Excerpt 1, Chapter 1:
Out of nowhere, a gust of wind blew through the open window. Standing up, I rushed to close it.
Then stopped in my tracks.
The window wasn’t open.
My heart plummeted into the depths of my stomach as the bottom dropped out.
What was going on here? Gusts of wind rushed straight at us like a storm blowing through our room—where both the windows and doors were closed.
My knees started wobbling, and I braced myself on the edge of my desk.
With the wind came a deafening roar that sounded like giant hunks of rock ripping in half.
Turning around, I glanced at Patrick. “What the bloody—?”
“I-I, uh, don’t know. But look.” His dark eyes went wide, his jaw going slack as he pointed behind me.
When I turned around, my jaw fell open. I blinked and blinked, but the crazy sight remained.
A strange pool of light swirled around in the center of my room. It started as a tiny blue marble, then grew larger every second until the translucent sapphire circle filled the room.
Two shadowy figures appeared in the middle of the swirling light, small at first but growing larger as they walked toward the center of the liquidy blue circle.
A few seconds later, a man and a woman emerged from the sapphire portal. Both were dressed in old-fashioned clothes. The man had on a three-piece suit and a fedora, while the woman wore a silky, drop-waisted dress that made me think of the 1920s.
The man clutched a necklace at his collarbone that glowed an intense royal blue.
Maybe the Three Societies weren’t done with us yet.Patrick gasped, then rose to his feet and put his arm around me. “It’s a Watcher, from the past.
Coming through some kind of wormhole,” he whispered in my ear.
I glanced at him, about to ask how he could possibly know that, while simultaneously calling up my internal lightning power.
As I said before—just in case.
But then one of the intruders spoke.
“Actually …” the man trailed off, releasing his grip on the necklace.
Within seconds, the portal collapsed in on itself, the wind died down, and everything returned to normal again. Well, except for the piles of papers blown around the room.
“We’re not Watchers. We’re both Guardians, like you.” The man enunciated in a crisp tone of voice that reminded me of my British homeland, but the accent was still American.
“Wh-who are you?” I stammered, even as Patrick moved in front of me.
Who knew what would happen if we told these two that the Guardians didn’t exist anymore.
“Ah, let me allow myself to make the proper introductions.” The man took off his fedora and smoothed his brown hair peppered with gray. “We are Ward and Eleanor Sinclair,” he gestured to his wife, who curtsied slightly.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Eleanor said, dipping her head at us and fanning out her blue dress skirt in a half-curtsy.
I blinked at the gesture, unsure how to respond.
“I’m Patrick Rodriguez, and this is my girlfriend, Bella, Isabelle Beatrix.” Patrick held out his hand.
Ward and Eleanor took turns shaking his hand.
Then they all looked at me. I was frozen still as a statue. A blinking statue.
“I think she’s in shock.” Patrick wrapped one arm around my shoulder, nudging me forward.
“Maybe you can tell us what the heck just happened.”
“Certainly. Ward?” Eleanor arched one eyebrow and nodded at her husband.
“Ah, yes.” Ward stood up a little straighter. “This may be hard to digest. You might want to sit down.”
Grabbing Patrick’s hand, we both sat down on my bed.
The Sinclairs perched on the edge of the bed opposite us, their spines straight as an arrow.
I just stared at the couple, who looked like they’d stepped right out of Downton Abbey or The Great Gatsby. Ward wore a gray suit complete with a vest that matched the Fedora in his lap.
Eleanor wore a light blue drop-waist dress with long sleeves and a skirt down to her ankles. Her sandy brown hair was pinned into an intricate updo with some face-framing waves.
None of which helped my concept of reality. How were these people, who looked like they were straight out of the 1920s, sitting in my dorm room? And what was that giant portal they’d somehow made in the middle of the room?
I glanced at Patrick, arching my eyebrows at him—silently willing him to explain this whole thing to me.
But he just shook his head, as if he had no clue either. Small comfort.
“Where to begin?” Ward tapped absently on his chin.
Jerking my head back to the newcomers, I rubbed my eyes and pinched myself.
