9/22/2014

Ellie Jordan, Ghost Trapper by J. L. Bryan - Book Blitz





Ellie Jordan’s job is to catch and remove unwanted ghosts. Part detective, part paranormal exterminator, Ellie operates out of Savannah, Georgia, one of the oldest and most haunted cities in North America.

When a family contacts her to deal with a disturbance presence in the old mansion they’ve recently purchased, Ellie first believes it to be a typical, by-the-book specter, a residual haunting by a restless spirit. Instead, she finds herself confronted an evil older and more powerful than she’d ever expected, rooted in the house’s long and sordid history of luxury, sin, and murder. The dangerous entity seems particularly interested in her clients’ ten-year-old daughter.

Soon her own life is in danger, and Ellie must find a way to exorcise the darkness of the house before it can kill her, her clients, or their frightened young child.

Ellie Jordan, Ghost Trapper
Author:  J.L. Bryan 
Publication date: September 19th 2014
Genres: Adult, Horror, Paranormal

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23150980-ellie-jordan-ghost-trapper?ac=1

Purchase:
--Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Ellie-Jordan-Ghost-Trapper-Volume/dp/1500977004/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1411132428&sr=8-1&keywords=Ellie+Jordan%2C+Ghost+Trapper
--B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/ellie-jordan-ghost-trapper-j-l-bryan/1120343895?ean=2940150596184

AUTHOR BIO
J.L. Bryan studied English literature at the University of Georgia and at Oxford, with a focus on the English Renaissance and the Romantic period. He also studied screenwriting at UCLA. He enjoys remixing elements of paranormal, supernatural, fantasy, horror and science fiction into new kinds of stories. He lives in Atlanta with his wife, his son, and some dogs and cats.

To hear about future books by J.L. Bryan, sign up for his new release newsletter: http://eepurl.com/mizJH
Website: www.jlbryanbooks.com
Twitter: @jlbryanbooks

Five Signs Your House May Be Haunted

Things go bump in the night.  You feel like someone is always watching you.  You think you have a ghost, but maybe it’s a just a creepy squirrel scrambling around your attic at night and staring at you through the windows.  How can you tell for sure?

The editors of Ladies’ Haunted Home Journal are back with an easy guide to determining whether a paranormal presence infests your house!  Before calling the ghost trappers, consider whether you have any of the following signs:

Cold Spots: One or more areas in your house might seem much colder the space around it.  This may be a corner, closet, or other out-of-the-way spot.  You may be excited to learn that when you feel the cold spot, you’re not just in the presence of a restless dead spirit, you’re also touching it!  You’re almost inside the ghost, and it’s kind of inside you.  Pretty neat.  Important note: A cold spot inside your refrigerator or freezer may be caused by the appliance itself.

Strange Sounds: You may hear moaning, groaning, thumping or crashing late at night.  Make sure it isn’t an elderly neighbor or relative bumbling around your house.  If you hear voices threatening you with death or dismemberment, you might consider the benefits of spending the night at a Motel 6.

Mysterious Motion: Plates slide off the counter.  Doors open or close by themselves.  The chandelier leaped down from the ceiling, flew across the room, and tried to kill you last week.  You’re beginning to think something may be amiss.  First, make sure there aren’t any logical causes for these problems, such as keeping your counter too greasy, or a broken hinge in the door, or that idiot who installed your chandelier.  If you can’t find an explanation, odds are you’ve got a ghost (or a poltergeist, but let’s not split hairs).

Absurd Disappearances: Your keys disappear from your end table, only to be found in the fish tank.  Your good silver vanishes, piece by piece, and you discover all of down in a mysterious back corner of the basement.  It’s either a family member with bizarre hoarding tendencies or a mischievous ghost.  Either way, you’ve got an annoying problem on your hands.

Full Apparitions: If you have seen a ghost appear and disappear, you probably have a ghost.  We don’t really have an alternate explanation for this one.  Call your local paranormal exterminator today!

We hope these tips will help you sort out whether your house is haunted or your family just weird!  If you have further questions, please read our pamphlet: My House is Haunted – What Now?  Good luck with that ghost!

