a look at Beth D. Carter & ‘Dreamland’ #Erotic #TimeTravel #Romance @BethDCarter @evernightpub

Today we have author Beth D. Carter visiting. Welcome!

What would you like to tell readers about yourself?

* I like writing about the very ordinary girl thrust into extraordinary circumstances, so my heroines will probably never be lawyers, doctors or corporate highrollers. I try to write characters who aren’t cookie cutters and push myself to write complicated situations that I have no idea how to resolve, forcing me to think outside the box. I love writing characters who are real, complex and full of flaws, heroes and heroines who find redemption through love. I love to hear from readers!

Find Beth D. Carter here…
Amazon Author Page | Blog/Website | Bookbub | Facebook | Instagram | Twitter

A look into…

~ Blurb ~

* Dicen Burke had it all. As lead singer in the world famous rock band, Dark Army, the world lay at his feet. But the path to super stardom warred with a painful past and during a performance the demons haunting him finally descended. Unable to stop the self-destructive path of alcohol and drugs, when he fell, he fell hard.
* He wakes up in a world he doesn’t know. The Twenty-first century rocker is now in the 1920’s, lost and bewildered. He’s taken in by Juliet Fox, a beautiful woman trying to be a positive influence in her brother’s wild lifestyle among the Hollywood Motion Picture elite.
* Dicen does his best to adapt, and with Juliet by his side, he discovers a world that offers him a clean slate. But when he’s pulled back to the present, separated by time from the one person that gives him a reason to live, will he find a way to push past his demons as well as find Juliet again?

~ Excerpt ~

* “Aren’t speakeasies illegal?” he asked her.
* Tonight, she wore an all-white sleeveless dress that fell into a drop waist where pleats fanned out every time she turned. A string of pearls wrapped around her neck once and then fell past her breast. Her dark hair contrasted sharply with the white hairband, where a large white feather stuck up on the side.
* “Shh!” she hissed, looking around. “Yes, they are, hence the big six standing guard. If the buttons show up, they give a signal and all the hooch disappears. It’s not illegal to dance.”
* “You called me big six once,” he commented. “What does that mean?”
* “Tough guy, as in the six-cylinder engine.”
* “Makes sense,” he mused.
* One man walked up to them, and Juliet handed over some bills. Once the money had changed hands, they were greeted with a grin and the entrance to the speakeasy. Immediately to the left, a long bar rested, with several men in white shirts, white aprons, and black ties working, trying to keep up with the order demands. The area in front of the bar was packed with people, to the point that individual movement was impossible. Dicen kept his hand firmly around Juliet’s as they made their way slowly through the throng. The crowd seemed to sweep them along, and they moved like driftwood upon the ocean, all the while Dicen tried to keep his eyes open for Thayer.v
* Women were dressed in variations of style, from flapper girl to matron. Most men wore hats, coats, and ties. The crowd thinned toward the back and pushed forward, breaking free of the cattle pen so a dance floor opened up. Several tables with chairs surrounded it, and against the far back wall a quartet, consisting of piano, clarinet, trumpet, and cello, played.
* He hadn’t known what to expect when Juliet announced they were going to a speakeasy, but it certainly hadn’t been this. He’d envisioned a dark, dank hole in the wall where people chugged bathtub gin strong enough to strip paint off walls. Instead, he discovered a place where wild and catchy music allowed people to jitterbug around the dance floor. The bright, fun atmosphere invigorated him, and all Dicen wanted to do was hop on stage and bang out a few melodies and share in the revelry.
* Keeping hold of Juliet’s hand, he skirted the dance floor toward the platform stage. Bunting hung from the ceiling and swept outward to hook on various points near the bar, forming a sweeping cave-like setting that helped the music resonate. He didn’t know how to dance like the other people, but he pulled Juliet close and swayed with her to an upbeat, modified version of present-day slow dancing. As a musician, he knew rhythm, so he made sure to keep his hips in tune with the beat. He stared down into Juliet’s smiling face and felt the last wall around his heart shatter.

Buy Dreamland here…
Amazon – US | Evernight Publishing

Thank you for joining us here today, Beth D. Carter! It was a pleasure getting to know you and your story.

a look at Alternative Destiny by Allyson Young #shifters #MMF #paranormal @evernightpub

A Blue Star Shifters Novella
MMF, paranormal
Published by Evernight Publishing ~ May 26, 2020

Blurb

Cassie Fortuna flees back to her own pack, broken-hearted, after discovering her intended’s interest in another woman. Despite shifters being monogamous, it seems Ben isn’t.
* As her twenty-fifth birthday approaches, and her heat, she resigns herself to returning—there is no one for her in Mystic River and her only sibling and her family live in Blue Star. Besides, she’s over Benjamin Kraft.
* Ben hopes Cassie came back for him but is unable to breach her cold façade to finally share his dark secret. Secrets have a habit of coming out, however, and Cassie is stunned by what she learns. Intent on making things up to her, Ben succeeds in winning her back. Having never gotten over him, she embraces their new relationship.
* But Cassie and Ben could be in danger, as well as someone else important to him when others learn his secret. Is the risk worth the reward?

