Half-Blood Descendant by Natasha Brown

Half-Blood Descendant
Half-Bloods: A Paranormal Series
Book One
Natasha Brown
Genre: Paranormal/Supernatural Suspense
Publisher: Future Impressions
Date of Publication: Sept 23rd 2018
ISBN: 978-1722836917
Number of pages: estimated 250
Word Count: 76k
Cover Artist: Natasha Brown
Tagline: Shifters live in secret. They’re not the only ones.
Book Description:
USA TODAY bestselling author Natasha Brown blends urban fantasy, paranormal romance and supernatural suspense in the Half-Bloods, an adventure for lovers of shifters, vampires… and more.
Jax never stays anywhere long enough to put down roots. He’s a shapeshifter—the only one of his kind, or so he thinks. While prowling on his landlady’s property, he is stunned to find a man feeding on her neck. Although he frightens away the blood-sucker, Jax leaves behind a paralyzed woman and a trail of blood in his wake.
Aerilyn teaches high school and doubles as a guardian for the Genus Society, an ancient underground shifter organization. After learning of a cougar attack in her own mountain neighborhood, she suspects a rogue shifter is to blame.
When the Society accuses Jax of the “animal attack,” he is ordered to stick around until he can clear his name. Desperate to regain his freedom, he must put his trust in his beautiful guardian. Their forbidden attraction leads Aerilyn to wonder if the blue-eyed drifter is innocent. And if he is, the Society has an even bigger problem on its hands—one that feeds on blood.
Aerilyn pulled
off her jacket and set it on the ground. Next, she slipped off her shoes and
unbuttoned her jeans. A cold breeze whistled through the valley, raising
goosebumps on her arms as she pulled her V-neck off. She held the fabric to her
chest and hunched away from the wind.
When it died
down, she dropped her shirt onto her growing pile of clothes. She rested her
hand against one of the aspens to brace herself while she took off her socks
and happened to glance back at her companion. Jax was down to his underwear,
standing in the moonlight. Dark lines adorned his back, forming what appeared
to be an intricate tattoo, one she couldn’t see well enough from her vantage
point. She could, however, see how muscular he was. As he tugged at the
waistband of his boxers, she blushed and looked away, reminding herself he
would be gone as soon as her father allowed him to leave town.

She didn’t waste
any time removing the last of her clothing and stood among the pale aspen
trunks, calling to the energy at her core. It surged through her pores, chasing
away all visible marking of her humanity until none was left. Aerilyn took a
deep breath and stepped out from behind the trees.

About the Author:
USA Today bestselling author Natasha Brown’s imagination has always been a distraction. The books she read in the dark past bedtime fed her excitement for fantasy worlds. Once she started writing, there was no stopping her. By day, Natasha’s an assistant teacher at an elementary school, and by night she’s a book cover designer. Her weekends are spent writing and spending time with family.

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Flesh by Laura Bickle Haunted Halloween Spooktacular

Halloween is one of my favorite holidays, and I love making decorations for this time of year. Most of the time, I look at the materials I have around the house and think about what I can do with what I already have. 
I dug up an old wreath that’s been sitting in my garage for more than ten years and has seen better days. It’s faded, and a lot of the foliage is dropping from it. I thought about throwing it out, but decided that it could make a fun Halloween project. For this project, I used:
• An old wreath
• Black spray paint
• Three strings of bat LED lights
• Two packages of sparkly bat clips
• Glue. This isn’t totally necessary – depending on the lights you use, you might not need it, or you could use zip ties or electrical tape to secure the light battery packs.
I had the wreath, the glue, and the spray paint, but found the LED lights and the bat clips at my local dollar store. So I’ve invested about five bucks in this project. I won’t too feel bad if it doesn’t turn out! 
First thing I did was spray paint the wreath black. I started on the back side. When it dried, I turned it over and sprayed the front. As is the case with all spray paint projects, I did it outdoors and painted it from several angles to make sure I got everything. 


Then I added the lights. I used three strands of purple bat lights. I wound them around the foliage and made sure the battery packs were in the back, where I glued the housing down to the sturdiest part of the wreath. If you’re using LED lights with button batteries, you probably wouldn’t need to do this step, since you could tuck a smaller battery pack in the foliage. Zip ties or electrical tape would also work to get those battery housings out of the way. I made sure to add my batteries first and didn’t add glue to spots that would interfere with the operation of the switch or changing out batteries.


I turned my wreath over and was pretty pleased with how it looked so far.


Next, I added my sparkly purple bats! The ones I got had alligator clips on the back, so I could perch them wherever I wanted. A couple were in precarious spots, so I added a bead of glue to make sure they stayed stuck.
And the wreath is finished! I’m pretty pleased with it…I can’t wait to hang it for Halloween!


