Are You Looking for Halloween Reads? Get into the Paranormal Bar & Grille Tour! (Giveaway)

It’s the perfect time for some spooky or scary reading, right? If you’re looking for something to read this season, check out these five paranormal books we’re featuring today!

Welcome to the Paranormal Bar & Grille Blog Tour!

…where you can rub elbows with everyone from a gargoyle or vampire, to a creature from urban legend, or the ghostly realms of myth. Step up to the bar, grab a booth. You never know what’s on the menu, or if you might end up there yourself.

Sound like your kind of hangout? Then you’ve come to the right place. We’re a group of five authors who love nothing more than to trigger the chill that crawls up your back, the nervous glance tossed over your shoulder. We invite you to discover outstanding books and check out our awesome tour prizes.

Just be careful of what the bartender serves you. That heady brew may not be a beer, and witches can’t be trusted to provide effective antidotes.

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Continue reading “Are You Looking for Halloween Reads? Get into the Paranormal Bar & Grille Tour! (Giveaway)”

Review of Skinshaper (Rend the Dark #2) by Mark Gelineau and Joe King

I think I’ve been pretty clear that I’m a big fan of the Ascended series by Gelineau and King. I love the different storylines but my favorites so far are that of Ferran in Rend the Dark and Elinor of Reaper. Today I’m stoked to feature Skinshaper, the second novella in the Rend the Dark series.

Read on to know more about the book and check out my review!

Continue reading “Review of Skinshaper (Rend the Dark #2) by Mark Gelineau and Joe King”

Review: Rend The Dark by Mark Gelineau and Joe King

Rend the Dark by authors Mark Gelineau and Joe King is out today! I read this author duo’s first story A Reaper of Stone just last month and I found it so promising that I was so excited for the chance to read another one of their stories. In their blog, the authors describe Rend the Dark as a good old-fashioned action horror adventure. I happen to love horror and adventure so I was stoked to read it.

Read more about the book below and check out my review.

Continue reading “Review: Rend The Dark by Mark Gelineau and Joe King”

Blog Tour & Giveaway: A Prescription for Delirium (Van Helsing Organization #1) by Noree Cosper

Please enjoy this guest post (titled Voodoo vs Hoodoo) by author Noreen Cosper and read an excerpt from her new release A Prescription for Delirium (Van Helsing Organization #1).

Don’t forget to enter the giveaway on this blog! :)

About the book

Ninety years ago, Gabriella di Luca promised to protect the family of her dying lover. She failed to keep that promise. She was too far away to stop the devil that murdered the eldest Van Helsing son. Years later, Gabby learns the devil has resurfaced. She arrives in Hampton, TX, determined to stop the devil before it can lay a bloody hand on the remaining three brothers.

However, madness is spreading through Hampton. She suspects the devil is using this madness to test a drug which has a side effect of demonic possession. Gabby rushes to end the source of the madness only to fall victim to it. For a woman cursed with eternal life, dying is no threat. However, Gabby must stop the devil’s plot or risk losing her most precious possession: her mind.

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Smashwords

 

Guest Post

Voodoo vs Hoodoo

by Noree Cosper

Little burlap dolls, black candles, whispered chants. These are some of the images that come to mind when Voodoo or Hoodoo is mentioned.  Many believe that Hoodoo and Voodoo are the same. Both have roots in Africa and are made up of mixed beliefs including pagan traditions, ancient worship, and elements of European religions. Though they have several similarities, they are really different.

In actuality, Voodoo is an actual religion and institution with established practices like religious leaders, teaching, and services or rituals. Voodoo invokes the power of the loas (spirits), the African gods and, deities. It is not connected to any other religion. The specific term for a Voodoo practitioner is a Vodouisant. Voodoo is not just a religion but a culture and a way of life.

