Stewards of the Sea

She’s hiding from a past she can’t escape. He’s running from the past he can’t forget. A lover of sand and surf, Meri has spent too long lingering in the law firm where she works, bogged down from a nightmare she can’t seem to escape, but that all changes when her best friend, who also happens to be her boss, insists Meri must take a break and get away from the humdrum of life. While rediscovering her passion for ocean conservation, Meri happens upon a despicable act that forces her to step in and stand up for an innocent sand shark, but she is deterred by a rake of a man who tosses her over his shoulder and takes her away from the scene. From their first encounter, Tobias is a rakishly handsome thorn in Meri’s side that she can’t quite bring herself to hate no matter how hard she tries. As their secrets unfold, their connection grows, and Meri finds herself forced to make a choice. Will she choose a new path or stick to what she knows?

 

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Victoria Clapton

RHYME & REASON

RHYME & REASON

Facets of a Life

by 

Claire Fluff Llewellyn

A collection of rhymes for troubling times; reaching out to the weary with a virtual hug!
From poems about sleep to murderous sheep! It’s an eclectic mix of sincerity, sentiment, satire and
silliness, served up as three “facets of life”: LIFE, LOVE, LAUGHTER. Share in the joy & sorrow, or
re-live your own! Puzzle at the twisted, dark humour of drunken Santas & Hollywood Hookers!
Life’s a roller-coaster of ups & downs, smiles & frowns. Won’t you take a ride in rhyme?

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UK Sales Link >> RHYME & REASON

 

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Claire Fluff Llewellyn

♦♦Note from the Author♦♦

Hello readers! I’m running a competition for verified Ebook purchasers to win a signed print copy of the book. In the poem titled: JUST LIKE THE MOVIES: The Twisted Tale of a Hollywood Hooker, I used 36 movie quotes. To enter send proof of purchase plus all correct movie quotes with the movie title to: bloodybritproductions@gmail.com

The Ender–The Weaver Trilogy, Book 3

Are you ready for The Ender?

Most villains meet a likely doom by the end of their book… most villains are not Enders.

Now with the power of the codex, the Wanderer sends most of the Golden Recluse into their books, and Laney must rush to save them from the their own writing. With William, she crosses the page into a horror novel filled with bloodthirsty birds, a romance paperback where, to their dismay, they become the main characters, and a children’s picture book that’s not as innocent as it seems. And with each second that passes, the threat of the Wanderer’s pen threatens to be the end of the Weavers.

With everything at stake, Laney realizes that she’s part of something bigger, and it all comes down to a choice that the Wanderer has always wanted her to make:
Will she save the man she loves, or the family she’s only just discovered?

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Heather Kindt

Happy Release Day–Solomon Cille!

The danger in New Orleans grows as Orlagh, Queen of the Seelie Fae, strikes out again. Voodoo Queen of New Orleans, Josephine Touchet, must get together with her friends and family, to bring together the vampires, faeries, and witches to end this threat once and for all.

Prophetic dreams of death and destruction, caused by her unborn daughter, Solomon Cille, plague JoJo’s sleep, warning her of trouble to come. The trouble must be stopped before JoJo’s nightmares are made real. Solomon Cille is young, but a heavy burden hangs on her head.

The Seelie Queen chose her to host a parasitic faery within her body, a blood elemental that feeds off of Solomon’s essence and urges her to go to war against her city, but things don’t go as Orlagh plans. Solomon is not brought down by the invasive fae sharing her body. In fact, a different sort of magick happens, they become friends, and Solomon’s power grows.

With the help of her family and control over a unique type of magick, Solomon prepares to face the Seelie Queen head on, to save her city and protect her love…

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The Watcher

 

Book 2 of The Weaver Trilogy…

Most protagonists are heroes confined to the pages of a book . . . most heroes are not Watchers.

When Laney sends William home to be healed by his father, she thinks she will never see him again. After all, his home is in colonial Massachusetts in the story she wrote last year. But when William’s words and actions mysteriously begin to appear on her page, she wonders if she’s lost all control over her characters and their stories.

William will fight through the war around him, again and again, to reach the woman he loves, going against her desire to keep him safe. With the Gate Keeper on William’s side of the page working for The Wanderer, a woman determined to eradicate the Weavers, he must find a way to keep head-strong Laney out of the book, even if it means working with his archenemy, Jonas Webb.

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Cover Reveal–The Watcher

 

Book 2 of The Weaver Trilogy

by Heather Kindt

Release date >> April 21, 2020!

Read Book 1 Now!

