Thursday, June 22, 2017

Initiation by Imogen Rose



"Hogwarts meets Bon Temps"

Paranormal fans are going to go insane when they read this cool tale that is almost reminiscent of the X-men school, but so much more. For fans of Twilight, True Blood, X-men, and Harry Potter comes a new series that will suck you in and leave you wanting for more.

Welcome to Bonfire Academy!

Set in the foothills of the alpine mountains in St.Moritz, this exclusive private school caters to a special kind of student. Enter at your own risk... but if you are human, you may not want to enter at all.



 > Click here for my review ♥ <



To find out more about the Bonfire Chronicles stop by these posts 
or visit Imogen Rose on Facebook.


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~ Imogen Rose ~
 
is the author of the bestselling series, Portal Chronicles, which has attained cult status within indie literature and become a favorite among teens and adults alike. An immunologist by profession, Dr. Rose published her first work of fiction in 2010. She now writes full time and is currently working on her second teen series, the Bonfire Chronicles. Imogen was born in Sweden and has lived in several places, counting London among her favorites. She moved to New Jersey in 2001. A self-confessed Hermès addict, Imogen freely admits to being obsessed with Kurt Cobain. She enjoys shopping, traveling, watching movies, and hanging out with her family, friends, and Chihuahua.
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Imogen Rose Stalker Links: WebsiteBlogAmazonFacebook,
Instagram imogenrosegram, Twitter @ImogenRoseTweet, & Goodreads
~Book Trailers~

SHE SAID SAVE ME Links:
 WebsiteFacebookTwitter@shesaidsaaveme, & YouTube
 
Portal Book Links:
Amazon ~  iTunes ~ Kobo ~ Nook ~ Paperback
German, French, Japanese, Spanish language editions: links on Imogen Rose’s website 

 Audiobook Sample

Wednesday, June 21, 2017

Rise of the Sea Witch by Stacey Rourke

Rise of the Sea Witch
Unfortunate Soul Series
by Stacey Rourke
Publication Date: June 19, 2017
Details of the sea witch’s banishment have been exaggerated. The body count that preempted it was not. Once an illustrious princess, her hands and tentacles were stained with the blood of thousands. No one could comprehend how the hooks of madness dragged her down from her life of privilege. 

Born Princess Vanessa of Atlantica, the ambitious young royal was one of two children born to the great King Poseidon. She and her brother, Triton, were groomed from birth to rule. Yet only one would ascend that coveted throne. While carefree Triton flits through his training with a cavalier demeanor and beguiling charm, Vanessa’s hunger for her father’s acceptance drives her to push herself to the limits of magic, and combat to become a leader worthy of her people.

When war against the humans ravages their once regal kingdom, political sides are chosen. Factions from the seven seas challenge the existing leadership, pitting Vanessa against her brother in a vicious battle for the crown. Traitors are exposed, dark family secrets revealed, and a once strong sibling bond is strained to its breaking point.

Only when the ink black waters from the ultimate betrayal rescind, will the truth be known of how the villainous sea witch rose with one name on her vengeful lips–Triton.



Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult

Cover Designer: Najla Qamber Designs 
Publisher: Anchor Group Publishing 

The Rise of the Sea Witch brought back all of the feels from one of my favorite cartoons & made that whole world feel more tangible than ever. Every page opening more possibilities & giving us new insight to a few of my favorite characters of all time. If you are familiar with Ariel & Triton's tale then surely you wonder how the Sea Witch came to be. 
This particular tale spins that particular story into a magical whirlwind that plunges us to the deepest darkest depths of the sea, through the most beautiful oceanside, & back again. We are transported back in time as Rourke paints a stunning picture of her past, & made absolutely everything I always wanted to love about Ursela that much more real. I was so wrapped up in it all that the emotion snuck in & tears betrayed me. But...they were so very worth it!!!!!! You definitely want to read this book!

Stop by my cover reveal post for more teasers & sea witch fun!

