Thursday, July 25, 2013

RBTL Presents Book Trailer Blitz Copper Girl by Jennifer Allis Provost

Title: Copper Girl
Author: Jennifer Allis Provost
Series: Copper Legacy
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Spence City
Release Date: June 25 2013
 Sara had always been careful.
She never spoke of magic, never associated with those suspected of handling magic, never thought of magic, and never, ever, let anyone see her mark. After all, the last thing she wanted was to end up missing, like her father and brother.
Then, a silver elf pushed his way into Sara's dream, and her life became anything but ordinary.

Book Trailer



It seemed like a good idea at the time.
My office, like most modern offices, cranked the air conditioning down to Arctic proportions during the summer months. Consequently, we workers arrived in the morning dressed in sandals and sleeveless tops, donned heavy sweaters upon reaching our desks, and ended up shivering by noon. Ironically, when our workday ended we were hit by a wall of oppressive heat the moment we stepped outside the main doors. No, this wasn’t a flawed system in the slightest.
That day, I wasn’t having it. I had the grand idea of spending my lunch hour outside, away from the icy wind stiffening my fingers and chilling my neck. After I unwound myself from the afghan I kept in my desk (and only used in the summer months), I gathered up my lunch and my phone and headed out for an impromptu picnic in my car.
What I hadn’t considered was that the office runs the air conditioning so cold because it was, well, hot outside. Very hot, in fact. So hot that the cheese was melting in my sandwich and the lettuce looked like something that had washed ashore months, maybe even years, ago. I was parked in the shade and had taken down my car’s convertible top, but I still couldn’t manage to get comfortable. I’d already shed my sandals and cardigan, which left me wearing my sundress and…
Dare I?
I glanced around the parking lot of Real Estate Evaluation Services, the ‘go-to firm for all your commercial real estate needs’, according to the brochures. No one, human or drone, was taking a noontime stroll, and, by virtue of my being on the far side of the lot, no cars were near mine. Most of my coworkers didn’t even have cars, so the lot was rarely more than half-full. What was more, from where I sat, I couldn’t even see the office.
I dared.
I took a deep breath and channeled my inner wild woman, then leaned the seat back and slipped off my panties. Removing that small bit of cotton made an incredible difference, and the heat became somewhat bearable. Enjoyable, even. Was that a breeze?
Ignoring my decrepit sandwich, I fully reclined the seat, set the alarm on my phone, and closed my eyes. A nap. Now that would make today bearable.
Suddenly, he is there.
Kissing me, holding me.
I know I'm dreaming, because he's perfect. His lips are soft but insistent, his hands gentle. I glide my fingers across his back, feeling thick cords of muscle, before sinking my fingers into his hair. It’s superfine, like cobwebs, and when I crack an eyelid, I learn that it’s silver. Not gray or white, but the elegant hue of antique candlesticks and fine flatware. Cool.
I squeeze my eyes shut again, not wanting the dream to end any sooner than it has to. He kisses me once more, and I can’t help melting against him. His hand travels up my leg, up past my hip… shit! No panties!
I try twisting away, but he already knows. I feel his mouth stretch into a smile, and he moves to nuzzle my neck. "What’s your name?" he murmurs.
"Sara," I reply. "Yours?"
"Micah." By now, his hands have traveled to my waist, and he slides one around to stroke the small of my back. "Why did you summon me, Sara?"
"I didn’t," I protest. "I don’t know how." I would say more, but he nibbles a trail from my neck to my shoulder, and pushes my dress to the side. As for me, I let him.
Micah raises his head, and I get a good look at him for the first time. His eyes are large and dark gray, like thunderheads, his features chiseled into warm caramel skin, and his unruly mop of silver hair seems to float around his head. He wears an odd, buff-colored leather shirt, made all the odder in this heat, and matching leather pants and boots. Boots?
"You did summon me," he insists. "My Sara, you must tell me why."
"Does it matter?" I ask. I pull him back to me, kissing him with all the passion I’ve never felt with anyone during my waking hours. Micah kisses me back, fingers deftly unbuttoning my dress while his other hand rubs my lower back. I’ve never felt so free, so alive as I do in Micah’s embrace, and I have no intention of rushing this. None at all.

Jennifer Allis Provost is a native New Englander who lives in a sprawling colonial along with her beautiful and precocious twins, a dog, a parrot, two cats, and a wonderful husband who never forgets to buy ice cream. As a child, she read anything and everything she could get her hands on, including a set of encyclopedias, but fantasy was always her favorite. She spends her days drinking vast amounts of coffee, arguing with her computer, and avoiding any and all domestic behavior.

