New Releases

Blog Tour: Dead Woman Scorned by Michael Clark @mikeclarkbooks @rrbooktours1 #Paranormal #Horror #Books

Are you as excited as I am about this next leg of Michael Clark’s multi-book tour? This time I am thrilled to share Dead Woman Scorned (The Patience of a Dead Man #2). Mildred is back and she’s looking for vengence!

Read on for an excerpt and a chance to win an amazing giveaway!

Dead Woman Scorned by Michael Clark
(The Patience of a Dead Man #2)
Genre: Horror/ Ghost Story
Publication Date: November 12th, 2019

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She’s back, and they’ll regret what they’ve done.

Mildred Wells had a miserable life that carried over to a lonesome death. In the end, they betrayed her–played her the fool.

She was the last to know, but there’s still time to catch up. She’ll formulate her painful plan as they live their lives in blissful ignorance.

With no more family, only vengeance drives her; in fact, it’s all she has. She would have rather rested in peace, but for Mildred, dying isn’t so easy

PROLOGUE
October 1971—One year before the Open House
(at the end of The Patience of a Dead Man, Book One)

Tim Russell banged his palm against the steering wheel in frustration—he’d forgotten his wallet. He wondered for a second if he really needed it before tomorrow, then looked at the gas gauge—near empty. Not even enough gas to make it to Holly’s house in Laconia. He stepped on the brake and pulled over to the side of the dirt road to make a U-turn, then hesitated.

It shouldn’t be a problem—to simply turn around, drive the quarter-mile back, walk into the house and retrieve the wallet—but it was undeniably harrowing even though their struggles with the murderous Mildred Wells were over. They’d beaten her, and she’d been taken away weeks ago, but even so, Tim’s stress level was off the charts as he worked alone each day, watching over his shoulder, restoring the old house as fast as he possibly could.

He looked back before making the turn, his heart picking back up to the level it had maintained the entire day. Here I go–I’m going back in, he thought, as he postponed thoughts of the cold beer waiting for him at the convenience store a mile down the road. Best to hit and run. He stepped on the gas and made the turn, never taking his eyes off of the house and, more specifically, the turret, his designated office space during the reconstruction–the room where he’d left his wallet.

In seconds he was inside the front porch, opening the front door, faking as though there was nothing to be afraid of. Once inside, he noticed that it seemed very dark in the kitchen. It was late May, and the longest day of the year would be here in less than a month. Sunset should be at around 8 pm today, with the twilight keeping things well lit for another half-hour at least. Strange. He turned to look out the kitchen window.

It was pitch black outside, and his truck was already gone.

In a panic, he spun for the porch, deep down, becoming aware that forgetting his wallet was the greatest mistake of his life. The smell hit him right then, and he wondered why he hadn’t noticed it sooner. The front door was closed and locked, even though he’d left it open on purpose. He grabbed the knob and began to work it when three flies landed on his hand and wrist. No. She must be close. Tim turned to the dark dining room to protect his back. Mildred Wells stood in the far corner, motionless.

GIVEAWAY

What makes this tour extra special is that it’s part 2 of 3! This book is the second in a trilogy, best read as one big, terrifying story!

Here are the details for the last tour!

Anger is Acid (The Patience of a Deadman #3): November 30th – December 4th

Giveaway: Print copies of the entire trilogy (US Only), or a print copy of The Patience of a Dead Man (International)

ENTER HERE

Thank you, Michael Clark and R&R Book Tours for giving me a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. All thoughts and feelings expressed are my own.

Are you ready for a great villain back story?

I am always up for a good back story, this is not one of those cases where you see the Villain having a reason for the way they are. I believe that Mildred was never good but due to circumstances she is now much worse.

This book begins with the back story of Mildred Wells and moves up to present day from her perspective. Then it covers the space between the last two chapters of the first book there is a time gap from April 1971 to October 1972, these are from the perspective of Tim, Holly and Mildred. Then the book continues on beyond that.

I was pulled into this story from the beginning and did not want to put it down. I was just so sucked in and this is the perfect time of year for stories like this. And that ending I can not complain.

