Thursday, December 31, 2015
Tuesday, December 29, 2015
Monday, December 28, 2015
If you could exchange lives with any of your characters for a day which character would you choose and why?
I think it would be Jilsey. Mostly for the sheer knowledge of basically everything that she has. She’s one of my darker characters, which I didn’t except until I started writing her. I think it would be interesting to simply feel the way one would feel after living since the dawn of time. Would I still love as deeply as I do? More so? Would hot bread straight from the oven with butter still taste as delicious as it does now? It would be an interesting adventure to say the least.
Is there a piece of advice that you have received that has really stuck with you? If so, what was it?
Before I published by first book, there was a discussion between a few authors about bad reviews. I said that I was questioning publishing my own book because of how harsh some people can be when it comes to reviews. One of the authors in the discussion told me to publish my book because you can’t let the inevitability of bad reviews (because they will come) scare me away from the opportunity to get good ones. There will always be someone who dislikes my book, that’s ok, you’re allowed to dislike it. But there will be people who love it, and that makes it worth it. It’s been my philosophy from that point on to write for the good ones and not for the bad ones. Take those leaps and let myself fall.
ABOUT THE BOOK
by Courtney Houston
GENRE: Paranormal Romance
When Death called my number, sending one of her Guides to take my soul, she didn't count on one thing. The Guide she sent - He was made for me, and I for him. Pulling me back from the arms of Death, Telor changed my fate - and his. Now we're left with the question of not only how he's still here, but why. Will we get the answers we need? Or will Death find us first? Only time will tell...but ours is quickly running out.
Buy link- http://amzn.to/1K4SHPI
Telor surveyed my room with a sad resigned smile, stopping to look at my pictures, running his hand over one of the many porcelain dolls on a shelf next to my dresser. I wondered what he was thinking, or if he would tell me the truth if I asked. The urge to comfort him was almost unbearable. Walking quietly over to him, I wrapped my arms around his middle and pulled him to me, resting my head on his back.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he answered, though his voice was far away. He might have heard the question, but he wasn’t listening.
“Liar,” I whispered. “Tell me.”
“Are you and your brother close?” he asked.
“We were. He’s dead,” I answered. I haven’t actually said that out loud for a long time. People were liars—it didn’t get easier. As much as it hurt to talk about Ollie, it hurt to watch Telor yearn for his lost ones more. Ones he never really got to mourn. “He and my dad died in a car accident when I was eight. Oliver was only seventeen; he was nine years older than me.”
“Your mum?” he asked, his voice had gotten thicker. “She’s still around?”
I let out a short bark of humorless laughter. “She’s still alive. But my mother has been gone for a long time. When they died, she drowned her sorrow at the bottom of any bottle she could find. I remind her of the family she lost, so she can barely stand to look at me.”
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Courtney lives in Kentucky with her husband (Mr. Houston), her two boys (Emmett and Ellis), her two cats (Polly and Jed) and her 3 chickens. Legal Assistant by day and writer by night, Courtney enjoys pancakes, coffee, wine and the number 26. She's a Leo, at least that's what the tattoo on her back says.
Buy link- http://amzn.to/1K4SHPI
Courtney will be awarding $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour, and a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn host.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Friday, December 18, 2015
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Thursday, November 26, 2015
(A Christmas Ghost Story)
Author: Shani Struthers
What do you do when a whole town is haunted?
In 1899, in the North Yorkshire market town of Thorpe Morton, a tragedy occurred; 59 people died at the market hall whilst celebrating Christmas Eve, many of them children. One hundred years on and the spirits of the deceased are restless still, ‘haunting’ the community, refusing to let them forget.
In 1999, psychic investigators Theo Lawson and Ness Patterson are called in to help, sensing immediately on arrival how weighed down the town is. Quickly they discover there’s no safe haven. The past taints everything.
Hurtling towards the anniversary as well as a new millennium, their aim is to move the spirits on, to cleanse the atmosphere so everyone – the living and the dead – can start again. But the spirits prove resistant and soon Theo and Ness are caught up in battle, fighting against something that knows their deepest fears and can twist them in the most dangerous of ways.
