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Fantasy young sorceress woman in long blue dress touch divine old mirror. Predictor future fairy tale Snow White. magic power of wind light spell. Mystic gothic art photo in dark black medieval room

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Check out this collection of free  Paranormal Reverse Harem samples and stories.
This collection is available through September 30th

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An Improper Derailment: Chapter 18

Where Mary learns that a lady needs more than manners and social graces to survive.
camp fire for ID 18
Catch up with Chapter 17…

Start the series from the beginning…

The fire danced into the sky.

Marshal crouched on the far side of the fire from Mary as he did something more substantial than just poke at it. With his attention on the flames and the meal he tended, Mary let her eyes rest on his form.

She had watched Janey’s husband poke at a fire a time or two, it never did anything, and he always had to call in the parlor-maid to deal with it. The flames seemed to have spread out under Marshall’s knowledgeable ministrations.
He sat back on his heels. He was a big man, built for action. Yet he had put up with her impertinent attitude much longer than Mary would have. His focus was on the flames, and then on the gutted rabbit speared on a spit.

She admired how deftly he checked and turned the meat with long practically graceful fingers. Had he been born into a family of means they most certainly would have had him musically trained. He would have played the piano most beautifully.

“Mary.”

He would be a lovely singer with the tones of his voice. She particularity found herself enjoying the way her name sounded when he said it.

“Mary.”

Oh, Marshall was saying her name. “What?”

“Shh,” he lifted his finger to his lips. “Your humming was getting louder.”

“I wasn’t…” She hadn’t been humming. Had she?

He pointed behind her.

Several yards away, Kim let out a rumbling sound that Mary had learned was a content noise that beasts of her ilk made. After several days of travel and camping Mary, while still wary of the beast, grew accustomed to the dusty earth and grass smell.

Hanska slept peacefully tucked up next to his sauran. He worked tirelessly, hunting, and keeping Kim under control. He deserved his well-earned rest, especially after bringing in such a feast for their dinner. Not only had he snared a nice big hare, but he found a tree full of plumbs.

“Don’t eat all of these tonight, save some for our breakfast,” he said when he had displayed the bounty.

“Can’t we just go pick more?” Mary had asked.

She realized it had been a stupid question by the expression on Hanska’s face. He had probably walked for miles before he had found the fruit.

“Right,” she said chagrinned.

Both men had kept her safe, fed her, and were making sure she would get to her destination. And all she managed to do was sit around admiring their skills and fortitude. She couldn’t even claim to be halfway attractive at this point. She needed a bath. She tentatively touched her hair, probably permanently tied into a knot on the top of her head. She flinched and began rubbing at her nose, not certain if she cleared away the smudge of soot she was certain was there, or if she was making it worse. She wasn’t even decorative.

Marshall crooked his fingers at her, beckoning her to his side of the fire.

She crawled over the rock she had perched upon and sat in the dirt next to him.

“What’s with the frown? One second you were happy and humming, the next you looked like you want to cry.”

At the sound of his words, Mary did want to cry. She looked at him for a long moment, composing her words.

“I’ve come to the realization that I am completely useless. Without a society to be out in, I have nothing of value. If anything the past few days have helped me to realize society is tenuous at best. How quickly we went from social order to chaos and survival when those bandits attacked the train. And here I am, the woman in this small party, and I have no skills.”

“I was just thinking about how well you’ve been putting up with all of this. And now you go and impress me.”

He wiped a handkerchief across his brow. Smearing more dirt into the sweat on his brow. Mary plucked the square of fabric from his hands and reaching up, wiped his brow clean.

Her breathing stopped and her pulse raced as realization of her actions crashed into her as she placed the handkerchief back into Marshall’s large hand.

His thumb folded over the back of her had, holding it in place. She couldn’t take her eyes from their hands.

With a clearing of his throat, Marshall let go of her. “What do you mean you have no skills?”

“Well, I don’t know how to hunt or fish. I’m sure I could pick fruit or berries, but I have actually never done so. I certainly don’t know how to start or tend a fire. Or cook. I am useless. I have no skills. I can’t even ride a horse.”

