Showing posts with label fantasy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fantasy. Show all posts

Friday, April 1, 2016

Good Housekeeping with Gladys Gadberry







By D.S. AUFFENORDE
Exclusive to the Kensington City Examiner


I stopped by The Kensington Tailoring & Dry Cleaning Service to have a skirt altered to conform to the rising hemlines that had become the style in Britannia. It’s hardly a puzzle—a superhero (think Electromancer) exposes a lot of flesh in her platinum boots, gloves, and jumpsuit, and the women of the country follow suit by shortening their skirts and lowering their necklines. As I waited in the dressing room, I heard a mellifluous voice speaking to the owner, and despite the birdlike descant in tone, the woman was arguing with the proprietor over a stain that evidently hadn’t been properly removed from a table cloth. I peeked out from behind the curtain and saw that it was Gladys Gadberry, the mistress of household affairs for Alexa Manchester. Yes, the very Alexa Manchester who controls the world’s energy sources, the very person I’ve been investigating along with Electromancer. How fortuitous that I’d bumped into Gadberry here, because she was on my list of interviewees. I assumed my best aristocratic air—those who work for aristocrats expect as much— dressed, and went outside.

DA:     Pardon the interruption, but I’m desperately in need of an opinion of someone with a discriminating eye. And I know that you have a discriminating eye, Ms. Gadberry.

GG:     How did you know my name? Who are you?

DA:     You’re known far and wide. Everyone knows that Alexa Manchester is the best dressed, most organized woman in the country.

GG:     [Gadberry straightened.] I don’t know what you want, Miss …, but flattery will get you nowhere. You don’t really want fashion advice now do you?

DA:     Okay, you got me. I’m a reporter for the Examiner. I’m interested in fashion. [This reporter notes that this wasn’t a lie—I am interested in fashion. That Gladys Gadberry believed me to be a fashion reporter was beyond my control.]

GG:     Of course. The Examiner. You’re correct, I oversee every detail at the Manchester mansion. From Ms. Manchester’s personal shoppers, to those who vacuum up the dust, to the folding and pressing of sheets, to the flowers that are arranged in vases and strategically placed throughout the mansion to provide freshly scented air. Nothing, mind you, nothing escapes my attention. I’ll have you know that I’ve brought a touch of the old country to the new.

DA:     Being the fashion aficionado that you are, I have a hunch that if you ever had the occasion to see this superhero Electromancer’s costume, you’d know exactly what it’s made of.

GG:     Of course I would, that is, if I had. But I haven’t. Something fantastic, to be sure. From space perhaps—though it’s all speculation.

DA:     I heard a rumor that Ms. Manchester takes tea and scones with this superhero Electromancer.

GG:     I can honestly say I’ve never witnessed that, and I would know. But Electromancer has kindly announced to the public that Ms. Manchester is not to blame for the disaster at The Mick, our local power plant, or any of the other mishaps. She’s even gone so far as to fight off evil on behalf of all humanity. If you ask me, Electromancer is an incredible being. Worthy of a crown.

DA:     Are you saying that she’s not of this world? That she’s alien?

GG:     Certainly not. I would have no such knowledge. Six inches longer, your skirt, that is.

DA:     But it seems that hemlines are rising.

GG:     I’m an old fashioned woman. Heaven forbid that those Dowdy twins be allowed to traipse all over town through another season wearing those miniskirts. Leaves the men in a state, if you know what I mean, all that flesh.

DA:     Electromancer certainly shows a lot of flesh.

GG:     Well, she can’t very well fly at the speed of light in an overcoat.

DA:     There’s a rumor that Ms. Manchester is going to break off the engagement with The Mayor, Bobby Baumgartner. Is there any truth to that?

GG:     I don’t meddle in the personal affairs of my employer. Are you really a fashion reporter?

DA:     Not exactly. An investigative reporter looking into Electromancer.

GG:     [Gadberry went slack jawed.] On the record, I have nothing official to say. Off the record, you shameless hussy, taking advantage of my good graces.