“Ouch,” I muttered under my breath. Guess this wasn’t a dream.
“Why don’t you tell us how you made a portal of some kind in our dorm room? With a Watcher’s Sapphire?” Patrick’s voice was louder than normal, as if volume would help in the communication process. Then he looked at me. “I didn’t know they could do that. Did you?”
“Huh-uh.” I shook my head, my curls swishing around my face.
“We didn’t either. Until someone from your time came crashing into our lives a week ago.”
Eleanor pursed her lips and folded her hands together in her lap.
Tuesday, November 19, 2024
The Century Portal by Barbara Hartzler
Tuesday, November 12, 2024
Release Day Blitz The Last Portal by Barbara Hartzler
Excerpt 1, Chapter 1, Book 3:
Lucinda, 1926“We did it,” I whispered to Everett, leaning into his side. Standing at the front door, we waved goodbye to Robert and Lillian Cooper as they strolled arm-in-arm down the path to their car.
My new husband closed the door with a smile that lit up his whole face.
“Our first successful dinner party as a married couple.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my temple. “The start of many more firsts to come, I hope.”
It was November of 1926, and Everett and I had been married for a little over four months. In that time, we had set up our own home with the wedding money from our parents. Thanks to Everett’s real estate knowledge and financial acumen, we’d purchased a two-story brownstone in the up-and-coming but immensely more affordable Queens borough.
At the back of our quaint property was a small cottage that had once been a carriage house. It was one of the main reasons we bought this property. Now my darling husband could rest easy, knowing his sister and nephew would be taken care of.
We set up the cottage for Nora and her son Grant to live, thus ending her constant worries over rent and how to put food on the table.
Everett worked as a financial adviser at the local bank between classes while he finished his degree. But he had plans to setup his own accounting firm once he graduated, despite his father’s wishes to work for the family business.
I was still working on my degree as well. After the successful protest last year, I was allowed to run for office in my junior year. Two months ago, I was the first female in history to be elected as Vice President of the NYU Law School.
And yet, at the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder—could I really balance everything before Ricky Montrose enacted his own plans?
As the Seer, I needed to have children to continue the family bloodline. Despite our newly-wedded bliss, I was still nowhere near ready for that next step.
But the clock was ticking. Ricky Montrose and Rosie Stanton had opted for a longer engagement, probably because construction on Montrose Paranormal Academy was set to be completed by the end of the year.
Even so, Rosie and Ricky were scheduled to wed in the spring of 1927.
For the time being, he’d been focused on building his namesake school. But how long would that last?
I felt like there was a ticking time bomb always lurking somewhere over my shoulder.
When would my time expire? When would Ricky come after me to end the Seer’s bloodline forever?“You okay, Lucinda?” Everett asked, rubbing my shoulders.
I smiled up at him. “Yes. Just thinking about Ricky, unfortunately.”
He wrapped his arms around me. “Don’t worry, I won’t let him hurt you.”
I sank into the warmth of his embrace. In my heart, I believed my new husband would always do his best to protect me.
But could anyone stand up to Ricky Montrose and win? He had the power of time travel at his fingertips, and big plans to manipulate the Chosen One powers into his own hands and take over the world.
And I for one hated being a helpless puppet, waiting for him to pull the strings and set another horrible chain of events into motion.
But what else could we do?
“Let’s go to bed, Snickerdoodle.” Everett drew back, moving his hand to weave his fingers between mine as he tugged me up the stairs.
“You scoundrel.” I smacked his arm. “That was my first attempt at baking anything on my own.”
For tonight’s dinner, I decided to try my hand at making cookies. The cinnamon-sugar-coated snickerdoodles seemed like an easy choice. But they had proved more than challenging.
The edges were a little extra crispy, but our guests had eaten them anyway. Robert had nibbled out the middles and Lillian had dunked hers in her coffee.“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” I asked as we reached the second-floor landing.
“No, probably not, Snickerdoodle.” He tweaked my nose as he opened the bedroom door.
I pretended to ignore him as I dressed in my nightclothes and slid beneath the quilt.