Excerpt

She was cutting the crusts off a peanut butter and jam sandwich when she felt him. He moved almost silently, but her wolf was attuned and threw itself against the boundaries she’d enforced on it. His scent reached her next, that spicy fragrance with a hint of musk, and Cass the woman swallowed a moan.
* After setting the knife down, she transferred the sandwich from the cutting board to a plate before turning with it held in front of her like a tiny shield. Or an offering.
* It took a massive effort, but she met Ben’s stare with a cool, polite one of her own. “Hey, Ben.”
* “Cass.” He sauntered closer and leaned one hip against the fridge.
* Having no desire to engage in small talk, she snagged her cup and moved past him, now intending to eat her breakfast in her room.
* “Jett tells me you’re back for good.”
* “That’s right.” She was nearly out the door when he moved with that deceptive speed he had, grasping her elbow.
* “I’d like an explanation.”
* When hell froze over, not that she’d pretend she didn’t know what he was referring to.
* With a calm she didn’t feel, especially with her wolf begging for freedom, she shifted her weight to face him, and her elbow came loose. “I changed my mind about you. About … us. And I was too chicken to tell you to your face. Sorry. I’m such a girl.”
* He watched her with the same steady regard she remembered so clearly, only without the warmth he’d faked in the past. How he’d charmed her… Old news. She fought her humiliation and looked into his eyes.
* Ben had golden eyes, and she suspected his wolf was almost always at the surface but within his iron control. Thank god for that control because he hadn’t allowed them to become intimate, something that puzzled her to this day. Because surely, if he’d played the amazing sex card—and she just knew it would be amazing because his kisses made her melt—she’d have been a total pushover.
* In any event, passion couldn’t cloud her thinking, even if her wolf might not agree. Her animal hadn’t yet matured, but it still knew what—who—it wanted. Her other side was surely smarter.
* “You’ve changed,” he finally said as she waited him out. “What happened to you?”
* You happened. Shoving back the thought, fearful it would echo in the room, Cassie lifted a shoulder, careful not to spill her coffee. “Nothing happened to me, Ben.”
* Shaking his head, he backed up a little, and she breathed in the extra space. “I don’t get it, but I will. I like puzzles.”
* God help her. With a smirk that hurt the corners of her mouth, she said, “I’m not a puzzle to be solved, sorry. I came back to seek a mate. Jett has granted me permission to make my choice.”
* She blinked at the sudden bleaching of his sun-kissed skin, as if all the life-giving blood had drained away. His eyes narrowed, and his mouth set, a muscle clenching in his jaw. And then his face relaxed, and he laughed. The sound grated across her senses, like fingernails on a chalkboard.
* “Our Alpha has been gradually changing the time-honored rules. Accommodating the females more and more. Some don’t approve, but we need to consider the period we live in, and I’ve been a supporter. Until now.”
* “Excuse me?” The mug of coffee and the plate were weighing her down heavily, like an extra tiny punishment she had to endure as part of the interrogation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
* “It means that when flighty, spoiled females are given the right of choice, I question our Alpha’s wisdom.”
* Successfully defeating the urge to throw her coffee in his face, Cassie found the right words. “I suppose you’ll have to take that up with him. With my brother-in-law. Be sure to mention the spoiled and flighty part.”
* Her comment hit the mark. Ben flinched, barely, but she caught it. He knew he’d crossed a boundary, and she wondered what he’d do to fix it. He surprised her.
* Passing a hand over his face, he said, “Dammit, Cass. What happened between us? I can’t believe we’re sparring like this. I can’t fathom how you left without so much as a goodbye or an explanation. Aside from that note.”
* “You’re sparring, Ben. I’d prefer not to converse at all.” She made her exit as quickly as she could without appearing to flee. How could she tell him what she’d overheard?
* “It’s not over, Cass.” His final words floated behind her, but she pretended not to hear. She didn’t care to interpret his … warning? Promise? Threat?
* She gained the privacy of her room—shades of that fateful night—and shoved the door closed with her hip. Her coffee was lukewarm, and her sandwich had the consistency of flavored paste, but she grimly consumed both. She’d survived her first encounter with Ben and hadn’t given anything away, and had seen him dig himself a hole. With any luck, he’d widen it on his own and fall in.