Author Links 

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Wednesday, July 24, 2013

RBTL Presents Heavenly Hunted by Aria Williams Cover Reveal

Title: Heavenly Hunted
Author: Aria Williams
Series: Heavenly Hell Series (#2)
Genre: YA/Paranormal/Angels
Publisher: Self Published
Release Date: To Be Announced
 There is a new threat in town named Bernie who is has one thing on her mind, killing Indiana. Bernie has very special skills, she stalks her prey while keeping hidden in shadows, isolates her victim’s attacking them when least expected and can get into any house at any time with the occupants unaware.
Indiana feels that no one on this earth poses a risk to herself and continues to her involvement help victims of abuse.
Until Nate put his foot down and demands for her to stop, he feels her safety is more important.
With both Connor and Nate putting their differences aside to protect Indy, will she get through this new threat or will she unintentionally put one her friends lives at risk to satisfy her own selfish needs. Or will love prevail and save the day?

My name is Aria Williams, and I am a new author who loves to write Young adult and paranormal novels. I live on nine acres of beautiful pasture land in the central west of NSW. I work full time as a nurse, this is where I get a lot of my inspiration from. For me I find my inspiration in the form of many vices either good or bad. I write from the heart and use my novels to express myself. My first novel was born from my feelings of helplessness in a world where even the innocent die and many people are left wondering why. It felt right to create a character that could heal any physical illness with some minor consequences.  My second novel Heavenly hell is from my personal experiences involving harassment, and the dominating role in which people in positions of authority take and use to their own selfish advancements. When I am not writing or working, I like to play with my dogs and have fun with my friends.  

Stalk Aria 

Friday, July 5, 2013

Promo Blitz Never Too Far by Thomas Christopher

Title: Never Too Far
Author: Thomas Christopher
Genre: YA/SciFi/Dystopian 
Publisher: Self/Kalmaha Press
Release Date: May 10 2012
A harrowing story of love and survival. In a future of scarce resources, where the possession of gas and diesel is punishable by death, a teenage boy and a pregnant girl must save their impoverished family. They risk their lives on a terrifying journey to sell stolen fuel on the black market
Chapter One