With that, Gadberry once again began arguing with the proprietor about the stain in the table cloth. I took a close look at that table cloth—if that’s what it was. Because it seemed to be of a platinum color—and strangely shaped like a jumpsuit. Unfortunately, before I could follow up, the proprietor took the fabric and put it in the bin, and Gadberry walked outside and into a limousine driven by a strikingly handsome, though formal man. Was that the mysterious Sigfred Sawyer, valet, butler, and all around tip-top servant? Methinks this reporter must investigate.

Meanwhile, follow along as my investigatory column continues to provide more and more facts about Electromancer and the citizens of her community. In the meantime, you can also learn more about Electromancer and others in the romantic, thrilling, superhero novel, Electromancer.




Electromancer
Daco

Genre: Romance, Fantasy,
Superhero, Paranormal, Thriller/Suspense

Publisher: Crimson Romance

Date of Publication: 2-1-16

ISBN 10: 1-4405-9687-5
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-9687-2
eISBN 10: 1-4405-9688-3
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-9688-9
ASIN: B01AOH7BFA

Number of pages: 234
Word Count: 70,000

Cover design by Fred Machuca,
Illustration by Ricky Ostendi

Book Description:

With a heart as pure as platinum and electricity at her fingertips!

She soars like a falcon and travels at the speed of light!

She’s … ELECTROMANCER!

When arch villain Momo threatens to destroy the world with The Big Zapper—a weapon of mass destruction the likes of which has never been seen before—it’s up to Alexa Manchester and her new electricity-harnessing superpowers to stop him.

With a little help from her sexy chauffeur, Sigfred Sawyer, and some exciting encounters with the mysterious and handsome Blue Arrow, soon Alexa’s love life is charged up, too. And to defeat the seemingly invincible Momo, it might just take the naturally super power of love to save the day.

Offering all the Kabam! Pow! Zap! of beloved comic book sagas with the beating heart of a love story, this over-the-top, genre-blending send-up is sure to delight superhero fans and romance readers alike.