I really want to gush but there is so much that happens that I do not want to spoil it since this is the second book. So If you have read it and want to talk let me know.

I can not wait to pick up the last book to see how all of this ends.

This is a series that I highly suggest to read in the fall!

Michael Clark was raised in New Hampshire and lived in the house The Patience of a Dead Man is based. The bats really circled the rafters of the barn all day long, and there really was a grove hidden in the forest. He now lives in Massachusetts with his wife Josi and his dog Bubba.

The Patience of a Dead Man, Dead Woman Scorned & Anger is an Acid are his first three novels.

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October 5th
LoopyLouLaura (Review) https://www.loopyloulaura.com/
@the.b00kreader (Review) https://www.instagram.com/the.b00kreader
@thecrookedhouse (Review) https://www.instagram.com/thecrookedhouse/
Cats Luv Coffee (Review) https://catsluvcoffeez.blogspot.com
Purple Shelf Club (Review) https://www.purpleshelfclub.com/

October 6th
Breakeven Books (Spotlight) https://breakevenbooks.com
Inked & Blonde (Review) https://inkedandblonde.blogspot.com/
@_mybookcorner (Review) https://www.instagram.com/_mybookcorner/
Jessica Belmont (Review) https://jessicabelmont.wordpress.com/

October 7th
PoptheButterfly (Review) https://popthebutterfly.wordpress.com
@bearpiglove (Review) https://www.instagram.com/bearpiglovesbooks/
J Bronder Book Reviews (Review) https://jbronderbookreviews.com/
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October 8th
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October 9th
Stine Writing (Review) https://christinebialczak.com/
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The Faerie Review (Review) http://www.thefaeriereview.com

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New Releases

Blog Tour: Highland Cove by Dylan J. Morgan @DylanJMorgan @RRBookTours1 #RRBookTours #Horror #GhostStory #Paranormal #Excerpt #Giveaway #BlogTour

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Welcome to the blog tour celebrating the spine-tingling new novel by Dylan J. Morgan, Highland Cove! Read on for a chilling excerpt, book details and a chance to win a digital copy!

Cover


Highland Cove
by Dylan J. Morgan
Publication Date: March 23rd, 2020
Genre: Horror/ Paranormal/ Ghost Story

Highland Cove Sanatorium sits abandoned on a desolate island one mile off the Scottish mainland. It’s a dark, foreboding place, filled with nightmares. Even darker are the asylum’s secrets: a history of disease and mental illness, macabre experiments and murder.

The tales of ghostly appearances are said to be more fact than fiction, but no one has ever documented the phenomenon. Codie Jackson aims to change all that. Arriving from London with his small independent film crew, they plan to make a documentary that will forever change their lives.

But when one of the crew disappears, things begin to spiral out of control. A storm closes in to ravage the island, and in the darkness Highland Cove’s true horrors are revealed. Now lost within the institution’s labyrinthine corridors, Codie and his team realize that their nightmare is only just beginning.

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Excerpt

She hesitated, and then stepped to the partially opened door. Raising her hand, she brushed fingers over dried paint peeling from the timber. Leaning further forward she stared through the opening at a floor coated with dirt and the remains of a building crumbling on its foundations.

A door slammed shut in the building’s depths.

Wind whistled through the gap with the murmur of a whispered voice.

With a gasp Kristen stepped away, gaze fixed on the door, expecting it to widen at any moment.

A hand pressed into the small of her back and she flinched again, spinning from the touch. Liam stepped onto the porch, pushing his phone into his pants pocket. He looked at her, his smile settling her nerves somewhat.

“Are you okay?”

Clearing her throat and shrugging her rucksack higher on her shoulders, she nodded, gave a nervous chuckle. “I’m fine. I guess this place is kind of spooky.”

“It’s the final resting place of thousands of tortured souls. It’s spooky as hell.”

Liam gave her a subtle wink, but if he was teasing her she didn’t need it right now. The rhythm of her heart had yet to settle, hairs rigid on the back of her neck. Liam stepped to the entryway, his hand almost at the door.