9/19/2014

Now I See You: A Memoir by Nicole C. Kear - Book Review

At nineteen years old, Nicole C. Kear's biggest concern is choosing a major--until she walks into a doctor’s office in midtown Manhattan and gets a life-changing diagnosis. She is going blind, courtesy of an eye disease called retinitis pigmentosa, and has only a decade or so before Lights Out. Instead of making preparations as the doctor suggests, Kear decides to carpe diem and make the most of the vision she has left. She joins circus school, tears through boyfriends, travels the world, and through all these hi-jinks, she keeps her vision loss a secret.

When Kear becomes a mother, just a few years shy of her vision’s expiration date, she amends her carpe diem strategy, giving up recklessness in order to relish every moment with her kids. Her secret, though, is harder to surrender - and as her vision deteriorates, harder to keep hidden. As her world grows blurred, one thing becomes clear: no matter how hard she fights, she won’t win the battle against blindness. But if she comes clean with her secret, and comes to terms with the loss, she can still win her happy ending.        

Told with humor and irreverence, Now I See You is an uplifting story about refusing to cower at life’s curveballs, about the power of love to triumph over fear. But, at its core, it’s a story about acceptance: facing the truths that just won't go away, and facing yourself, broken parts and all.

Now I See You: A Memoir by Nicole C. Kear
288 pages
ISBN: 1250026563 (ISBN13: 9781250026569)
Published: June 24th 2014 by St. Martin's Press
Source: I received free digital review via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.



Now I See You is Nicole C. Kear's memoir about how she was diagnosed with an eye disease called retinis pigmentosa and how she tried to keep her condition hidden from others, and possibly from herself. Reader can follow her eventful life with a constantly degenerating eyesight, until to the point that she admits to herself that she must take her disease more seriously than before as ignoring the disease could put her life in danger. 

Despite the serious topic in hand, Now I See You is a witty read, written with humor, so I found it hard time to put the book down. The memoir also includes some tips how to fake having a normal eyesight and avoid awkward moments, when you're, in fact, almost blind. 


Watch trailer on Youtube
Rating: ★★★★

9/18/2014

Desire by Missy Johnson - Book Review

I’m a sex worker. 

A prostitute. A whore.

Whatever you want to call me, the result is still the same. I sleep with men and I get paid for it. I don’t make excuses for what I do.

Then I learn how fragile life can be; how in an instant, everything can change. My mother disappears and I'm left to care for my two estranged siblings. I can barely manage to look after myself. 

How am I supposed to look after a hormonal fifteen year old and a five year old who has no idea who I am?

I just want my old, uncomplicated life back.

Especially when He shows up.

He’s investigating my mothers disappearance, but I can see that it’s more than that for him.He thinks he can help me. He thinks he can fix me.

Only how can he fix something so broken?

Desire by Missy Johson, New Adult Romance

Review

Kaitlyn Delancey experienced something terrible in her teenage years. That destroyed her previously good relationship with her mother. She  ran away from home and started a new life. Few years have passed and she has estranged from her younger sister and brother. 

Kaitlyn is now working in a sex industry and has isolated herself from her feelings. She has forgotten the possibility of being loved.

But one day she founds out that her mother has disappeared. Detective Devon Walkerson investigates the case. Kaitlyn's siblings need some place to live in and Kaitlyn is practically guilted into taking her siblings in her place. So, Kaitlyn needs to deal with her mother's disappearance, painful memories, winning back her siblings' trust and developing love towards Devon. 

Desire is indeed an emotional, sugary sweet read. At the same time, the ending and Kaitlyn's mother case felt bit rushed. Neri's behaviour and accusations against Kaitlyn were irrational and ridiculous. 

Desire is a story about healing of being hurt and broken, and an importance of having a real supporting family. Despite some negative aspect in the story, I did enjoy the book overall. 

9/16/2014

One, Two, Three (One, Two, Three #1) by Elodie Nowodazkij


When seventeen-year-old Natalya’s dreams of being a ballerina are killed in a car accident along with her father, she must choose: shut down—like her mother—or open up to love. 

Last year,seventeen-year-old Natalya Pushkaya was attending the School of Performing Arts in New York City. Last year, she was well on her way to becoming a professional ballerina. Last year, her father was still alive.

But a car crash changed all that—and Natalya can’t stop blaming herself. Now, she goes to a regular high school in New Jersey; lives with her onetime prima ballerina, now alcoholic mother; and has no hope of a dance career.