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Excerpt from Chapter 6

Sigfred couldn’t be sure whether the mayor’s proposal pleased or displeased her, but it wasn’t his place to ask. He could do one thing—help her get that blasted ring off her finger. He went to the pantry and retrieved a bottle of olive oil—cold pressed extra virgin, of course, because this was Yurdlemon’s kitchen.
“Let me help you get that off,” he said.
“No, I’ll do it myself.” She paused suddenly, staring at the big green stone as if transfixed. “Maybe I’m not sure I want it off.” She shook her head. “But I do, I do. Oh, I don’t know what I want.” She sighed. “Wait! Yes, I do. I want to talk about last night.”
“Of course, if you wish.” He waited for her to speak, but she seemed stumped.
Then she said, “What did you think about last night?”
He cleared his throat and said, “Yes, right. It was quite—”
“Sigfred!” She slapped her hands down on the sink and looked back at him. “It was nothing like quite, it was more like Oh-My-God in the highest order. No offense.”
“Yes, quite.”
“Don’t keep saying quite! You could say yes, shocking or even jiminy crickets or holy ‘expletive omitted,’ but there was nothing quite about last night. I mean you were there, you saw everything.”
He couldn’t think of an appropriate response—at least, not one that he could articulate to his employer.
“Am I right, you did see everything?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. “It was unintentional, of course, Ms. Manchester. I found you lying on the floor next to The Magpie.”
Her eyes widened, and her eyebrows arched upward in disapproval. “I didn’t mean that, Sigfred. I’m talking about my hands shooting those bolts of lightning from my fingertips—pure electricity!”
He cleared his throat again. “Ah, yes. And there was that.”
“It’s ridiculous. Absurd. People don’t emit electricity. Gladys says I should see a doctor. That I must have been exposed to the Electromite. Am I cursed?”
“It doesn’t seem to be life-threatening. On the contrary, you’ve become stronger by it, or so it seems. If I’m not mistaken, you saved the child from drowning because of it. Perhaps it’s not a curse, but a gift.”
She seemed to consider this, absentmindedly pulling at the mayor’s ring.
“Just a moment,” he said. “I think I can assist you with that little problem you’re having.” He opened the bottle of olive oil and drizzled some over her ring finger. Then, very gently, he began working the ring back and forth. He thrilled when he touched her, but she didn’t seem to react.
“I can fly, you know,” she said, her tone surprisingly casual.
“Yes, madame. I suspected that’s how you saved the boy.”
“What happens if I try to fly, and then these magical abilities suddenly vanish?”
“Perhaps they won’t ever vanish.”
“Yes, perhaps you’re right,” she said in a quiet, serious voice. “And that would mean I haven’t been infected at all. Instead, I’ve been inalterably changed. It would mean that there’s no cure. It means my body and spirit have been transformed into something ... alien. It means I’m not Alexa anymore.”
“You’ll always be Alexa,” he said, reaching up and tipping her chin toward him with slippery fingers. His eyes locked on hers, and he spoke with hushed solemnity. “Nothing can ever change that.” He wanted to call her lovely Alexa, kind Alexa, beautiful Alexa, but of course, that was impossible.
“When I was inside The Magpie, I heard my father’s voice. Is that crazy?”
“Not at all, Ms. Manchester.”
She studied his face. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”
“Not at all.” And he meant it. Things went silent as they looked into each other’s eyes. Sigfred had just swayed imperceptibly closer to her when a sudden dull thunk interrupted them. The ring had finally fallen off, clattering into the sink. The moment was lost. He realized, with some awkwardness, that he was still touching her face and dropped his hand.
She colored and looked away, speaking a bit brusquely. “My father called me Electromancer. I get the ‘electro’ part of it, but what’s a ‘mancer’? Have you any clue?”
“You’ve got me there, madame.”
“Mancer? It must mean something.”
“Almost like Romancer.”
Her jaw dropped. “Oh, Sigfred. Not you, too.”
He stiffened. He wasn’t about to explore his feelings with her or to take the liberty of allowing his romantic thoughts about Alexa to go unrestrained. It was his utmost duty to remain her servant and protector, always physically near but emotionally distant. But when she’d transformed into this Electromancer, he had to admit to himself that she was absolutely and without a doubt the sexiest woman alive. Any red-blooded male would be hard pressed to deny that fact.
“What are you going to do about the mayor’s proposal?” he blurted out. So much for knowing his place. “He’s not worthy of you.”
“Bobby Baumgartner is the mayor of Kensington City. He might be prime minister one day.”
“I don’t care if he’s prime minister, king, and president of the Americanas combined. He’s beneath you.”
“And just who are you to talk about rank?”
Her words stung, the pain more intense than the damage those thugs had inflicted the previous night. “Quite right, madame,” he said. “My station is lowly. But I’m one thing the mayor isn’t. I’m a man of integrity.”
“I saw the way you looked at me last night. I may have been Electromancer, but I know when a man is gawking at me.”
“I wasn’t gawking. I was appreciating the qualities of ... You’re a beautiful woman, madame.”
“You mean, Electromancer is beautiful.”
“No, madame. I mean you. Alexa Manchester.”
She looked at him in surprise.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Chef Yurdlemon bellowed from across the room. “Who is invading my kitchen? You are trespassers.” He pointed at Sigfred. “Especially you, Sigfred Sawyer.”
Sigfred nodded slowly. He was trespassing, though not in the way Yurdlemon meant.
“This mess with the olive oil is all my fault,” Alexa said. “I was using it to try to get this ring off. It was stuck on my finger. Sigfred was just trying to help me.”
“You used my cold-pressed extra virgin olive oil to remove a ring?” Yurdlemon cried. “Such olive oil is not for ring removal. Such olive oil is to make a divine dinner as only I can make it. The olives for that oil come from a small orchard in Sicily that produces only two hundred cases a year! Do you know what that costs? More than a Chateau Latour Bordeaux. More than a fine Sauternes. I need it for my dinner preparations. Oh, everything is ruined now. Each and every minute of preparation is accounted for. There won’t be time enough left in the day, not now. Not when I’m forced to return to the market, where I can only get inferior olive oil.” Chef Yurdlemon grabbed the sides of his head and looked as if he were about to sob. It wouldn’t have been the first time. 
About the Author:

Daco is an award-winning author of the espionage-thriller series featuring CIA operative Jordan Jakes. Her debut novel, The Libra Affair, was a 2013 #1 best seller. Of The Libra Affair, Publishers Weekly said, “The keenly sharp intelligent female characters soar in this edge-of-your-seat adventure...”

Her short story The Pisces Affair was a 2015 Global Ebook Awards double gold medalist (Best Thriller Fiction and Best Science Fiction), a 2015 Shelf Unbound Notable 100, a 2015 Royal Palm Literary Award winner, and a Publishers Weekly “PW Pick”.” In its review of The Pisces Affair, Publishers Weekly wrote, “Jakes is a lively and witty narrator with the wits and skills of James Bond, and readers will savor her fresh perspective on being a woman in the male-dominated spy world.”

Her story The Virgo Affair is part of Killer Nashville Noir: Cold-Blooded (Diversion Press, October 2015), an anthology, including numerous best-selling authors.

Electromancer (F+W Media, Inc./Crimson Romance, February 2016), is her first superhero novel, featuring Electromancer and Blue Arrow.

Upcoming works include The Scorpio Affair, a Jordan Jakes novel, and The Ophiuchus Affair, another Jordan Jakes short story.

Daco holds a B.A. and M.A.S. from The University of Alabama in Huntsville and a J.D. from the Cumberland School of Law. She is a member of the International Thriller Writers, Mystery Writers of America, Romance Writers of America, Authors Guild, Alabama Writers Forum, Florida Writers, and Alabama State Bar.






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Follow along as the investigatory column continues to provide more and more facts about Electromancer and the citizens of her community.

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Monday, January 19, 2015

Guest Blog with Kevin Henry




I’ve been asked how I come up with my ideas. I suspect most writers are asked that question. I am sure many of them are tired of answering the question. Where do any of our ideas or inspirations come from? This is not a philosophical course, just a little blog post, so I’ll steer away from some of the more ethereal options and aim for some of the tools I have used.

I grew up watching many shows on television, National Geographic Specials, Cousteau Specials, In Search Of, narrated by Leonard Nimoy. I watched a lot of PBS which gave me the ability to converse about the Dark Ages, Egyptian Pyramids, Da Vinci (before he had a Code), H.H. Crispin, Percy Fawcett and of course Baseball. My addition of the Wickenburg Massacre in Amber Gifts came from a short report I viewed a few years ago. There was a conspiracy theory that it was not Native Americans who were involved. It’s a fact that one woman and one man escaped to return to Wickenburg. Make of that what you will.

Currently my favorite tool for exploring new ideas is a show call Mysteries at the Museum. It plays on the Travel Channel and is hosted by Don Wildman. They are just finishing their seventh season. MATM shows several segments during each episode. Each segment focuses on the story behind one particular exhibit in a museum somewhere in the world. They have covered the Hunley, The Lost Colony of Roanoke, Love Canal, and so many more. It’s a tremendous wealth of uncommon knowledge and I’ve used a couple of ideas from the show already. I expect I will continue in the future.

I try not to use ideas from scripted television and movies. Nor do I want to use ideas from other fiction, fantasy, Sci-fi, or any genre. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. I remember the Afterward in Arthur C. Clarke’s novel, 3001. He was mildly distressed that he had ended the novel using a similar climatic tool as the movie Independence Day, a computer virus. When Amber Prelude is published in 2015 someone may think I took a portion of the plot from a television show but the truth is I saw the show after I wrote the story. It happens.