Hoodoo, on the other hand, adheres to no organized religion and is considered folk magic. In fact, practitioners use both the loas and the religious saints of Catholicism as well as spiritualism. Hoodoo actually developed because those who practiced wanted to hide its African origins. Most of the population, who was largely Christian, considered the worship pagan and therefore bad. Practitioners see Hoodoo as a sort of personal power. The magic is based on inclinations, desires, interests, and habits. They access the loas, gods, and other supernatural forces in order to bring changes, good or ill, in peoples’ lives. It focuses on the magic and the benefits it can bring.

So, in short, Voodoo is a way of life while Hoodoo can be more of a hobby.

Giveaway

One random commenter on this blog will win an e-book copy of A Prescription for Delirium! Just leave a comment and way for me to contact you. This giveaway will run for the entire duration of the tour.

There is also a tour-wide giveaway for a printed copy of the book plus swag! Visit the tour page to enter.

About the Author

Noree Cosper loves writing about magic in the modern world. While growing up in Texas she constantly searched for mystical elements in the mundane. She buried her nose in both fiction and books about Wicca, Religion, and Mythology. Everyday became an adventure as she joined a group of role-players, acting out her fantasies of vampires, demons, and monsters living in the world. She embraced her nerdom wholeheartedly. Noree grew, but never left her love for fantasy and horror. Her dreams pushed her and her hand itched to write the visions she saw. So, with her fingers on the keys, she did what her heart had been telling her to do since childhood. She wrote.

Website | Blog | Twitter | Facebook

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

Hampton, TX, Present Day
Not five minutes in this backwater town and I had a demon sniffing my trail. He scanned the room with the nostrils of his wide nose flaring. His hair lay plastered against his forehead in greasy brown locks. He towered over everyone, even the people standing, as he squeezed between the large round tables and the gathering at the bar. The frayed threads of his jeans and his leather vest matched the dress of the rest of the roadhouse.

I lifted my drink to my mouth and shifted to my second sight. Most people say the eyes are the windows to the soul. Those people can’t see auras. The lights on the walls dimmed, and the air took on a gray haze, like seeing things under water. Colors bloomed out from each human in the building, blending together in a rainbow. The demon was another matter.

The shaggy black dog the size of a pony stood semi-imposed on all fours over the form of the man. Flames blazed from its eyes as it scanned the room. Was there really a dog walking through a busy Texas bar? No. Demons had no corporeal form and had to possess physical bodies. This one chose a werewolf. Dio, I had a hellhound on my ass.

Talk about bad timing. Ose already had some of his minions patrolling. If it found me, it would go running to its master to let him know I was in town. My hunt was in danger of ending before it even started.

Breathe, Gabby.

I leaned forward and let my black curtain of hair obscure my face. The lid of the salt shaker twisted off in my empty hand and I knocked it over, allowing the grains to spill on the floor. The salt should cover my scent. I slid closer to the group at the next table until I looked like I belonged with them.

One of the men grinned at me, his aura a happy yellow orange. “Hey babe.”

I nodded and raised my glass, but kept my gaze on the hellhound. He paused at a man at the bar who had caught my attention, or more his aura did. A ghostly image of a woman leaned over him, whispering in his ear. My hand tightened around the beer mug, but the mutt moved on. I relaxed. The colors around the people in the bar faded, as did the ghost woman when my sight returned to normal. The haze remained, more from cigarette smoke. I turned my head to the front of the bar. One window and one door were not much of an escape route. Fifty feet of inebriated patrons stood between me and freedom.

Two of the three men I had been waiting for walked through the door. A familiar tingle ran down my spine. For a moment, I flashed back to a dressing room, staring down another Romanian hunter. We’d come across the same prey, though he thought it was a vampire. I inhaled, bringing myself back to the present. This wasn’t the twenties, I wasn’t in Paris, and these brothers weren’t Dimitri.

Both had his chiseled features and his straight nose, though their hair was more of a burnt sienna. The one in front wore his cut short and had a tuft on his chin. He towered over his brother, which meant he would be a mountain compared to my small height. The other kept his hair tucked behind his ears. He stood with his arms crossed, wearing a smirk to let the world know he knew everything.