At her new school, however, sexy soccer player Antonio sees a brighter future for Natalya, or at least a more pleasant present. Keeping him an arabesque away proves to be a challenge for Natalya and his patient charms eventually draw her out of her shell. 

When upsetting secrets come to light and Tonio’s own problems draw her in, Natalya shuts down again, this time turning to alcohol herself.

Can Natalya learn to trust Antonio before she loses him—and destroys herself?

One, Two, Three (One, Two, Three #1) by Elodie Nowodazkij

Published June 26th 2014 by Createspace

Goodreads B&N Amazon 


Natalya's knee and her dreams to become a professional ballerina are shattered. Natalya survived a car crash, but his father, who was driving, didn't. Natalya's mother is trying to find a consolation from the alcohol bottle, leaving Natalya alone with her grief and broken dreams. In One, Two, Three, Natalya's been revealed a family secret, and she has to find the strength to forgive her mother and also herself. 

I couldn't put One, Two, Three down, although it was an emotionally wrecking read at the beginning. Natalya had do deal with her broken dreams, grief for her lost father and an alcoholic mother. However, while the first half of the story was quite slow, the second half was rich of the events and topics that were discussed: alcohol and drug addiction, a life changing secret and also love. The storyline went a bit melodramatic, though, at times.

While dealing with her messed up life, Natalya finds time to develop a love interest - Tonio. I would compare Tonio with Augustus Waters from the Fault in Our Stars - I didn't like them for the same reason. They both ignored girl's wishes to be called with their proper birth names. The boys gave them a nickname that they used constantly instead. It's not a cute trend, it is not romantic, it's disrespectful. Luckily Tonio admits himself that he is an idiot, for different reasons, but still. 

One, Two, Three is a good read for readers, who enjoy drama, dancing stories, stories discussing addictions. 

3 stars



Author bio

Elodie Nowodazkij was raised in a tiny village in France, where she could always be found a book in hand. At nineteen, she moved to the US, where she learned she’d never lose her French accent. She graduated with a bachelor’s degree in Modern Language & Linguistics, and later earned master’s degrees in German Cultural Studies and European Studies. Unbeknownst to her professors, she sometimes drafted stories in class. Now she lives in Germany with her husband and their cat (who doesn’t seem to realize he’s not human), and uses her commuting time to write the stories swirling in her head. She’s also a serial smiley user.

Website Goodreads Facebook Twitter

9/08/2014

Deep Down Things by Tamara Linse - Spotlight



Deep Down Things, Tamara Linse’s debut novel, is the emotionally riveting story of three siblings torn apart by a charismatic bullrider-turned-writer and the love that triumphs despite tragedy. 

From the death of her parents at sixteen, Maggie Jordan yearns for lost family, while sister CJ drowns in alcohol and brother Tibs withdraws. When Maggie and an idealistic young writer named Jackdaw fall in love, she is certain that she’s found what she’s looking for. As she helps him write a novel, she gets pregnant, and they marry. But after Maggie gives birth to a darling boy, Jes, she struggles to cope with Jes’s severe birth defect, while Jackdaw struggles to overcome writer’s block brought on by memories of his abusive father. 

Ambitious, but never seeming so, Deep Down Things may remind you of Kent Haruf’s Plainsong and Jodi Picoult’s My Sister’s Keeper.

Available at Amazon  BN   Smashwords  Kobo other international ebookstores and through Ingram

Deep Down Things
Tamara Linse
Genre:  Literary Fiction
Publisher: Willow Words
Date of Publication: July 14, 2014
Number of pages: 330
Cover Artist: Tamara Linse

Chapter 1

Maggie

Jackdaw isn’t going to make it. I can tell by the way the first jump unseats him. The big white bull lands and then tucks and gathers underneath. Jackdaw curls forward and whips the air with his left hand, but his butt slides off-center. Thirty yards away on the metal bleachers, I involuntarily scoot sideways—as if it would do any good. The bull springs out from under Jackdaw and then arches its back, flipping its hind end. 

Jackdaw is tossed wide off the bull’s back. In the air he is all red-satin arms and shaggy-chapped legs but then somehow he grabs his black felt hat. He lands squarely on both feet, knees bent to catch his weight. Then he straightens with a grand sweep of his hat. Even from here you can see his smile burst out. There’s something about the way he opens his body to the crowd, like a dog rolling over to show its belly, that makes me feel sorry for him but drawn to him too. With him standing there, holding himself halfway between a relaxed slouch and head-high pride, I can see why my brother Tibs admires him. 

