Dirty Dozen Author Interview – Lana Campbell #ParanormalRomance #Vampires

Tags

Author interviews, Dirty Dozen Interviews, Paranormal, Paranormal Romance, vampires

Welcome to Lana Campbell

#vampires #redemption #paranormalromance

*Please tell us about your publications. I’ve published three books so far in my Forever and a Night vampire series. These are not your typical vampire romances. For instance in my first book Forever and a Night my heroine is 42 with three grown girls who become my heroines in subsequent books. In book one devout Christian Mia Peebles falls for billionaire vampire Nathan Davenport.

Nathan Davenport is being stalked by Isabella Ravini, the feral vampire who stole his human life over a hundred and sixty years ago. She made him her fledging, a slave for her dark, evil purposes—hunting humans. After a few years, she released him, and Nathan reluctantly learned to accept the cursed life she’d foisted upon him.Over time he amassed a great fortune, which today has made him famous worldwide. Isabella decides she wants to be a part of this world of fame and fortune Nathan created for himself. She’s determined to marry him, and love has nothing to do with it. His money is her primary target, and the fame and prestige attached to being the wife of one of the richest men in the world wouldn’t be so bad either.

In an effort to evade her until he can figure out how to stop her, he hides at a safe house he owns in New Orleans. One Saturday evening in NOLA, he decides to have dinner in the city. He chooses a quiet little Italian bistro, never imagining this night will change his life forever. The human woman who delivers his order isn’t a server, but the restaurant’s sous chef, a beautiful ethnic woman possessing the most delicious blood scent he’s ever encountered. The moment Mia Peebles arrives at his table with his plate, tasting her becomes an obsession. Mia wants nothing to do with him because of Nathan’s reputation as a playboy. So Nathan enchants her, feeds from her, but his lusts for her blood and body play havoc with his thinking.

Nathan finds a way to bring her into his life as his personal chef and quickly falls in love with her. The trouble is Mia has no idea he’s a vampire because, during the enchanting episodes, Nathan blocked her memories of those sensual encounters. How will Nathan tell her the truth without losing her and keep Isabella from finding him? Or worst yet, will Isabella discover how much Mia has come to mean to him?

 

Book two Dark Experiments is about Tiffany Peebles and OB/GYN vampire Dr Christian LaMond. On the cusp of their romance, an angel of death begins poisoning Christian’s pregnant vampire patients. Tiffany is also poisoned.

Christian is the exception to Tiffany’s rule that all males are louses. For years Tiffany has lusted after Christian and of late she can’t help but wonder what it might be like to have a brief fling with him. The opportunity to explore her secret fantasy appears when Christian offers her a job as the IT person for his practice, the V clinic. She knows if he gives her the green light, she’s going to have a romp with her sexy vampire. When the night finally arrives and she and Christian have sex, the experience is so overwhelmingly powerful, Tiffany backpedals and tries to turn down the heat between them. She’s human. He’s a vampire. She can’t afford to fall in love with him.

Christian has other ideas. During their sexual encounter, he discovers Tiffany is his life mate and he vows to change her thinking. His intentions are put on hold when he gets caught up in an angel of death’s vicious plan to chemically terminate V clinic patients’ pregnancies. Tiffany herself falls victim to a lethal dose of arsenic and Christian can only save her by turning her into a vampire. She’s furious when she wakes from her turning and discovers what Christian has done. She wants nothing to do with him ever again, but when she’s kidnapped by this angel of death and used as a guinea pig for deadly experiments she only has Christian to turn to save her life.

 

In book three Deadly Secrets, Chelsie Peebles discovers she’s dying of an incurable brain tumor. No form of treatment will save her but one. She must turn into a vampire.

When Dr Chelsie Peebles, an OB/GYN for vampires discovers she’s dying from a stage four glioblastoma she learns there is only one sure cure that can save her life. She must turn into a vampire. Chelsie is the member of a big extended family of vampires. In fact, she is the only human left in her entire clan. Headaches have been plaguing her for months and when she’s diagnosed with an incurable brain tumor, Chelsie chooses to keep the horrific news from her family to spare them hurt until she can figure out viable treatments or a cure.

Researching her options for survival lead her to the inevitable conclusion she is going to die no matter what treatments she chooses unless she turns into a vampire. Chelsie’s desperate. She blackmails the partners of her vampire OB/GYN clinic into aiding her in this life altering transformation.

Asa Bradley, one of her partners thinks Chelsie’s crazy for wanting to turn because the reasons she gives are flakey. He has no idea she’s dying. He is however bewitched by the little human doctor and wants to know what has her so hellbent on wanting to become a vampire. So one night when he’s invited to a bar where Chelsie moonlights as a country/western singer, he goes and is stunned to discover she has the voice of an angel and the body of a seductress since all he’s ever seen her wear is a lab coat. Asa is smitten with the surprising Dr. Peebles.

Trouble is Chelsie has an ex named Chad who she sings with in the band and he thinks Chelsie belongs to him. Chad’s dangerously possessive and threatens to hurt Chelsie if Asa doesn’t leave her alone. Asa isn’t going to be thwarted by a puny human. He romances Chelsie and gains her trust and affection which inevitably leads him to discover Chelsie’s deadly secret.

Can Asa keep Chelsie safe from her maniacal ex and get her this transformation she needs before cancer or her villainess ex claims her life?

What first prompted you to publish your work? Back when Twilight was becoming popular my teenage girls at the time were so into the series. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about so I read the books. I enjoyed them, loved the vampire aspect, but I wanted to read vampire stories with older protagonists and more human like vampires. So I set about creating a story with a 42-year-old female protagonist and an older vampire hero who lived longer than most humans but was mortal. In my stories, vampires can eat and they can have children because they are a sub-species of humans, evolved from humans due to a blood disease.

What have you found the most challenging part of the process? Getting published. All three of my books were published with a small press publisher.

Are you a ‘pantser’ or a ‘plotter’? Definitely a pantser. I know the general plot and story of the book I’m writing, but as I write it I let the story evolve on its own. I can’t say why but it works for me.

What piece of advice do you wish you’d had when you started your publishing journey? My first book was published by a vanity press. I wish I’d known no author should have to pay to have their book published. If your work is good enough you will find someone to publish your book and they won’t charge and you’ll make money.

What are your views on authors offering free books? Do you believe, as some do, that it demeans an author and his or her work? I’ve tried this and I see no benefit in it. It didn’t help me achieve more book sales nor did it garner me any reviews. I don’t think I’d do it again.

What are your views on authors commenting on reviews? An author commenting on reviews should only thank the reviewer I think. The worse thing one could do is argue the review with the reviewer. To me, it’s demeaning to the author.

How do you deal with bad reviews? I get bummed for a bit, then I let it go and concentrate on the good reviews. I realize not everyone is going to love my work, but others will. I think this goes for every book ever written. Not everyone is going to have the same opinion. But if I could add one thing to say to readers, please leave reviews on the books you read. This is so important to the author and so appreciated.

Sort these into the order of importance:

Good plot– This is second. A good plot should be fast moving and should keep the reader engaged.

Great characters– I think this is first. If your characters pop off the pages, you’ll snag your reader into your story.

Awesome world-building– This would be last. It’s certainly important, but if an author goes overboard with description it can slow the plot.

Technically perfect– People hate reading books with grammatical difficulties, but most are forgiving so I’d have to put this at number three. Still it’s important to edit, edit, edit and don’t rely solely on an editor to clean up your work. Do it yourself and do it well.

How much research do you do for your work? What’s the wildest subject you’ve looked at? All I can say is thank God for Google. I research constantly as I go along. I’d have to say the wildest subject I researched which is in book one, Forever and a Night would be the grave of Marie LaVue. My protagonists were touring the cemetery and ran across her grave. I brought into the scene some of the wild information about her intriguing life.

What’s the best advice you’ve received about writing/publishing? As far as writing, to write every day and to do so with passion. A person either has a passion for writing or they don’t. If you do you’ll write every spare moment you have.

If you could be any fantasy/mythical or legendary person/creature what would you be and why? I would like to be one of my vampires. In my books, they age very slowly and live for six or seven hundred years. They have psychic and telekinetic abilities as well as strength and speed ten times that of a human. Who wouldn’t want those abilities?

Which authors have influenced you the most? Nora Roberts, Christine Feehan

What is your writing space like? It must be neat. I clean my space before I begin. No noise. I can’t write if the TV is on or if there’s music or any annoying noise going on.

Tell us about your latest piece? I just finished a vampire romance called Alabama Rain. In this story, Alabama Rain is a born vampire whose father is a villainous drug dealer. He’s a much more powerful vampire than Alabama. He forces Alabama to steal drugs for him from his rival drug lord which of course places Alabama in danger. Early into the story, she has a run in with Nate Davenport when she’s trying to do a drug theft for her father. When Nate discovers she deals drugs, he’s determined to catch her in the act and bring her to justice. He just doesn’t plan on falling in love with her in the process.

What’s your next writing adventure? I’m writing book six in my series right now. It’s about Alabama Rain’s brother Ganja Elisha Holden. He used to be a thief of drugs for his father Ken Holden an evil and powerful vampire who is also a drug lord. In the book previous, Alabama Rain, he has been planted in his father’s rival drug cartel, Manny Cordova’s, in order to report back to his father about when drug deals are going down in the Cordova cartel. When Cordova discovers Ganja has been an intricate part in the theft of his drugs, he puts a hit out on him. Ganja flees to the midwest to a small Arkansas town called Eureka Springs. There he makes a life for himself as a small business owner of a jewellery and antiques store. One day all of that is threatened when the daughter of Manny Cordova appears in his store. Lydia Cordova has always bewitched Gan. She presents a clear danger to Gan but he can’t help but want her even though she could lead her father who wants him dead straight to him.

Is this the age of the e-book? Are bricks and mortar bookshops in decline?It definitely is the age of e-books. More and more people are loving reading their favorite stories on their devices. I’m one of them. But there are still lots of people who would much rather hold a real book in their hands, but not as many as there used to be. Sadly bookshops are in decline. Some major retailers have closed their doors. I think this is bad news for authors because we make more money on physical book sales than we do off e-books.

