I’m so excited to be a part of N. N. Light’s Book Heaven Backlist Bonanza BookishEvent. Check out all books and enter the giveaway to win a $20 Amazon gift card:
House of the Rising Son is a Featured Book! Click on the picture!
Cheyenne is a half-human incubus whose star is on the rise in the Unakite City rock scene. His father, the leader of the supernatural races, would prefer he keep a “low profile”, but screw that. Cheyenne has as much music in his veins as royal incubi blood.
Alexander's future is all set: finish law school, join the family firm, and marry someone who'd be good for business. Not that he has a say in any of it. He's barely met the woman his father expects him to marry. Keeping the peace is his priority. Until he meets Cheyenne.
If secrets are kept, they can never be together. If their secrets are exposed, chaos will reign in both families.
Either way, life will never be the same.
House of the Rising Son is the first book in the LGBTQIA+ urban fantasy series Living After Midnight. Warning: This book features quirky supernatural creatures, a Thanksgiving dinner that makes the Inquisition look like a tea party, and an incubus that will rock your world.
Hook:
Were-tigers were not the inconspicuous type. If they were in the club, those assholes would be right in front.
From center stage, Cheyenne looked through the dark hair hanging over his eyes. He searched the rock crowd for the hostile faces of his father’s henchmen. So far, so good. No Were-tigers in sight. Instead, he saw tears trickling down the cheeks of women, and men holding cold bottles of beer against their foreheads.
His band jammed in the background, each member a talented musician, but the fans watched only him. They screamed and begged him for a sign of favor—a glance, a smile. He bit his lower lip, concealing a satisfied grin. He could ask them for all their worldly possessions, and they wouldn’t hesitate to oblige. But he wanted nothing except their lust, which fed him, and that was already his.
“I know what you want.” He moved his hands across his body, pushing up his black T-shirt to reveal a glimpse of stomach—and the promise of more. He teased, “I said I know what you want!” The crowd roared.
Cheyenne let his desire seep into his green eyes. “But you can’t have it.” The room exploded with cheers and applause.
He brought his palms together in front of his chest and bowed his head in mock humility as he savored the sweet, creamy taste of his fans’ longing. He rewarded them with a carnal, hungry gaze, then picked up his white Stratocaster. Fuck being an incubus, he thought. I’m a rock star.
Get House of the Rising Son here:
https://books.apple.com/us/book/house-of-the-rising-son/id6445258059
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/house-of-the-rising-son-trevann-rogers/1122604899
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/house-of-the-rising-son-3
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XPZX3G5
https://www.bookbub.com/authors/trevann-rogers
Do you ever have cravings? I do. I tend to try to ignore them. Sometimes, they go away. Sometimes…they linger.
My partner and I had planned a relaxing weekend retreat at our favorite spot in the state, Niantic. It would be the getaway before teaching starts—a moment to relax, a moment for fun, and of course, the ocean. Since the first time we discussed going away, we lamented that our location would be just minutes away from The Hive.
What is this Hive we speak of? The place where Krispy Kreme donuts are made. ARE MADE.
Since we’ve been working hard at eating better, donuts were not on the agenda. But, unbeknownst to each other, neither of us could stop thinking about the confectionary crack, Krispy Kreme. So freaking close and yet, so far from our beachside paradise!
As we drove closer to Niantic, my partner hesitantly said, “I know you want to keep on our eating plan, but, um, we are going to be just a few miles away from The Hive. Doesn’t a donut sound good?”
I replied, “OH MY GOD IT SURE DOES! Let’s go. But we’ll just buy a couple, right?” I had been holding steadfast to my commitment to avoid The Hive because I thought SHE wanted to, and she had been doing the same for me. What an awesome feeling.
(Don’t ask me how many we actually bought. Let’s just say it was a weekend of love and donuts.)
Join me in welcoming Alana Lorens, talking with us today about her new book, REMNANTS OF FIRE.
******
I took my first journalism class at Kent State (after the National Guard), and fell in love with the idea of working for a newspaper. Of course, this was back in the 1970s, when people read newspapers on the regular.
In 1981, I got my first job at a small paper very much like the one in REMNANTS OF FIRE, the Ralston Courier. Ours was the South Dade News Leader, and we covered all the stuff that happened south of the Miami Herald’s usual beat, with a soupcon of the Florida Keys thrown in. We could be snobby and say the TV reporters were ambulance chasers, just like the TV reporters do now for the internet guys. We rode in the trenches and the tropical storms and the mango orchards and the salt water. Some of us occasionally snuck out onto the local Air Force Base and took pictures of walking catfish on the flight line. (Not that I’m confessing that. By the Way).