Laura Bickle 
Genre: YA Horror/Paranormal/Fantasy
Book Description:
The dead are easy to talk to. Live people, not so much.
Charlie Sulliven thinks she knows all the secrets of the dead. Raised in a funeral home, she’s the reluctant “Ghoul Girl,” her reputation tied to a disastrous Halloween party. But navigating her life as a high school sophomore is an anxiety-inducing puzzle to her. She haunts the funeral home with her parents, emo older brother, Garth, their pistol-packing Gramma, and the glass-eyeball-devouring dachshund, Lothar.
Chewed human bodies are appearing in her parents’ morgue…and disappearing in the middle of the night. The bodies seem tied to a local legend, Catfish Bob, who has resurfaced in the muddy Milburn river near Charlie’s small town. When one of Charlie’s classmates, Amanda, awakens in the cooler as a flesh-eating ghoul, Charlie must protect her newfound friend and step up to unravel the mystery…and try to avoid becoming lunch meat for the dead.
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“Amanda, I…Oh.”
I don’t know what else to say. My brain just shuts down.
She is wearing the sheet, wound around her like a toga. It
trails behind her bare feet, sort of like a painting about Greek goddesses I’ve
seen in art books. She’s leaning over another body stored in the cooler unit on
a cart. Her back is to me, and I can only see her pale skin and her
burgundy-black hair shuddering.
She turns at the sound of my voice, seeming only to hear me for
the first time. Her face is covered in dark blood. In her hand, she’s holding a
big chunk of purple flesh. Her eyes are half-closed. The autopsy incision on
the elderly body below her has been ripped open, and I’m pretty sure that what
she’s holding is a lung.
“So hungry…” she murmurs.
I retreat until my back presses against the cold door. A
whimper escapes my lips, and I drop the laundry basket with a sharp crack of plastic on the tile floor. This
has to be a dream. A screwed-up anxiety dream that I’ll wake up from any moment
Amanda’s black eyes snap open. She stares at the chunk of
flesh in her hand. “I…Agh…What’s
going on?”
Lothar waddles over to her and begins to beg. Bile rises in
my throat. “That’s Mrs. Canner,” I manage to answer. “She’s seventy-two and
died of surgery complications for varicose veins. Deep vein thrombosis, I
think. I don’t remember.” I’m babbling, trying to keep the bile down.
Amanda drops the lung with a wet splat. Lothar scrambles to it and begins scarfing it down. Her hands
are trembling. She presses them to her temples. “I don’t understand. I don’t
I nudge the laundry basket closer to her with my foot. “I
brought you some clothes. And, um. Food. You should get dressed.”
I think I should be afraid. I think I really ought to be.
But Amanda seems genuinely confused. She reaches for the clothes I’ve brought
her. To be polite, I know that I should really look away. But I can’t move. I
am not turning my back on her. My heart pounds, and I struggle to take deep, uneven
Amanda unwinds the sheet and slips into my clothes. Though I
avert my eyes, I see that her shoulder and side are still torn open. But my
mother hasn’t begun the autopsy yet, so there is no Y-incision across her chest
and abdomen.
“Do you remember what happened to you?” I manage to ask. I
congratulate myself for having a rational thought. Woot.
Her voice is halting, and her brow wrinkles as she struggles
to button my jeans. “I remember…something was chasing me. Jesus, it hurt…” Her
hand comes up to her neck, and she seems to remember, fingering the edges of
the wound. “Am I in a hospital?” she asks again.
I suck in a breath. “No. You’re at my house.” It’s not a
lie. Not really.
She scans the room, as if registering the sight of the
cadavers. “You’re the girl whose parents run the funeral home. The Ghoul Girl.”
“It’s gonna be okay,” I tell her.
“Why am I here?” Her breath makes ghosts in the cold air.
“The Sheriff found you, alongside the road.” That’s true
also, even if not the whole truth. “I think we should get you upstairs, so you
can talk to my parents…”
She shakes her head, and her dark hair slaps across her
face. “No. I…Oh my god. I’m here because…somebody thought I was dead?”
I swallow hard. “Yeah.”
Her hands press to the wound on her side. “But I’m not
“I…uh…I think we need to get you to the hospital.” I
tentatively reach toward her, to grasp her arm and guide her upstairs, toward
the light of the much more civilized parlor and rational discussion. This is so
far over my head, and I need my parents to handle it.
She shakes her head. “No. No. No.”
I hold her elbow gently, trying to keep her calm until I can
get her upstairs to my parents. Her skin radiates cold through the sweatshirt,
and I can see that the edges of her neck wound are dry, not seeping so much as
a hint of blood. “Come with me.” I open the door and gently lead her into the
lab, as if I’m herding a frightened cat. She gazes at the stainless-steel
equipment. “I was here. I remember being here.”
“Come upstairs,” I urge, struggling to keep my composure. I
use all the empathy that I’ve learned, dealing with grieving family members,
trying to understand the shock and lead her away from the Body Shop.
She squints up at the buzzing light. “You were here, weren’t
you? You and that woman. Looking at me.”
“My mother,” I say. I’m thinking crap crap crap. I’ve heard of cases of people whose vitals have
dropped far beyond detection, who have awoken in hospital morgues. This has
never happened to us. Not ever. Oh shit. The other body. Maybe it the same
“The woman with that knife…” Her fingers go to her sternum,
where my mother’s scalpel had rested. All of a sudden, Amanda becomes rooted in
place, as immovable as a mountain.
“No one’s going to hurt you,” I promise. “Let me make you
some coffee.”
She shakes her head, and I feel her trembling. Her eyes
slide to the back door.
She slips from my grip. Before I can stop her, she rushes to
the back door. She slams it open with a sound like a gunshot and plunges into
the darkness.