With the influx of indie authors do you think this is the future of storytelling? Yes, thanks to Amazon more and more indie authors publish every day. I definitely think this is the future of storytelling.

Are indie/self-published authors viewed with scepticism or wariness by readers? Why is this? I don’t think so. If a reader likes the sound of your book, I think they’d buy it no matter the publisher. On the other hand, some self-published books are terribly written with horrible grammatical errors. I’ve read my fair share. This could detour some readers from buying a book without a publishing house behind it.

Is there a message in your books? Yes, there is. I have a Christian message in each of my books, a message of redemption from a higher power. It by no means overwhelms the book, it’s just there as a facet of my character’s character. I’ve gotten mixed reviews on it, but most people are amazed that I can successfully weave a redemption message into a vampire story. It certainly hasn’t hurt my sales, rather the opposite.

How important is writing to you? I live it, breathe it, sleep it. I love to write and would no matter if I sold books or not. Unfortunately, it is more of a hobby than a career. I truly hope to change that some day.

 

Links

Forever night

Dark Experiments

Deadly Secrets

 

Bio

I’m the author of the Forever and a Night vampire romance series. The first book in my series is Forever and a Night. My second book Dark Experiments just came out 5/21/16. BTP has just recently bought my third book Deadly Secrets. I love writing paranormal romance and I’m an avid reader of it too. I live in Avoca AR with my husband, oldest daughter and a cat named Felix

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Swift Six – Author Samir Karimo – Supernatural/English Language

Tags

horror, Paranormal, Supernatural, Surrealist, Swift Six

 

Name: SAMIR KARIMO

What attracts you to the genre in which you write?

I like to create different worlds, namely strange and surrealistical ones with known characters which try to attract the audience. I have a strange relationship with the reader, I like to play with him/her, e.g. I like to try them to question about things, even the smallest ones and that’s why most of my stories are flash stories. In those short stories I try to synthesise my conception of horror, science-fiction and terror.

What piece of writing advice do you wish you’d known when you started your writing adventures? First of all, follow your dreams, whatever they are and try to have a certain writing style. People will always criticise the way you write but it’s important to create your own style with your features. When I began I wanted to write grammatically well but now I want to have a style of my own.

If you could have dinner with any famous person or character who would you choose?

Pirandello, Unamuno and Pessoa due to their idea about the being, not being and the different characters we assume every day. Dr.Jekyll and Mr.Hide, Adriano Meis, Sheherazade from Arabian Nights without doubt and Ramayana’s Valmiky.

Who has been the greatest influence on your own work?

As I have mentioned, on one hand I was deeply influenenced by Pirandello, Unamuno and Pessoa. Their ideas are still updated and even today we don’ t know how to interact in society…. I like that idea of double personality, the heteroynms  and ortonyms, on the other hand, as you read the book, you’ll find references to Indian mythology, Nordic folklore and also D.Juan’s Myth.  Kafka also, there’a flash story, DAMNED WORDS which looks Kafka’s  IN THE PENAL COLONY. But I have also a muse called Reyam  who inspires my work. Besides I have a text dedicated to her, music divine.

Do you think the e-book revolution will do away with print?

Someday maybe, but there are still people wanting to feel the “taste of the book”. I like both, but more and more people are using e-books . And besides, e-books are more compact and easy to carry than a book. And with the digital stuff in e-books it is possible to create more things than in a book, like for example holograms, and so on.

Which 3 books would you take to a desert island and why?

Arabian nights because I love the stories Sherazade tells to the sultan, and because is one of the most important books of the world which influences our way of seeing the world.

Lucian of Samostata’s true story because it’s a very advanced book, even today with their creatures and the idea of Moon and, finally, Charles Nodier’s Infernaliana, one of best scary books ever written. Some stories make me beg for more, one of my favourites is the “Devil pact”.

 

Author bio and book synopsis

Please introduce yourself (250 words or so):

My name is Samir Karimo, and besides of being a translator, I’m also a writer. This book SOBRENATURAL is my first English book which was written almost at the same time that in Portuguese and Spanish also. I usually write in Portuguese to BABELICUS EM PORTUGUÊS  and in Spanish and English to MINATURA. I also collaborate with DEMENCIA magazine and WAX MAGAZINE, both in Spanish . And I’m also a comic screenwriter to a comic magazine called H-ALT where by September it will publish my first story.

My first stories appeared at FENIZ FANZINE  in Spanish in 2013. But I published my first Portuguese  poems in late 1998.

I like to create strange situations with strange characters…. like Kafka

 

Tell us about your book(s) – title, genre etc (short)

Sobrenatural (supernatural surrealistical scary stories ), a small anthology of flash stories and tales where the reader will find famous characters in strange situations. Imagine yourself having a dream where nothing is what it seems, when you find space vampires and their connection to dinosaur’s extinction, killing noses and other alien creatures. Imagine if D.Juan would go to paradise or, finally, would find peace. Also imagine Oscar Wilde as an attorney or Dulcinea having a relationship with a snake….  And imagine a character called INTRODUCTION, and a FUN GOD falling in love by a cyborg woman in Harlequin Carnavalin.

Finally, the book cover was done my the ESFS Awards winner’ JUAN MIGUEL AGUILERA

Links

For United States

Amazon

For United Kingdom

 

https://www.amazon.co.uk/sobrenatural-supernatural-surrealistical-scary-stories-ebook/dp/B07262DJFX

 

Social media

https://www.facebook.com/samir.karimo

https://www.facebook.com/sksobrenatural/

 

Book Spotlight – Shadow Wings – Paranormal Romance Prerelease

Tags

Book spotlights, demons, Paranormal Romance, pre-release

Kindle Pre-Order:  http://a.co/91NYVWB

Myra Dean thought she escaped the tragedy that pushed her to the new town. However, when her boss’ son rides in on his Harley, she finds herself wondering who he truly was. Was he the man of her dreams or was it his motorcycle brother, the golden eyed detective who melts her heart?
Cross and Blaze come from two different backgrounds but their duty is to protect Myra. She was born with the blood of two different species running through her veins making her a target for the demon, Malach. With the taste of her blood, he can do what no other demon could do, return to heaven.
Will Cross and Blaze figure out how to control their jealousy over Myra so they can protect her or will she have to save them instead?

 

Out June 20th 2017

Blog Tour Book Spotlight – Hunted -Paranormal/Fantasy

Tags

Blog tour, book spotlight, Fantasy, Paranormal

Title: Hunted #2

Author: Aoife Marie Sheridan

Genre: Dark Fantasy/Paranormal/Romance

Release Date: 6^th of June 2017

Book Cover Designed by: Ultimate Fantasy Books

Edited by: Magpie Editing

 

 

Blurb:

19-year-old Abigail is going from the frying pan to the fire. Cast into Hades unexpectedly, she narrowly escapes murder and torture–only to find herself kidnapped by Nicolas Frost, the man who tried to kill her. Sundered from her beloved Daniel and friend Cathy, the tortures and mysteries of Hell itself await Nicolas and Abigail.

As her captor leads her to an unknown fate, she discovers her true destiny. To save her home, Abigail may have to ally herself with enemies–unless the horrors and predatory wraiths devour her first.

Goodreads

Buy Links

AMAZON

USA: https://goo.gl/IkrFTq

UK: https://goo.gl/A1kLlY

CA: https://goo.gl/SJVSFD

AU: https://goo.gl/WJI5ob

 

KOBO: https://goo.gl/ZrpiY3

SMASHWORDS: https://goo.gl/63iJH2

NOOK: https://goo.gl/Q5Phck

ITUNES: https://goo.gl/ohRFIe

 

 

Author Bio:

Aoife Marie Sheridan has loved reading from a very young age, starting off with mills and boon books given to by her grandmother. Her love for romances grew, by the age of 14 she had read hundreds of them.

Aoife has a passion for writing poetry or in her eyes her journal entries. It was something she did throughout her teens and into her twenties. Aoife won first place for two of her poems and had them published at a young age of just nineteen.

Aoife’s first book Eden Forest (Part one of the Saskia Trilogy) took first place with Writers Got Talent 2013. Aoife continues to write tales of fantasy and romance.

To find out more about Aoife Marie Sheridan you can visit her at:

 

Amazon Page

Facebook Page

www.aoifemariesheridan.com

Aoife’s Blog

Goodreads

Twitter

 

 

 

Hell Week 2017 – Day 7- Chris Morris/Orpheus

Tags

Fantasy, Hell week, Heroes in Hell series, Perseid Press, Pirates in Hell

Character Spotlight

About yourself:

*Who are/were you? Tell us about your life before you came here, and after.

A: I am Orpheus, son of the Thracian king Oeagros or perhaps even of Apollo, but most certainly sprung from the belly of the Muse Calliope, forever to hear the strains of her harmonies in all things. The strings of the lyre thrill to my touch as I to them and men and birds and fishes to the tides of all that is.

* Why do YOU think you’re in Hell?

A: I am in hell, as in life, to be taken amiss in perpetuity, to poetize, sing and play upon my instruments in accord with each unfolding moment and sway all souls about me to respond according to their nature and be reviled for doing so, for their differences cast them at odds.

Who are your friends/allies here?

A: Friends? Jason, for one, who steers our ship away from shoals and plies roiling seas. Atalanta is a friend as well and longs to chase my demons from me. Allies to me are forever the octaves of eternity, knowable to myself alone and mystery to all others.

Do you have any enemies here?

A: “Here” is mine enemy and daily do I war with him; I turn his rage to song and he doth rage the more. Shh…I take some small pleasure in that.

How do you define ‘piracy’?

A: All is stolen which has no owner; piracy is an illusion promising possession.

Come on be honest, what do you think of HSM leadership?

A: All things have a head and a tail; guide, yet follow. He must be for the Grand Punishment Continuum to exist; He is not to be envied or feared, though He must be more than those few things: He is a verse, then a chorus, then a coda; like us, He knows not his beginning, no more than I.