I am always impressed at the ability of writers to produce a good television show week after week. I have to think and research and get the information correctly laid out. I’m too slow and methodical to ever work in Hollywood. Some are able to do it though and to those I tip my hat. Well done ladies and gentlemen, well done.


~KbH

Amber Gifts
Book One
Kevin B. Henry

Genre: Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Time Travel

Publisher: Champagne Books

Date of Publication: February 2013

ISBN:          9781771550048
ASIN: B00BAKB8B4

Number of pages:  99 pages
Word Count: 25,000 words

Cover Artist: Ellie Smith

Book Description:

After a decades long downward spiral, Mitchell is at the bottom of life’s rungs. A stranger hands him a simple, amber vial and tells him to drink it. With that one act, he is now a time traveler and when asked to help some new acquaintances, he gladly agrees. A simple request to find some items left scattered throughout time. How hard could it be?

But someone wants to stop Mitchell’s efforts and it will take more than luck for Mitchell to find all the items and survive long enough to complete his mission.

Champagne Books           Amazon       Barnes and Noble

Smashwords            Kobo
Excerpt:
I spun in the chair. My flight instincts kicked in and I dove for the floor behind the desk. My hand grasped the vial before I escaped the target that was once a comfortable chair. I felt the second shot miss my head by inches. I gathered the package to me on my way to the floor.
“Wait. Stop!” I stammered on the way to the floor. I didn’t believe for a second that he would.
I uncapped the vial with a flip of my thumb while securing the package in my inner coat pocket. I recovered the rubber stopper in midair. My dexterity surprised me. What circus had I escaped from where I learned these tricks? I raised the vial to my waiting mouth. As I sipped, I took a quick look at my assailant. I wanted to be able to describe him to the Wilsons when next I saw them. He had bon vivant written all over him. He sparkled for the entire world like a fourth of July firework. I needed to ask about the meaning of that if I lived long enough. He dressed in a burgundy velvet smoking jacket, white tombstone shirt with a brown medallion ascot.
His face appeared cold and insensitive, if that’s possible. His blond, short-trimmed hair seemed not to move, despite his trying violently to get through the door and in a better location for the kill shot. When his mouth opened I would have sworn I saw his teeth gleam like one of those Crest toothpaste commercials. A scowl of bewilderment appeared on his face as he rushed through the threshold. Perhaps he felt as amazed at my continued existence as I. He must have taken his first shot from across the hall and through the office entryway. I didn’t understand how he managed to miss the second shot.
“Sorry, mate,” he said with an Australian accent.
He had a gun in his hand, aimed straight at my head. It appeared to be a Remington Model 95Derringer. I tend to notice deadly items pointed at me with such professional accuracy. I wasn’t going to trust my life that it was only an authentic double shot model. He had the look of someone intent on firing again very soon. How fast could he pull the trigger? How fast could I dissolve? I hate life or death experiments.
“1643,” I spoke softly. Instantly, I lay on an empty, white, sand beach.






About the Author:

From an early age, Kevin B. Henry was a voracious reader. His collection of science fiction, fantasy and mystery books bring tears of envy to the eyes of many small community libraries.

Kevin has worked as an educator, technology specialist and day laborer most of his adult life. During all that time he lived the life of a frustrated author. That it took 30 years for him to piece together Amber Gifts is a testament that the best meals need slow cooking to bring out the flavor. He feels the best stories revolve around time travel and the problems that such ability could produce. It’s no surprise that his first published work revolves around that theme. All the classics have touched on the subject; Star Trek, Doctor Who, Babylon 5, The Big Bang Theory. He hopes Amber Gifts can be added to that list.

