One Day Blitz - Guest Author Leia Shaw

Excerpt from Destiny Bewitched:

She struggled beneath him, her cheeks flushed and chest heaving. Several necklaces – silver chains with various charms and a piece of leather tied around a feather – drew his gaze to her pale, slender neck. A neck he could sink his teeth into. He liked the look of her underneath him far too much. Two hundred years without a woman…why couldn’t Ares just have had him flogged?

“Let me up,” she yelled. “You’re squishing me.”

Reluctantly, he did. “You’d be more than squished had I been someone else. Your stance is too narrow. That’s why you fell over so easily.”

She scowled at him and straightened her clothing. “Don’t tell me how to fight.”

“Then stay behind me and I’ll do it for you.”

“Never.”

“Stubborn.”

“Bossy.”

Gods, she was a saucy thing. Repressing a smile, he picked her sword up off the ground. “Spitfire and ambition will only get you so far, Samantha.” He held out her sword. “Knowledge and patience are the foundation for success.”

“My sister doesn’t have time for me to be patient.” She started to put the sword back into its sheath.

“No.” He grabbed her wrist and, under her icy glare, he positioned her sword arm out in front of her. “Widen your stance.”

She tossed him a dirty look but did as he said.

He walked a circle around her. “Good. Now scan.”

She looked left then right. “Clear.” She took a step forward but he grabbed the back of her shirt and tugged her against his chest.

“Never forget the sky,” he rasped against her ear.

Her breath quickened and he could hear her heart pound wildly. She looked up then whispered, “Clear.”

“Good. I can’t use a dead witch so try to keep yourself alive, yes?”

“I suppose I can try,” she answered drily.

Destiny Bewitched blurb:

Deemed “trailer trash” by humans and the daughter of the most disgraceful family of witches and warlocks since the Puritan age, Samantha is used to fighting her own battles. When her younger sister is taken to the Underworld, Sam doesn't hesitate to rescue her.

To survive the harsh land, she makes a deal with a demon — the most dangerous of creatures in the realm.

Even with those lustrous horns, Geo is as hot as the hell she's stuck in. Fighting nasty beasts in a supernatural version of the gladiator games is easy compared to falling in love with a man who has no future to offer.

Author bio:

I began my writing journey while I was stranded at the airport waiting for my delayed flight. I browsed the Border’s kiosk and grew frustrated that I couldn’t find the “it factor” — the perfect combination of alpha male-ness, ass-kickery, strong females, magic, and sex.

So I spent the next four hours on an airplane writing my first book on scraps of paper and an airsick bag (which thankfully I didn't need to use).

Now I spend too much time in my head, plotting evil villains and the hot men (and women) who ruthlessly kill them. I think far too much about fae politics, dragon power games, and how fast werewolves can change forms. But writing my paranormal romance series has given me a productive place to express those dark places in my mind.

I live in New England with my husband and two kids. Though I will go to my grave denying it, my husband insists I would be thrilled if he suddenly sprouted fangs.

Media:

www.leiashaw.com
www.leiashaw.blogspot.com
www.facebook.com/LeiaShaw
@LeiaShaw

Guest Author Erica Manfred

Excerpt from Interview with the Jewish Vampire

“So nu?” said the vampire thoughtfully as he sat down next to me at the Mitzvah bar on Orchard St. “You must be Rhoda?” He’d picked me out of a line-up of twenty-something’s. I didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.

We had met through JDate. I was a Jewish divorcee of forty-one who claimed to be thirty-five and might be considered zaftig if you defined that liberally. He had been dead for a long time but I didn’t know that right away. I just thought he was pale. An undead double for Jeff Goldblum, he was tall, slender, with a mischievous smile, flashing green eyes and long black hair. His incisors were kind of pointy when he smiled and his skin was pasty white, but that didn’t put me off. Everyone looked pretty sallow in the dead of winter in New York City. I immediately wondered if I could drag him off to my lair later that night.

Despite the fact that I had a pretty face, I didn’t get a lot of action on JDate because I had checked “a few extra pounds” in the body size box. “A few” was an understatement, which is why I always met dates at night in bars. I wore black and got there first so they would see me sitting down. My face was a lot slimmer than the rest of me. Jewish guys were the worst when it came to weight—and everything else. Only a Jewish supermodel who ran a law firm was good enough for the Jewish princes I met on JDate.

I was perched on a barstool too teeny to accommodate my rear end, which spilled over the edges. I peered at everyone else's barstools and felt worse seeing all those visible edges. I decided that from now on my goal in life would be to sit on a barstool and be able to see the edges. I tugged on my low-cut tunic top trying in vain to hide the bulges between chest and crotch which seemed to have a mind of their own, ballooning out despite my best efforts. At least I was showing some cleavage, my best physical attribute. He rescued me from what was rapidly becoming a severe fat attack.

“So, you’re a journalist…” he said, putting his elbow on the bar and turning towards me. I had listed that profession on my profile. “Do you have a tape recorder with you?” he asked, not realizing I suppose that tape was so last century and reporters now carried digital recorders.

