms felt like they were going to drop off.
‘Mama, when we get to the castle, will they have food?’
‘In my bag, there is some bread and butter.’
James scoffed. ‘Great.’ He begrudgingly took out the stale bread and bit off a piece. As he chewed on the bread, he spotted a tail by the rocks splash out of the water then disappear. It didn’t look that big; it was as if it belonged to a child mermaid. However, it was unmistakably the tail of a mermaid, he had seen pictures, the strange glimmer that covered the scales, the transparent tips of the fins, the golden lines that cracked their way up from the fins to the torso.
The boat rocked and shook as it sailed through the rocks. It stopped at the bottom of the weathered stone steps that wound their way up the surface. James got out first, the water sprayed him, soaking his light brown hair so it stuck around his face. He grumbled and slicked his hair back. Bella got out after and laughed, the water lapped around her ankles. They climbed a step so they were out of the water. Her pale yellow dress hung around her ankles, she lifted it up & followed her son.
‘I wouldn’t worry. I’ve heard that no one has actually seen this monster that guards the rose. I think it’s just a story made up so people wouldn’t try to steal it.’ They huffed as they climbed the steep steps, Bella helped her son by allowing him to put a lot of his weight on her arm.
‘So we will be safe,’ he asked, raising an eyebrow.
‘Perfectly safe,’ she promised. ‘I won’t let anything happen to you anyway. If there is anything dangerous in there, then you run back to the boat and leave me if you have too,’
‘I wouldn’t leave you mama, plus, if there is a monster, I will strike it with my sword.’
She laughed. ‘So where is this mighty sword?’
He looked up. ‘You see the front of the castle, where the steps stop, and the drawbridge starts?’ she nodded, smiling. ‘Just past there, to the right should be an armoury, there always is. Somewhere in there will be an enchanted sword and only one who can kill the monster will be able to find it…’
She grinned. ‘You’ve been reading my books again, haven’t you?’
‘Maybe, but, it’s true,’ he stated and climbed faster. He loved adventure; ever since his dad had died, he felt the need to protect his mother.
‘Well, we will first look for the enchanted sword, slay the beast, then grab the rose. We will be home within days,’ she said, fuelling his imagination.
‘Yes, and the beast will try to capture you. But, I will find the secret passages that are obviously hidden behind the tapestries and break you out.’
‘Oh, will you now.’
‘Yes,’ he grinned, getting excited. ‘Then the beast, I believe he will live alone. Cursed to remain at the castle. He will try to attack me, then plunge himself onto the sword which will glow brightly before he runs into it. By the time he realises that I am the one who was prophesied to kill him, it’ll be too late.’
‘You will return as a knight,’ Bella shouted. James punched a fist into the air and laughed, but wobbled a little on the step. Bella grabbed him and pushed him up further.
‘Let’s go get this beast,’ she said. She knew there wasn’t a beast, a monster, or anything in there. But, she would always play the game. He would come up with the craziest stories about men he had seen walk past, how they were cursed, how one was a dragon slayer, and she would always go along with it.
She wrote fantasy stories for children, and he had taken to reading them all. One dragon at a time.
‘So, where’s this armoury?’ She asked as they climbed the last few steps.
When they were in full view of the castle, Bella’s heart pounded loudly. Maddening screams were coming from the barred up windows, the two large doors creaked open as James approached.
R. L. Weeks is a fantasy and horror author living in Exeter, UK. She grew up in Devon surrounded by local folklore which she incorporates into her writing.
Into the Myth, published by CHBB, One Way Out and See No Evil, published by Vamptasy, are available for purchase on Amazon and Kindle.
She wants to write novels to inspire and help young people in the same way that fantasy books helped her. Horror is a genre that she wants to bring people back to ‘it’s such a deep genre. It’s so much more than just scaring people, it gives them a sense of empowerment. I’m obsessed with the reality of the human condition and the darker shades of humanity. I try to tell my stories from a different viewpoint.’
Just got my first book released this weekend and I am working on the second novel while my hubby in his brilliance rushes in to announce:”Let’s write a fantasy Short for Charity Anthology by Wolf Paw Publications!”
Ok. with the LSFW Crate Something Magical just around the corner I must be crazy to go along with his ideas. But then a little change of scenery (from erotica to fantasy) never hurt anyone, and this little break seems quite welcome. So off to my coffee and laptop I go!
raked across it again. He had no heart for his job. How could he help bring the wicked to justice when he had no concept of true evil? Can one know evil without first seeing good? There has to be more to this existence than torment and torture. What I would give for one mortal lifetime!
order:
introvert, Reyna exerts her power as mistress of the dark arts of introversion through her blog, Introvert Broadcasting Network. When not writing, she responds to callouts as a canine handler for search and rescue. She lives in Warren County New Jersey with her husband, a search dog and a coterie of pets.
My favorite drink is Apple Pie on the rocks:
between my thumb and index finger. A familiar odor rose from the fuzz, pulling me into a vague memory. The smell was fainter than I remembered. It was intoxicating, indescribable, and invoked feelings that heated my cheeks to a rosy red.
blow the tiny feather away, but before the breath left my lips, the fuzz began to disintegrate. It crumbled into pieces so small I could barely see them, then drifted from my palm.
Archard, and what the hell is going on with the window?” His voice was louder and raspier than before, emphasizing that he would yell if he could.
the floor. Dust specks twinkled like tiny sparks as they swam in the air, swirling inside the light path.
and the strange little things that just disappeared for no reason. They had to mean something.
not write a book about one?” I have always struggled with my spiritual side, not so much doubting my beliefs in God, but more myself and the “man-made” side of religion. I felt like writing would be a good way to work some of those inner demons and doubts out. 
unfortunately. Discouragement is an emotion you will feel often, but I firmly believe that if you are diligent, you can make it. You may not have a fat wallet in the end, but it’s better to try and fail, knowing you gave it your best than avoiding the trials of being a writer when you could have been magical.
alcohol, vodka and peach schnapps (or sometimes archers instead) it’s just an explosion of flavour! Plus, it gets me pretty tipsy quickly 😛 
Into the Myth, published by CHBB, One Way Out and See No Evil, published by Vamptasy, are available for purchase on Amazon and Kindle.
edenfreed.com 