“Oh, that can’t be Mary. I’m sure you were raised with the more refined skills that a lady needs to possess. I’d wager you play the piano quite well, and that your needlework is as delicate as the eyelash on a hummingbird.”

Mary didn’t think she had heard anything so poetic in all of her days. She had to blink a moment to clear her thoughts.

“My needlework is atrocious. I’m always stabbing myself and bleeding on the floss, ruining everything. And I’m embarrassed to admit, that while I do enjoy listening to fine musicians I never developed an ear or talent for creating music myself. I cannot play.”

“Not even the piano? Shame, even I can coax a recognizable tune from a piano.”

“I’m sure you can. After all your fingers are so long and skill full. My hands are small with stumps of fingers.” Mary had her hands up, fingers splayed before she realized in her prattling she admitted to noticing Marshall’s long fine fingers. She stared at the backs of her own hands and prayed that he had not noticed her indelicate speech.

He spread his own hands, palms up, and placed them against Mary’s.

“I’d agree your hands are mighty small. But I think I’d use the term delicate before I ever considered stumpy.”

Mary panicked at the touch. She pulled her hands back quickly instead of enjoying his touch as she wanted so desperately to do.

“I think I’d rather have capable hands over delicate ones.”

Marshall didn’t seem affronted by her sudden movement. He lifted the long stick he had tended to the fire with before and handed it to Mary.

“How about we start now,” he said.

“Start what?”

“Turning those delicate hands of yours into capable ones. Have you ever tended a fire?”

“Oh no, that’s not appropriate. That’s what the help is for.”

“Sounds like you’re saying you don’t want this?”

“Sorry,” she gulped. “I was merely attempting to coney my utter lack of knowledge on the subject. I’ve seen the maid poke at a fire and it seems to come back to life. And I’ve seen my dear sister’s husband to the same to no avail. It all simply looks like poking.”

Marshall chuckled. “In a way it is. But you want to poke with purpose. You see fire needs oxygen to burn. It’s like us, it needs air to live. But too much and it goes out.”

As he spoke he directed Mary’s hand to fat stick in the fire. Together they poked and lifted exposing the burning wood.

“What you want to do is find the places the fire is being smothered by ash, and lift it back into the air. Shift things around a bit so that air can get in.”

As they poked, the fire jumped higher. Startled Mary fell back with a small exclamation of surprise.

“There, you got it. Now get back up here.” Marshall held the stick out to Mary.

Showing her how to balance on her feet, so she could scurry away from the flames if need be.

“Don’t stoke the flames too high, we want to roast this hare, not burn it.” Marshall released his guiding hold on the stick and eased back while Mary continued to identify areas that were in need of air.

The work was hot, and smoke got in her face. The feeling of accomplishment was almost as giddy as the feeling she got when she looked over her shoulder to see Marshall grinning at her.

Will Mary dispose of her learned manners and adapt to the ways of living off the land? Find out in the next installment… 

©2021 Lulu M Sylvian

Romancing the Shifter is Available in KU

RTS in KU

Now in KU

Feel your pulse quicken.

Be drawn to the heat.

Nocturnal Creatures need love too. Is your next book boyfriend a Vampire, Shifter, Hellhound or …..? They own the night, won’t you join them in a world where anything is possible.

Romancing The Shifter: A Shapeshifter Paranormal Romance & Urban Fantasy Anthology (Shifters Unleashed)

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3r7n4i1

#ShifterRomance #ParanormalRomance #Anthology #ShiftersUnleashed

An Improper Derailment: Chapter 17

A properly mannered Mary makes a new friend.

Depositphotos_449663254_s-2019

Catch up with Chapter 16…

Start the series from the beginning…

Mary woke to the comforting sensation of gentle rocking.