“Why do you ask?” Men had asked me a lot of strange opening questions on first dates but whether I had a tape recorder was not one of them.

“I would like to tell the story of my life.” He leaned forward and gave me such an intense look I had to turn away. “Would you be willing to interview me?”

No, I wasn’t interested in the story of his life. I was interested in getting to know him in a more biblical sense. I figured he was just another narcissistic celebrity wannabe. As a writer I was constantly getting hit on--not by attractive men--but by people who thought their lives were so fascinating they would make surefire bestseller material. All they thought they needed was a writer to tell their story which, of course, I would be thrilled to do on spec because they didn’t have any money. None of them realized that writers are not charitable institutions.

“You will want to write my story,” he said urgently, “You’ve never heard anything like it before. It will make you rich and famous.”

“Sure, sure. So what’s so special about your story?” I asked wearily, disappointed that he was only interested in my writing skills, not my body.

“I’m a vampire,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Sure, and I’m the Queen of the Damned.”

“What will convince you?” he asked.

“Hmm. Hold on a minute,” I said, playing along. I dragged a cross out of my purse, which I happened to have because I’d visited St. Patrick’s Cathedral with my niece earlier that day and got one for free. I held it up in front of him.

“I’m a Jewish vampire. Doesn’t do a thing for me.”

“How about a Jewish star?”

“Don’t be silly, only Christians are afraid of the devil.”

I dragged out a mirror and held it in front of his face. No reflection. He said Ah and the mirror didn’t fog up. When he opened his mouth I saw that his long incisors were, in fact, fangs. I shrank back, not thrilled about the notion of becoming dinner. I looked more closely at him, noting that like Anne Rice’s Louis, he was utterly white and smooth, as if he were sculpted from bleached bone, with brilliant green eyes that looked like flames in a skull. Unlike Louis, however, he was not wearing a finely tailored black coat but an overly long shlumpy one that looked like it came from the nineteenth century without a stop at the cleaners along the way. His full black hair, with waves combed over the tips of the ears and curls that barely touched the edge of his white collar, made me long to touch it. He was one handsome dude although his wardrobe could use some help.

“So,” he said, “ask me some questions.”

He certainly had piqued my curiosity, so I decided to go ahead and interview him. If he really was a vampire I’d have the scoop of the century, if anyone believed me. If not, at least I’d have the opportunity to flirt with a good-looking guy. Maybe I should have been more frightened, but I’d interviewed many dangerous types, including serial killers, so I was pretty nonchalant about the risk involved. Plus my life had been seriously lacking in drama lately and here was an opportunity for a little excitement.

I pulled out my pen and started making notes.

“Wait a minute,” he said, sounding upset. “I thought you were going to record this”

“I am recording it. This pen is a digital recorder.” I showed him my latest reporter’s gadget. “As I write, it records, so I can play back any part I want.”

“That would have come in handy in Hebrew class when I was a kid. I was always getting lost during the rabbi’s Talmud commentary. Too bad I had to use a quill pen.”

He wanted me to give him a pseudonym so I’m calling him “Sheldon” after my ex-husband, who was a bloodsucker if ever there was one.

“I didn’t know there were any Jewish vampires.” Actually I didn’t know there were any vampires at all, but I was suspending disbelief for the moment.

“Vy not a vampire? Vy a duck? Just kidding. I miss Groucho. We used to hang out at Grossingers in the heyday of the Borscht Belt.”

I laughed. In addition to being a hottie, he was a regular vampire comedian. You never know what will turn up on JDate.

Interview with a Jewish Vampire
by Erica Manfred

The last thing zaftig middle-aged journalist, Rhoda Ginsburg, expected when she signed up for JDate was to fall in love with a vampire. But when she meets drop-dead gorgeous Sheldon, a Hasidic vampire, she falls hard. She rationalizes that he may not be alive, but at least he’s Jewish.

She learns that back in the nineteenth century Sheldon was a rabbi who was turned into a vampire by Count Dracula, an anti-Semite who got his kicks from turning Orthodox Jews into vampires because then they’d have to drink blood, which isn’t kosher.

Soon after she meets Sheldon, she discovers her beloved mother, Fanny, is terminally ill, so she comes up with the crackpot idea of getting Sheldon to turn Fanny and her friends, known as “the goils,” into vampires.

Once she becomes a vampire, Fanny tires of her boring life in Century Village, Florida, and, seeking thrills, she goes clubbing and disappears into the nightlife of South Beach in Miami. When Fanny and her goil posse “go rogue” and start preying on the young, Rhoda and Sheldon must track them down to keep them from killing again.

Interview with a Jewish Vampire turns vampire lore on its head, proving that not all vampires are young and beautiful and it IS possible to be undead and kosher.