What is the WORST thing about being here?

A: The food.

What are your best tips for surviving in Hell?

A: Feel the rhythm; take your next breath fully; stand straight; drop your shoulders; raise your chest; sing to glory!

Before you arrived here did you actually believe in HSM and his fiery domain? Bet that was a shock!

A: I had been to Hades’ to retrieve my sweet Eurydice and returned, almost, so I knew this place before and now again. Have you seen her; sometimes she slips from view?

Eternity – that’s a damned long time. How to you spend the endless years here?

A: Inquisitor, know ye not that there can be no such thing as time?

What do you miss most about your old. . .life?

A: Amplifiers.

Author Spotlight

*Name and bio.

A: Chris Morris

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chris_Morris_(author)

* Tell us about your story for this edition.

A: Evil Angel is a collaboration with my partner in prose, Janet Morris, my personal Beatrice, guide and companion through the literary depths of Hell. It posits a vengeful Medea, about trapping her mythic nemesis, Jason and his celebrity pirate crew in snares fabricated by no less than the Fates themselves—before whom even Satan pauses. Any Hell story fascinates because if written to form, death has no motive force and the storyteller must dig a little deeper to find the hinges of drama and portray rewards of victories which are pyrrhic at best. Does she still yearn for him? Is she exquisitely a victim of her darkest design?

What inspired you to use the character(s) you’ve chosen?

A: I wished to look through Orpheus’ eyes, hear though his ears, and for a fleeting moment field his musical magic midst Medea’s stark malignity.

How did you become involved with this project?

A: I was present at the inception.

Writing for a shared world is challenging, how do you meet that challenge?

A: Janet Morris and I write stories to “bookend” the collection and impart a sense of proximity to the usually very different themes and perspectives our contributors bring. More than that, our faves, Kit and Will, are writers too and impart a writerly camaraderie that extends beyond their episodes to color the character of the series.

Tell us why you chose this story to tell out of so many possible options?

A: Who wouldn’t want to find out how it feels to munched by a frosty leviathan?

What are you currently working on?

A: Still struggling to get the backlist up in trade, Kindle, e- and audio versions. We’re about halfway. Over the past year I learned enough InDesign to be a little bit dangerous and I love to get lost in producing stuff that with any luck will outlive us.

Name the last two books you’ve read – tell us about them.

A: Brideshead Revisited and Tempus Unbound. Waugh is the consummate stylist, able to twist, turn on a dime, fly high above yet touch down instantly in the mind, not just through the speech of his characters. Tempus Unbound is a rarest of rare birds, a late-coming foundational work for Janet’s archetypal sage and his counterpart, Cime.

What are your views on authors offering free books?

A: “Offering” in exchange for…?

*If you could pick any quote about Hell which would be your favourite?

A: “Now I could drink hot blood and do such bitter business as the day would quake to look upon.” —Hamlet

If you could have a dinner party with any man and woman from anywhere and any when who would invite and what would you eat?

A: Jesus…bread.

EXCERPT from “Pirates in Hell.

“Evil Angel” (Goat-Beard Part 2)

Janet Morris and Chris Morris

*

Up the steep the crew of the Argo must climb to attend her parley. Any who faltered would freeze solid on the slope, languish ice-bound for a hundred years — time aplenty to think things over.

“Come ye, bloody Argonauts, and meet your fated punishment,” she whispered, as if Jason’s shipmates could hear her.

Come one, come all, and let demons devour the hindmost.

Medea set the scene about her with a Colchian standard flapping on a pole, a rallying point fit for such a parley, a solemn conference to discuss terms for the Argo’s surrender. Beneath her fleecy mantle she invoked a robe of snowflakes; on her head she made a three-spoked crown. That done, with her fingertip she kindled a fire on her peaty peak, then summoned a brace of gray and stinking fiends and gave them orders.

As the crew of the Argo ascended and the fiends descended to devour any laggards, Medea spotted her quarry: Iolcian Jason still looked twenty; hell so far had been easy on this son of Alcimede. But not much longer would it be so . . .

Screams of the hindmost, being torn asunder by fiends, sounded a welcome fanfare in her ears. In response, the landing party’s rear-guard turned back to help their brethren, while those in the forefront quickened their ascent.

Alongside Jason hurried Argos, shipwright of the Argo; behind him, Meleagros and his beloved Atalanta, a sometime lioness and fleet-footed virgin huntress whom Medea once healed.

Despite the rear-guard’s swords and spears and best efforts, ravenous fiends grabbed stragglers in their jaws.

The luckless begged the icy wind for help or speedy death. But fiends always take their time, torturing their prey before tearing it limb from limb and sitting down to feast.

The sailors in the lead scrambled faster.

Of all those come ashore, nearly a third would never crest the ridge. The remainder plowed on grimly, taking no backward looks.

Many of these heroes Medea knew. Hadn’t she sailed with them to the Colchian grove to steal the fleece of the golden ram, the very mantle she now wore? She thought she spied Zeus’ son Herakles and man-slaughtering Peleus, climbing to either side of Theseus, founder of Athens. Her eyes lingered on Orpheus, Thracian poet, prophet, and father of songs. But those voyages, those feats, belonged to another time — to life, not afterlife. She banished any thought of glad reunion.

Were it not for Jason and his crew and this damnable fleece forever wrapping her shoulders, she might have spent her afterlife in Erebos, officiating as a priestess of Hekate, sending sinners to Tartaros and innocents to the Elysian Fields. Jason! Every wrong, every ill, every misery, every blot began with Jason. Jason it was who’d ruined Medea in life . . . and haunted her ever since. Mad with love of him she’d been, that fateful day she killed their children.

Vengeance, love’s antidote, always comes hard. And costly.

Watching the Argonauts climb, she recalled that few had treated her as equal. But then, she wasn’t equal: she was superior. If among this damned crew a few were female, a few unknown, then hell maketh bedfellows undreamt in life. She had punishments aplenty to dole out to those who’d top the ridge, fit for one and all.

Dark and frowning, Jason gained the summit first and paused, breathing hard, followed closely by four souls new to her.

Who are these?

One was slight-bearded, auburn-haired and tender-mouthed, sloe-eyed and lithe in a leather jerkin, breeches and hose. By his side came a goat-bearded fellow with fleshy cheeks, one sparkly earring, sloping shoulders and puffy pants. In their wake followed a woman lit with a loveliness otherworldly, which swaddled her better than her simple shift and somehow kept away the cold. This woman got help to top the final rise from a big soul robed in brown, stalwart, hirsute and resolute, who used a knotty staff.

Not one of the four had the seafarer’s eye, the windburned lips, the leathern skin earned by facing hellish weather. Nor were they flowing-haired Greeks or tattooed barbarians.

Medea waved a hand at her fire-pit of peat, and it roared high; in the light from its flames she could see the strangers better. “Pirates, are ye? Come to parley for passage out of the Abyss? No intruders do I welcome here.” Before the strangers could respond, she whipped her gaze across them, to her erstwhile lover: “Jason, whom have you brought me? And why?”

“You! You called us here?” Jason rummaged through her soul with wide, reproving eyes. “Pirates, are we, Mother?” He sighed. “Heroes, while we lived. You know the truth, helped make us what you see. In those days, what we took by force and guile we won honorably, not by theft or piracy, but by deeds done to please our gods. And you know it. As for whom we brought — we brought those we need.”

“You’re pirates all, you and yours, Jason: robbers on sea or shore — of goods and hearts and souls.” In that distending moment, Medea wrestled her fatal flaw: she yet found Jason fetching; as much as once she’d loved him, she loved him still: an infuriating weakness, a wound within her riven breast that would not heal. In hell’s own time, that love would turn to hate. Must. For his fate — and his crew’s — she had predestined.

Behind, a shuffle in the crowd of sailors begat Orpheus, elbowing his way to the fore as the sloe-eyed creature by Jason stared hard at her and asked, “And now? Pirates still? Or is it something else? I’ve often said, ‘Where both deliberate, the love is slight.’”

The goat-bearded soul with him added: “And I, that ‘the lunatic, the lover, and the poet/ Are of imagination all compact.’ Pirate once is pirate forever, good for our purpose and for the lords of hell. Orpheus, what say you?”

Medea blinked, dumbstruck by these brazen strangers, so full of themselves and obscure pontifications.

Orpheus, red-haired master of music and poetry, wizardry and augury, unslung a lyre from across his back, then glanced from Jason to Medea to the strangers, and said:

“You ask what I say? I say, beware this sorceress, her caustic hate. One who tears her family to shreds cannot be trusted.” Curling around his lyre, Orpheus plucked one string, one chord, and strummed another. “Set your terms for this parley, old shipmate. Say what you want.”

From the lyre of Orpheus, a theme surrounded the Argonauts. Tones to make Sirens coo, teach trees to dance and rocks to sing, set about seducing Medea’s heart.

“Stop that music, Orpheus! Put by thine instrument of fell design. I know your fey tricks of old. Stay your hands. Part from that lyre. There’ll be no sorcery here but mine.”

The lyrist palmed his strings. Music died a death too curt.