Fresh clean air, heavy with the scent of dried grass filled her senses. She was cradled in firm, contoured familiarity. A memory from being a child, held by her mother; but her mother was gone, taken before the blush of youth and beauty had left her cheeks. She nestled in against the… pillows? Too firm for pillows, too perfect to be a couch. She paid the mystery no never-mind and let herself sink back into the nothing of sleep.

A bellowing whine jolted Mary awake. The smell, the rocking, the noise. A sauran! She screamed and tried to scramble out of the cocoon of cozy she had created on the couch. She intended on screaming a second time as she realized she had been sleeping in Marshall Hunt’s arms.

Suddenly she found herself short of breath. The audacity, the arrogance, the complete and total lack of social decorum! What would Janey say? How would her grandfather react? Surely the impropriety would send him to an early grave.

“Hey, hey, you’re safe,” he said with a gentle smile.

How dare he smile at her like that!

“Calm your woman, Hunt. She’s scaring my tric.”

Mary swiveled her head to look at the man who spoke. Behind Marshall stood a painted Native man, from one of the plains tribes, a…

She gulped. She would not resort to the scare tactics of sensationalist journalism. She would form her own opinions. Besides, Marshall seemed perfectly at ease. He was ridiculously relaxed considering their perilous predicament.

“I think she’s more afraid of me than the tric,” he said with a wry chuckle. “Mary, Miss Dyer,” Marshall’s tone was commanding. “You are perfectly safe. There are no bandits; this beast has no interest in eating you. And if you insist on continuing to thrash about, I may accidentally let go, and drop you.”

Mary’s eyes went wide at the threat, all while her insides felt like molten honey, all hot and gooey from the tone of his voice.

“I… I… I’m not a personal fanatic when it comes to large animals. I can barely tolerate horses.” She managed to squeak out. She trembled in her attempt to hold still while allowing Marshall’s arm to drape around her middle like some safety strap.

She cast her gaze back to the Native man behind Marshall. “I apologize for scaring your triceratops, sir.”

“My name’s Hanska.” The man nodded. “And the tric, her name is Kim.”

“Kim?” Mary blinked in surprise. “I was expecting something more…”

She bit her tongue before she could say something offensive. She was uncertain how to ask things without sounding foolish, or worse rude. She may have grown up in the company of a certain class of people, people who frequently let their manners slip when dealing with anyone different from themselves. She did not doubt that Pythagoras would be such a flagrant snob. And to think she had been thrilled when he was courting her.

Mary believed that everyone deserved manners, no matter where they came from.

Hanska laughed. “Something more native?”

Mary felt the blush of embarrassment burn her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to offend. But I always considered Kim to be…” she paused searching for the least offensive, least ignorant way to phrase her question. “I wasn’t aware that Kim was also a native name,” she ended up blurting out.

Marshall gently chuckled around her. His shifting motion reminded her of her predicament.

“Her name is Kimimela, Kim for short,” Hanska explained.

“Kimimela,” Mary repeated, mostly to feel the way the name rolled off her tongue in a delightful tripping of sound.

The triceratops made a huffing, almost purring sound as if she recognized her name being bandied about.

“It’s a beautiful name,” she said.

“She’s a beautiful sauran,” Marshall added.

“I don’t know if I’d go so far as to say that,” Mary admitted.

The beast made her nervous. Unfortunately, she wasn’t exactly certain which beast she meant at the moment. Marshall or the triceratops.

What’s in store for Mary? How will she get to San Francisco now?
Find out in the next installment… 

©2021 Lulu M Sylvian

Romancing the Shifter Now Available

Feel your pulse quicken.

Be drawn to the heat.

Nocturnal Creatures need love too. Is your next book boyfriend a Vampire, Shifter, Hellhound or …..? They own the night, won’t you join them in a world where anything is possible.

RtS 1

 

Romancing The Shifter: A Shapeshifter Paranormal Romance & Urban Fantasy Anthology (Shifters Unleashed) is now available!

My story Cougar Hunt is included–check out below for a snippet!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3r7n4i1

Universal: https://books2read.com/SU2

#ShifterRomance #ParanormalRomance #Anthology #ShiftersUnleashed

cougar hunt sm

“Never mind what?” Saffi asked as she had to scramble after him to catch up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t strike me as the type.”