They cast their eyes over the room. The tall one adjusted the glasses on his face and approached the man sitting at the bar. Several women watched them as they passed. A smile touched my lips. The boys knew how to dress to make an impression. Their leather coats and slacks spoke of sophistication yet still provided enough flexibility to move if needed.

I stood and nodded at the boys who’d been trying to talk to me. Rude, but it was time to work. Besides, they were too young for me. I straightened my red tank top and brushed any wrinkles from my jeans. I couldn’t approach them looking like a guttersnipe. A stool opened up on the other side of them. I took the seat and tried to look casual while listening in on the brothers’ conversation. The bartender stood in front of me, waiting for an order.

I pointed to a beer and leaned back to get a better look at the third man. His back remained mostly to me, giving me a glimpse of his bearded cheek and a ponytail a shade darker in color than the other two. Brother number three. I inched forward to hear better over someone’s bad rendition of “Bad Moon Rising.”

“Ader.” The tall man spoke in Romanian. “Your prison sentence hasn’t ended yet.”
“I got out for being brilliant,” the man at the bar said without turning around.
“Does the warden know that?” the third one asked.

If I remembered correctly, this generation of Van Helsings had four boys. Adam, the oldest, had passed away ten years ago. So that left Esais, Adrian, and Tres. The smirking boy had to be Tres he looked the youngest. Was Ader short for Adrian? Ader chuckled. “The warden didn’t have much of a say.”

Esais, the tall one, pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. He shook his head, letting out a long sigh as he looked at his brothers.

“Honestly,” he said. “First you end up in jail, and now you’re breaking out. You haven’t changed.”
“You expected me to?” Adrian asked.
“Why are you here?” Esais asked.
“Same reason as you. Revenge.”
Tres crossed his arms. “Why do you even care? You were never around when we needed you.”

Adrian turned to face his brothers, causing both of them to gasp. A patch covered his right eye while the other stared hard at Tres. Esais reached out to touch Adrian’s arm, but he pulled away.

“What happened?” Esais asked.
“Not important.” Adrian turned back to the bar. “Who were you told to meet?”
“A woman named Gabriella Di Luca.”
“Any idea what this woman looks like?”

Esais glanced in my direction with hesitation and opened his mouth.

I cleared my throat, raising my hand in a small wave. “Buna seara.”

Adrian and Tres turned their heads with near identical expressions of distrust. They didn’t expect someone to speak their native language here. I was a stranger invading their family circle.

“Who are you?” Adrian asked.
“Gabriella.”
“Convenient.” The word dripped with sarcasm.

We didn’t have time for this. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. My gaze traveled to the table-filled area further in the room. The hellhound’s wiry form had disappeared through a large door to the right. The atrocious singing wafted through there. This would be a perfect time to exit.

“We need to speak, but not here,” I said.
“We’re not going anywhere with you.”
“Ader,” Esais said.
Adrian looked back at his brother. “We have no proof she is who she claims to be.”
“He’s right. You could be a demon,” Tres said.
“Then you already revealed yourselves with your conversation,” I said. “Look, how much do you know of demons?”
“I’ve read several books on the subject,” Esais said. “That question doesn’t answer our doubts.”
“Do I fit the description you were given?”

Esais adjusted his glasses before nodding.

“Then, can we leave? I may not be one, but there is a demon here.”

Two turned their heads, their muscles tensing as they scanned the bar while Adrian kept his eye on me. The hellhound stepped back into the room and turned his head in my direction. His gaze locked on me, and he began shoving his way through the crowded tables and chairs.

I stood. “Too late.”

Blog Tour: The Burning Time by JG Faherty

Yay blog tour! This is for The Burning Time, a horror novel by author JG Faherty. I was really tempted to review this book for the tour but I know I have to stick to my review pile for now. Check out the excerpt! It’s muy scary.