*

 [End of Excerpt]

Links:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06Y8WWKMT/

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/pirates-in-hell-chris-morris/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chris_Morris_(author)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heroes_in_Hell

https://www.fantasticfiction.com/m/janet-morris/

https://www.facebook.com/christophercmorrissings/

https://soundcloud.com/christopher-morris

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/pirates-in-hell-chris-morris/1126191917?type=eBook

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/pirates-in-hell-chris-morris/1126191917?ean=9780997758443

Facebook

https://www.facebook.com/JanetMorrisandChrisMorris/

https://www.facebook.com/christophercmorrissings/

Blog/Website

http://www.theperseidpress.com/

https://sacredbander.com/

Twitter https://twitter.com/uvmchristine

https://twitter.com/uvmchristine/media

RT: "Christopher Crosby Morris has it all," says Vinnie Colaiuta: Everybody Knows Singing Horse https://t.co/LdYOR5uqGF via @amazon

— janet morris (@uvmchristine) November 25, 2016

Amazon

https://www.amazon.com/Chris-Morris/e/B008L41JNO

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06Y8WWKMT/

https://www.amazon.com/Pirates-Hell-Heroes-Janet-Morris-ebook/

https://www.amazon.com/Chris-Morris/e/B008L41JNO

https://www.amazon.com/Pirates-Hell-Heroes-Janet-Morris/dp/0997758449/

Goodreads

https://www.goodreads.com/series/40812-heroes-in-hell

Hell Week 2017 – Day 5 – Rob Hinkle/Bartholomew Roberts

Tags

Fantasy, Hell week, Perseid Press, Pirates, Pirates in Hell

 

Welcome to Day 5 – today we welcome Rob Hinkle and Bartholomew Roberts

 

Character Spotlight

About yourself:

*Who are/were you?   Tell us about your life before you came here, and after. My name is Bartholomew Roberts, although in your time you would be more likely to know me as ‘Black Bart’, a name which, I should point out, was attributed to me after my death.  I was third mate on a slaver ship in 1719 when we were captured by pirates while anchored off the Gold Coast.  I and two others were pressed into pirate service, and once the Captain discovered my skill as a navigator I became quite useful to him.  At first I was reluctant to fall in with such a lot, but it took very little time for me to realize the advantages of such a life far outweighed the disadvantages of being a British sailor, and I took to it, deciding that a life of low wages and harsh treatment were far less preferable to a short life and a merry one.

A few weeks later, when our Captain was ambushed and murdered by the governor of the island of Principe, where we were harboured, I found myself in the surprising position of being named new Captain.  My first decree was that we should return to Principe and avenge the death of our former leader, which we did with rousing success.  It turned out to be the beginning of a new life for me, and over the next three years we took more than 400 vessels.

I met my end in 1722 with a blast of grapeshot to the throat by a vessel commanded by Captain Chaloner Olge, who later, I understand, rose to the position of Admiral of the Fleet.  I am given to understand that my demise has been heralded by the scholars of your time as the end of the Golden Age of Piracy, though I would – and have – argued against that term with some of them.  My body was buried at sea before it could be captured, while my soul was deposited here into this Infernal realm.

* Why do YOU think you’re in Hell? So is it written:  Thou Shalt Not Kill.  Thou Shalt Not Steal.  Thou Shalt Not Covet.  I did all, and more besides.  The Divine Hands that made me also made Their desires perfectly clear; that I chose to ignore some of them was my decision, and thus is my presence here the height of justice.

Who are your friends/allies here? Friendship is love, and there is no love in hell.  Leastwise, not that I have seen.  Whatever alliances you may find here shift and roll like desert sands, always changing.  They are temporary arrangements, and the more fool he who believes otherwise and so depends on them.

Do you have any enemies here? This is Hell.  All souls are the enemy, including my own.

Pirate – is that a word you resent? Indeed, no!  Better to be a rascal and pirate and wear it openly than declare yourself an honest man and conceal one’s true face beneath the mask of the hypocrite.

 

Author Spotlight

*Name and bio.

My name is Rob Hinkle, and I was born in a small Indiana town right as the second great age of the horror films began, which probably goes a long way toward explaining my love for that particular genre.  At the age of nine, a local woman who had written a children’s novel came to give a lecture at my school, and as I sat in the front row listening I realized for the first time on a conscious level that stories were crafted things, like houses or furniture.  That was the moment when my wandering compass needle turned toward its own true north, and I discovered that storytelling was my calling.  In the years between then and now, I’ve held a wide variety of jobs – radio newsman, short order cook, legal secretary, film actor, retail clerk, psychiatric hospital attendant, among others – and I’ve found that each in their own way has given me ample opportunity to not only observe people but to mine the world for stories.  I currently live in Henderson, Nevada.

* Tell us about your story for this edition.

Bartholomew Roberts is propositioned by the very man who killed him in life to join him in a strange quest.  Admiral of the Fleet Sir Chaloner Ogle believes that Hell is nothing more than a test of faith, and to prove that he recruits Roberts to help him find something he has seen in his dreams – a mythical bottle of wine placed in Hell by the Creator as a sign that even the damned can be redeemed.  Together they set out to recover this fabulous object … with unexpected results.

What inspired you to use the character(s) you’ve chosen?

Conflict is everything.  If I can find characters who are not only in conflict with each other but also with themselves, then I know I’m onto something.  I was initially intrigued by the idea of Roberts as a man who didn’t want to be a pirate but accepted the role when it was forced upon him, who ran his ship as something of a democracy, who held his crew to a written code of conduct, and who, it is said by some, actually conducted Sunday religious services for his crew.  Atypical  behaviour for a pirate!  It seemed a natural choice, then, to pair Roberts up with the man who had killed him.  What better conflict than that?  As for Chaloner Ogle … when I thought up the idea of a condemned soul holding on to the idea that Hell is nothing more than a final test of faith, I knew that I had the foundation of a good story, though it would take much more thought and work before the final pieces fit.

Writing for a shared world is challenging, how do you meet that challenge?

All writing is a challenge.  For me, the best way to meet it is to remember that a good story comes before everything else.  I try not to get bogged down at the outset wondering how I’m going to make this or that tie in with the larger picture.  Once I have the bones of the monster laid out on the table, so to speak, I’ve found that those larger connections come naturally as I’m laying flesh onto the beast.  Hmmmm.  Maybe I *do* watch too many horror films.

Name the last two books you’ve read – tell us about them.

HORROR FILM OF THE 1980s by John Kenneth Muir.  Muir is a film critic and blogger with a sharp eye and a genuine appreciation for the genre.  The book is essentially an encyclopaedic review of 300+ films released between 1980 and 1989, assessing each on their individual merits or flaws.  Each film is also put into its historical context and features fine analysis of its particular subtext, a quality that is sorely missing from a lot of horror films produced by people who think a few scares and some special effects result in good box office.  Horror films get under your skin not because of what they show, but rather what they represent.  It’s a common belief among genre scholars that if you want to know what anxieties haunted the subconscious of people in a particular time, you don’t have to look any farther than the scary movies which were most popular.  Muir understands this, and gives good analysis as a result.

ROD SERLING’S NIGHT GALLERY: AN AFTER-HOURS TOUR by Scott Skelton and Jim Benson.  Rod Serling has always been one of my genre idols.  My first exposure to him came from TWILIGHT ZONE reruns when I was growing up in the seventies.  I have vague memories of watching NIGHT GALLERY during its initial run, and this book is a detailed account of the history of that ill-fated program.  It examines the genesis of the idea, its troubled production history, and the conflict between creator Serling and producer Jack Laird (who was given run of the program by Universal, much to Serling’s displeasure) over creative control of the show.  The book presents the reader with the big-picture view of a show that was occasionally great but very often hamstrung by two conflicting visions.  It also includes a detailed episode-by-episode review of the program’s forty-three instalments.

*If you could pick any quote about Hell which would be your favourite?

“Hell is empty, and the devils are here.” – William Shakespeare

EXCERPT from your story.

Bartholomew Roberts thought that all you’d ever need to know about Admiral of the Fleet Sir Chaloner Ogle, Knight Companion of the Order of the Bath, you learned when he introduced himself, titles and all. Very few souls consigned to hell troubled to pack their epithets along with them, let alone trot them out at every available opportunity. Even fewer insisted upon your using them. Roberts snorted. The man enfeebled the word ostentation.

“Feeling all right, Roberts?” Ogle called from the prow of Roberts’ sloop, the Damned Fortune, one foot on the rail and right arm draped across his knee, profile jutting forward into the spray as the craft knifed its way through the waves.

“Salt in my throat,” Roberts said, adjusting the wheel to starboard. The sails over their heads snapped in the wind.

“An old pirate like you? Ha! You’ll have to do better than that.” Ogle looked back over his shoulder. His dark eyes gleamed with amusement.

Roberts shrugged. “Please yourself, Admiral.”

“Oh, don’t give me that, Roberts. Don’t you think I know you think I’m as mad as Nero?”

Roberts shrugged again and said nothing.

“Why don’t you admit it? Go on, admit it. Speak the truth and shame the devil.” A crack of indignant thunder rolled across the infernal vault over the heads; combers reared white heads from the sea and slapped at the Damned Fortune’s bowsprit in twenty-foot swells, but Ogle ignored the warning from the Sea of Sighs.

“All right,” said Roberts. “I think maybe you could show old Nero a thing or two about mad. I do think any man who goes around the underverse claiming damnation is just a test of faith has slipped a little rigging upstairs.”

Ogle smiled. “That’s better.”

“You’ve got a damn funny way of looking at things, is all,” said Roberts.

“No offense taken, my boy,” said Ogle, pleasant enough.

“No?”

“Of course not. Humanity’s history books are filled with visionaries surrounded and plagued by doubters.” He turned his back to Roberts again. “I’m in a most excellent company.”

You just couldn’t argue with Ogle. Roberts shook his head. The worst kind of lunatic is the one who’s convinced that he’s right, and infernity was filled to overflowing with them.

 

Links:

Amazon

https://www.amazon.com/Rob-Hinkle/e/B0106GXPMC/

Hell Week 2017 – Day 2 – Seth Lindberg/Ernest Haeckel

Tags

Hell week, Heroes in Hell, Perseid Press, Pirates, Scientists, shared world

 

Welcome to Day 2 of Hell Week 2017. Seth Lindberg has risked his soul (bit late for that), and joined us by the baelfire for an interview. First we meet his character Ernest Haeckel.

Who are/were you?   Tell us about your life before you came here, and after.

EH: Greetings, I am Ernest Haeckel, renowned evolutionist, artist, and philosopher. You heard of my contemporary Charles Darwin, no doubt? I coined the term ecology and am famous for my beautiful drawings of lifeforms. My embryological montages unexpectedly drew anger from my fellow scientists.  They deemed I embellished too much. Yet, I stand by my depictions of embryos and the notion that ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny. You look confused, no doubt because  of your retarded ancestry. Just understand my hypothesis that embryos express shapes of all their lesser, ancestral forms as they develop. So before your embryo matured into human form, it appeared as a pig and even a fish.