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Prologue

I admit that in the past I was a princess. They weren’t kidding when they called me … well, a spoiled twit.” Tentacles rolling and churning beneath me, I turn to the newest member of my little garden with effortless grace. Arms thrown out wide, I grant the shriveled polyp a beguiling smile. Those around him tremble in fear, pulling as far away from him as their roots deep within the ocean floor will allow. “Through rather unfortunate circumstances it became mandatory I mend my ways. And, yes, some of the techniques I employed earned me the title of villain.”
“Never, my Queen,” Floteson murmurs. Coiling around my upper arm, he drapes himself across my shoulder.
Jetteson’s oily scales lovingly brush my cheek. “Every one of them was deserving of your wrath.”
Shoulders curling in, I pucker my lips which are freshly glossed by a crimson sea-flower and tenderly scratch each of them under their chins. “How horrible can I be to be so adored by such sweet babies?”
“She shows us nothing but love,” my darling zebra sharks chorus.
Their unwavering dedication soothes me, allowing me to expel a calming breath that bubbles in a wreath around my face.
“I am not the horrible beast many think me to be. Yet I feel it is your own misconceptions that brought you here, and led to … well, you know.” Floating passed my ornate vanity mirror, which seems out of place in the dreary cave I call home, I suck in my cheeks. Turning my head one way and then the other, I inspect my reflection. A smug smile curls the corners of my lips. The woman staring back at me is positively voluptuous with power, mayhem swirling within her clay-gray eyes. “Undoubtedly, you’ve heard rumors of my banishment.”
Hitching one eyebrow at my newly planted polyp, I watch him squirm under the weight of my attention.
“Do you even know my true given name, I wonder? Before hateful whisperings from the farthest reaches of the Seven Seas dubbed me The Sea Witch, I went by another name: Princess Vanessa of Atlantica. I harbored dreams of bringing peace and happiness to the kingdom … as their noble queen.”
Jabbing my hands on to my ample hips, I turn in a swirl of black and purple. “I’m not sure if that pitiful pout is caused by your deep longing to hear more, or if you’re mourning the loss of your shriveled limbs. But,” with a theatrical roll of my wrist, I snap my fingers—my cauldron sparks to life, an ethereal green glow simmering from within, “I choose to think the former because it’s about me … and all of my favorite things are.
“It would be predictable for me to say it all began with the death of my mother. Predictable and false.”
Water rushes beneath me with one mighty flap of all my tentacles. The power of the act propels me over to my alchemy shelves, where my fingers flick over the exposed vials. Some days I seek to terrorize my captives, calling out each ingredient or dangling it over their heads before tossing it into my brew.
Tongue of porpoise.
Eye of cuttlefish.
Shell of sea turtle.
I won’t lie and say watching their complexions green and bug eyes bulge isn’t a guilty pleasure of mine. For the moment, however, a wave of generosity—brought on by the mention of my mother—prompts me to toss them in without my usual theatrics. Each is received into the cauldron’s wide-mouth drum with a puff of smoke and spray of sparks.
“As much as I loved my mother, losing her didn’t drive me to madness as some would have you believe.” Hearing the melancholy in my tone, I bristle. “Far from it, in fact. I would have subjected myself to an abysmal existence of the mundane in honor of her memory. No, it was after the black flags of mourning had been strung through the kingdom, after the spectacle of her funeral procession had passed, that my descent began.”
Throwing one final ingredient into the cauldron, a veil of greasy smoke wafts from its rim. Images begin to form within the haze: the king’s regal quarters, and a formidable frame seated in a high-backed chair behind a massive stone desk.
Crouching down, I position myself eye level with the miniscule scene unfolding. My tentacles coil into tight knots beneath me. “This was the night … the night when I was touched by magic for the very first time … and loathed it to my very core.”
Within the ghostly image, the curtain to the king’s quarters is pushed open. A heavy set nursemaid with stripes of gray in the messy twist of her bun swims in. On one hip she balances a cherub-faced baby that’s only two months shy of his second birthday. Blond ringlets halo his head. Both his eyes and cheeks are ruddy from crying. The frazzled servant’s other hand clings to that of a raven-haired princess who rubs at her tired, violet eyes with a chubby, toddler fist.
“If you aren’t following along yet, that princess is me,” I explain to my captive audience. “The maid softly shushing my younger self is Loriana. Oh, how dear she was to me. She was a servant in the castle, tasked with tending to my brother and I. That little sunset orange tail poking out from behind her belongs to her son, Alastor. He was Triton’s best friend and would become much more than that to me ...”