“And what type is that?”

“The meaningless hook-up type. There’s something about you that gives me the impression you would not be the one sitting in a club somewhere playing tonsil hockey with some guy you just met.”

It was a pretty slick way to turn her down before she could make any embarrassing forward plays. She hated getting discounted because of her size, and it was always her size that was the excuse. Saffron didn’t look her age, and even being older than most people assumed, she had never been rejected based on her age. It always came down to the size of her ass. Body positivity be damned. There seemed to be plenty of men claiming they liked thicc, with two Cs, thighs. But they did not exist in her dating circles, or on any of those apps Kelly had her create accounts on.

“So what’s giving you that impression? My ass?” She circled the area around her ample hip. “Sounds like you’re saying I’m not your meaningless hook-up type.” She stopped with a huff. Letting her smile dissipate, she shook her head. This was stupid. That invisible confidence bodysuit suddenly felt itchy. “Why’d you have to go there? I wasn’t hitting on you or anything.”

Any confidence, real or imaginary evaporated. She plastered a sarcastic smirk across her lips and waited.

“I did notice that, and your ass”— Oscar walked around her raking her form with his gaze. With a bite of his lower lip, he made sure she knew he was appreciating the view— “that’s not a hook-up kind of ass. That’s the kind of ass that demands a commitment.”

Saffi bit the inside of her cheek trying to stop the blush she could feel burning. So she had been wrong, she had been the one to lob it into the booty size court. His volley had been artful. He managed to make her feel like he thought she was attractive, and yet, he still dodged that hook-up possibility.

An Improper Derailment: Chapter 16

Overwhelmed by everything, Mary decides the most reasonable course of action is to pass out.

dinosaur-3581863_1280

Catch up with Chapter 15…

Start the series from the beginning…

Reality came back with a slamming jolt as they landed.

There was an initial impact accompanied by a 
loud cursing grunt, but they continued to fall. The next impact came a split second later, and then the
pain of a crushing roll as the wind was knocked from Mary’s lungs without the chance to recover as 
she was rolled under Marshall’s weight.

Every joint in her body felt weak, and her limbs went numb with the initial jolt. Now the crushing 
pressure repeated, again and again, made holding on a struggle she couldn’t maintain.
 Her feet and legs slipped as their rolling slowed. Finally they stopped.

Marshall lay collapsed on top of 
her. Mary tried to regain her breath. It was a fight to get her chest to lift to take in air.
 She wriggled to get out from under the trap of his weight.

His arms slammed to the ground on either
side of her head, trapping her in.
“Hold still, damn it!” Marshall growled in low tones.

She could not help but notice how her skirts were flung up high, and her legs now wrapped around
 Marshall’s hips, and not his waist. With a gasp of realization that there was not a gun being pressed
 between them. She stilled.

“Bandits?” she whispered.

“Yeah, but… that’s not…” Marshall pushed up and away from Mary. He reached forward grabbing her 
arm to bring her to an upright position with him. He brushed down her skirts, and with a firm hand in
 the middle of her back he propelled her into the tall grass away from the tracks.

Mary could hear the thunder of the engine, the yells of the men attempting to rob them, and— she froze 
in her tracks— the bellows of saurans. That explained how they were going to derail the train. She
 slowly turned to look where the train and the beasts were.
 It felt as if they should be a million miles away, but in fact the train had barely travelled fifty more 
yards from where she and Marshall had landed. The noise seemed so distant and muffled.

Large quadrupedal saurans with teams of riders on their backs, driving them with what appeared to 
be sharp prodding sticks at their legs butted the train cars.
 The beasts raised up on their hind quarters and lunged forward using their heads to ram the sides of
the train cars.

She staggered back against Marshall. Her knees went weak, and even after surviving the jump from the
 train the thing, things, that were going to cause her to lose her composure were the giant prehistoric 
beasts.