Describe your home/environment in Hell.

EH: I find myself in Duat, a corrupted afterlife comprising ancient the Nile Delta and the Mediterranean Sea. Here the waters are corrupted by the first plague under Ramses II’s rule. Instead of water, blood flows. The once verdant banks are spoiled purple. A Vile Delta and Vile River surround me. No vegetation grows here. Fragments of cyclopean statues emerge from sandbanks like broken teeth. Inhabitants do not age here. Lingering pharaohs outlive the monuments made in their honour.

Why do YOU think you’re in Hell/Duat?

EH: I do not deserve to be here since I am of Homo mediterraneus race, the most advanced actually. Perhaps I must finish my census of Mediterranean life. Luckily, this coastline is overpopulated with locust nymphs and frog embryos, tadpoles and such. These Schistocerca gregaria larvae look unique to me. It may be a new species… I must draw this.

 

Hell covers all eras and technologies, there are many hells within Hell. How have you adjusted to this strange world?

EH: Thankfully, my faith in monism is affirmed. My body transcended with my soul cohered to it. Since I live again in the afterlife, I know I can return intact to the land of the living. What can enter, must be able to leave, correct? So, I do not mind visiting this strange Duat. What is crucial is that I defend my reputation and quell criticism. I am a true scientist. I do not fake my art. I can’t wait until my fellow scientists see what I have found here! I must convince them of my authenticity.

 

Who are your friends/allies here?

EH: Well, I am more interested in acquainting myself with biology than making friends, but if you mean “human allies” then there is my fellow Caucasian Howard Carter. He is the only other to wear a bow tie and fedora around here. Note, Howard is not a naturalist. He is fascinated with antiquities and material artefacts more than nature. That is why he is in hell.

 

Do you have any enemies here?

EH: Certainly the elements work against me. The vile Mediterranean Sea keeps swallowing up my documentation. How many times must I draw the lifeforms only to have the tidal waters consume my data?  Then there are those piratic warriors floating out there: the Sea Peoples. The pharaohs won’t let them on the land. They just float out there. They must be getting bored.

 

What is the WORST thing about being here?

EH: The cursed waters! I swear this Vile Delta sinks with Lemuria.

 

What is Lemuria?

EH: Man originated there. All twelve human races evolved from Lemuria, that continent adjacent to Africa and Asia. The Indian Ocean flooded it, just as Duat sinks now. With haste, we must end this interview. The Sea comes to reclaim my equipment and drawings. You distract me.

 

Before you arrived here did you actually believe in HSM and his fiery domain? Bet that was a shock!

EH: I have not seen this omniscient ‘HSM’ you speak of, but I do not expect to. There are no real gods, angels, or demons.  I have seen some pharaohs who deem themselves godlike, but they looked very human to me. Gods are just arrogant vertebrates.

 

Are you sure?

EH: Certainly. All my hypothesis are as good as theories.

 

Your future may get worse.

EH: How much worse could things get? Enough, I must chase my art again…

 

 

Author Spotlight

1) *Name and bio.

SEL: I’m Seth (S.E.) Lindberg, residing near Cincinnati, Ohio working as a microscopist by day and dark-fantasy writer by night. Two decades of practicing chemistry, combined with a passion for the Sword & Sorcery genre, spurs me to write adventure fictionalizing the alchemical humors.  As a practicing chemist and hobbyist illustrator, I’m driven to explore the weird experience of artists & scientists attempting to capture the divine. I identify with early scientists before chemistry splintered from alchemy, when Art & Science disciplines had common purpose. Take, for example, early anatomy (Medieval and Renaissance period): surgeons searched for the elements of the soul as they dissected bodies; data was largely visual, and had to be recorded by an illustrator. The technology behind paint and dyeing was developing alongside advances in medicine. Back then, the same instrumentation in apothecaries produced medicines as well as paints/inks, so the distinction between artist & scientist was obscure.

 

Tell us about your story for this edition.

SEL: Curse of the Pharaohs: In the Egyptian realm of the dead of Duat, many pharaohs wait to be judged by Anubis; yet he has been in absentia for centuries. As the piratical Sea People threaten to come ashore, the meddling duo of Howard Carter and Ernest Haeckel unearth Anubis’s Hall of Two Truths. Eleven anxious Rameses risk leaving the shoreline unprotected to chance judgement (and a chance to get out of Duat!).

 

What inspired you to use the character(s) you’ve chosen?

SEL: Ernst Haeckel (1834–1919) was a dedicated, philosophical scientist with outstanding artistic skills. He documented thousands of life forms and published his beautiful plates in “Art Forms in Nature” (translated from German: Kunstforman der Natur). But then his fascination with Art-Nature caused an uproar when he tweaked his drawings of embryos in 1874. Haeckel envisioned familiarities across the embryos of fish, salamanders, turtles, pigs, rabbits, and humans; then he represented these in an evocative table. At a time when photography was not practiced, data was art…and vice versa. Some still claim his drawings were legitimate, but in any case, his artistic embellishments stirred a controversy. His beauteous art will forever be overshadowed by a philosophy that evolved into Social Darwinism, an evil variant of Darwin’s concepts that would inspire the Holocaust.

The Mediterranean Sea is ideal setting for a hellish story. The turn of the 19th century was rich with advances in evolutionary theory, science, and even speculative fiction. Anatomists, philosophers, and scientists ruminated on how far to extrapolate Darwin’s assertions. Haeckel was certainly combing the seashore for lifeforms to draw. Nearly the same time, ~1922, Howard Carter was busy searching for humanity’s past; Carter’s meddling eventually revealed King Tut’s tomb.
The notion of having Haeckel explore the Mediterranean in his afterlife was intriguing; to make it entertaining, he was paired with the obnoxious, tomb-raiding Howard Carter.  Thankfully there was a pirate-themed tie-in available with the Sea Peoples of ancient times. In what universe other than Perseid Press’ Heroes in Hell series can an author mix such disparate people/cultures/themes together? I am thankful to have had this opportunity to explore Duat and contribute to Hell.

4) How did you become involved with this project?

SEL: An invitation followed after contributing to Heroika: Dragon Eaters, Perseid Press’s anthology of historical fiction / fantasy.  Legacy of the Great Dragon, my short story for Heroika, features the Father of Alchemy entombing his singular source of magic, the Great Dragon. According to Greek and Egyptian myth, the god Thoth (a.k.a. Hermes) was able to see into the world of the dead and pass his learnings to the living.  One of the earliest known hermetic scripts is the Divine Pymander of Hermes Mercurius Trismegistus.  Within that, a tale is told of Hermes being confronted with a vision of the otherworldly entity Pymander, who takes the shape of a “Great Dragon” to reveal divine secrets. Legacy of the Great Dragon fictionalizes this Hermetic Tradition, presenting the Great Dragon as the sun-eating Apep of Egyptian antiquity.

 

If you could pick any quote about Hell which would be your favourite?

SEL:  There is a lot to say about Hell! Readers need to be assured that it is always okay to explore it. I defer to several authors from the Doctors in Hell anthology; this death-panel drops many quotes about the series and serves as welcoming introduction to the Heroes in Hell series:  Death Panel Convenes on why it is OK to go to Hell at any time (2015).

 

What other books/short stories have you written?

SEL: I focus on alchemy-inspired, dark fantasy. Separate from submitting to Perseid Press’s Heroika: Dragon Eaters, I have relied on Sword & Sorcery as a medium to contemplate life-death-art with my Dyscrasia Fiction series. Dyscrasia literally means “a bad mixture of liquids” (it is not a fictional land).  Historically, dyscrasia referred to any imbalance of the four medicinal humors professed by the ancient Greeks to sustain life (phlegm, blood, black and yellow bile). Artisans, anatomists, and chemists of the Renaissance expressed shared interest in the humors; accordingly, the scope of humorism evolved to include aspects of the four alchemical elements (water, air, earth and fire) and psychological temperaments (phlegmatic, sanguine, melancholic and choleric). In short, the humors are mystical media of color, energy, and emotion; Dyscrasia Fiction presents them as spiritual muses for artisans, sources of magical power, and contagions of a deadly disease.  The books explore the choices humans and their gods make as this disease corrupts their souls, shared blood and creative energies.

I plan to continue Dyscrasia Fiction in parallel with submitting stories to Perseid Press, forever shaping the muses of alchemy into heroic fiction.

CURSE OF THE PHARAOHS – Excerpt

1. E. Lindberg

We hold, with Goethe, that “matter cannot exist and be operative without spirit, nor spirit without matter.”

– Ernst Haeckel, Riddle of the Universe, 1900 CE

Howard Carter, renowned discoverer of King Tutankhamun’s tomb, strode forward, his chin high. He led the quadruped by a leather rein. The leash was connected to a muzzle with a false beard. The bushy-mustached Carter addressed the other suited man, who likewise wore a bow tie and fedora. “Hello, sir, good day. Nice to see a fellow Caucasian gentleman here.”

The white-bearded man looked up, placing his drawing implements beside his brass, monocular microscope. Tipping his hat, he said, “I am Doctor Ernst Haeckel. I confirm we are both Homo mediterraneus. And you are?”

“In need of a cigarette, Doctor. There are few simple pleasures to enjoy here.” Too prideful to extend a hand in greeting, he kept one on the leash while his other stroked his vest’s inseam. He puffed out his chest in a display of masculine power, not unlike that of an alpha gorilla prepared to defend its territory. “Pardon, I thought my identity to be self-evident. I am Howard Carter. The Howard Carter. Archeology and antiquities are my specialty.”

“Oh, that Carter. I recall you started looking for a tomb, but never found it.”

“I did locate King Tutankhamun’s tomb. Soon after your death perhaps, since the whole living world knows my name. I am sure you would remember had you been alive at the time.” He relished his memory of discovery. “Ah, tomb number KV62. And you should note, Doctor Haeckel, that it was unperturbed!”