Most writers choose the endings to their stories . . . most writers are not Weavers.
Laney Holden is a freshman at Madison College whose life goes from normal to paranormal in a matter of seconds. When the antagonist in the book she’s writing shoves her down the stairs at the subway station, she learns she is a Weaver. Weavers bridge the narrow gap between fantasy and reality, bringing their words to life.

Laney soon meets William whom she also suspects is a character from her book—one she’s had a mad crush on since her pen hit the paper. But he’s in danger as her antagonist reveals a whole different ending planned for Laney’s book that involves killing William. Laney must use her writing to save the people closest to her by weaving the most difficult words she will ever write.

THE WEAVER is the first installment of The Weaver trilogy. It is an NA paranormal romance set in a small town on the north shore of Boston. It will leave you wanting more…

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The Weaver

 

Nightmareland

Happy Halloween Horror Lovers!

From the creators of the #1 bestseller The Box Under The Bed horror anthology and its #1 bestseller sequel Dark Visions, comes Nightmareland . . .

A horror anthology with 23 stories from 14 authors!

In a rundown shack deep in the woods, a high school girl dares herself to try the strange new drug all the kids are talking about. One injection of “Nightmareland” is all it takes to unleash a person’s biggest fears to them – and then they are on their own! But rebellious Jessica thinks she will prove herself to her peers and parents.
Tremble along as she is strapped into the chair and becomes a lost child on a Florida party island, an investigator looking into a circus’ bizarre side shows, an abused prisoner locked away in a desolate concrete cell, and much more as Jessica faces the most terrifying ride of her young life.
Compiled by USA Today bestselling author Dan Alatorre, this anthology of horror once again unites the minds and pens of more than a dozen amazing authors.

Nightmareland will send you into the foggy twilight of the eerie and macabre, with heart stopping stories from:

USA Today bestselling author Dan Alatorre (The Navigators),

award-winning bestselling author Robbie Cheadle

award-winning bestselling author Ellen Best

award-winning author Kaye Booth

award-winning bestselling author Betty Valentine

award-winning bestselling author Alana Turner

award-winning bestselling author Christine Valentor

award-winning bestselling author Nick Vossen

award-winning bestselling author Alana Turner

award-winning bestselling author Victoria Clapton

award-winning bestselling author Anne Marie Andrus

award-winning bestselling author Adele Marie Park

award-winning bestselling author Barbara Anne Helberg

award-winning bestselling author MD Walker

award-winning bestselling author Dabney Farmer

award-winning bestselling author M J Mallon

Perfect for Halloween or any time, these stories will make you think twice before spending the night alone, watching TV with family, or even going on a casual boat ride.

 

CONSIDER YOURSELF WARNED!!

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Short Story Friday

A New Love Blooms in Old Age

by
Victoria Clapton

 

I walked the dusty path that led to the family cemetery located beneath some spindly old cedar trees on the expansive property of the looming Eirewood Plantation. On my way, I stopped to eat a few of the tart bitter blackberries growing there and pondered on how I’d come to such a quiet place.

The sprawling white Greek Revival sat imposing in the sunlight. The tall, thick columns stood stately, supporting the two story gargantuan house while the rocking chairs on the front porch silently invited someone to relax and rock a spell,taking in the beauty of the Southern landscape. Though I had trekked some distance from the house, I could still see the majesty of the house patiently waiting for something, or maybe someone. It’s empty loneliness bothered me very little. At first sight, I was overcome with the feeling of having always been here, having belonged. Whatever the reason, this home was not alone anymore.

Three weeks ago, I received a letter in the mail requesting my presence at McAllister and McAllister Law Firm to claim an inheritance from an anonymous benefactor.

Upon meeting with them, Misters McAllister and McAllister led me to a polished long cherry table in what must have once been the dining room in the old Victorian house they’d converted into their law firm, and there over tall glasses of ice tea, they informed me that I’d inherited the two hundred year old house and the surrounding land that made up Eirewood Plantation from an absolute stranger. Despite my fervent attempt to refuse such a preposterous gift, the McAllisters presented me with the deed, already in my name, and bid me to have a good day.

Now, I stood somewhere between the hulking house and the graveyard filled with crumbling tombs all sporting the name “O’ Brady”, trying to figure out what I was going to do with this unasked for and unusual gift. Unaffected by my presence, a large, husky squirrel bounced from one oak tree to the next as if rejoicing at my arrival.

For a spring afternoon, it was a bit chilly beneath the shade of the trees, and just like the house, this piece of land had a feeling of waiting. A solitary rusted out shovel discarded by the old stone wall surrounding the graves solidified the feeling of a space frozen in time.