Kevin is a natural storyteller, so it’s logical that he lectures occasionally. Topics range from the implementation of cutting edge technology hardware to the creation, modification and use of e-books within education. He constantly pursues research to expand his range of possible topics. His most recent research revolved around the aerodynamic properties of reindeer. He’s been known to include little known facts and trivia into his presentations. Did you know just 146 years ago today the Union Army marched into Atlanta? It took longer than anticipated. They were delayed by a traffic jam on I-75 and the tollbooth on Ga. 400

During other times, he travels if he can, both in time and space, but mostly to any available amusement park. He is not as fond of roller coaster type rides as he used to be. He still loves a good parade.

He lives in the mid-west without human or domesticated mammal companionship.


Twitter:        @Kevin_Henry





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Monday, May 27, 2013

Interview with Jocelyn Adams

Stone Chameleon

Can you tell readers a little bit about yourself and what inspired to write in this particular genre?

Hey, great to meet everyone.  I was born and raised a farm girl in small town Ontario and still love living in the country, though the farm’s long gone.  I spend my days working at a high school, and my nights playing with my little girl and writing.

Urban fantasy has settled into my heart and made a home there.  I used to be a die-hard Stephen King horror fan, and I still am, but when a friend put me onto Laurell K. Hamilton, I was finished.  That was it.  I didn’t even know I could write, but I suddenly wanted to, and I wanted to write that kind of book, dark, gritty and filled with neat creatures and romance.

Please tell us about your latest release.

Stone Chameleon is the opener to my Ironhill Jinn series.  Lou Hudson is a preternatural pest exterminator, and also the last of the jinn.  She’s living in secret as her species is condemned and was all but wiped out shortly before she was born.  Her element is earth, and she can transform herself into stone.  When her emotions rise, she can even cause an accidental earth quake.  Add in a bad murder wrap, a gorgeous and grouchy highland vampire in a kilt, some mystery and romance, and you’ll have Stone Chameleon.

Was one of your characters more challenging to write than another?

Oh yes.  I don’t usually have much of a hard time feeling out characters, but Amun Bassili, Lou Hudson’s potential love interest in Stone Chameleon, really had me stumped for a while.  Beta readers hated him, so I had to do a lot of tweaking to get that love/hate thing to a perfect balance.  Easier said than done.

Is there a character that you enjoyed writing more than any of the others?

I’m smiling right now.  I kind of have a thing for really good villains, and while Isaac (the highland vampire) isn’t truly a villain, he makes a damn fine antagonist.  He’s arrogant and demanding, but he’s got a softer side when it comes to Lou that slips out now and then.  I wasn’t sure how much he’d play into the series, but after book one, I’ve decided to keep him around and give him a bigger role.

Do you have a formula for developing characters? Like do you create a character sketch or list of attributes before you start writing or do you just let the character develop as you write?

It depends on the book and how I’m writing it.  I’m a total pantser, so I often just start writing and the characters pretty much tell me who they are.  When I’m participating in the novel marathon I do each year to raise money for adult literacy programs, I do sketch out basic attributes, both physical and personality, but those often change as I write anyway, so I’m not sure why I bother. J

What is your favorite scene from the book? Could you share a little bit of it, without spoilers of course?

This is one of my favorites.  It’s so very Isaac.

I must have dozed a bit, because something woke me.  A sound?  Remnants of a dream?  The cool water sloshed over the side of the tub as I sat upright and looked around.  The lack of light suggested the sun had gone down, putting the hour at around nine at least.
“Miss Hudson, do not test my patience,” Isaac bellowed from somewhere beyond the bathroom door.
Definitely not a dream.  My heart tried to escape my throat as I leapt from the bath and wrapped my terrycloth robe around me, still cinching the belt when I entered the living room.
Once again, I found Isaac on the patio, his shoulders heaving to add to the huffing bull image he pulled off so nicely.  I should have known he’d show up after receiving my message upon waking, but it still surprised me. 
He’d shed his sash and wore nothing but his kilt, a wide black belt, and a brass buckle the size of my head.  Growing visibly calm, he took a few steps nearer, his dark gaze sweeping my body before landing back on my face.  “You’re all pruny.  What have you been doing, trying to pickle yourself?”
Maybe I could blame it on sugar aftermath, or possibly stress about Mum, my impending death, or that I’d caused an earthquake with my drunkenness, but his comment cracked me up until I held my aching belly.  When I finished wiping tears from my eyes and shook off the last of my giggles, I found him grinning at me, though it held more petulance than amusement.
“You have a lovely laugh, Miss Hudson.”  The grin flattened.  “It would be a shame to extinguish it.”