“Goodnight, Snickerdoodle,” he said, stifling a laugh.
“Goodnight, Scoundrel,” I shot back, wrinkling my nose as I burrowed further under the covers.
Everett turned out the light, and we snuggled until he fell asleep.
As I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep, the blackness behind my eyelids didn’t stay black for long.
This wasn’t right. This couldn’t be right. I could hear myself saying in some far-off corner of dreamland.
I tossed and turned as a strange scene screamed into focus like a talking horror picture—in full, living color.
Instead of being under construction, the picturesque campus of Montrose Paranormal Academy was now completed. The entire design was built out in a giant rectangle extending from the Guardian church, now situated at the backside of the grounds.
Half a dozen impressive brick buildings with formal white columns ringed the edges of a lush green lawn, complete with cobblestone paths artfully zigzagging across the landscape.
Every wrought-iron lamppost along each path now fluttered with bright green banners that read One School. One Society.
Green? That wasn’t one of the colors of the Three Societies. What was going on here?
My heart caught in my throat as the strange dream-scene unfolded around me.
This was it. This was Ricky’s endgame, right? He had to be behind this so-called “One Society.”
Monday, November 11, 2024
The Hunter’s Moon by Lee K. Rogers
Excerpt:
The animal stayed in the bushes, following along slowly and silently as it tracked its prey. He could smell it. Taste it. And it attracted him like nothing ever had before.
Do wolves think in the same way that humans do? Or do they rely only on instinct, hunting mindlessly?
Whether intellectual reasoning or animal instinct, the wolf knew it had to watch this woman. It wanted her. It needed her.
Ana breathed in the early autumn air as she headed away from the university and onto the darker streets of the neighboring suburb. It was an older neighborhood, built in the 1920s when the town of Rivelou had begun to spread from its central location on the river, south across the railroad tracks. This particular section of town had been built for the railroad workers: tiny shotgun houses lined up on even tinier lawns.
As Ana crossed Roosevelt Avenue, the streetlights ended, and the sidewalk was illuminated only by occasional porch or walk lights. She loved sauntering home from her evening classes this time of the year. The air, while it could not yet be called crisp, had lost its summer sultriness, a welcome change from the blistering heat of a Kentucky summer.
As she strolled down Harlan Street, farther from the more heavily trafficked avenue, the road became even darker. It was too soon for most of the leaves to have fallen; they were just beginning to turn red on this last week in September and were so thick on the trees that they hid the full moon. Part of the charm of the old neighborhood was the beautiful, large, old maples and oaks, but their roots also tore up the sidewalks. Ana tripped on one of those cracks. Papers, a lipstick, her wallet, and a few other necessary items spilled out of her purse, and she shook her head in disgust. How could she always trip in the same spot, night after night? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t memorized the uneven areas in the sidewalk after years of walking this way.
The young woman bent down to gather her various belongings and froze. Was that something growling? Somewhat spooked, Ana shoved everything back in her bag and hurried down the street. After a moment she slowed, listening carefully to the night noises around her.
Nothing unusual.
She shook her head. It must have been her imagination. She had slowed her pace and continued on when she heard the sound again. A low growl nearby. A dog? No one on this block had an animal big enough to make that sort of sound. That growl had definitely come from something larger than Mrs. Ahearn’s yappy little Pomeranian. She picked up her pace again.
Only a half block until she turned onto Sycamore, then another half block until she arrived at her own home.
The growl came again. She settled her purse more securely on her left shoulder, her computer bag on her right, and doubled her pace. There were no lights on any of the houses on this part of the block, and of course, the moon took that moment to hide behind a cloud. She took a deep breath and tried to walk at a steady pace. She wouldn’t run even though she could now hear the animal behind her as she rounded the corner. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw her own porch light on as well as that of her neighbors, Joe and Linsdey. Only a few more steps to safety.
She was almost in front of her own door when she heard the rush of paws with nails clicking behind her on her sidewalk. With a howl, the animal knocked her down. Holding her computer case in front of her face, she yelled and pushed it at the animal’s huge, dark head. “Take a bite of that, you nasty beast!” It was all teeth and glowing eyes as it loomed over her, growling.