“You all right?” Marshall’s voice sounded muffled behind a layer of cotton.

She shivered. “I… I can’t stand saurans. There is something about giant lizards, I just can’t stand 
them.”

Marshall left a steadying hand under her elbow. 
Her hearing cleared with a soundless pop, more of a release of pressure. A roar of sound assaulted her
her restored hearing. She clapped her hands over her ears as a shriek of bending and tearing metal combined with the screaming bellows of the saurans.

Train cars tipped past the point of no return, and
 one after the other, cars fell to the side and twisted. The engine continued to pull as the reality of the
destruction dawned on Mary. She felt sick in her stomach. She turned and buried her face against
Marshall’s chest.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Mary nodded, too numb to do anything else, she followed his guidance. She felt blind, not seeing the 
ground in front of them, the image of the train crash replayed over and over in her head.
 They could have been on that train. They could be injured or worse.

“Hunt, what the hell are you doing out here?” A soft lilting male voice asked from somewhere above
 her.

She blinked to clear her vision. Immediately in front of her stood a sauran. It whiffled a huff of breath 
in her face.
 She looked up and perched behind the frill of the beast, a plains man in deer hides and feathers grinned
 down at her.

She remembered thinking how she hadn’t heard the giant beast as her vision faded to black…

 

From travel by train to travel by beast, click here to find out what happens next in chapter 17!

 

©2021 Lulu M Sylvian

An Improper Derailment: Chapter 15

Where Mary doesn’t expect to disembark the train in quite that fashion…

Depositphotos_228982316_s-2019

Catch up with Chapter 14…

Start the series from the beginning…

The train car continued to rock, each new motion now with an accompanying rumble and crash.

Mary struggled into her coat as Marshall pushed her down the aisle to the front of the car.

“Hurry before they hit—”

The entire car quaked and tilted at an extreme angle before crashing back down. The impact drove Mary to her hands and knees.

Before she had time to gasp in a shocked breath Marshall had a firm hand under her arm and hauled her back to her feet.

“Faster!”

“What was that?”

“Bandits. They’re going to derail us if the engineer doesn’t stop. Damn it!” Marshall pulled Mary up short before they reached the door that would open between cars. “Get ready to jump. When I say go, you go. Do not hesitate. Understand?”

“But Marshall?”

“Do. You. Understand?” he asked again with clipped barks of words.

Mary sucked in a resolved breath, clenched her jaw and nodded. Her focus was through the window and out on the platform she knew Marshall expected her to leap across.

In a split second, the door crashed open, the train car rocked off a set of wheels, Marsha pushed and yelled, “Jump, Now!”

Mary didn’t hesitate. She bolted through the door and jumped straight into the car opposite.

She skidded and fell among a clutter of downed packages and screaming passengers.

She was up and running the second she felt Marshall behind her. His touch lifting her to her feet and propelling her forward.

This car didn’t rock with as much force, she could tell they were farther away from whatever force these bandits were using to batter the train to a stop.

At the end of the second train car Marshall stopped Mary. He turned her so she faced him.

His grip tightened on her upper arms. “This next time we jump together.”

Mary could barely comprehend his words. Jump together. Did he mean holding hands? She nodded as the car jostled with violence that suggested the engineer was not going to stop and the bandits would have to knock the train off the rails if they really wanted to rob it.

Marshall let go of her arms and leaned over. He hiked up her skirts and handed her a handful of fabric.

“Mr. Hunt!”

“Seriously woman, now is not the time. You can berate me after I get you off this cursed train.”

With that he lifted her up as if she were a bundle, positioning her legs around his waist.

“Lock your ankles together and hold on tight,” he directed.

He tucked her head close down to his chest as she tried to turn and watch where he was headed.

“Hold tight. I’ve got you. But I need you to hold on with everything you have.”

Mary clenched Marshal as close as she could. His movements felt strong and forceful under her hold. He ran. The breath caught in her throat, and her heart stopped as Marshall launched them into the air. For a moment, she felt like she was flying. She wanted to see what the world looked like from flight, but fear kept her head down, eyes closed, and face buried into Marshall’s chest.