“Be careful, Liam.”

“What is it?”

She hesitated, swallowed hard. “I thought I heard something from inside, that’s all. A bang, like a door closing.”

“Really?” Liam said, and raised his eyebrows. “They know we’re here, then.”

His smile widened, and he pushed through the door into the asylum.

Available on Amazon!

Author Bio

Dylan J Morgan

Now living and working in Norway, Dylan J. Morgan was born in New Zealand and raised in the United Kingdom. He writes during those rare quiet moments amid a hectic family life: after dark, with limited sustenance, and when his creative essence is plagued the most by tormented visions.

He is the multi-genre author of ten books, all available exclussively to Amazon. Focusing on Horror, Post-Apocalyptic Dystopia, and sometimes a hint of Science-Fiction, his books cater for those readers who enjoy a dark, terrifying journey into worlds where a happy ending is seldom seen.

When not writing, and when not reading, he can be found roaming the realm of the Witcher 3, or witnessing satisfying deaths on Game of Thrones, or even listening to some of the loudest heavy metal in his iTunes’ library.

If you’re searching for that light at the end of the tunnel then stop looking—you won’t find it here.

Dylan J. Morgan | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon

Blog Tour

HighlandCove copy (1)

April 13th
Reads & Reels (Review) http://readsandreels.com
Life at 17 (Review) https://lifeat17.wordpress.com
I Smell Sheep (Spotlight) http://www.ismellsheep.com/
Didi Oviatt (Spotlight) https://didioviatt.wordpress.com
Jennifer Mitchell, Bibliolater (Spotlight) https://www.jennifermitchellbooks.com
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April 14th
Lecari’s Live Journal (Review) http://www.lecari.co.uk/
Tranquil Dreams (Review) https://klling.wordpress.com/
Breakeven Books (Spotlight) https://breakevenbooks.com
The Magic of Wor(l)ds (Spotlight) http://themagicofworlds.wordpress.com

April 15th
Backshelf Books (Review) https://backshelfbooks.com/
Cup of Books Blog (Review) https://cupofbooksblog.wordpress.com/
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Turning the Pages (Review) https://turningthepagesonline.wordpress.com
Cats Luv Coffee Book Reviews (Spotlight) https://catsluvcoffeez.blogspot.com
Dark Whimsical Art (Spotlight) https://www.darkwhimsicalart.com/blogs/news

April 16th
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J Bronder Book Reviews (Review) https://jbronderbookreviews.com/
Sophril Reads (Spotlight) https://sophrilreads.wordpress.com

April 17th
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Entertainingly Nerdy (Review) https://www.entertaininglynerdy.com
Ity Reads Books (Review) http://www.ityreadsbooks.home.blog
Banshee Irish Horror Blog (Review) www.bansheeirishhorrorblog.com

Giveaway: For a chance to win a digital copy of Highland Cove, click the link below!

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New Releases

Book Blitz: Beneath London’s Fog by Iona Caldwell

Beneath London’s Fog
Iona Caldwell
Published by: FyreSyde Publishing
Publication date: October 30th, 2019
Genres: Occult Fiction, Ghost Story, British Literature

Jonathan is the immortal master of Raven Hollow Manor – a decrepit mansion riddled with superstition, murder and restless ghosts. Beneath it lies a restless malice.

Its previous owner driven mad, violently kills his guests with a rusted ax, creating the perfect venue for Jonathan to seclude himself in a prison of his own device.

When the streets of London begin to run red with blood; the bodies exhibiting disturbing signs and baffling wounds, the identity of the killer remains elusive to police.

The bodies are just the beginning of Jonathan’s troubles. A mysterious letter accusing Jonathan of committing the murders appear, raising suspicion in the police. Hidden beneath the mangled bodies, Jonathan soon realizes he is being forced to face demons he thought died in a forlorn past he attempted to escape.

One thing Jonathan knows for certain: He must deal with the demons of his past if he is to survive his future. Not only him but those he has come to love as well.