“Sire,” respectfully bowing her head, Loriana readjusted her hold on Prince Triton, “I hate to interrupt.”
My father, King Poseidon, pushed his chair back from the desk in a swirl of water and sand, and rose in greeting. To the rest of the kingdom, he was known as simply the supreme ruler of Atlantica. To me, and my juvenile ignorance, he was the God of the Sea who towered over us all. I envisioned all of his enemies, and anyone that ever wished me harm, falling to their knees and trembling before his commanding presence. His hair and thick beard were the red of Precious Coral. Muscle rippled over every inch of his exposed torso. His narrow waist tapered into an emerald green tail that perfectly matched the shining jewels of his eyes. Countless times I had examined the lines of his face in search of some similarity between the two of us. None could be found. Triton had his smile, and later—when adolescence hit—he would inherit his strong chin. Me? Every inch of me was a lackluster shadow of my mother’s regal beauty. Where her eyes and tail sparkled like freshly polished amethyst, mine seemed dull by comparison. Or, perhaps the lighting from the pedestal I’d built for her in my mind shone for her with a more flattering shimmer.
“The hour is late. I welcome the interruption.” Poseidon set his fish bone quill onto the desk top, and positioned its stone cradle on top of it. “How can I be of service, Loriana?”
“It’s the children, Your Highness.” Her face a mask of maternal sorrow, Loriana gave my hand a quick pulse of comfort. “This is the first night they have ever tried to go to sleep without a lullaby from their dear mother. I’m afraid I can’t seem to calm their troubled little hearts.”
Poseidon’s broad chest expanded with a deep inhalation, and tipping his head he exhaled a flurry of rushing water and bubbles. “This is a troubling time for us all,” he agreed. Crossing the room with one stroke of his tail, he extended his hands to receive Triton. My brother waved his arms in eager delight, wriggling into the security of Father’s strong embrace. Inching forward, I blinked up at the mighty king. He floated past without so much as ruffling my hair. “I’m afraid I don’t have your mother’s gift of song, but perhaps we could sit a spell and find peace in our togetherness.”
Honoring her position outside of the room, Loriana gave me a gentle push forward to follow my father. Casting a tentative glance over my shoulder, I did just that. Poseidon swirled Triton around, eliciting a giggle that crinkled the corners of his ocean blue eyes, before the king collapsed on the sea sponge sofa with his darling son on his lap. I perched on the very edge of the far cushion, uninvited and unnoticed.
Before that moment our father had been more of a … hmm, how to put this delicately? A figurehead in our lives. We knew of him and regarded him fondly, but unfortunately his kingly duties allowed our primary interactions to be those staged for political potency. Our mother, the lovely Queen Titonis, spent her days caring for my brother and I with only Loriana to aid her. Now, Poseidon had no choice but to pick up the yolk. For Triton this transition seemed to be going swimmingly. I, however, was getting as much attention as the Orca-bone end table.
Hands under the little prince’s pits, Poseidon turned Triton to face him. “I was so proud of how you behaved during the processional today,” he gushed. “You honored not only me, but your mother’s memory when you clasped your tiny fist over your heart and held your head high as her carriage passed.”
“Follow Nessa.” Triton looked to me with love, his tailfin a muted clap when connecting with Father’s lap.
“Your sister has two whole years of further training and experience than you, my boy.” Poseidon’s shoulders raised, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You exhibited the poise of a true leader.”
My lips clamped shut to stifle a sob, his words stinging like a slap. I had just as much right to the throne as Triton, but this was the first moment I became painfully aware of who he longed to see succeed him. It would not be the last … or the most painful.
“She held her curtsy so long, merfolk threw flowers!” Alastor, a year and a half older and far more eloquent than Triton, darted into the room to brazenly interject. Mahogany waves curled over his earlobes, adding dimension to his round little face that resembled a bubble. The boldness of his gesture quickly shriveled under Father’s menacing glare.
“The son of a servant entering the king’s quarters?” Father boomed, one eyebrow raising in question. “One might question your upbringing, lad.”
“A thousand apologies, Your Majesty!” Loriana blushed from her neck clear up to her earlobes and snapped her fingers at her wandering boy. “Alastor, come here at once!”
Shoulders sagging like a stone cast to the depths, Alastor returned to his rightful place in the hall. The heat of his topaz stare bore into me as he paddled along, searching for even the slightest acknowledgement of his noble deed.
I had none to offer.
My own gaze had drawn away from my brother, laughing while Father tickled his cheeks with his beard, to scan the items neatly arranged on father’s desk. Inanimate objects which earned his attentions daily just by being. On the right side, closest to his scrawling hand, sat the quill. Its fat little ink pot was perfectly positioned perpendicular beside it. In the center of the desk, weighted by stones carved with the royal crest, rested a stack of scrolls awaiting the king’s notice. On the left-hand corner, Poseidon’s late night snacking needs were met by a plate of rolled and seasoned seaweed puffs.
The ink pot lured my attention back as if calling to me.
I had never had to work for attention in any capacity. My mother had always given it freely, and in limitless supply. Since she had been taken from me, I had unquenched needs: hugs, stories, and all of that … drivel. So, yes, I thought about acting out. I toyed with the idea of knocking over that little clay pot and letting the ink flow to ruin the staged perfection of father’s space. More than that, I wanted to. I wanted to hear him shout out my name in his menacing vibrato, because at least then he would have to acknowledge me. While my hands stayed folded neatly in my lap, as the good little mergirl I was, something within me I had never felt before reached out. Palpable energy, only I seemed privy to, crackled through the water to cradle the pot in its hold. I could feel it, poised and ready, awaiting my command. Biting my lower lip to fend off a threatening grin, my essence gave barely a nudge and the ink pot tumbled. A thick black cloud exploded over my father’s desk, staining the scrolls and ruining the once delectable wraps.
“Vanessa!” thundered my father, rocketing off the sofa. “Look what you’ve done!”
I turned toward him with feigned remorse … and screamed. The howl of terror tore from my chest until my gills ached and my throat was raw.
There was a buzz of activity: Poseidon calling to the nursemaid, Loriana swimming in as fast as her fins could carry her, Triton wailing in fear, Alastor trying to shush his friend from the doorway to which he’d been banished. I neither saw nor heard any of this.
Floating in the center of the room, bobbing with the current, was my mother.
Not the serene vision of loveliness I had known her to be that was full of life and love. Heck, I even would’ve happily settled for the slumbering beauty she appeared to be during her funeral. In vast contrast, the entity hovering before me had chunks of flesh gnawed away by assorted sea beasts. Cracked, ashen lips curled into a snarl. Black ooze bubbled through her teeth, dripping from her chin and clouding the water. My scream reached a fevered pitch, spots dancing before my eyes. The ghoul, who in life sang me to sleep, reached for me with one hand that had been gnawed to bone.
You see, by using magic I opened a door and allowed the darkness in. The cost being more than I could bear, I vowed to myself—as my consciousness waned—never, ever to dabble with such things again.
Oh, the lies we tell ourselves …