I haven’t actually met Jackdaw before, but he and Tibs hang out together a lot, and they have some English classes together. I haven’t run across him on campus.

The crowd on the bleachers goes wild. It doesn’t matter that Jackdaw didn’t stay on the full eight seconds. They holler and wolf-whistle and shake their programs. Their metallic stomping vibrates my body and brings up dust and the smell of old manure.

With Jackdaw off its back, the bull leaps into the air. It gyrates its hips and flips its head, a long ribbon of snot curling off its nostril and arcing over its back. Then it stops and turns and looks at Jackdaw. It hangs its head low. It shifts its weight onto its front hooves, butt in the air, and pauses. The clown with the black face paint and the big white circles around his eyes runs in front of the bull to distract it, but it shakes its head like it’s saying no to dessert.
The crowd hushes.

Then, I can’t believe it, Jackdaw takes a step toward the bull. The crowd yells, but not like a crowd, like a bunch of kids on a playground. Some holler encouragement. Others laugh. Some try to warn him. Some egg him on. My heart beats wild in my chest like when my sister CJ and I watch those slasher movies and Freddy’s coming after the guy and you know because he’s the best friend that he’s going to get killed and you want to warn him. “Bastard deserved it,” CJ always says, “for being stupid.” 

It’s like Jackdaw doesn’t know the bull’s right there. He starts walking, not directly to the fence but at a slant toward the loudest of the cheers, which takes him right past the bull.

I turn to Tibs. “What’s he doing?”

“He knows his stuff,” Tibs says, his voice lower than normal. The look on his face makes me want to give him a hug, but we’re not a hugging family, so I nod, even though Tibs isn’t looking at me.

Tibs is leaning forward, his eyes focused on Jackdaw, his elbows on his knees, and his shoulders hunched. Tibs is tall and thin, and he always looks a little fragile, a couple of sticks propped together. His face is our dad’s, big eyes and not much of a chin, sort of like an alien or an overgrown boy. He has the habit of playing with his fingers, which he’s doing now. It’s like he wants to reach out and grab something but he can’t quite bring himself to. It’s the same when he talks—he’ll cover his mouth with his hand like he’s holding back his words.

Tibs is the tallest of us three kids—CJ, he, and I. CJ’s the oldest. I’m the youngest and the shortest. Grandma Rose, Dad’s mom, always said I got left with the leftovers. Growing up, it seemed like CJ and Tibs got things and were told things that I was too young to have or to know. It was good though, too, because when Dad and Mom got killed when I was sixteen, I didn’t know enough to worry much about money or things. They had saved up some so we could get by. But poor CJ. She in particular had to be the parent, but she was used to babysitting us and she was older anyway—twenty-two, I think.

Like that time when we were kids when CJ was babysitting and I got so sick. Turned out to be pneumonia. I don’t know where our parents were. Most likely, they were away on business, but it could have been something else. Grandma Rose had cracked her hip—I remember that—so she couldn’t take care of us, but it was only for a couple of days and CJ was thirteen at the time. In general, CJ had started ignoring us, claiming she was a teenager now and didn’t want to play with babies any more, like kids do, which really got Tibs, though he didn’t do much besides sulk about it. But that day she was playing with us like she was a little kid too. 

We had been playing in an irrigation ditch making a dam. I pretended to be a beaver, and Tibs pretended to be an engineer on the Hoover Dam. I don’t remember CJ pretending to be anything, just helping us arrange sticks and slop mud and then flopping in the water to cool down. I started feeling pretty bad. Over the course of the day, I had a cough that got worse and then I got really hot and then really cold and my body ached. My lungs started wheezing when I breathed. I remember thinking someone had punched a hole in me, like a balloon, and all my air was leaking out. CJ felt my head and then felt it again and then grabbed my arm and dragged me to the house, Tibs trailing behind. All I wanted to do was lie down, but she bundled me in a blanket and put me in a wagon, and between them she and Tibs pulled me down the driveway and out onto the highway. We lived twelve miles from town, in the house where I live now. I don’t know why CJ didn’t just call 911. But here we were, rattling down the middle of the highway. A woman in a truck stopped and gave us a ride to the hospital here in Loveland. Can you imagine it? A skinny muddy thirteen-year-old girl in her brown bikini and her skinny nine-year-old brother, taller than her but no bigger around than a stick and wearing red, white, and blue swim trunks, hauling their six-year-old sister through the sliding doors of the emergency room in a little red wagon. What those nurses must’ve thought.