 

Find out how they get off the train… in March…

©2020,2021 Lulu M Sylvian

The Ghost of Morley Manor by Tricia Schneider ~ A Cursed All Hallows’ Eve Author Spotlight Interview

 

Blurb:

When Alice Worthington’s father dies, he leaves Morley Manor and all his debt to her and her younger brother. Desperate to find a way to pay the creditors, Alice performs a séance to contact the spirit of the last man to have seen the jewels rumored to be hidden within her home.
Sir Nicholas, a two-hundred-year-old roguish ghost, strikes a bargain with Alice. Find his earthly remains and bury them in consecrated ground. Only then will he reveal the location of the hidden jewels. Alice agrees not knowing when the time comes, she must decide between saving her home or saving the soul of the charming ghost who haunts Morley Manor.

 

Excerpt:

A scream tore into the night, a high-pitched, frightening sound that sent shivers coursing down my spine. I scrambled back against the headboard of my bed, gripping my candlestick and gasping for breath. As I struggled to breathe, I realized those were my chilling screams.
I stopped screaming and faced the man, raising my candlestick in front of me like a shield.
“Come no closer, demon!”
“You can hear me?” A look of wonder passed over his handsome face. His eyes widened. “You can see me?”
“Of course, I can!”
“But how?” The man glanced around the room as if searching for the answer. “How can this be? No one alive has seen me for over two hundred years!”
“Begone from my chamber!” I shouted and my voice trembled with fear. “Leave me in peace!”
“This makes no sense at all.” He continued his dialogue, ignoring my rising panic. He stood and began pacing at the end of the bed. My eyes widened as I witnessed him walk through the edge of the bed a time or two as he was so absorbed in his thoughts, he failed to see in which direction he walked.
“You had no awareness of me before you left this night. What changed?” He lifted his head and turned to face me. “What did you do when you left Morley tonight? What happened to you?”
“I—I—”
My stammering annoyed him. He leaned over the bed, resting his fisted hands against my feet. I could feel his weight as he leaned onto the mattress.
“Tell me, woman! I must know!”
I whimpered and struggled away from him, trying to meld myself into the headboard. I glanced over his shoulder, judging the distance between myself and the door, wondering if I was fast enough to run by him. Wondering if I was brave enough to try.
“Ah,” the specter said, for I knew he was no mere man. He was a ghost, a demon, a creature not of this world, for whom on this plane of existence could pass through solid objects.
“I see I’ve startled you.” He stood and raised outstretched hands before him as if he placated a frightened animal. “I will not harm you. I cannot. I have no mortal flesh. I cannot touch you.
Observe…”
He reached toward me, placing his icy fingers on the hand holding the candlestick. I say icy fingers because I felt the press of them firmly against my skin, a solid enough touch for a specter.
He gasped.
I looked to his face and if I were not so full of fright, I might have found amusement to witness the color drain from his face. Did ghosts grow pale as humans when in a state of bewilderment?
He stumbled back, staring at his hand.
“What sorcery is this?” He whispered. “What did you do this night?”
“I… I…” I licked my suddenly dry lips so I could speak. “I attempted to summon the spirit of Sir Nicholas Weatherby.” I might as well be truthful while speaking with a ghost. After all, how could he condemn me when he, himself, was dead?
“Sir Nicholas Weatherby?” he repeated, his eyes wide. “I am Nicholas Weatherby.”

 

 

Where can readers find The Ghost of Morley Manor?

Available exclusively in A Cursed All Hallows’ Eve: Limited Edition Paranormal Romance, Urban Fantasy, and Reverse Harem Halloween Themed Collection

Grab Your Copy Today!

Available to read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

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The veil is thin. Darkness calls. Will you answer?

Halloween curses plague the daring heroes and spunky heroines in this spirited collection of tales. A Cursed All Hallows’ Eve brings you 20+ stories stuffed with everything from dark gods to brooding shifters, delivering hours of decadent, pleasure-filled reading from bestselling and award winning urban fantasy and paranormal romance authors.