“Splendid. What did you do to said unperturbed tomb?”

“Opened it, of course!”

Confused, Haeckel went back to sifting the blood-soaked, purple sand. He found a ruby-colored cankerworm and placed it on his microscope, then looked through the lens before it could wiggle away. Face hovering above the microscope’s ocular, he asked, “Did you preserve or destroy it?”

“Don’t be foolish. I examined the tomb’s contents, of course. Some say it released a curse, though I was immune to such superstitions. I found many artifacts.” Sold several to local dealers, he thought to himself. “I have found it difficult to perform my trade since coming to Duat.”

“What is this ‘Duat’? Is it your employer’s acronym perchance? The Department of Underworld Antiquities or something?”

Carter smiled, “No, Doctor. It’s simply the Egyptian afterlife, wherein we find ourselves. Duat was coined by the natives long before we died.” Haeckel listened while keeping his attention on the cankerworm, so Carter inquired, “Are you looking for something in particular?”

“I must finish my census of this infernal version of Mediterranean life. This coastline is overpopulated with locust nymphs and frog embryos, tadpoles and such.” Haeckel said. “These Schistocerca gregaria larvae look unique to me. It may be a new species. Do you happen to know anything about embryology or evolutionary theory?”

“I recall your scientific community does not take kindly to imagination.” Before Carter could expound on Haeckel’s controversial embryological data, long proven to be embellished with abundant artistic license, the bound quadruped suddenly began a snorting, which escalated into an awkward yelp: “Hap . . . hap . . . suuuuu!”

“Gesundheit!” Haeckel said, taking notice of Carter’s pet. The being was hunched over and wearing some erotic, black leather corselet which left its buttocks exposed. It was forced into squatting because a lengthy wooden phallus protruded from its anus, no doubt some lodged sex toy projecting out his rear like a tail. The faux beard attached to the leash’s muzzle could be mistaken as a canine snout. The apparent quadruped resembled an enslaved jackal. Tassels and buckles adorned the leather straps, indicating the device once had been worn by­­ a partner. Haeckel inquired, “A human specimen? Are you expanding your interest beyond the artificial, and into the natural?”

“Ah, so you like what I found in KV60?” The reference confused Haeckel, so Carter explained, “My catalog number for the Valley of The Kings.”

“Mister Carter, I don’t know your catalog system — nor that specimen’s identity. You are sadistic to keep a human on a leash and torture him with that stick.”

“You misunderstand. I found him in this condition, chained to sandstone walls with that phallus up his arse. Far be it from me to take something away from its proper owner.” Carter motioned to remove it, and the man whirled in a circle, avoiding him. “See? He wants to keep it.”

Haeckel said, “Is that how the Egyptians buried their kings?”

“He is no king. He is the only non-royal I found. He must have died this way, perhaps a pharaoh’s masochistic lover. He does appear grateful that I freed his tether from the tomb, however. He is strangely talented in locating hidden ruins. Before leading me here, he sniffed out several buried sites which I am anxious to investigate further. I let him lead me for a time toward Vile’s end. To you, actually. Are you certain you do not recognize him?”

“Ja whol! I am certain. Does it . . .” From his low vantage, Haeckel felt compelled to confirm the specimen’s gender and thus peered beneath its posterior. “Does he have a name?”

“Mutt . . . Mutt . . .” the quadruped interposed, the bit of its leather bridle hindering speech.

“See, Doctor Haeckel, I fear this man now thinks himself a dog. Leashed as I had found him, preferring to crawl on all fours, then identifying himself as a mutt.”

“Is that all he says?”

Mutt spat, “Hap . . . hap . . . suuuuu!”

“Bless you, dear fellow! He does sneeze a lot,” Carter declared.

“Beneath that leather costume is a man. His hair, skin, and body shape indicate he is Homo mediterraneus: of the same race as you and I. The most advanced race, actually.” Haeckel became introspective. He switched his contemplations from the microscopic wonders to the macroscopic. He looked beyond the Egyptian ushabti toward the offshore soldiers. A vast fleet of warriors lined both port and starboard sides of the bird-headed warships. Clothed in kilts and corselets, they did not look much different than the Egyptians. Many wore horned helmets or bronze headbands; all had short, curly black hair. “Who are the floating folk?”

“They are Sea Peoples. Mere pirates, according to the pharaohs. I wager they desire a home more than plunder. Stay on this side of the shield wall and you should be alright.”

“And where are these pharaohs you speak of?”

Carter pointed toward the inland ruins. “Just the Ramses type. I cannot seem to find any others. The pharaohs watch the coastline intently.”

Haeckel asked, “Why do they not take off their masks?”

“They did not pass into death as whole as we did. I found their mummies already unwrapped, with faces flayed. Some vandal had gotten to them first. I woke them all and welcomed them to Duat. Each was quick to don their ceremonial gold helms,” Carter explained. “They are stripped of identity. They rule over a dead land. No doubt, there is a curse amongst them —”

“Are the pharaohs cursed? Or are the invaders from the sea?” Haeckel pondered, “Or are we, since we share their situation?”

“All mysteries remaining to be answered, Doctor.”

“Oh, I love riddles,” Haeckel said, trying to reconcile his evolutionary beliefs with this situation. He stood between two armies of the most advanced human type, the Mediterranean race. War was constant, even in the afterlife. There was only one Delta, over which many souls contested. Perhaps all humans were cursed. A frog hopped by. Haeckel seized it, holding it up by one leg for inspection. “Lot of Batrachia here. In unprecedented numbers.”

“Ramses II’s tomb was full of them. They spread when I released his mummy from KV7.”

“This species is unique, Carter. The Royal Society will never believe what I find here without sufficient documentation. I must convince them.”

“Your scientific community is not here. Plus, there is no way out of Duat.” Carter raised an eyebrow with a hint of hope. “Unless you plan to return to life. Do you know a way?”

Haeckel yet struggled to solve the riddle of the afterlife. Duat could not be entirely closed. Bodies and souls had entered here — united in fact, so the dualists were wrong. “Certainly, all my hypothesis are as good as theories,” Haeckel affirmed aloud. “My faith in monism is reinforced here, since my body and soul remain cohered. Since I live again in the afterlife, why could I not return intact to the land of the living? What can enter, must be able to leave. Of course there is a way back.”

Musing, Carter stroked his vest. “Although we kept our souls, Doctor Haeckel, our bodies do not need to eat. We are different here. Does it not bother you, Doctor, that the orb overhead casts shadows for this frog specimen but not for you? Not for your body? Nor for mine?”

Haeckel returned his attention to the sand, noting how the frog’s silhouette hung suspended from thin air. “Heilige Scheisse!”

“Holy sheut, indeed,” Carter mistranslated Haeckel’s profanity. “Doctor, that is no ordinary sun. The hieroglyphs in the tombs explain that it is a circular window into the Lake of Fire. Shadows are cast onto earth’s living realm, not here.”

They turned their attention skyward, to gaze upon the orange-red orb. Beside them the quadruped stared and howled, “Hap . . . suuuuu!”

Carter asked, “Do you see that? Something fiery is emerging from the light.”

“It’s a bird,” Haeckel guessed, squinting.

“A plane?” surmised Carter.

Out of ear shot of the fedora-crowned men, eleven Rameses exclaimed, “Anubis’ barge! Ammit the Devourer comes!” The flight of the burning galley affirmed their shaken Egyptian faith. The pharaohs stood in salutation.

The spectacle demanded the attention of all; even their enemies looked up. The solar barge descended without oars, resting on the back of a chimera sailing atop an infernal plume. A living crocodile’s head adorned the ship’s bow, its hull propelled by a hind set of hippopotamus legs with lion legs at the fore. Ammit the Devourer emerged from the supernal fire, her nostrils flared with smoke as she exhaled plumes that fueled the ethereal, enflamed clouds on which she rode. Her maw bit at ostrich feathers that evaded her hot breath, floating as if tracking some invisible path, remaining barely out of reach — but always avoiding ignition. Ammit approached land so all could see that the galley upon her back held a woman. A lady with a conical crown stretched over the side, grasping at the ostrich feathers.

Ammit landed on the purple beach in midstride, running along its shore, each footprint blazing. She halted and stood on her hippopotamus legs, rearing so her passenger could exit. Then Ammit burrowed into the bloody sand; her bed of flames went with her as she burrowed deeper into the underworld. In her wake, a smoking cloud veiled the hedjet crowned woman.

As the smoke of her passing dissipated, the leather-clad pharaoh strutted forward and bent to pick up the ostrich feathers.

The shield wall broke formation as the ushabti dropped their weapons to prostrate before her. A female pharaoh had been sent from the Eye of Ra! The woman placed the feathers into her hedjet, transforming her headdress into a proper Osirian atef. So mesmerized, the Egyptians did not observe Teuta signal her advance.

“Hap . . . suuuuu,” Mutt howled. He bolted forward abruptly to release himself from Carter’s grip. Mutt breached the line of ushabti, and galloped alongside the shoreline. He drooled as he advanced, anxious to lick her. Hatshepsut wore a bleached-leather cat suit which contrasted her bronze skin and black hair. Ebony kohl framed her eyes, underscored with green malachite liner.

Mutt met on her on the beach. He sniffed her groin with passion. She smelled of frankincense.

“Senenmut! My lover, my vizier, my architect!” Hatshepsut stroked Senenmut’s head until he calmed. Pressing her anterior against Mutt’s posterior, she strapped on the harness and then withdrew to unsheathe the wand. She stood proudly, feet widespread, outfitted as a king. “Were you bound for a long time? How did you find me?”

 

Links:

• S E Lindberg Author-Reviewer Blog
• S E Lindberg – Amazon Author Page
• S E Lindberg on Goodreads
• Dyscrasia Fiction on YouTube
• E. Lindberg co-moderates a Goodreads group focused on Sword & Sorcery and invites you to participate (link).
• Twitter Handle@SethLindberg

Hell Week 2017- Day 1 – Joe Bonadonna/Quasimodo

Tags

Fantasy, Hell week, Heroes in Hell, Perseid Press, Pirates, Pirates in Hell

 

Name: Joe Bonadonna

Character Spotlight

About yourself:

*Who are/were you?   Tell us about your life before you came here, and after.