“What do you want?” she shouted. Though it had her on the ground, it didn’t make a move, just stood gazing at her. If she did move, it would strike. She had to do something. She drew a deep breath and prepared to scream when someone came running up behind her.
“Hey, you, get back! Get back!”
She turned her head and saw a man running toward her and the slobbering animal. The man grabbed a stick from the ground as he rushed forward, waving it at the animal.
“Back! Get back, you ugly beast!” he shouted again, striking the creature who turned, snarling at him. They stared intently at each other for a moment before the canine finally dodged the stick and lunged to take a bite out of the man.
The man got in a couple of good blows before the dog suddenly grabbed the stick, tugged at it, and knocked him to the ground. Fumbling in her purse, Ana took action just as the dog leaned back on its haunches preparing to strike. Just before he lunged on the fallen man, Ana found her can of mace and hit the dog in the face with the noxious spray. With a howl of pain, it ran into the darkness.
Several more porch lights suddenly popped on to light the night, and the street was filled with neighbors coming to check on the unusual commotion.
“Are you alright?” her rescuer, still gasping and out of breath, asked. “It didn’t bite you, did it?
The Staff of Beckoning by Praneet Menon
Excerpt:
“Where are you going?” Tia’s eyes were wide with anxiety.
“Out.”
“But I don’t know this town at all.”
“Don’t leave the inn then!”
As soon as he stepped out into the night, all of his warmth left him. However, the wheat ales—much stronger than he was used to—had begun to take effect. That, combined with the fact that his last meal had been hours before, made the cold a distant sensation. Strapping his staff to his back, he picked a direction and wandered off—his mind getting mushier and more vulnerable to his increasingly foul mood.
Tia had always been a very supportive girl. What had changed? Or had she always been like this and her support was just an act? Did she really think that he would abandon her? I would never do such a thing, he thought indignantly. He wasn’t his father. Sure, yea, he could be a little flirtatious, he admitted. But that was harmless. Why couldn’t Tia see that? After all, he’d asked her to run away with him. Didn’t that imply he wanted to start a life with her? Didn’t that mean anything to her? His mind was plagued with too many questions and not enough answers.
Abruptly, he found himself in a dark, dimly lit alley, with buildings rising up around him.
Everything seemed ... slightly off. Hesitantly, he walked down the alley and made a few turns. A few moments of wandering later, he admitted that he was lost and decided to retrace his steps, but it all looked unfamiliar. With no other option he kept walking, hoping to find his way back, when he came upon three men in a dark corner.
“Give it up, you unworthy bastard!” said one of the men, who had a lilting accent. He was clutching another man’s collar in one hand while wielding a knife in the other. A third man stood and watched.
“I did not steal it! He gave it to me!” cried the captive man.
“Do not lie, you swinespawn!”
“I swear by the names of the Miakos. He gave it to me!”
The third man still just stood and watched.
Adir wasn’t sure what came over him. Maybe it was his anger and he just needed to let it out. Or maybe he understood how the captive man felt; after all, he had been ambushed a couple of times himself. Whatever the reasoning of his drink-addled mind, he unstrapped his staff and charged.
The man who’d been watching noticed Adir and whirled around, pulling out a knife of his own. However, knives were a poor defense against the long reach of a staff. Adir whipped his staff sideways, cracking the man in the skull, who dropped to the ground, motionless.
The man who held the captive by his collar was startled by the sudden attack and shoved his captive to the ground. The captive lay on his stomach, face cupped in his hands as if trying to shut out his current plight.
Adir felt a surge of energy course through him as he pulled his staff back, preparing for a thrust.
He lunged, briefly catching a look of horror on the man’s face, and thrust his staff square into the man’s chest. The impact sent the man flying a few paces before he slammed into a wall and slumped to the ground.
For a moment that lasted one flap of a bee’s wing, Adir saw a rain- bow-colored haze on his hand, creeping up his arm. Fearfully, he jerked his hand to his face for a closer examination, but the haze was no longer there.