Joe slung the rifle strap over his shoulder and pointed, but his older brother Frank didn’t say anything. 
“Don’t you see it?” Joe said. “Right there. Across the river.”
Frank stepped back suddenly.
“We need to get out of here,” he said. “Someone might still be there.” He looked across the river again. “What’s it doing out here?” 
“It looks abandoned,” Joe said.
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“We got to check it out.” 
Joe moved forward but Frank grabbed his arm.
“No we don’t,” Frank said. “Besides, you can’t go walking up to it like any old piece of junk. It isn’t something you leave lying around, either. They’re coming back for it, for sure.”
“All the more reason why we should go see it.”
 “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying we shouldn’t mess with it.”
“Well, I’m going,” Joe said.
At the river’s edge, Frank snatched the rifle from Joe. 
“I’m leading the way,” Frank said.
Joe was about to grab the rifle back when Frank jammed the last shell into the open breech. He used his maimed hand, the one missing three fingers, and locked the bolt in place. Joe figured there was no sense in arguing now. It would only make Frank more upset.
After they waded across the shallow river, they crouched low and crept up the rocky embankment to the old road. Frank raised his head to take a look, and then Joe poked his head up too. 
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Frank said. “It’s definitely an Arbyter.”
Joe couldn’t take his eyes off it. He had never seen a real Arbyter before. What he knew about them came from Frank when he was in the city of Chikowa over a year ago. He said he saw Arbyters patrolling the streets all the time. The way Frank described them made Joe think of a beast on wheels, one with two dark windows in front like menacing eyes and a big machine gun on top like a horn.
“I’ll go,” Joe said.
“No, you won’t,” Frank said. “I’m going. Stay behind me.”  
For a moment Frank seemed afraid to go near the vehicle, which was flipped on its side. He stood with his legs spread and the rifle pointed at it as if he thought it might spring to life at any second. He shuffled forward. His wet shoes scraped on the dirt road. When he got close enough to touch the armored underbelly, he stopped. He nudged his foot against the scratched and dented metal. Then he stepped back, ready to fire, ready for it to finally awaken and show its true self. When it didn’t move, he took his maimed hand off the rifle and motioned toward Joe.
“Come on,” he whispered. “Stay behind me.”
Joe shot to his feet and hurried to Frank who was rounding one of the Arbyter’s huge front tires. Joe couldn’t resist brushing his fingers along the tire’s thick tread or touching the fang-like spokes in the grill on his way past. But the very second he turned the corner and saw the top of the Arbyter, he pulled up short. It was much stockier than what he imagined. It looked like the head of a giant iron bull. The dark eyes staring out from the squat cab were cracked and pitted from bullet fire, and the machine gun’s long thick barrel was wedged tight in the ground.
Frank hung the rifle over his shoulder, climbed on the machine gun, and heaved himself up on the Arbyter’s side. Once he got to his feet, he jabbed the rifle tip through an open window, or perhaps it was an open door. Joe didn’t know because he couldn’t see that high. 
“Come up and look inside,” Frank said. “I’ll keep an eye out.” 
Joe didn’t hesitate. He scampered onto the machine gun and crawled up near Frank’s feet. Painted on the Arbyter’s door was the symbol of the Guardian Party, the ruling government in Chikowa. The symbol was a seven-pointed red star with a white ring in the middle and a red circle inside like a bull’s eye. 
“See if there’re any dead soldiers in there,” Frank said.
Joe got on his stomach and ducked his head inside the open window. He braced himself for a gory sight, but he didn’t see any of the dead soldiers Frank was afraid of. Instead, he saw some kind of reddish-black substance splashed all around. He reckoned it was probably blood. He looked over the instrument panel, gazed at the cracks in the tinted windshield, and then craned his neck to look behind the seats. Nothing was there as far as he could tell. 
On his way out he gripped the steering wheel and even jiggled it once before he abruptly let go. 
After he sat up, he said, “No bodies, but there’s blood.”
“They must’ve evacuated already.”
“What do you think happened? Do you think it was attacked?”
“If it was, we wouldn’t be standing here.” Frank looked around like he was expecting someone to be there. “Let’s get down.”
Frank shouldered the rifle and shimmied down onto the machine gun. Joe was about to follow him when he thought of something. 
“Hey,” he said. “I bet it still has fuel.”  
He scooted to the back end of the Arbyter to look for the fuel plate. As soon as he found it, he pried it open, unscrewed the cap, and stuck his nose into the open cylinder. He took a big whiff. The smell of the fumes made his eyes water. It still had fuel. He couldn’t believe it. He stared at Frank standing on the ground below. 
“Get down from there,” Frank said. 
“How much do you think it’s worth?”
“How should I know? I don’t even know how much is in there.”
Joe was going to find out. He looked into the woods and spotted a big fallen limb. He leapt off the Arbyter, forgetting how high up he was, and stumbled hard to his knees. But the drop barely fazed him. He ran to the fallen limb, planted his foot on its barrel, and snapped off a long thin branch. 
“What are you doing?” Frank said. “Are you crazy?”
Back at the Arbyter, Joe clambered up to the fuel tank. He dipped the stick into the opening and fed it down the pipe as far as it would go. The smell rushed up into his nose again. He pulled the stick out to find it half-soaked with diesel. 
“There’s like half a tank.”
“Let me see that,” Frank said.
Joe handed the stick down to Frank. 
“You know how much this is worth?” Frank said.
“I already asked you that.”
“It was at ten thousand shekels when I was in Chikowa.”
“So you were lying.”
“So what? That might not even be right.”
“You think that’s close, though?”
“It’s got to be. This is like gold.” 
“Why don’t we sell it, then?”
“Don’t be nuts. We get caught with this, we’ll be executed. It’s illegal to have. You know that. Forget about it.” Frank threw the stick into the woods. “Put that cap back on and get down from there.”
“I’m serious,” Joe said.
“Get it out of your head because it’s not happening.
“I could do it.”
“What did I just say? No way.”
“But you went.”
“And look what happened to me.” He shoved his maimed hand up at Joe. “You aren’t going. I’m not going. Nobody’s going. Got it?” 
Once they crossed the river, they walked through the wooded bluffs and down into the valley where Joe’s family farm stood. Even though it didn’t look much different from any other farm Joe had seen, he knew it was a ramshackle wreck. The stark buildings were aged and weathered. The splitting wood was streaked gray and black. Off to the side of the barn was a rickety fence that held the little livestock they had left—a wooly goat, two spotted hogs, some chickens, and the horses, Lester and Sam. Beyond that was a field of limp corn and a garden of scraggly vegetables. The house leaned to one side as if it was constantly trying to hang on against a fierce wind. Broken windows were covered in plastic or scraps of wood. It was a wonder anyone lived there.

Thomas Christopher grew up in Iowa and attended the University of Northern Iowa.
After living in Seattle and Montana, he went to Western Michigan University, where he received his MFA.
His short stories have appeared in The Louisville Review, The MacGuffin, Redivider, as well as other places. He was awarded an Irving S. Gilmore Emerging Artist Grant and was a finalist for the Matthew Clark Prize in Fiction.
He lives in Wisconsin with his wife Jessica and their son Holton.

Places to find Thomas