If you can’t get enough of those supernatural creatures—vampires, ghosts, witches, demons, and fae—this limited edition collection will alternately thrill you with the spicy and tempt you with the sweet. Delve into these worlds where the living haunt the dead and the undead tempt the breathing.

Answer the call, because this Halloween, not all the costumes are disguises.

AUTHOR INTERVIEW

 
Hello and welcome, readers! We have Tricia Schneider here with us today. Tricia Schneider, thanks for visiting us.
How long have you been a writer and how did you come to writing?
 
I’ve been writing for about twenty-five years since I was 15 years old, but I’ve only been a published author for the last ten years. I began writing for fun. I was a kid looking to entertain myself. My brother and I used to create our own newspaper and forced our family members to subscribe. We’d include outlandish articles which now kind of reminds me of The Onion! As a kid, I also wrote a series of short stories about my brother’s pet turtle called, The Adventures of Gonzo the Turtle. That turtle was quite a hero, saving the forest and the lives of the other animals.
 
Tell us about your title featured in: A Cursed All Hallows’ Eve
I’ve been a fan of gothic romance since I was a kid watching Dark Shadows re-runs with my mom. It was one of her favorite shows and has influenced a lot of my writing. In my twenties, I discovered Jane Erye, Rebecca and a long list of Victoria Holt novels. The Ghost of Morley Manor is a gothic romance featuring a penniless heroine who is desperate to find a way to keep her home and her brother safe. She resorts to summoning a ghost who might tell her the location of the hidden jewels that are rumored to be stashed somewhere in her home.
How did you come up with the storyline?
 
The story started from a writing prompt challenge several years ago about setting a story in a graveyard. My scene began with the heroine and her brother traipsing into the graveyard to conduct a seance and the story grew after that.
 
What inspires you to write?
 
I have an inner drive to tell stories. I can’t explain it. It’s part of my DNA, I think! But, my children inspire me to publish those stories. I want to teach them to pursue their dreams and what better way to do that than by pursuing my own?
 
Tell us about your other books:
 
All of my books are in the romance genre. I require a happily-ever-after with the books I both read and write. Heat levels vary from sweet to steamy and I’ve written short stories, novellas and novels. The romances I write are primarily paranormal, but also I write romances that are historical, gothic, fantasy, and sci-fi.
 
Where can readers find you?
 
Tricia’s Romance Readers Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/NZ8Zz
 
 
About the Author: 
Tricia Schneider is a multi-genre romance author. From werewolves, vampires and witches to wicked pirates and sexy aliens, she weaves sensual stories where happily-ever-after is a guarantee. She firmly believes there is a book for everyone. A sentiment she gained after years of working as Assistant Manager and bookseller at Waldenbooks. After the store closed, she turned to writing full-time, publishing paranormal, historical, fantasy, sci-fi and gothic romances.
Tricia lives in Pennsylvania with her four children and two rescued cats. When she’s not typing away on her laptop, she’s riding shotgun in a ’67 Impala while keeping her eyes open for a madman in a Big Blue Box.

Get more Halloween themed stories like this in 

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Drawn In by Krista Ames ~ A Cursed All Hallows’ Eve Author Spotlight Interview

 

Blurb:

Archer Danvers was destined to be alone for the rest of his long, unending time on earth. He’d carved out a good life, but it was lonely. That is, until Mia Blackwood blew in like a hurricane and needed to be rescued.

The pull between them was undeniable.

 Other immortals want her, but he has to have her. There’s a mysterious connection between them and he won’t let her go. His life was about to change in more ways than he could even know.

Excerpt:

“Another quiet night. Please end the misery.”

Why wasn’t he used to it by now? He should be glad there wasn’t upheaval. Then he’d feel obligated to get involved. Protect those needing protection. It was his neighborhood, after all. Humans were frailer than they realized.