Can you tell readers a little bit about the world building in the book/series? How does this world differ from our normal world?

Ironhill stands on the ground that had been Philadelphia before a preternatural war all but destroyed it thirty years ago.  So many of the jinn fell there that the soil is rich with power, drawing creatures of all kinds to live there.  It’s causing a few problems with the regular old humans who are now well in the minority and are beginning to notice.  Lou does her best to keep the peace and acts as an advocate for all of the non-human races.

With the book being part of a series, are there any character or story arcs, that readers jumping in somewhere other than the first book, need to be aware of? Can these books be read as stand alones?

I tend to keep the backstory to a minimum as I’m one of those people who doesn’t like to feel like I’m reading all of the previous books in a series every time I pick up a new one.  There is enough information in book two that a reader shouldn’t be too lost, but it’s still best read in order.

Do you write in different genres?

I do, actually.  I have another pen name that I write adult erotica, both contemporary and fantasy.  Under this pen name, I write contemporary romance, urban fantasy, paranormal romance and a little bit of horror, mostly in short stories.  Under yet another pen name, I’m developing my first young adult literary novel about a child of rape growing up in a small town.  Juggling personalities is rough, but sometimes the muse goes wherever he wants to, and I tend to follow.  J

What are your guilty pleasures in life?

I don’t have a lot of those.  Once in a while I like a little bit of Jack Daniels and gingerale.  I’d also go to the end of the earth to have a great piece of toast and honey.  I share that with my main character in Stone Chameleon.  Yum.

What was the last amazing book you read?

That would be Iced, the latest of the FEVER series by Karen Marie Moning.  I didn’t expect to like it so much since the main character is so young and I prefer adult books, but she writes fascinating characters and hooked me right from the first chapter.  I can’t wait to read the rest of Dani O’Malley’s adventures in Dublin.

Stone Chameleon
Ironhill Jinn, book #1

Genre:  Urban Fantasy

Publisher:  MuseItUp Publishing

Release Date:  May 24th, 2013

Blurb:

When a series of unusual murders point to Lou Hudson, Ironhill’s equal rights advocate, as the primary suspect, she has but one choice: find the real perpetrator before her trial begins or face execution.

Lou, the last of the jinn, survives by hiding her abilities after the rest of the elementals fell victim to genocide. As a preternatural pest exterminator and self-proclaimed guardian of the innocent, she’s accustomed to trudging through the dregs of society. Hunting down a pesky murderer should be easy, especially with help from the dashing and mischievous local media darling.

For Lou, though, nothing is ever simple. When she discovers the killer’s identity, to reveal it would unearth her secret and go against her strict moral code, resulting in a deadly catch twenty-two.

Excerpt:

A flare shot over the rooftops to our left. I dove at Blake and slammed him to the pavement as another column of fire streaked toward us. The flames seared my back. The dragon bat was not a happy camper. Someone landed on my backside, crushing a grunt out of me and pounding my shoulder blade while Blake gasped beneath me.

“Bloody hell, Amun,” I said, before I realized he did it to put out the flames eating up my shirt. “Oh, I see. Thanks.”

He pulled me up, and the three of us ducked behind a car in the parking lot beside the Whip and Tickle, a vampire fetish-wear shop. The owl-sized bat swooped over us again, blasting an inferno that exploded the front window of the shop, sending studded leather and melted mannequins onto the sidewalk.

Three of the other creatures we’d hunted lay dead on other streets, the scorpion included, all by my sword when I’d been left with two options: kill or die. Twelve more were contained in three trucks. The bat remained the only unwelcome visitor in Fangtown. Other than us, of course.