For fans of Jim Butcher, Stephen King, Darcy Coates and Nick Cutter.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo

EXCERPT:

The Streets Ran With Blood

I want it known before this tale begins – I am not a hero but a villain. I want no sympathy from whomever reads this recalling of my story; no mourning for the tragedy that befell my life. I am not an innocent man but a sinner forced to face the ravaging demons and ghosts of his own creation.

My story began as many do – a lie, a fire and murder. One of my kind murdered the woman I loved in the coldest of blood in one of history’s darkest times at the behest of a possessive noble.

After a run in with him in Nottingham, I soon found myself fleeing for my life from hunters, framed for a murder I had not committed.

Forgive me, I am getting ahead of myself.

Let me begin where this part of my story took place.

A bloody civil war ravaged London followed shortly by the Great Fire in 1666. A glorious time for me and those like me to take advantage of the chaos and remain hidden in the shadows.

I managed to pursue the one responsible for nearly getting me killed two centuries prior to the plague which befell London before the fire.

Within the shadows of the flickering flames of St. Peter’s Cathedral, I struck him down and departed the city, thus avoiding my demise.

I had yet to escape him, however, when his vengeful spirit devoured the souls of the innocent in a mad bloodlust.

Though greatly injured, I managed to drive his spirit to my new home Raven Hollow Manor in London, imprisoning him in stone coffin in the crypt beneath it.

Peace resumed in my life and nobles of all kinds enjoyed lavishly hosted parties within the halls of my estate.

Unfortunately, the short-lived splendor at the hands of the hauntings filled the ears of the locals and my beloved home decayed into a tangled web of blood-filled rumors and superstition.

My once glorious halls became infested with dust, its crystal chandeliers covered with cobwebs, their spiders fat on the insects buzzing around the decay and mold-covered wallpaper.

Yet, there I remained as it proved a decent place to not only contain my greatest sin but served also as a castle of solitude.

The tides of time swept by in a cacophony of modernization and the movement from superstition to things only mortal science could explain.

I still needed to venture into the city, not only to feed but also to purchase other items needed for everyday living.

It wasn’t until the winter of 1910 that my silence would be disrupted in the form of a girl named Holly, a young street urchin accused of theft. I took her with me after using a bit of “persuasion” on the local officers to let her go.

They did not need to know where I would take her and she soon grew into a wonderful messenger on my behalf. She became a rather attractive young woman with bouncy blonde curls who kept me company with stories of what went on in the city.

I am sure, at one time, she became infatuated with me. It did not surprise me. To mortals, my kind held a certain allure they found difficult to ignore. I ended her infatuation quickly following a stern talking to and dousing with cold water.

One day, while in my labyrinthine garden, Holly came to me in tears.

When the people of London learned where Holly lived, the townsfolk dubbed her a practitioner of black magic.

One day, I found Holly sitting on one of the marble benches in the garden, sobbing. I picked a flower and put it in my daughter’s hair, sitting next to her beneath the statue of a praying angel.

“You need not worry about them, dearest. Mortals are always quick to place labels on what they do not understand.”

Holly sniffled and sobbed, wiping her nose and offering me a smile. “But why do they avoid this place, Jonathan?”

“Mortals fear what they cannot comprehend. Pay them no mind. You are a wonderful young woman,” I purred, brushing a blonde curl from her face.

The words appeared to have placated her as she smiled and joined me in a moonlight stroll through the garden.

***

Around midnight, after dinner with Holly, I dismissed her to bed. Once she departed, I sought out sustenance in the city.

A dense fog rolled in due to the cool winter weather and the recent days of rain.

Combined with the darkness of the streets and alleyways, I managed to meet a young working woman on the corner and wooed her into joining me for a walk to the park. As with other women, I made sure she understood I respected her body with gentle caresses and loving words murmured into her ears.

Once I placed her deep under my spell, I kissed the tender flesh of the woman’s throat and exposed shoulder, thanking her for her gift.

My fangs pierced her flesh, earning a moan of pleasure as her body surrendered its precious life force without any significant damage. Her body pressed against mine, her moans increasing with pleasure at my kiss.