About the book

Wherever The Stranger goes, evil follows. Wild dogs roam the fields. Townspeople turn on each other in murderous fury. Innocent women throw themselves off bridges. Swimmers disappear, victims of a deadly beast that haunts their waters. And the worst is still yet to come. The Stranger plans to open a gateway to the nether realms and release the Elder Gods to bring forth Chaos on Earth.

Only one man knows the truth, a country mage whose family has fought The Stranger before. But can he defeat his ageless enemy before Hastings Mills is nothing but a smoking ruin and the townspeople become unwilling blood sacrifices to the Old Ones? With only the help of a young woman and her teenage son, he will have to use all of his arcane knowledge to thwart his adversary and prevent the final apocalypse. In Hastings Mills, The Burning Time has arrived.

 

Read an excerpt

Chapter 1

The worst heat wave anyone could remember gripped the upstate New York town of Hastings Mills in a humid, heavy fist that had tempers flaring faster than beer and lemonade could douse them. Everyone agreed it was just a matter of time before either the sky opened up and finally gave them some much-needed rain or someone grabbed a gun and started shooting from the school roof, the way that fellow from the college did back in ’87.

Had they known what was coming, more than a few would have packed their things and headed out for a long vacation. Most folks would have stayed, though.
That’s just the way things are in small towns.

* * *

Christa Jennings closed her eyes, spread her arms wide, and listened. The warm night breeze carried the sounds of summer: frogs and crickets chirping, night birds calling softly. The distant sound of a car horn.
Thirty feet below the bridge, something splashed in the river—a fish perhaps, or maybe a frog.

Christa ignored the sounds and waited for the Voice, the one that had called her from bed and told her to go to the bridge.

The breeze washed over her naked body, tickling her nipples into tiny, hard peaks. She shivered. Her entire being tingled, like the time she’d let Jimmy Rollins put his hand down her pants. He’d gotten mad when she refused to let him go further, and the next day he’d broken up with her before first period.

That’s right, Christa, the Voice said. He left you because you weren’t good enough for him. But now he wants you back. You still want him, don’t you?

A tear rolled down her cheek. She did. Not a night went by that she didn’t think about him.
What should I do? she asked the Voice.
Look down, my child. He’s waiting for you. Just jump into his arms.
Christa smiled and stepped off the bridge.

Below the dark waters of the Alleghany River, deeper than the river bottom itself, something waited in hungry anticipation, its eternal craving for blood and flesh unquenchable.

Marla Jennings sat up in bed, her mouth open in a silent scream. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead and between her ample breasts. A nightmare. Something about her daughter. So horrible…

“Christa?” she whispered.
In the backyard, Max, their Golden retriever, let loose a terrible howl.
Marla burst into tears.

* * *

The man in the black shirt with the white-and-black collar jumped down from the cab of the eighteen-wheel truck and turned to grab his battered suitcase from the footwell. The hard, rough scales of the snakeskin leather reflected rainbow colors in the yellow afternoon sun.

“Here you go, Father,” the driver called down to him. “Sure you don’t want me to take you all the way into town? It’s hotter than Hell… heck out there.”

The man with the suitcase shook his head. He had straight, raven-black hair that seemed too long for a man of the cloth, at least in the truck driver’s mind. Young priests today ain’t nothin’ like the ones I grew up listening to. Too full of liberal nonsense.

“Thank you, but it won’t be necessary. My legs can use the exercise.”
“Well, you have a good day, Father. Glad I could help.”
“Bless you and have a good day as well.”

He thought about telling the driver to make a last call home, because before nightfall he’d be dead, crushed in the cab of his overturned truck somewhere on Route 16.

Instead, he shut the door and waved as the truck pulled back onto the highway, the amplified goose-call of the air horn trailing behind as the driver headed toward his rendezvous with death.

He waited until the long-haul rig had disappeared into the hazy heat waves rising from the asphalt before turning north toward Hastings Mills.

A short walk brought him to a bridge that crossed over the Alleghany River. To his right was Riverside Park, where a few children were tossing a baseball. To his left, acres and acres of corn, the stalks already five feet high, extended as far as the eye could see.