My name, it is Quasimodo. In life, I was once crowned Pope of Fools, for I was and still I am the most ugly and misshapen cathedral bell ringer of them all. The Hunchback of Notre Dame . . . that is who I was and what I am now and forever more. The story, as I was later to learn, is that I was born to a Gypsy tribe, deformed at birth as if possessed by the Devil. My parents switched me with a normal baby girl . . . the one and only Esmeralda, of whom you will know from that most famous novel written about me. Her own bereaved parents had me exorcised, and later they abandoned me, placing me on the Foundling’s Bed of the cathedral. There was I discovered by the Archdeacon himself, Claude Frollo, who raised me, gave me what little education I have and then, when I was old enough, appointed me to be the bell ringer of Notre Dame. I was his foundling, his slave, his whipping post, and his accomplice in many acts of a nefarious nature.

My life, such as it was on earth, was one of misery and hard labour, empty of joy and love and hope. And the pain I suffered, much physical pain, in spite of my great strength. But the bells which I loved so much . . . ah, the bells of my cherished Notre Dame . . . their voices made me deaf, which did much to further my alienation from the society. You see, I was shunned as a monster, a flesh and blood gargoyle, which is what I still am. In Hell it is, perhaps, a little better, for the sights one sees here and the things that exist in the nether regions make me look lovely by comparison.

There is a sculpture of me at the cathedral, on the exterior of the north transept along the Rue du Cloitre-Notre-Dame. I was found on and named after Quasimodo Sunday, the first Sunday after Easter. In Latin, my name means “almost the standard measure.” In other words, “almost human.” Most apropos, don’t you think?

* Why do YOU think you’re in Hell?

I do not think: I know exactly why I am here, in Hell. For my master Claude Frollo, Archdeacon of Notre Dame, I committed many sins and many crimes. But none were so bad as when I threw him to his death from the high places of my beloved cathedral.

Who are your friends/allies here?

Life is strange, the perfect example being that of how Esmeralda, with whom I was switched at birth, (almost a sister, you might say) . . . how she came back into my life so many, many years later. And that story, I am most certain, you know. But here, in Hell, the afterlife is, by far, more strange. Here I have many friends, namely Doctor Victor Frankenstein, the master I gladly and willingly serve. The fine creature he made of his own two hands and brought to life, Adam Frankenstein, is also my friend. And so are Galatea, his beloved; Mary Shelley, the author; the Hellywood actors Jean Harlow and Errol Flynn; Argus the shipbuilder, and so many, many more. I have searched and searched for my beloved Esmeralda but have never found her. It is my hope, it is my prayer that she is not in Hell, for she was no witch in life and was unjustly hanged.

Do you have any enemies here?

One does not exist in Hell without making at least one enemy. In my case, the enemies of Doctor Frankenstein are also my enemies, and for him I would risk even the mortuary of the Undertaker and all his tortures and torments. I love the mad doctor, you see — love him as a son loves his father, for he gave me a home at Goblin Manor, gave me work, and gave me his trust. His enemies, my enemies . . . he and I, or I alone, have dealt with them in one manner or another.

Pirates – is that a word you resent?

And why should I resent such a word I consider to be one of praise? Pirates often ruled their vessels in a most democratic fashion. They are neither prejudiced nor judgmental, and never have I known a bigot among them. But we, Doctor Frankenstein and I, along with our crew, did not sail from New Hell in order to commit the acts of piracy, per se. No, we sailed under the pretence of filming a movie about pirates. But in truth, we sailed in search of the Isle of the Damned and the secret passage out of Hell. We fought many a pirate on the way — airship buccaneers and submarine corsairs, not to mention monsters of land and sea few of us ever knew existed in Hell. Plus, we battled or tried to battle the unknown monster that haunted the Snark, our very fine ship, and preyed upon our crew. No, to me, being a pirate is a noble calling, and I, for one, would gladly sign on and go to sea again, with Doctor Frankenstein as my captain.

 

Author Spotlight

*Name and bio.

My name is Joe Bonadonna, formerly a musician and labourer, now retired and writing as much as I can. To date, I have published three novels: the heroic fantasy Mad Shadows: The Weird Tales of Dorgo the Dowser, published by iUniverse; the space opera Three Against the Stars, published by Airship 27 Productions; and the sword and sorcery pirate novel, Waters of Darkness, (in collaboration with David C. Smith), published by Damnation Books. For Perseid Press I have stories appearing in Heroika: Dragon Eaters; Poets in Hell, Doctors in Hell, and now Pirates in Hell. I have also written short stories for Griots: Sisters of the Spear (MVmedia); Sinbad: The New Voyages — Vol. 4 (Airship 27 Productions); and Azieran Presents: Artifacts and Relics — Extreme Sword and Sorcery, (Heathen Oracle).) At this time I am waiting to hear back from a publisher regarding my fourth novel, a sword and planet sequel to my Three Against the Stars; I have also submitted a short, space opera story to a new shared-world anthology. In addition, I do some editing on the side, and help out with the Blue Ribbon Arts Initiative, which provides art supplies, toys, games, and other things to children on the autism spectrum; this organization was founded by my friend, author Rebecca Miller and her brilliant, autistic son Max, also an author.

* Tell us about your story for this edition.

In the original Baen Books editions of the Heroes in Hell series, screenwriter/author Bill Kerby (The Rose, starring Bette Midler) created and wrote about the film industry in Hell. I’m a movie junky, especially the old Golden Age Hollywood movies, have some knowledge of the industry and have written 5 unsold screenplays. So Janet Morris, author, editor and series creator, suggested I resurrect the Hellywood film industry, even if it’s just for one story.

My story is called The Pirates of Penance. At heart it’s an old school, pulp-fiction adventure, but with all the tropes, pitfalls, horrors and irony that are unique to Hell. In this story I resurrect the film industry in Hell — or try to, at any rate. Basically, under the guise of filming a pirate movie in Hell, Doctor Frankenstein and Quasimodo, along with silver screen legends Errol Flynn, Jean Harlow, Douglas Fairbanks Senior and Douglas Fairbanks Junior, and a number of others, sail in search of the Isle of the Damned. This all occurs during a time of massive floods plaguing all the nether regions, and the island must be reached before the oceans swallow it up again. From the Isle of the Dead there is purported to be a cave that leads to Hades and up to an exit on Cape Matapan, an island off the coast of Greece. While Flynn is actually shooting a film he hopes to show to the world once they escape, the others are more concerned with escaping Hell. Of course, Hell being Hell, there are dangers and set-backs galore before they eventually reach the island, where things are not what they hoped they’d be, and the futility of their mission hits them with despairing realization.

 

What inspired you to use the character(s) you’ve chosen?

Well, when the project was first announced, I had just re-watched The Sea Hawk and Captain Blood, both starring Errol Flynn. The idea to use old, long dead film actors known for playing pirates in the movies — like Flynn, the two Fairbankses, Wallace Beery — and combine them with other historical figures, just seemed like a natural for me, especially because it allowed me to write another pirate adventure. The irony of Hell, the failure of one’s ambitions and projects in life as well as in the afterlife, plus the futility of lost souls, long dead and trying to escape infernity, as we call it, were all right there for the using. The tropes of Hell are amazing, the rules of the shared-universe liberating, rather than constricting. I was able to use those as to further the character studies amidst all the action, create new creatures, ideas, punishments and torments, and to play the ultimate joke on my cast and crew. I was also able to tie this into earlier stories of mine, adding to the overall arc to my characters, as well connect it to events that took place in Hell long before I came on board. It was a long and hard story to write, but also much fun and very rewarding for me, personally.

How did you become involved with this project?

About 4 years ago Janet Morris became aware of me through some articles I wrote for Black Gate online magazine and a review I wrote of Rogues in Hell. She sampled some of my own stories, and I guess she liked my style and, more importantly, my sensibilities, because she asked me to write for Hell. Having the right attitude, sensibility and feeling for Hell is very important, because Heroes in Hell, like Hell itself, is a very special, very extraordinary and unique series. The Pirates of Penance now marks my third appearance in the series. I also have one story in another Perseid Press publication, the heroic fantasy collection Heroika: Dragon Eaters.

What are you currently working on?

Mad Shadows II: The Return of Dorgo the Dowser; another story for Heroes in Hell; some editing for other authors, and hopefully, I’ll be involved in the publication of my fourth novel.

In these days of movies and video games are books really influential?

Not really, these days. I don’t read much because my time is spent writing and editing. I read in other genres from those in which I write, and I occasionally re-read classics of fantasy and science fiction . . . the books that originally inspired me. Very few post-modern films influence me. My best cinematic influences come from silent films and the Golden Age of Hollywood, between 1930 and 1950; it’s amazing what one can learn from the films made back then. I am not a gamer, so video games, computer games and such hold no interest for me. I played a lot of pinball and backgammon in the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s, so many I can find some inspiration in those.

EXCERPT from your story.

Fading in through a muck-stained window, crimson light illuminates the laboratory of Goblin Manor. Doctor Victor Frankenstein stands there, gazing into the distance as the rising waters of the Lake of Tears threaten to flood New Hell. Dressed in red-flannel shirt, blue pea coat, canvas trousers and heavy black boots, he feels safe and secure high above it all in the Golem Heights — as safe and secure as anyone can ever feel in hell. With the seas and oceans of hell merging, with the Flux causing the always unstable geography of hell to become even more unstable, he wonders if all infernity will soon be flooded.

Turning from the window, Victor makes his way through a maze of tables sagging under a sorcerer’s sanctum sanctorum of crucibles and alembics, and a variety of scientific implements and instruments. Walls of blood-red stone bristle with electrical panels, toggles and switches. A few sputtering torches, set in iron brackets, illuminate the laboratory but cannot chase away the shadows hanging near the vaulted ceiling. Victor’s collection of gizmos and gadgets are as silent as the grave in which his mortal remains lie buried.