“This is madness, Lou.” Amun panted beside me, his arms rising to shield his head as the bat exhaled on a Mini Cooper two cars over, the crackling and popping suggesting we should find a new hiding place.

“I agree with Mr. Bassili,” Blake said, his drawl worsening with his fright. “What the hell in a hand grenade do we do now?”

Rudy poked his almost translucent head out from behind the newspaper boxes he dove behind during the first fiery blast. The poor guy shook so badly I’d have been surprised if he could see anything. I gestured to him to stay put. “We’ve scared it, not something you want to do to a dragon bat.” A deep exhalation centered me enough to think. “I seem to recall the pecking order in a colony of bats. If we want protection from the dominants, we must present an offering of food.”

“And that helps us how?” Amun, his face blackened with soot and smeared with dirt, tilted to rest against the tire of the car, appearing as frazzled as I’d ever seen him. The sight induced a belly laugh that wouldn’t be contained.

He took on a strange expression of one eyebrow cocked and a half-grin, as if he wasn’t sure whether to be amused or offended. “What?”

I waved him off. “Nothing, I think I’m just losing my marbles.” Rising up enough to see around the car to Rudy, I shouted, “Rudy, do you have any rodents in your truck? Rats or mice?”

“No,” he hollered back, “but I can call some for you.”

I nodded. “As fast as you can.”

Flapping came from our rears. Crackling. A blast tossed the front of a car up until it crashed down on its hood, crushing a Mazda behind it.

“Move!” I shoved at Amun and tugged Blake toward the back of the fetish shop, since it was much closer than the front where flames still poured out of the broken window. Amun kicked out with a startling force against the wooden door. It took three tries, but it finally gave. My, but he was strong. We rushed inside and crouched behind a cement wall beside a set of stairs leading down.

“What do you want the rats for?” Amun asked with obvious suspicion. “Tell me you don’t want one of us to go out there and dangle something for that thing to come and snatch, probably toasting us to a golden brown in the process? Because I think I’ve grown a healthy dose of sympathy for marshmallows right about now.”

“Don’t worry, Amun. I’m going, not you. We just need to listen for Rudy to come back, if he hasn’t chickened out and run for the hills. Hopefully rats like to hang out here and aren’t snapped up for evening snacks.” There was a reason the umikan stuck to small, normal pests, other than his ability to talk to them. Although he’d deal with the scarier stuff when the need called for it, he usually didn’t have enough courage to fill a thimble.

“What?” Amun palmed his forehead. “You can’t be serious.” He gestured toward the door. “Have you been oblivious to the destruction that thing caused just in the last ten minutes? It’s pissed, and I don’t think it’s going to care about some little morsel you offer it.” His frown tugged at his features. “Why are you smiling like that?”

I shrugged, hopped up on adrenaline and enjoying the sight of the great Amun Bassili squirming. “This is what I do for a living.”

“You’re enjoying this?” Both of his eyebrows jacked up.

“Yup,” Blake said, rolling his eyes and chuckling from deep in his belly. “Weirdest broad I ever knew. Takes a bit of starch outta the ole manhood, don’t it?”

I wiped the char from my hands onto my jeans. “To do a job one takes no pride in is a travesty, in my opinion.”

At Rudy’s shout from beyond the wall, I said, “Stay here. Don’t come out until I call or you could send the bat into fits again.”






About the Author:

Jocelyn Adams grew up on a cattle farm in Lakefield and has remained a resident of Southern Ontario her entire life, most recently in Muskoka. She has worked as a computer geek, a stable hand, a secretary, and spent most of her childhood buried up to the waist in an old car or tractor engine with her mechanically inclined dad. But mostly, she's a dreamer with a vivid imagination and a love for dark fantasy (and a closet romantic — shhh!). When she isn't shooting her compound bow in competition or writing, she hangs out with her husband and young daughter at their little house in the woods.

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