Instead of crossing the bridge, he made his way down the sloping hillside to the river itself. He climbed over the chest-high levee and down to the water. Overhead, a sudden gathering of dark clouds slid across the sky, dimming the afternoon light to gray. Kneeling on a wide stone so as not to muddy his pants, he dipped his hands into the water. Warmed from days of sun and lack of rain, the water barely cooled his skin as he dug his fingers into the mud, grinding the soil and grit in his fists.

“My Lords and Gods, hear my prayer. Help me bring your Words to these people, so they too may follow your path.”

The calm water reflected his face back to him as he spoke. Against the pale color of his skin, his coal-black eyes were bottomless wells. The image staring at him from the surface was that of a man about forty, with a thin, angular face and a long neck. Yet somehow it conveyed a feeling of great age, of knowledge well beyond his physical years. He spread his lips and then frowned at the yellowish, crooked teeth his smile exposed. It wasn’t the appearance he would have chosen for himself.

No matter. Time to begin.

Grabbing his iridescent suitcase, he climbed back up the hill with great ease, his long, thin limbs and body moving with the same deliberate, silent fluidity as a praying mantis climbing a tree.

Fifteen minutes of walking brought him to the gates of Perpetual Hope Cemetery. The wide, neatly-groomed lawns, the ground gently rolling in a series of slight hills, extended all the way to the back lawn of the Our Lady of Perpetual Hope church.

The reverend ran a hand along the wrought iron fence as he walked down Main Street, treading on sidewalk now that he’d entered the city limits. When he reached State Street, the other main road in town, he turned left. Another hundred feet brought him to the entrance of the church. The wide staircase, twenty-five cement steps tall, rose up in front of him.

On the large sign by the sidewalk, someone had replaced the usual announcements with a greeting:

Welcome Reverend Cyrus Christian

Putting on his best smile, he started up the stairs, eager to get started. Somewhere far behind the church, back where the only sounds were the whisper of wind through corn and the laughing calls of hungry crows, a dog howled. Before long, several others had joined it.

* * *

The man with the silver hair stood at the outskirts of Hastings Mills and listened. Behind him, the sun descended through the rapidly thickening cloud cover in a riot of purples, reds, and oranges. He wore a black jacket of indeterminate style that was far too heavy for the tropical-level heat.

Over the faint sounds of music, shouting voices, and car engines coming from town, he heard howling and barking in the distance.

It could mean nothing. Dogs bayed all the time, especially farm dogs. Or it could mean he’d followed the right road, read the signs correctly.

Lifting a small, road-worn leather satchel that resembled the black bags doctors once carried, he entered Hastings Mills.

About an Author

JG Faherty grew up in the haunted Hudson Valley region of New York, and still resides there. Living in an area filled with Revolutionary War battle grounds, two-hundred year-old gravesites, ghosts, haunted roads, and tales of monsters in the woods has provided a rich background for his writing. A life-long fan of horror and dark fiction, JG enjoys reading, watching movies, golfing and hiking with his wife and dogs, volunteering as an exotic animal caretaker, and playing the guitar. His favorite holiday is Halloween (naturally), and as a child, one of his childhood playgrounds was an 18th century cemetery.

JG’s first novel, CARNIVAL OF FEAR, was released in 2010. His next book, THE CEMETERY CLUB, came out in 2011, followed by GHOSTS OF CORONADO BAY and THE COLD SPOT. His other credits include more than two dozen short stories in major genre magazines and anthologies. If you see him at a horror convention, feel free to buy him a Guinness.

You can find also him on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, and LibraryThing.

Spotlight: A Shade of Vampire by Bella Forrest

Today we’re featuring a new book with another interesting take on the ever popular vampire legend. Read more about the book and even get a sneak preview of the first 6 chapters!

A Shade of Vampire

On the evening of Sofia Claremont’s seventeenth birthday, she is sucked into a nightmare from which she cannot wake.
A quiet evening walk along a beach brings her face to face with a dangerous pale creature that craves much more than her blood.