About the Author:

Erica Manfred is a freelance journalist, humorous essayist, and author. Her most recent book is the novel, Interview with a Jewish Vampire. She’s also authored two non-fiction self-help books, including most recently He’s History You’re Not; Surviving Divorce After Forty. Her articles and essays have appeared in Cosmopolitan, The New York Times Magazine, Ms., New Age Journal, Village Voice, Woman’s Day, SELF, Ladies Home Journal, and many other publications. Erica lives in Woodstock, New York with her Chihuahua, Shadow, and her daughter, Freda. Brought up by Jewish parents who spoke Yiddish but avoided religion, she got her Jewish education at the Woodstock Jewish Congregation which welcomes Jews from all backgrounds, from atheist to Orthodox, to vampire. Her website is www.ericamanfred.com, or visit www.jewishvampire.com

Guest Author Mysti Parker

Elves are People, Too—A Love Story
by Mysti Parker

In 2001, a little movie called “The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring” hit the big screen. During that three hour stretch in a dim theater, I munched happily on popcorn and fell in love all over again.

I’d fallen for its predecessor, “The Hobbit”, many years before, when I wore out the little 45 record that came with an abridged children’s version of J.R.R. Tolkien’s classic tale. I adored Bilbo. My heart sped as I listened to the gravelly-voiced narrator describing the terrified hobbit’s trek into the dragon Smaug’s lair. No matter how many times I listened and read along, the story captivated me, even when the record skipped at every other paragraph.

And back at the theater in 2001, when Orlando Bloom tossed that long blond hair (ok, I know it was a wig) behind his shoulder, raised his bow, and drew the string back toward his pointed ear, I fell in love with Legolas.

Actually, I fell in love with elves.

Through a trilogy of films, Tolkien’s immortal characters were resurrected by director Peter Jackson’s genius. One might imagine my giddiness over the first installment of “The Hobbit” coming out this December. Yet, as I read the books and drooled over Legolas in the films, I knew something was missing.

I didn’t know what that something was until 2009. In that eight-year span, I quit my job to become a full-time mom, moved to rural Western Kentucky, had two more babies, and became hooked on roleplaying games like Everquest and The Elder Scrolls. In those games, I came to realize what I’d missed in Tolkien’s version of fantasy—the elves!
Yes, there were elves, but I wanted more of Galadriel, Arwen, and Legolas. I wanted more than their portrayal as perfect, whimsical beings. I wanted to get behind the scenes to see what secrets lay in their tidy closets.

And that’s when I started writing. It began with me writing about the elven characters I played in computer games. One of the stories about a dark elf sparked something special. I decided to break away from the fan-fiction slant and create my own fantasy world. After much rewriting and editing, I submitted “Let There Be Love” to Midnight Showcase Fiction (now Melange Books), and they accepted it right off the bat.

From then on, I had my motivation. Freedom, in the form of my very own creation, not confined to someone else’s vision or a game’s pre-set lore. In my world, which came to be called Tallenmere, I held the reins. I could dive headlong into stories where elves were at the forefront, and not just charming minor characters. They would experience passion, anger, jealousy, violence, and treachery just as any human would, with some necessary differences, of course, to give them a unique spin.

So that’s where I am today, carving out the world of Tallenmere one elf at a time. I hope you’ll come along with me on this journey. But beware—you just might fall in love, too!

****

One lucky commenter will win a PDF or Kindle of BOTH A Ranger’s Tale and Serenya’s Song

Serenya’s Song
Tallenmere, Book Two
by Mysti Parker

Blurb:

In the fantasy world of Tallenmere, no one ever said love was easy...

Serenya Crowe may be a half-elf commoner, but she's no ordinary woman. With the ability to interpret dreams, and a birth defect that forces her to wear gloves, she’s endured small-town gossip and the cruelty of her husband, Sebastian, The Earl of Summerwind. All she's ever wanted is to live a quiet life and raise a family. When she meets the new stranger in town, her world and her heart, are turned upside down.

Wood-elf Jayden Ravenwing is an ex-secret agent who wants nothing more than to forget matters of the heart. He left the bustle of Leogard and his failed marriage to make a fresh start in Summerwind. He never planned to fall in love again, especially with the enchanting Serenya Crowe.

When a strange portal opens on the Crowe property at the edge of town, Jayden is thrown into an investigation, knowing that if he fails, Serenya and everyone in Summerwind may die.

Together, he and Serenya must overcome an ancient evil, and their own inner demons, to save Summerwind and find the love they've always dreamed of.

Amazon

Author Bio:

Mysti Parker is a full time wife, mother of three, and a writer. Her first novel, A Ranger’s Tale was published in January, 2011 by Melange Books, and is the first in a fantasy romance series. She is also the proud writer of Unwritten, a blog voted #3 for eCollegeFinder’s Top Writing Blogs award.

Links:

Email: mystiparker@yahoo.com
Unwritten

Twitter: @MystiParker
Facebook Page
Goodreads Page
A Ranger’s Tale: Melange Books, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords
Serenya’s Song: MelangeBooks