“Welcome to Eirewood, Ms. Endicott.” From behind one of the twisted oaks, stepped a nice-looking gentleman wearing light pants, a blue cutaway coat and holding a top hat that he’d just removed from his head in his hands.His cream colored silk cravat accentuated his dapper look. “I’ve been waiting for you to return.”

Startled by his unannounced presence, I took a step back from him but not before I noticed his uniquely light colored eyes. The color of frozen ice, just barely blue, they were visible even in the dappled afternoon light.

“Thank you. Wait, return? I’m sorry, Sir, but I have never been here,” I insisted then introduced myself. “You may call me Eilene I have recently acquired Eirewood Plantation, so I’ve come to see what it’s all about.”

The man moved closer to me. His handsome looks struck a chord in my heart, a memory I couldn’t quite grasp, even if his clothing and manners were two hundred years out-of-date. Perhaps he was here for one of those reenactments I’d heard about history buffs having. Either way, something about his demeanor drew me towards him. My fingers tingled, itching to reach out and touch this mysterious stranger.

“Eilene,” He said my name slowly as if he was savoring his favorite sound. “Then you may call me Jonathan. I’m Jonathan O’Brady.”

“O’Brady?” I recalled the names on the tombstones just behind Jonathan, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. The intensity he watched me with was unnerving and somewhat alluring. There was just something about him, something I couldn’t exactly put my finger on. “Jonathan, are you kin to the people who owned this house? Do you know why the previous owners would leave it to me?”

“You kept your promise,” was his reply. “You vowed that you’d return, that not even death could keep us apart.”

My heart sped up as I processed this stranger’s words. “You have me confused with someone else.”

“Oh?” Jonathan offered his hand to me. “Then let me show you, my love.”

I should have ran off, gotten away as fast I could and called the cops on this crazy anachronistic man. Instead, without any hesitation at all, I rested my hand in the crook of his offered arm and allowed him to guide me back into the shaded cemetery. We weaved around graves, one O’Brady after another, until we reached a battered Celtic cross. At the base was the epitaphs and memories of two.

Eilene O’Brady                 Jonathan O’Brady
Born April 30, 1832              Born November 1 1825
Died May 14 1862                  Died May 14 1862
Eternally Yours

Something in my subconscious stirred, awakening memories of someone else’s life, promises made by a woman I was not. I should have fled. I should have gotten away as fast as I could. I didn’t know what this man was trying to pull, but I wanted no part of it.

Then I made the mistake of looking up from the tomb into Jonathan’s love-filled eyes. Within their pale depths, I saw that he, too, had been waiting. Just like the house and this land, he had been waiting for his love from an old age long gone to begin again-new.

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Short Story Friday

A Lunch Date Gone Wrong

By:

Victoria Clapton

2019

 

The bright orange glow from tonight’s full moon glowed over the mostly empty benches on Jackson Square. It was a cool, autumn evening in the French Quarter. Most of the tourists and artisans headed home over an hour ago and were now missing the magical ambience that situated on the old cobblestones.

“Are you ready, Sybella Rose?” I shivered as Demien’s hand came to rest in the small of my back, reassuring me that this idea of a date, a date with a vampire, wasn’t crazy.

I held up a heavy picnic basket my friend Aloysius had filled and smiled. “Sure.”

Like me, Demien loved to go down to the river at night, to watch the waters of the Mississippi roll by in rippling shimmers, so I didn’t even ask him where we were heading for our lunch date at 2:00 a.m. Over the levee, towards the moonwalk, we had a spot.

He made no sound as he moved, guiding through shadows. Only his long dark hair, ruffled lightly in the breeze. The sweet, citrusy scent of bergamot assaulted my senses with every step he took, and I fought the irrational urge to reach out for him, to pull him into a kiss that he may not even want.

Recently, I’ve made a career at throwing myself at the almost five hundred year old vampire walking gracefully beside me. I physically could not stop myself. I needed to touch him, to consume him, to be consumed by him.

As he showed no signs of insatiable attraction, I can only assume he is not afflicted by the malady, a curse known as The Binding, as I was. This, too, his ability to ignore the urges pressed upon us, drove me even more insane.

Someone listened to Trombone Shorty in one of the cars that pass by on Decatur Street. This town, my beloved New Orleans, embraced its culture like no other place.

“Where are your thoughts?”

I hadn’t realized that Demien had paused at the crosswalk, waiting for the signal to cross over Decatur, and now scrutinized my temporary silence.

“I was just thinking about New Orleans and its artists. Such a special place.”