About the Author:
Laura Bickle grew up in rural Ohio, reading entirely too many comic books out loud to her favorite Wonder Woman doll. After graduating with an MA in Sociology-Criminology from Ohio State University and an MLIS in Library Science from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee, she patrolled the stacks at the public library and worked with data systems in criminal justice. She now dreams up stories about the monsters under the stairs. Her work has been included in the ALA’s Amelia Bloomer Project 2013 reading list and the State Library of Ohio’s Choose to Read Ohio reading list for 2015-2016.
More information about Laura’s work can be found at 
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Can’t Let Go by Chrissy Brown

Can’t Let Go
A Georgia Boys Novel
Book One
Chrissy Brown
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Date of Publication: July 19, 2018
ISBN: 978-1717837547
Number of pages: 301
Word Count: 55000
Book Description:
She is beautiful, probably the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, but she’s damaged. Her a-hole exboyfriend broke her. I still want her. I can show her that all men aren’t the same. That I’m different. But time isn’t on my side, I’ve only got a few weeks to make her mine before she’s gone forever.
He’s everything I need to stay away from, handsome, cocky, and irresistible. I try to resist him. I really do, but he’s relentless. Against my better judgment, I give in and let him have me. All of me. I should have known better.
Can’t Let Go is a heart-warming love story about Beau, a country boy with a heart of gold, and Mallory, a woman scorned. The timing couldn’t be more wrong, but sometimes someone walks into your life and you just can’t let them go.

My eyes are
heavy. I lean the seat back and let them drift shut, enjoying the rocking
sensation in my head. The door opens again, and I squeeze my eyes tighter,
casting out its brightness. I can sense a body next to me, but it doesn’t smell
like Shannon. It smells like whiskey, spices, and wood.
Peeling one eye
open, I turn my neck. A black cowboy hat shadows most of the face that is
looking at me. I open both eyes and lift my head off the seat. He tips the
front of his hat at me. I blush, not because I’m flattered, but because people
don’t do things like that where I’m from.
“Hey, there sexy
thay-ung.” He has a thick, southern accent, and his words slur. I press my lips
into a firm line, fighting a smile. The passenger door closes, and the light
goes out. But the glow of the streetlight is just bright enough that we can
still see each other.
 “You’re so day-um pri-eee.” With his thick
drawl, I can’t tell if the over annunciation is from his southern twang or the
“Thanks.” I feel
his eyes on me. My stomach flutters. Why is it fluttering?No. I can’t go down
that rabbit hole again; it’s too soon. Needing a distraction, I grab my phone
from the center console and troll Facebook for pictures from tonight. He can’t
keep flirting if I refuse to look at him.
Mr. Cowboy
shifts in the corner of my eye. The sound of his body moving against the
leather seat is hard to ignore. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his
knees, hands clasped together. What is he doing?
Abruptly, he
turns to me and says, “I’m a bull rider.”
“Excuse me?”
His chest puffs.
He leans closer, his warm whiskey breath blowing on my face. “I’m a bull

About the Author:
Chrissy Brown is a Contemporary Romance and New Adult Romance author. She lives in Central Florida with her husband, twin girls, two dogs, and the neighborhood cat.
She enjoys the simple things in life, like cuddling on the couch watching movies with her family, reading, Netflix, and beach trips. She reads two to three books a week, but favors stories with strong women, true love, and steamy scenes.
When Chrissy is not sitting at her computer, fantasizing about gorgeous country boys, she is teaching third graders how amazing books are…and writing, and math. She has also been an amature wedding photographer and a CNA (to which she gives kuddos but says never again.)

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