Stacey Rourke
RONE Award Winner for Best YA Paranormal Work of 2012 for Embrace, a Gryphon Series Novel Young Adult and Teen Reader voted Author of the Year 2012, Turning Pages Magazine Winner for Best YA book of 2013 & Best Teen Book of 2013, Readers' Favorite Silver Medal Winner for Crane 2015.

Stacey Rourke is the author of the award winning YA Gryphon Series, the chillingly suspenseful Legends Saga, and the romantic comedy Reel Romance Series. She lives in Michigan with her husband, two beautiful daughters, and two giant dogs. She loves to travel, has an unhealthy shoe addiction, and considers herself blessed to make a career out of talking to the imaginary people that live in her head.


Hosted by: Lady Amber’s PR

Tuesday, May 2, 2017

Daughter of Aithne by Karin Rita Gastreich


Daughter of Aithne
The Silver Web - Book #3
by Karin Rita Gastreich
Date of Publication: May 2017
Betrayed by her own prodigy and accused of treason, Eolyn forges a risky alliance with the ruthless and cunning Mage Corey. As enemies old and new rise to arms, the beleaguered queen of magic prepares for a final, desperate battle to secure her son's throne.

Across the Furma River, Taesara of Roenfyn is drawn out of seclusion and into an ever-more vicious game of intrigue and war. Subject to the schemes of her uncle and the mysterious ambitions of the wizards of Galia, she fights to assert her will while defending her daughter's inheritance.

In the climactic finale to The Silver Web trilogy, threads of love, honor, betrayal, and vengeance culminate in a violent conflict between powerful women, opposed to each other yet destined to shatter a thousand-year cycle of war.