On the bleachers, I glance from Tibs back out to Jackdaw. The bull doesn’t know what’s going on either. It shakes its lowered head and snorts, blowing up dust from the ground. Jackdaw bows his head and slips on his hat. Then the bull decides and launches itself at Jackdaw. Just as the bull charges down on Jackdaw, the white-eyed clown runs between him and the bull and slaps the bull’s nose. Jackdaw turns toward them just as the bull plants its front feet, turns, and charges after the running clown.

Pure foolishness and bravery. My hands are shaking. I want to go down and take Jackdaw’s hand and lead him out of the arena. A thought like a little alarm bell—who’d want to care about somebody who’d walk a nose-length from an angry bull? But something about the awkward hang of his arms and the flip of his chaps and the way his hat sets cockeyed on his head makes me want to be with him.

The clown runs toward a padded barrel in the center of the arena, his white-stockinged calves flipping the split legs of his suspendered oversized jeans. He jumps into the barrel feet-first and ducks his head below the rim. The crowd gasps and murmurs as the charging bull hooks the barrel over onto its side and bats it this way and that for twenty yards. The bull stops and turns and faces the crowd, head high, tail cocked and twitching. He tips his snout up once, twice, and snorts.

While the bull chases the clown, Jackdaw walks to the fence and climbs the boards.

The clown pops his head out of the sideways barrel where he can see the bull from the rear. He pushes himself out and then scrambles crabwise around behind. He turns to face the bull, his hands braced on the barrel. The bull’s anger still bubbling, it turns back toward the clown and charges. As the bull hooks at the barrel and butts it forward, the clown scoots backwards, keeping the barrel between him and the bull, something I’m sure he’s done many times. He keeps scooting as the bull bats at the barrel. But then something happens—the clown trips and falls over backwards. The barrel rolls half over him as he turns sideways and tries to push himself up. The bull stops for a split second, as if to gloat, and then stomps on the clown’s franticly scrambling body and hooks the horns on its tilted head into the clown’s side, flipping the clown over onto his back.

Why do rodeo clowns do it? Put their lives on the line for other people? I don’t understand it.

The pickup men on the horses are there, but a second too late. They charge the bull, their horses shouldering into it. They yell and whip with quirts and kick with stirrupped boots. Tail still cocked, the reluctant bull is hazed away and into the gathering pen at the end of the arena. The metal gate clangs shut behind it.

Head thrown back and arms splayed, the clown isn’t moving. Men jump off the rails and run toward him, and the huge doors at the end of the arena open and an ambulance comes in. It stops beside the clown. The EMTs jump out, pull out a gurney, and then huddle around the prone body. One goes back to the vehicle and brings some equipment. There’s frantic activity, and with the help of the other men, they place him on the gurney and slide him into the ambulance. It pulls out the doors and disappears, and the siren wails and recedes.

Tibs stands up, looks at me, and jerks his head, saying come on, let’s go. I stand and follow him. 

About the Author


Like the characters in Deep Down Things, the author Tamara Linse and her husband have lost babies. They had five miscarriages before their twins were born through the help of a wonderful woman who acted as a gestational carrier. Tamara is also the author of the short story collection How to Be a Man and earned her master’s in English from the University of Wyoming, where she taught writing. Her work appears in the Georgetown Review, South Dakota Review, and Talking River, among others, and she was a finalist for Arts & Letters and Glimmer Train contests, as well as the Black Lawrence Press Hudson Prize for a book of short stories. She works as an editor for a foundation and a freelancer. Find her online at tamaralinse.com and on her blog Writer, Cogitator, Recovering Ranch Girl at www.tamara-linse.blogspot.com

Website http://www.tamaralinse.com   

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/tlinse  

Twitter https://twitter.com/TamaraLinse 

Google+ https://plus.google.com/u/0/+TamaraLinse/posts

Mailing List: http://www.tamaralinse.com/contact_mail_list.html 

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