Frankenstein reaches his desk, sits in his chair and skims through a pile of reports from Hades, Gehenna and all over infernity. Rivers such as the Styx and the Lethe have either overflowed their banks or gone bone dry. Shorelines in one circle of hell or another have fallen into the sea, while in other areas landmasses have risen where before had only been open water. Even the great Sea of Purgatory has receded to such an extent that islands now poke their crowns above the surface. After the torrents of plagues cast down upon the damned by Erra and his Seven, Sibitti sons-of-bitches, Victor suspects the self-righteous bastard and his brood are responsible for the oceans threatening to swallow everything and everyone whole.

But Victor isn’t worried. Victor doesn’t care.

Victor has a plan.

He dons a stocking cap to conceal his brain, visible through the wire mesh that replaces the top portion of his skull, which had been removed by the Undertaker. It is Victor’s very own brilliant but tortured brain inside the head and body once belonging to Adam, the creature he assembled from parts of dead bodies and to which he had given life. Their brains had been switched by Merlin the magician, as part of a prior business agreement.

Still floundering in a private sea of guilt and sorrow over the part his vaccine had played in obliterating thousands of damned souls, Victor wishes he could remember the formula for his serum. But all his notes were destroyed when his Crapple Slablet crashed and burned; Satan himself then stole the vaccine and made sure Victor could never tell another lost soul about it. Soon afterwards, scores of black-market versions of the vaccine were being sold all over hell under various generic names to damned fools seeking protection against the ravages of the plagues sweeping the underworld. If he had even one drop of his vaccine, Victor would administer it to himself and go gently into sweet obliteration, all sins expunged in past, present or future.

A ship’s bell rings three times, echoing loudly throughout his quiet laboratory. He turns in his chair as a trap door in the stone floor pops open. A thick length of rope shoots into the air like a stage magician’s prop, standing stiff and straight without attaching itself to anything. The whistling of a sea chantey announces the arrival of Quasimodo, who emerges from the opening in the floor, climbing the rope as nimbly as he once scaled the walls of Notre Dame.

“Ahoy, le Capitaine Docteur!” the hunchback said in his quaint French accent. He gave Victor a sharp salute. “I ask the autorisation to come aboard.”

“Who taught you the rope trick?” asked Victor, rising from his chair.

“Harry Houdini.”

Victor eyed his lab assistant with amusement. The hunchback sported white knickers, a flowery shirt open at the front, black shoes and a black Monmouth hat. He resembled Pip, from Moby Dick, although with his humped back he looked more a spawn of the infamous whale than the frail cabin boy. Victor noticed that Quasimodo’s clothes were dirty, torn and stained.

“It’s getting bad out there?” he asked.

Quasimodo gave a lopsided shrug. “No worse than it was when the plagues were raging, Docteur. Hell will forever be hellish, no?”

***

Links:

Facebook

https://www.facebook.com/BonadonnasBookshelf/

https://www.facebook.com/pulpfictionrules

 

Blog/Website

http://dorgoland.blogspot.com/

 

Amazon

http://www.amazon.com/Joe-Bonadonna/e/B009I1KYIK

 

Goodreads

https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/5464289?shelf=read

Book Spotlight – Damned If You Do – Erotic Romance/Paranormal

Tags

BDSM author, book spotlight, Erotic Romance, erotica, Paranormal

 

Out Now—Damned If You Do by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #bdsm #eroticromance #lisabetsarai #bondage #discipline #dominance #submission  #demon #pnr

 

Excessica, 2017

Paranormal BDSM erotic romance (Five flames)

Approximately 29,000 words

HEA ending

Blurb

Wendy Dennison is tired of being a starving author. The royalties from her critically acclaimed romance novels barely pay her bills. Her devoted agent Daniel Rochester may be smart and sexy, but he can’t get her the sales she needs. Then a charismatic stranger appears at her coffee shop table, promising her fame and commercial success, as well as the chance to live out her dreams of erotic submission. But at what cost?

Nothing you can’t afford to lose, my dear.

Seduced by the enigmatic Mister B, she signs his infernal contract. He becomes both her Master and her coach, managing her suddenly flourishing career as well as encouraging her lusts. Under her mentor’s nefarious influence, she surrenders to temptation and has sex with Daniel. The casual encounter turns serious when she discovers her mild-mannered agent has a dominant side. As the clock ticks down to her blockbuster release and Mister B prepares to claim her soul, Wendy must choose either celebrity and wealth, or obscurity and true love.

 

 Quotes

“Lisabet Sarai writes the most beautiful erotic prose. Her stories tease at the senses and transport you to a world of sexual pleasure.” ~ Desiree Holt, queen of BDSM erotic romance and author of Forward Pass

“I’ve always been a fan—Lisabet Sarai’s erotic fiction is certain to captivate, dominate, and leave readers begging for more.” ~ Alison Tyler, best-selling author of erotic BDSM memoirs Dark Secret Love and Even Deeper.

 Buy Links (Ebook and Print)

Amazon US:  http://amzn.to/2pT31HP

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2pEb3Uf

Barnes & Noble:  http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/damned-if-you-do-lisabet-sarai/1126292735?ean=2940157395711

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/th/en/ebook/damned-if-you-do-10

Excessica: https://goo.gl/dZN3dr

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35009284-damned-if-you-do

(Other booksellers coming soon.)

About Lisabet

LISABET SARAI occasionally tackles other genres, but BDSM will always be her first love. Every one of her nine novels includes some element of power exchange, while her D/s short stories range from mildly kinky to intensely perverse.

 

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads and finally, on Twitter.

Introductory Posts (Optional – Please use only one)

Of Frustration and Temptation

 Being an author is not for sissies. You pour your heart and soul into your stories. You spend hours of your scarce time and more money than you can afford on marketing. With each new release, you hope you’ll finally grab the attention of the book-buying crowd, that you’ll get the readership and the remuneration you deserve.

If that doesn’t happen (and given the number of people publishing books these days, odds are that it won’t), you’re stuck with the bitter knowledge that all your passion and effort were for nothing. This can be deeply demoralizing, even if you’re not trying to make your living as an author. If you depend on your writing to pay your bills, you’ve got financial anxiety added to your frustration.

I know this frustration only too well. My books receive consistent five star reviews, but somehow I’ve never been a commercial success. Thus, Damned If You Do is a rather personal story.

What would I do if I could magically turn my books into best sellers? How much would that be worth to me? That’s the question my romance author heroine faces when a mysterious stranger shows up waving a contract and promising her fame and fortune, sensual pleasure and the fulfillment of her most secret desires.

All he asks in return is her soul.

Crazy. Dangerous, maybe. But so, so tempting!

 

 

 

Excerpt 2: R-rated

One instant, they were wrestling for the check in the Café Gallette. The next, Wendy found herself sprawled on the bed in some hotel room, with Dan stretched out beside her.

What the hell? As Dan moaned and rolled on top of her, she understood that hell had indeed been intimately involved in the sudden, disorienting transition.

“Dan—wait! No, please…” She squirmed beneath him, but his weight pinned her to the mattress. Her struggles only made his erection swell further.

He ground himself against her pubis, striking flares of pleasure whenever his cock nudged her clit. Somehow he’d managed to grab her wrists. He swept her arms over her head, as her heroes so often did to the heroines. She tested his hold; he was surprisingly strong for an intellectual with a desk job. There was no way she could escape, not until he let her.

The realization made her pulse race and her pussy weep.

“Finally, I have you where I want you, Wendy.” His voice was hoarse with emotion. “You’re mine now. Mine!”

That word. Almost as powerful an aphrodisiac as ‘surrender’.  All her life, or at least since puberty, she’d fantasized about being owned, a slave to some virile and demanding man who would use her however he wished.  Her nipples contracted into tight, throbbing knots. Her sex was awash with evidence of her need. She wanted to let go, to let him take what he wanted and damn the consequences. Still, she made one last effort at rationality.

“Stop now, Dan. Please. If you don’t, we’ll both be sorry tomorrow.”

Instead of answering, he covered her mouth with his own, sliding his tongue between her lips and kissing her with delirious, terrifying force. He was taking possession, staking a claim. His power dizzied her. She was intoxicated by his unexpected dominance. Relaxing into the bed, she let him devour her. What else could she do?

 

 

Contest Information

 

I will be giving away three $10 bookstore gift certificates during my release blitz, and three free ebook copies of my BDSM erotic romance The Gazillionaire and the Virgin. I will also give a $5 GC to a randomly selected host. The blitz ends June 1^st.

To enter, readers must:

Sign up for my VIP email list:  https://signup.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

 

AND/OR:

 

Leave a comment with their email address on my release day announcement page:  http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2017/04/out-today-damned-if-you-do-bdsm-pnr.html

 

 

Release blitz organized by Writer Marketing Services.

Review – Pirates in Hell – Fantasy/historical/dark

Tags

Fantasy, Heroes in Hell, Heroes in Hell series, Perseid Press, Pirates, Pirates in Hell, shared world

Pirates! Fantasy and the great storytelling from a plethora of talented authors all set in a supremely crafted shared world, what more could one want.  I love the Heroes in Hell series and the latest volume does not disappoint.

From plagiarists to buccaneers, to the Devil’s own Reaper, to a search for the way out, to the hunt for the Unholy Grail there are tales aplenty in this volume; Shakespeare and Kit Marlowe, pharaohs, poets; murderers, heroes of war and water try and salvage what they may from the rising water (and I use that term loosely), the ever-shifting lands and realms of a Hell patrolled by something worse than even the Dark Lord himself.  The Devil is trying to keep house in this chaos and the damned are… well….damned and trying to make the best of it, the worst of it and everything in between.

The stories flow well enough, and the dark humour is apparent. Wellington and Napoleon as neighbours makes me chuckle and the clever punishments meted out never cease to raise a smile.

This is Hell, of course, but it’s a hell with class.