The walk light flickered, and we crossed the street. I did not even bother with why a vampire cares about crosswalk procedures at two in the morning. Demien was filled with so many conundrums, keeping up with them was impossible.

“That’s why we locals fight so hard to keep outsiders from ruining it.”

I panicked for a moment, right in the middle of the road, when it occurred to me I no longer held the heavy picnic basket. Demien urged me along, shaking the picnic basket he must have grabbed from me at some point as he guided me towards our lunch destination.

Nerves assaulted me. No matter how long this went on, I continued to find myself baffled at the way Demien’s presence both calmed me and shot my nerves to frazzled. I could never predict what he would do next. His actions caught me off guard.

So, I stood there on a grassy patch near the moonwalk and the river, watching him spread out a checkered picnic blanket for me to sit upon while we dined…well, while I dined.

His movements held my attention as he carefully unloaded the basket–a bowl of fruit salad, a po’ boy dressed, a few bottles of Abita Amber. The snacks kept coming, more food than I could eat.

My mouth draped open as Demien opened each item of food, arranging it beautifully before me, and then held his hand out to help me sit in the Victorian skirt I had chosen to wear tonight.

This man, this vampire, was ruthless. Terrifying. I had seen him kill. I’d felt his violent rage against me, and I could not reconcile the horror with his heart.

“How was your day?” He motioned for me to begin eating as he stretched out his impossibly long legs and leaned back on his hands.

“You’re beautiful.” I murmured, then cursed. I hated this curse. I took a breath, then I answered his original question like a normal person. “JoJo taught me how to draw a few veves today, but I had to promise not to catch anything else in the shoppe on fire.”

“Again?” There was a smile in his tone. I could not control the magick inside of me, everyone knew it. Asking me to not let my emotions take over, to not magickly ignite the voodoo shoppe or anything else into roaring flames was almost a joke.

“Look, Mr. Vampy-Pants, this is your fault.” I was teasing, but his dead body lost whatever semblance of pretend mortality he acted out as it froze into complete stillness and his gaze settled onto the water.

He had slipped back into the dark place where he resided, and I had to do something before my stupid comment ruined our lunch date.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, you know. Believe it or not, even though you are a huge pain in my ass…I enjoy your company.”

“You’re not eating.”

“Jerk!” I whispered under my breath but picked up the po’ boy and took a huge bite.

He scoffed but relaxes somewhat, and I focused on my food to keep from crawling into his lap and begging him to take me right there in public.

The moment between us was peaceful, enjoyable even, until a whirring sound and a warning yell pulled me from my happy place.

“Watch out!”

Demien scooped me up in a blur, and the eruption of thuds and thwacks in the place where we’d just been sitting took me by surprise.

“What the bloody hell?” I declared, though I’m less concerned with what interrupted our moment than the loss of Demien’s arms when he released me.

I took in the tenseness in Demien’s shoulders, the way he ever-so-slightly crouched, and looked beyond him to see that some punk had been out on the Moonwalk in the middle of the night in roller skates and had lost control, careening through the grass straight on top of our picnic.

Demien’s anger froze the kid into place. Having let his guard down with me, he’d slipped straight into predator mode at the first hint of me being in danger.

I stepped around my solid hunk of vampire and offered a hand to the kid who’d plummeted upon our lunch. “Here, let me help you up. Are you hurt?”

He stuttered and stammered, “N…no. I’m fine. I’m so-sorry.”

“Okay,” I said calmly. “You should go.”

Like any rational person, I thought that if anyone should get bitten here, it damned well better be me, but I kept my thoughts to myself and aided the kid to his feet.

“Sorry, again. I didn’t mean to…” The kid’s preservation instinct kicked in and he took off into the night.

I took a deep breath and began picking up the remnants of our lunch date gone wrong, and then pulled on the bond between us. “Demien, come to me.”

I didn’t know if he’d succumb to my request. He was just as likely to disappear into the night. I packed everything away except the blanket, which I flipped over.

“Demien, come and sit.”

He didn’t look at me. Deep down, I knew he couldn’t. He was fighting the demon inside of him, the predator that had wanted to kill, that still wanted to kill. But he once more found a place on the blanket.

Relief rushed through me…then insanity. Without any hesitation, I maneuvered my body until I was sitting between his two legs with my back up against his chest. My bare neck waiting, beckoning just below his mouth.

“Sybella,” he growled in warning.

His fangs brushed against my skin.

“What? Didn’t we come here for lunch?”