She is kidnapped to an island where the sun is eternally forbidden to shine.
An island uncharted by any map and ruled by the most powerful vampire coven on the planet. She wakes here as a slave, a captive in chains.

Sofia’s life takes a thrilling and terrifying turn when she is the one selected out of hundreds of girls to join the harem of Derek Novak, the dark royal Prince.

Despite his addiction to power and obsessive thirst for her blood, Sofia soon realizes that the safest place on the island is within his quarters, and she must do all within her power to win him over if she is to survive even one more night.

Will she succeed? …or is she destined to the same fate that all other girls have met at the hands of the Novaks?

Read an Excerpt

I’d been meandering along the shore for about an hour when I suddenly sensed that I wasn’t alone. Someone was approaching me from behind. My heart leapt. I was so sure it was Ben, that when a stranger showed up beside me, I couldn’t hide my disappointment.

He must have noticed, because a smirk formed on his lips. “Were you expecting someone else, love?”

I eyed him suspiciously, remembering how many times my father had told me not to talk to strangers. I looked him over, taking in his appearance. My eyes widened. I couldn’t find words to describe how fine a man he was. He was almost beautiful. The first thing I took notice of was how his blue eyes were about three shades brighter than any I’d ever seen before. It was such a stark contrast to his pale – almost white – skin and dark hair. Standing beside me, he was easily more than half a foot taller. His height, broad shoulders and lean build reminded me of Ben, but he had a presence that was far more imposing than my best friend’s.
My gaze settled on his face.

I realized that he was inspecting me just as closely as I was him. His eyes on me suddenly made me feel uncomfortably vulnerable. I gave my father’s advice a second thought, but quickly canceled out all notions of heeding to his counsel when I reminded myself that he stopped caring a long time ago.

I straightened to my full height and mustered all the courage I had to keep myself from running away from this stranger.

Big mistake.

The confident smirk didn’t leave his face for even a moment.

“Like what you see?”

“A bit full of yourself, aren’t you?” I scoffed, annoyed by his audacity.

He stepped forward, closer to me, and leaned his head toward mine.

“Don’t I have the right to be?”

He knew he looked good and wasn’t about to act like he didn’t.

“Whatever,” was my oh-so-brilliant comeback.

My shoulders sagged with defeat as I took a step back, unsettled by how close he was now. I rolled my eyes and did a one-eighty, not quite in the mood to play whatever game this stranger was proposing.

I would soon realize that I was about to play his game whether I liked it or not.

He grabbed my arm and turned my body to face him. This motion alone made every single internal alarm I had within me go off in a frenzy.

This man was danger and I knew it. I tried to wriggle away from his touch, but I was no match for his strength.

“Tell me your name,” he commanded.

I was about to refuse, but was horrified to find myself blurting out my name in response.

“Sofia Claremont.”

As soon as I revealed my name, his eyes lit up with a kind of sinister approval. Then he reached for my face and traced his thumb over my jaw line.

“Hello, Sofia Claremont. You’re one stupid girl for taking a walk alone at this time of night. You never know what kind of evil a pretty little thing like you could happen to come by.”

I found myself wondering exactly what kind of evil he was. But I was suddenly overcome by the sensations that were surrounding me. My senses took in everything at once. I heard the waves, felt the sand, smelled the ocean salt, tasted the flavor of cherry and saw the stranger’s manic appearance as he stuck a needle to my neck. The effect was instant. I was barely able to gasp, much less scream. I went from sensing everything to sensing absolutely nothing.

My last conscious thought was that I may never see Ben again.

You can get an exclusive free “sneak preview” of the first 6 chapters by clicking here.

About the Author

I’ve been telling stories pretty much since I could talk. Instead of having my parents read me bed-time stories, I would prefer to share with them my own made up tales.

As I grew older, I developed a passion for the fantasy genre.

I’m an avid reader and a hopeless Potterhead.

If you sign up for personal email updates from me here: www.forrestbooks.com, you’ll be the first to hear about my new releases.