Genre: Fantasy, Dark Fantasy, Romance
Publisher: Orb Weaver Press
ISBN: 978-0-9972320-2-8
ASIN: B06WCZYRNW
Number of pages: 386
Word Count: 119,000
Cover Artist: Thomas Vandenberg

Get your copy on Amazon!

"Vigorously told deceptions and battle scenes...with a romantic thread." -Publishers Weekly review of Eolyn, Book One of the Silver Web

“Lush, evocative descriptions carry readers through an unforgettable journey.” –Kirkus Reviews review of Sword of Shadows, Book Two of the Silver Web.

Taesara left the kitchen and climbed the narrow stairs that led to the Mother’s study and a handful of chambers set aside for receiving guests from the outside world. The rest of the cloister was stark in its furnishings and modest in decoration, but here the chairs and tables were finely carved. Tapestries graced the walls with images of men and women called by Thunder during the long and difficult history of Taesara’s people.
When she entered the study, the man standing at the window wheeled about and pinned her with a stern gaze. His long face was framed by graying hair, his sage cloak richly embroidered with silver threads.
“My Lord Regent.” Taesara sank to her knees, deeply troubled by this unannounced visit.
A rustle of skirts indicated the Mother’s approach. The old woman laid a frail but steady hand on Taesara’s shoulder. “If it pleases you, Lord Regent, I will take my leave now, so that you may speak with your niece.”
Taesara looked up at the Mother with a mixture of hurt and trepidation. “Dear Mother, I have no family in this world, not since I—”
“Hush, my daughter.” The Mother took Taesara’s face in her hands and studied her with kind eyes. “I know the vows you took when you entered this place better than you. I do not doubt the devotion with which you have served the Gods as part of our community these many years. Your family has indeed been dead to you, but now Thunder wishes to call you back to the world of the living. Listen to your uncle, for he seeks to resurrect your heart from its grave. The news he bears will bring you much joy.”
“But I don’t want—”
“Know that whatever you decide, you have my blessing.” The Mother kissed Taesara and left, closing the door quietly behind her.
Taesara lowered her gaze to the floor, burdened by a terrible uncertainty she had not felt in years.
Sylus Penamor, Lord Regent of Roenfyn, strode forward and extended a gloved hand to his niece. “Rise, Taesara.”
She obeyed, stiffening as Penamor took her chin in his fingers and subjected her to cold inspection. After a moment, his frown deepened and he shook his head. “Only the Sisters of the Poor could take a woman at the height of her flower and turn her into a dried-up weed.”
Taesara bristled. “There is no place for vanity within these walls.”
“Apparently not. They’ve made you skinny and sallow. Though it is nothing, I’ll wager, that a bit of sun and some proper food cannot remedy. What are these rags they dress you in?”
She stepped away, clenching her jaw. “This is all I need. All anyone needs, to live at peace in this world.”
Penamor snorted. “Indeed.”
“Why are you here?”
“I’ve come to fetch you home.”
“This is my home.”
“This was your temporary refuge. A foul place, but one of your choosing. We were generous enough to let you stay, first your father and then I, as we put the outside world in order. Now it is time for you to return.”
“I am not going back.”
“Oh, but I think you will.” Penamor spoke with an odd tone, at once menacing and full of promise. “War is at hand, and you will be the one to lead it.”
Taesara forced a laugh. “You know I will have no part of it. Eliasara would die at their hands if we so much as—”
“They do not have Eliasara,” he said. “We do.”
Shadows flashed through Taesara’s vision. She stumbled and caught hold of the back of a chair. A chasm opened inside her heart, swallowing the vines and trees with which she had concealed her love and pain during all these years. The bitter flood of anguish returned full force.
“Where is she?” Taesara did not look at her uncle, her mind consumed by the image of King Akmael’s stony countenance, his dark intent, his merciless heart.
“About a day’s ride from here. She has been asking for you.”
“Is she…whole? Have they harmed her in any way?”
“Do you mean have they turned her into a witch? No. Eliasara is a true daughter of Roenfyn. She has remained faithful to her memory of you, and to the convictions of her people. And she is beautiful, Taesara, as lovely as you were at her age, with the same sweet smile and golden hair.”
“She will not recognize me. She had only just begun to walk when we were separated.”
“She will know who you are. That is enough. She wants a mother to love, and one who will love her. She needs you, Taesara.”
Unable to endure the weight of the moment, Taesara sank to the floor. Oh, sweet Thunder, help me.
“What is this unbearable work of the Gods?” she asked. “How has such a thing come to pass?”
“That is an amusing story to tell.” Penamor knelt at her side. The smell of leather and horse stung her senses. “The wizard Tzeremond often said that the magas always betray their own, and so that old hawk’s wisdom has once again proven true. The Witch Queen’s greatest student, a maga warrior by the name of Ghemena, broke into Eliasara’s prison with two of her companions. They slew the Mage King’s guards and brought the Princess to Roenfyn, to me. Now the magas stand with us, ready to fight.”
Fire surged through Taesara’s veins.
“Who else?” she demanded. “Who else stands with Roenfyn?”
“Galia has agreed to support our cause, and new messengers have been dispatched to Antaria. We await their response. We also have allies inside Moisehén: noble families whose loyalty I have cultivated in secret; mages who pretend to serve King Akmael; and others among the Witch Queen’s guard who are anxious to see the line of Mage Kings dissolved. This is our moment, Taesara. Your moment. To exact vengeance on the King of Moisehén and his villainous harlot, to kill their bastards, and to see your daughter and all her descendants claim the Crown of Vortingen.”
Taesara straightened her back, withdrawing from her uncle’s grasp and taking deep breaths as she tried to steady her pulse.
After a long moment, she leveled her gaze at him. “I don’t care about any of that, Uncle. All I want is to see my daughter.”
A smile of triumph touched his lips. “As well I knew you would.