It was a great job. I got to do so many fun things—interview Senators, spend a week at the Hurricane Center, fly an F-14 simulator…. Let’s not talk about that. Even got shot at a couple times. But I never had to deal with the kind of trouble that Sara Woods does when her editor assigns her to investigate a series of deaths that may be attached to a local healing center. Ridiculous, right? Healers are supposed to heal people. Maybe not only themselves…
By Alana Lorens
#supernatural #thriller #vampire #reporter
Book Info
Release Date :August 15, 2023
Amazon
ASIN: B0CFDKZ8BZ
ISBN-10 : 194918756X
ISBN-13 : 978-1949187564
Blurb
Looking for a fresh start, Sara Woods takes a job as a news reporter in a small town. Her first assignment for the Ralston Courier is to investigate a string of deaths, all young women, all her age. To deal
with chronic back pain, she goes to the Goldstone Clinic, a local
healing center with a strange reputation. As local doctor Rick Paulsen teaches Sara how to access hidden energy skills and reveal secrets from her past, police officer Brendon watches Sara’s every move. The deeper she digs into the Goldstone, the harder it is to deny links to the paranormal. Can she figure out what is going on and who to trust before it’s too late?
Excerpt
I asked Rick, “What makes you think this is the fault of someone at the clinic?”“It’s a direct link. She was healthy enough before she went there, except for the migraines. Within a month after she started treating there, she’s on her deathbed.”
“Deathbed?” I bit my lip.
He studied me, still closed off. “She’s very sick. I don’t know if we’ll pull her through this. She might already be gone if...” His eyes narrowed.
“If what?”
“Ted told me you revived her in the ambulance, just by laying on hands.” “Well, I don’t know about that,” I said, embarrassed. “I held her hand, yeah. I wanted her to know she had a friend there.” I left out the part about wanting to share my own strength. Surely that wasn’t what had
happened.
“Let’s get back to the room, and I want to see if you can do it again,” he said. He stopped short before he opened the door. “And not another word about the clinic. There are eyes and ears everywhere.”
Do what again? “I didn’t do anything.” It didn’t matter. He wasn’t listening.
When we got back to Dedra, he looked at the machines, and his face clouded with anger. “Whatever you did in the ambulance, try again. Don’t argue. Don’t think. Just do it,” he ordered.
“If you say so.” I took Dedra’s hand. Nothing happened.
He observed a moment. “You’re not trying.”
“How do you know?” I glared at him, then he pointed to Dedra. I took a deep breath, then concentrated on Dedra, picturing the girl as she’d been during my first days at the newspaper, bubbly and vivacious. The longer I thought about her, I felt a wave of heat, something like the way I’d heard a hot flash described. It came up from my feet, moved through my midsection with a little sizzle and up into my arms, hands, fingers. The beeping of the machines quickened, and I could swear Dedra’s cheeks turned a little pink.
The sound brought my attention back to the room, and I realized I felt weak. My hands slid away from Dedra’s and my knees gave way.
Buy Links
SMASHWORDS EBOOK:
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1435752:
Book Trailer https://youtu.be/pWjJT2upVlo
Author Bio
Alana Lorens has been a published writer for more than forty years, while working as a pizza maker, a floral designer, a journalist and a family law attorney. Currently a resident of Asheville, North Carolina, the aging hippie loves her time in the smoky blue mountains.
She writes romance and suspense as Alana Lorens, and sci-fi, fantasy and paranormal mystery as Lyndi Alexander. One of her novellas, THAT GIRL’S THE ONE I LOVE, is set in the city of Asheville during the old Bele Chere festival. She is the author of the Pittsburgh Lady Lawyers series, which draws on her 25 years as a family law attorney in the state of Pennsylvania. One of the causes close to her heart came from those years as well–the fight against domestic violence. She volunteered for many years at women’s shelters and provided free legal services to women and children in need.
She lives with her daughter on the autism spectrum, who is the youngest of her seven children, and she is ruled by three crotchety old cats, and six kittens of various ages.
Author Links
Website http://Alana-lorens.com
Facebook https://www.facebook.com/AlanaLorens/
Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4829967.Alana_Lorens
Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/Alana-Lorens/e/B005GE0WBC/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/alana-lorens
Twitter: @AlexanderLyndi
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/alexander_lyndi/
https://lyndialexander.wordpress.com/2023/08/14/living-with-remnants-of-fire/
A very long time ago, my therapist—I’ll call her H— invited me to watch a meteor shower with her. I didn’t want to. Since I was an obsessive worrier, why she invited me to watch the sky falling was beyond me. But I was very connected to this woman, so I agreed. I would be brave.
We hunted for a place as far away from direct and ambient light as possible—No easy feat in the 20th century. Luckily, we found a small, empty field. I’d never been anywhere in the outdoors that was so bereft of light. It was difficult to see well enough to set up our chairs. Luckily, H brought a flashlight.
At first, nothing happened. We sat in the dark, talking in whispers for no reason at all. And then, there it was. I was mesmerized. The sky wasn’t falling. It was dancing. A sparkling cloud of dust, the remnants of a comet, danced above me and, at the same time, encompassed me. In those moments, I felt the vastness of the universe and the gift of light those small particles offered. I also realized two things:
Compared to the vastness of space, most of my worries were not so big.
Even in consuming darkness, there are shards of light. But you have to let yourself see them.
Although we never talked about it, I’m pretty sure that was what H had planned all along.
The Perseid meteor shower is scheduled to peak on August 12-13 this year. If you’ve never had the experience, I strongly suggest it. You might have to do a little work to find a dark enough spot, but even if you don’t have epiphanies like I did, the shower of light is worth it. You can find out more about it here. Enjoy.
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