The once-captive, now-free man looked up from his prone position and surveyed the scene, then stood. “Thank you, master,” he said, bowing and scraping. “I am forever in your debt.”
The man’s words seemed to tumble out of his mouth in a clatter, or maybe Adir couldn’t understand him on account of being severely drunk. “What did you steal from them?” Adir asked, eyeing the man suspiciously, his inebriation fueling his paranoia. Sure, he’d saved the bearded man, but that didn’t mean the man was harmless.
“I did not steal anything, master,” the man said, still pronouncing every word oddly.
Adir looked at him, trying to force his eyes to focus. “All right,” he said, realizing that he’d do nothing even if the man admitted to stealing something. All he really wanted to do was get back to the inn and sleep. “Do you know the way to The Soft Pillow?” he asked, trying and failing miserably to strap his staff onto his back.
“Ya, master,” the man replied with enthusiasm. “I will take you there.”
Monday, November 4, 2024
Griff Broussard—Character Critique of Author Delta James
Excerpt:
With no warning whatsoever, Phoenix bolted after it—whatever it was. She might be some badass faery enforcer, but he wasn’t about to let her go alone. Griff flung a handful of bills at Finn and bolted out the door behind her.
The muggy night smacked him in the face like a slap as he emerged, keeping one eye on the retreating figure and the other on Phoenix. Whoever or whatever it was, was fast, but Phoenix was faster. She seemed to levitate just above the ground—even without her wings—as she closed the distance.
“Phoenix!” Griff called, but to no avail. Phoenix didn’t break stride, turn around, or even slow down. The figure ducked into an alley, and Phoenix followed, the darkness swallowing her up.
Griff raced to catch up with her, rounding the corner just in time to see the figure disappear through a door at the end of the alley. Griff saw Phoenix skid to a halt. He could feel the presence of magic in the alley. Many parts of the city felt as if magic had been mixed into the mortar that held the buildings together.
Griff caught up to her, breathing heavily as he glanced at the door. “Looks like we found our lead.”
Phoenix nodded, her grip tightening on her knives. “And it’s not going to wait for us.”
With one last glance at Griff, she pushed the door open, stepping into the unknown.
Griff Broussard wasn’t a stranger to darkness. It lingered at the edges of his life, always threatening to swallow him whole. But tonight, as he stood at the threshold of the old door, staring at the door Phoenix had just disappeared through, that familiar darkness felt different. It was alive, pulsating with magic and danger, pulling him into its depths like a predator sizing up its prey.
The metallic tang of the night air filled his lungs as he pushed through the door behind Phoenix, muscles tense and instincts flaring. His senses sharpened. Even in human form, his dragon nature simmered beneath his skin, the beast pacing impatiently, ready to be unleashed at the first hint of a threat. He couldn’t help it—not here, not now, not with the echoes of his father’s unsolved murder still whispering at the edges of his mind.
Phoenix was already a few steps ahead, her movements fluid and silent as she navigated the narrow hallway beyond the door. Griff’s gaze swept the space, noting every detail—the cracked tiles on the floor, the flickering overhead light, and the faint trace of something old, something ancient lingering in the air. Magic. He could smell it, thick and oppressive, curling around him like smoke.
“Phoenix, wait,” he hissed, his voice low but urgent.
She glanced back at him, her eyes sharp and alert, but there was a flicker of impatience in her expression. Phoenix always charged headfirst into danger, relying on her instincts and speed.
Griff had always been the opposite—calculated, methodical. He needed to understand what they were walking into before they stepped too deep. But there was no time for planning now. The person they’d been chasing—their only lead—was somewhere ahead, and they couldn’t afford to lose it.
Without another word, Phoenix continued forward, her hand brushing the wall as she moved. Griff followed, the tension between them thickening with each step. He knew she could handle herself—hell, she was probably better suited for this than he was—but that didn’t stop the protective instinct that flared in his chest whenever they were in a situation like this. He hated that about himself. Hated how being around her always made him feel more… vulnerable. More aware of the fact that she was a storm he could never quite tame.