Links: 
Facebook | TwitterGoodreads Amazon US | Amazon US Kindle | Amazon UK | Amazon UK Kindle

Care for a viral apocalypse? A review of The Passage by Justin Cronin.

What are virals, you say? Some call them smokes, jumps, or dracs. They’re lightning fast, strong, and utterly vicious. And they have a taste for blood. Imagine the world getting run over by these terrifying creatures. This is my review of Justin Cronin’s The Passage, one of the best books I’ve read in a while.

About the book 

“It happened fast. Thirty-two minutes for one world to die, another to be born.”

First, the unthinkable: a security breach at a secret U.S. government facility unleashes the product of a chilling military experiment. Then, the unspeakable: a night of chaos gives way to sunrise on a nation, and ultimately a world, turned to hell. All that remains is the long fight ahead for the stunned survivors faced with a future ruled by fear—of darkness, of death, of a fate far worse.As civilization crumbles, two people flee in search of sanctuary. FBI agent Brad Wolgast is a good man haunted by what he’s done in the line of duty. Six-year-old orphan Amy Harper Bellafonte is a refugee from the doomed scientific project, and Brad is determined to protect her. But, for young Amy, escaping is only the beginning of a much longer odyssey—spanning miles and decades—toward the time and place where she must finish what should never have begun in the first place.

Continue reading “Care for a viral apocalypse? A review of The Passage by Justin Cronin.”

Review of Kavachi’s Rise (The Devouring #1) by Mike Kearby

Today I have a review of Kavachi’s Rise by Mike Kearby. I was trying to cut down on blog tours since I  already have so many books on my review list, but when I saw the tour invite and read the blurb, I just couldn’t pass it up. This very interesting book is the first in The Devouring series. Check out the blurb, excerpt, and my short review after the jump!

Continue reading “Review of Kavachi’s Rise (The Devouring #1) by Mike Kearby”

Review, Guest Post & Giveaway – The Division of The Damned by Richard Rhys Jones

I joined this blog tour because I was really intrigued by the premise of this book. It’s about vampires! But the kind that I like–evil, diabolical, deceiving, and without any remorse. What would have happened in World War 2 if the Third Reich had vampires on their side? Interesting, yes? Read on to know more! Plus check out a guest post by the author, read a really cool excerpt from the first chapter (vampires!!), and join the giveaway for a chance to win 5 paperback copies and 10 ebook copies of The Division of The Damned (open worldwide).

Continue reading “Review, Guest Post & Giveaway – The Division of The Damned by Richard Rhys Jones”

Let the Right One In (John Ajvide Lindqvist)

Swedish movie cover

MWAHAHA I finally found a copy of the book after searching high and low. I looked for it in National Bookstore Greenbelt 1, Powerbooks Greenbelt 4, Powerbooks Glorietta, Fullybooked Glorietta 5, before finally finding a copy in the giant Fullybooked High Street. It was the last available copy too and had a teeny weeny chip off the top corner of the cover. Fullybooked lady refused to give me a discount because the book’s “new and in demand.” That foo!

Swedish book cover
Anyway, I don’t like the cover much. It doesn’t really call me. It’s a scene from the Swedish film version. I wish they had an English version of the book with the Swedish edition cover. If I didn’t know anything about the book, the Swedish book cover is just the sort of cover that would make me want to read the book if I see it in a bookstore. Know what I mean?
I’m only on the first few pages and already there’s death – bloody murder to be exact. Ooh, chilling.

World War Z

I’ve yet to buy the Last Watch (last book of the Night Watch series!) so I borrowed this one, World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War, from my sister in the meantime. The book is a collection of interviews from survivors of the zombie war. It talks about the nature of people as individuals and as part of a collective. It touches on political and social issues, too. Very interesting and somewhat scary stuff.

What would you do if the world was overrun by the living dead? Would you have survived the war? If you want to know your odds, you can head on over to the book’s official site and find out. Apparently my chances of survival had I lived during the zombie war is 28%. Waah.