 

 

 

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Victoria’s Books

Beau and the Clockwork Girl

 
Title: Beau and the Clockwork Girl
Author: Kami Bryant
Genre: Steampunk Fantasy Romance
 

 

Blurb:
In this steampunk, fantasy, romance, Beau’s lost love has been enchanted to forget her memories and to suppress her emotions. Beau meets a dragonfly fairy, Juniper to assist him in the quest to save his love and break her enchantment. Beau has to teach his princess to feel, for she replaced her heart with clockwork and now she has become evil and cruel. Beau has loved his princess Em, since they were children but Em has forgotten what it is to feel because, if you decide to give up your emotions so that you are not in pain, you will also lose your ability to love.
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Kami lives in the Pacific Northwest with her son and her two cats. She has been writing stories since she was six, when she wrote a story about a white cat who wanted to be a black cat for Halloween.
Beau and the Clockwork Girl is her first published novel and she intends to write more gender bending, genre mixing, fairy tale re-imaginings.
She thanks everyone for their support as she continues her journey as a self-published author.
 
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Emberlyn’s thighs gripped her sturdy mount as the black horse galloped through the forest. Her painfully tight plaited dark brown hair pinned in an intricate knot held back at the nape of her neck with a brass comb. She laughed as she and the large horse flew down the path, the wind hitting her in the face. It was the smell of freedom. Out here no one could tell her how a proper princess should act. There were no rules out here and she loved it.
“Faster Onyx,” she urged. Princess Emberlyn wore black leather pants much like the ones her mother wore. She also wore a black leather corset that was a twin to her mother’s and a bright, blood-red blouse. Her heavy black leather boots, adorned with buckles, gripped the sides of her horse as she urged him to a faster pace. She risked a quick glance behind her shoulder and saw the pale horse named Buttermint and the mare’s rider quickly gaining on them. Onyx tossed his black  mane and seemed to chuckle a horsey nicker as he continued racing down the forest path.
The mare Buttermint and her rider quickly overtook the racing Onyx and pulled abreast of Emberlyn. The princess squealed as the rider reached over with his long arm and pulled her out of her saddle with his left, while holding Buttermint’s reins tightly in his right hand. He plopped the princess in the saddle in front of him, pushing her firmly against the pommel. Emberlyn squirmed in Buttermint’s saddle and slid her bottom farther down and settled against the boy’s strong, broad chest. The youth reached over and grabbed Onyx’s reins. The black stallion shook his mane and whinnied his chuckle. Buttermint answered with a softer neigh.
“Whoa,” said Beau as he slowed down the two horses. Emberlyn was trapped in his muscled arms and his broad chest which was her favorite place to be. She felt safe and loved. She loved the feel of the vibrations of his deep voice rumbling against her back and her nipples hardened with her excitement. Emberlyn squirmed away from Beau’s right arm that trapped her against his body as he struggled with Onyx with his left. Emberlyn gripped the pommel of Buttermint’s saddle and lifted her body up, sliding her right leg underneath her bottom and then slid her right leg across the back of the horse until both of her legs were leaning against Buttermint’s left flank. Gripping the pommel tightly with her right hand, Emberlyn shouted “Watch out!” Beau dropped Onyx’s reins and leaned back into a laying position, his head resting on Buttermint’s rump. Emberlyn lifted her body up with her right hand, balancing on her tail bone and kicked her left leg up and over Beau’s reclining form, and then sat up in the saddle facing Beau. The boy with the dirty blond hair sat up and tightly grasped Emberlyn’s waist keeping his balance on the horse with his strong thighs.
“What are you doing?” he chuckled in his deep voice.
Emberlyn’s brown eyes gazed into the boy’s bright blue ones and she leaned into his strong torso, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling herself closer against his chest, her warm lips meeting his in a deep passionate kiss as her breasts pushed up against her corset. She pulled back and smiled shyly as Beau smiled back at her.
“That was extremely dangerous,” Beau admonished. “What would I tell the queen if you fell?”
“You would never let me fall,” replied Emberlyn.
Beau shook his messy, long, loose dirty blond hair. “Of course, I wouldn’t, but what if…”
“I was taught that move by the best horse rider in all of Mirovia. Maybe the best rider in all the land,” interjected Princess Emberlyn. “Want to see what else I can do while on top of this horse?
“No. Enough of your trick riding,” scolded Beau. “How can you even do all that while wearing a corset?” he asked running his hands down the tight binding and boning of the princess’s garment.
“You would be amazed about the amount of things I can do while wearing a corset,” she replied with a grin.
“What can you do out of your corset?” purred Beau.
Em arched her brow and slapped Beau’s arm playfully.