Archer rested his fingers on the spots nearest his temple where his tension pulsated. It wasn’t as if the undead could feel their blood pressure rise but he knew from when he’d been alive years ago that those were the target areas. And who knew, anyway? Vampires had made great strides in evolving over the last few hundred years.

He was just frustrated.

He looked on from his balcony as the city slept. He didn’t care about the humans much—anymore—as he’d made a life of blood-in-a-bag or the occasional run in the nearby woods to satisfy the more basic, primal needs. He did, however, like to go mostly unnoticed among them and even had a human friend or two.

He wasn’t like the others anymore. He’d grown tired of the all-night bar life and the string of girls traipsing through his bedroom every night. He wanted to be a homebody, to be as normal as he could be and wished there were someone to share his never-ending life. He simply wasn’t attracted to any of the women like him. They had an air about them, like they were better than the rest, just because they were going to live forever.

And, unfortunately, searching for a life partner outside of his own species didn’t really constitute as a life partner. At least one that would live as long as him. And after so many years, the thought of turning someone no longer appealed to him, either. There were enough immortal in the world and who was to say it was his decision to make more. 

So, basically…he was just complaining.

After a long intake of the night air, and a deep exhale, he turned to leave his  balcony, same as every other night, he caught the smell. It was undeniably strong and unmistakable and gone again in a flash. 

It was fear.

Not just your everyday fear though, but a shaking terror.

Another human perhaps? But why was this one calling to his inner immortal all of the sudden? He’d learned to block them out years ago. So why wasn’t it working now?

Struggling with the decision, he stood for several seconds with his back to the city, wondering if he should … deciding that he shouldn’t … but turning to look anyway. As his hands gripped the railing, the keen vampire night vision he’d been blessed with focused on the streets below. However, he saw no one. At this hour of the night, most humans were safely tucked away in their beds. Then why was it he couldn’t walk away?

He stood with his eyes closed to focus on the fear he could feel all the way to his soul. Its body shaking. Its heart beating erratically. Its quiet whimpers.

It was hiding.

It wasn’t his responsibility.

It was female.

Damn it.

Where can readers find Drawn In?

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The veil is thin. Darkness calls. Will you answer?

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AUTHOR INTERVIEW


Hello and welcome, readers! We have Krista Ames here with us today. Krista, thanks for visiting us.

Krista:  It’s my pleasure, thanks so much for having me!

How long have you been a writer and how did you come to writing?

I suppose I’ve been dabbling at being a writer for 12 or 13 years now.

I was a heavy reader back then and after reading one of my favorite authors for the millionth time, I just decided that it was something I wanted to try so I did.

Tell us about your title featured in: A Cursed All Hallows’ Eve

My title is called DRAWN IN and it is about a vampire who had more or less become familiar with his unending existence even if it was a little lonely but then one Halloween night, there was something—different in the air…he could hear it even though there was no sound. He could sense something out there and he went in search of it…it had drawn him in. 

It ended up being a piece of his existence he never knew he needed…and he couldn’t go on without her.

How did you come up with the storyline?

Honestly, I’m not sure how I came up with it. As with most of the stories I write, they just pop in my head from something I’ve seen or read or even watched.

What inspires you to write?

Lots of things inspire me, it’s not any one given thing. It could be a song or a movie, or even a sign along the road believe it or not. Just never know where it’ll come from.

Where can readers find you? 

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/kristaames

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Author-Krista-Ames-153335914718126/

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/krista-ames

Newsletter: https://bit.ly/30vHwLj

Reader Group: https://bit.ly/32wUafc

Goodreads: https://goo.gl/LoYf7K

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kristakames/

MeWe:   https://mewe.com/i/kristaames

About the Author: 

Krista Ames was born and raised in Indiana. She now resides in Northern Michigan with the love of her life and their 4 children.

She is a full time stay-at-home mom and pursues her writing career when she’s not chasing kids, cooking or doing laundry.

Krista can be found at www.apassionforromance.blogspot.com and would love to hear from you any time via krista@kristaames.com

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