They’ll need all their courage to succeed and the help of a little girl too – a spirit who didn’t die at the hall, who shouldn’t even be there…
As Theo turned round to face the double doors, she had a feeling that someone - something - was rushing at her, as fleetingly as whatever had been in Adelaide's house. Refusing to let fear get a stranglehold, she turned back, her aim to confront it. A black wisp of a shape, like wood smoke, sideswiped her, before fading into nothing. Staring after it, wondering what it was, something else caught her attention. At the far end of the second room was something more substantial: a little girl, staring at her.
Theo's eyes widened. "Oh darling, darling," she whispered. She took a step forwards, tried to remember the names of the children on the list from earlier: Alice, Helen, Bessie, Adelaide's ancestor, Ellen Corsby perhaps. Which one was she?
She inched closer still. "Darling, your name, tell me what it is."
The little girl's arms moved upwards, she stretched them out, her manner beseeching although she remained mute. Theo tried again, told the child her own name.
"It's short for Theodora. I bet you're called something pretty."
The girl had a dress on; long, brownish, a course material - linen perhaps? Nothing special but if it was her party dress then maybe it was special to her. Her boots were brown too - lace ups, sturdy looking. She was around eight or nine but it was hard to tell. She could have been older just small for her age. Her hair was brown and tangled; she had a mane of it. Everything about her seemed to be brown or sepia, maybe sepia was the right word, as though she'd stepped out of an old photograph.
"I'm here now, sweetheart, I've come to help. You've been here for such a long time. Too long. You need to go to the light, go home, rest awhile."
Up closer, Theo could read her eyes. The longing in them stirred her pity.
"Let me help you," Theo persisted, her voice catching in her throat. As glorious as the other side might be, she still felt it unfair to be felled at such a young age. Often this was a good existence too and it deserved to be experienced fully.
She was close now, so close and still her arms were outstretched.
Harriet - the name presented itself whole in her mind.
"Your name's Harriet. Is that correct? It's lovely, it suits you."
Was that a smile on the child's lips, the beginnings of trust? Soon she'd be able to reach out and touch her. What would she feel like? Cold? Ethereal?
"Darling, I'm here," she repeated, no more than a foot between them. "I'm here."
Joy surged - one spirit had come forward - it was an encouraging start.
Just before their hands touched everything changed. Hope and joy were replaced with confusion as something sour - fetid almost - rose up, making her feel nauseous.
"Don't be afraid," Theo implored. Yet there was nothing but fear in her eyes now. No, not fear, that was too tame a word - terror.
"I'm not here to harm you," she continued. "I'm here to help."
As the words left her mouth, other hands appeared behind the child, a whole sea of them - disembodied hands that clawed at her, forcing her backwards.
"No!" Theo shouted. "Stop it. Leave her alone!"
But it was no use. Her words faded as the girl did. She'd been torn away, recaptured; the one who'd dared to step forward. Theo could feel sweat break out on her forehead, her hands were clammy. She clutched at her chest, her breathing difficult suddenly, laboured. Her heart had been problematic of late, a result of the pounds she'd piled on. She must go to the doctor to get some medication. Struggling to gain control, it took a few moments, perhaps a full minute, before her heart stopped hammering. And when it did, she remembered something else. The girl's eyes - her sweet, brown, trusting eyes - when the expression changed in them they hadn't been looking at her, they'd been looking beyond her. Was it at the thing that sideswiped her? Theo couldn't be certain. She wasn't certain either if that 'thing' was a spirit or much less than that - something with no soul, but with an appetite, an extreme appetite: a craving. Something, she feared, was insatiable.
Brighton-based author of paranormal fiction, including UK Amazon Bestseller, Psychic Surveys Book One: The Haunting of Highdown Hall. Psychic Surveys Book Two: Rise to Me, is also available and due out in November 2015 is Eve: A Christmas Ghost Story - the prequel to the Psychic Surveys series. She is also the author of Jessamine, an atmospheric psychological romance set in the Highlands of Scotland and described as a 'Wuthering Heights for the 21st century.'
Psychic Surveys Book Three: 44 Gilmore Street is in progress.