I preferred this method to those of many of my other brethren who tore their victims apart during a feeding, choosing power to subdue instead of sexual allure.

When signs of weakness began manifesting I released my hold, picking her up after licking the small puncture wounds, my saliva healing them, leaving no marks or scars.

To assure she received care, I took her to the nearest hospital and deposited her on the steps without anyone noticing.

As always, I used hypnotic suggestion to erase her memory and leave her with a pleasant dream.

During the wee hours of the morning, I tended to enjoy the calls of the birds and the chirping of the crickets to help relieve the burden on my mind.

Not a soul roamed the streets near the bridge where I liked to sit and write poetry or read a book.

In the midst of the silence, a horrifying shriek caught my attention, almost startling me.

My pupils narrowed to those one might see in a viper or a cat. I let my body dissipate into the form of a black mist, hovering over the city in search of the source of the scream.

I found it in the shape of the body of a mangled man.

The whites of his eyes consumed most of the portion of the glossy orbs in his skull, mouth gaped open mid-scream.

I knelt before him, my own brows furrowed in frustration at the recognition of the familiar puncture wounds on the man’s throat. This cannot be. No other has hunted here in centuries.

The disturbing find made something clear.

Many of my kind preferred not to hunt in one place occupied by another of higher status, or in another’s territory for that matter. We changed due to the growing number of human hunters who would kill any of us they came across.

Despite the city’s size, my reputation often kept others out of my hunting grounds, for which I remained grateful.

This new kill had been malicious.

If I allowed such behavior to continue, it could draw the attention of the hunters or the local police to my home.

Whomever the responsible party, I needed to locate them and have a word with them or kill them if necessary.

My eyes closed, a heavy sigh drawing up from within my lungs. I placed my fingers over the man’s eyes, using a gentle touch to close them. “Forgive whichever of us did this to you. You did not deserve to die in such a horrific manner.”

Searching through the pockets of his trench coat, I located his identification card and vowed to send some money and roses to his family.

Sounds of sirens and the calls of the corner watchmen announced the arrival of the authorities. I left them the man’s wallet so they could inform his family of their loss.

I lurked in the shadows listening to the inspectors scrutinizing the scene.

“Bloody mystery, it is. This is the second mangled body we found this week. One has to wonder if we might be witnessing the birth of another blighter of a serial killer.” One of the inspectors scratched his head beneath the dome shaped hat.

I recognized him as Bertrand Abrams, a well-known officer and one of the only men who aided Holly during her visits to town.

From his looks, one would expect him to hail from Scotland. A bushy mustache and stringy hair with the consistency of sheep’s wool held the color of fire. Dimples set into high cheekbones and a double chin made me smile. A portly belly betrayed his affinity for too many scones and perhaps Scotch.

He had been wrong. This death held no mystery. I merely needed to find the one responsible before it resulted in too much of a personal dilemma.

Following the release of the corpse to the medical examiner, I took the form of black mist and drifted back to Raven Hollow.

The beginnings of my night would be haunted by dreams of a past filled with love, vengeance and pain.

It would be filled with shining auburn locks and eyes the color of the fresh leaves of spring.

 

Author Bio:

Iona Caldwell is the lover of all things arcane, folklore, nature and magic.

She is the author of the British Occult Fiction, Beneath London’s Fog set to be published by FyreSyde Publishing October 2019. Her second title, Hell’s Warden is forecasted to release in February of 2020. When she’s not busy weaving worlds of the arcane and dark, she’s spending time out in nature. An avid lover of books, Iona claims her biggest inspirations are H.P Lovecraft, Stephen King, Neil Gaiman and Edgar Allen Poe.

She believes storytellers should tell the stories they want to tell. As such, most of her titles are stand-alone novellas she hopes will leave her readers immersed in magical worlds.

She is also an extremely active book blogger who will review primarily horror, suspense, supernatural thriller, mystery, and occult/gothic fiction.

Website / Goodreads / Twitter / Instagram

 

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