Karin Rita Gastreich 
writes stories of ordinary women and the extraordinary paths they choose. An ecologist by vocation, Karin has wandered forests and wildlands all her life. Her pastimes include camping, hiking, music, and flamenco dance. In addition to THE SILVER WEB trilogy, Karin has published short stories in World Jumping, Zahir, Adventures for the Average Woman, and 69 Flavors of Paranoia. She is a recipient of the Spring 2011 Andrews Forest Writer’s Residency.

@EolynChronicles

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Rise of the Sea Witch ~ Cover Reveal

Rise of the Sea Witch
by Stacey Rourke
Expected Publication Date: June 19, 2017
Details of the sea witch’s banishment have been exaggerated. The body count that preempted it was not. Once an illustrious princess, her hands and tentacles were stained with the blood of thousands. No one could comprehend how the hooks of madness dragged her down from her life of privilege. 

Born Princess Vanessa of Atlantica, the ambitious young royal was one of two children born to the great King Poseidon. She and her brother, Triton, were groomed from birth to rule. Yet only one would ascend that coveted throne. While carefree Triton flits through his training with a cavalier demeanor and beguiling charm, Vanessa’s hunger for her father’s acceptance drives her to push herself to the limits of magic, and combat to become a leader worthy of her people.

When war against the humans ravages their once regal kingdom, political sides are chosen. Factions from the seven seas challenge the existing leadership, pitting Vanessa against her brother in a vicious battle for the crown. Traitors are exposed, dark family secrets revealed, and a once strong sibling bond is strained to its breaking point.

Only when the ink black waters from the ultimate betrayal rescind, will the truth be known of how the villainous sea witch rose with one name on her vengeful lips–Triton.


Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult
Cover Designer: Najla Qamber Designs 
Publisher: Anchor Group Publishing 

Here's a little insight into Rourke's inspiration for the book!


Stacey Rourke
RONE Award Winner for Best YA Paranormal Work of 2012 for Embrace, a Gryphon Series Novel Young Adult and Teen Reader voted Author of the Year 2012, Turning Pages Magazine Winner for Best YA book of 2013 & Best Teen Book of 2013, Readers' Favorite Silver Medal Winner for Crane 2015.

Stacey Rourke is the author of the award winning YA Gryphon Series, the chillingly suspenseful Legends Saga, and the romantic comedy Reel Romance Series. She lives in Michigan with her husband, two beautiful daughters, and two giant dogs. She loves to travel, has an unhealthy shoe addiction, and considers herself blessed to make a career out of talking to the imaginary people that live in her head.


Hosted by: Lady Amber’s PR