Buy

https://www.evernightpublishing.com/alternative-destiny-by-allyson-young/  | https://www.amazon.com//dp/B089585DNH | https://www.bookstrand.com/book/alternative-destiny-mmf | https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/alternative-destiny

Author

Peri Elizabeth Scott aka Allyson Young lives in cottage country, Manitoba, Canada where she and her husband pretend to work well together in their seasonal business.
* She has always enjoyed the written word, and after reading an erotic romance, quite by mistake, decided to try her hand at penning one. That was followed by a mix of spicy (Ally) and sweet (Peribeth) romances in various genres as well as a post-apocalyptic adventure without a lick of romance by Peribeth.
*A bestselling Amazon author, a hybrid, and a coauthor, as of May 2020 she has published seven series and several standalones, with others in the works. 

Find her here:
www.perielizabethscott.com | https://www.facebook.com/sweetnspicyauthor/

a look at The Elder Man by Katherine Wyvern #Gay #Fantasy #Romance @KatherineWyvern @evernightpub

Today we have Katherine Wyvern, an amazing artist and wonderful writer, visiting! Welcome, Katherine. 🙂 To see her art relating to her story and learn more about her, be sure to visit the link in the message below that she shared with us.

* Thank you so much for hosting me today with my new release, The Elder Man. This story is very close to my heart, and to my life!
* Over two years ago I made a drawing of my favorite model as an antlered forest god.  It sat quietly in my album for almost 12 months, but it kept pushing invisible roots all over my soul, until suddenly last year, this story began to write itself. It was light and sexy and full of humor (poking fun at city people baffled by the countryside is my revenge for how befuddling the city is to me!) but I soon became aware that there was more to it than met the eye.
* In fact it became a tapestry of all the things I love most in my life, my barely tamed garden and my woods, my animals, my sculpting and natural building, my simple, off grid lifestyle, and the beauty and antiquity of the Dordogne, the region in SW France where I have been living for almost 10 years. I wanted to give a face to the bone-deep magic that I see and feel in all this.
* My forgotten but still powerful forest god is the form I chose to express all that is wondrous, healing and grounding in my life.
* Or maybe *he* chose me, and did his own thing. My characters notoriously tend to do that. I did a number of illustrations, at different times, for this story, and I am delighted that one of them found its way to the cover of the book, thanks to Jay Aheer and Evernight Publishing. You can see them all on my blog, here: https://katherinewyvern.blogspot.com/2020/04/the-art-of-elder-man-coming-tomorrow.html

Blurb

Uncovering and divulging  an outlandish conspiracy will put a hard bump into any journalist’s career, and Armin can only blame himself when he’s dispatched from Frankfurt’s skyscrapers into the depths of rural France on the unglamorous job of writing about a cobbing workshop.
* Natural building is messy, dirty and sweaty work, but it has its consolations. For example, Van, the greying but undeniably hot master cobber teaching the workshop. Sure, the man is a hopeless tree-hugger, with embarrassing notions about ancient folklore and religions, but he’s still worth a week-long fling, right?
* When Van is revealed in all his majesty and power as a long forgotten forest god, however, the week-long fling might well become entangled with eternity, on the edge between life, death, madness, and immortality.

Official Excerpt (PG-13)

It was a recurring human figure, subtly hinted, here and there, never whole, never obvious, always just suggested in the curve of a tree trunk, half hidden in shade, and always crowned with horns or antlers, sometimes real antlers.
* It seemed almost to Armin, once or twice, that Van’s wandering, wavering shadow had antlers of its own. Enough wine, he thought, blinking. What I need is black coffee.
* “Why the antlered man?” he asked over Monica’s voice. The non sequitur took everyone by surprise.
* “Eh?” blared Monica.
* “I beg your pardon?” asked Mark, completely thrown.
* Armin felt suddenly bashful and a little stupid, not to mention rude. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. It’s just that I keep seeing him everywhere, and I wondered…”
* Edith, Meintje and Ella looked at him quizzically, all three head tilted to one side rather comically. Rebekka looked vaguely around, as if trying to catch the shape that everyone had missed.
* Armin decided he could either explain or let them all think he was stoned, drunk, or tripping, so he pointed with his index finger to the wall. “I am not hallucinating. Look, right there by the window. And there, where the shelf meets the pillar. You can see an arm and a shoulder. And just outside the fireplace, near the table. He pops up all over the sculptures, if you look.”
* Van was smiling. Jean-Pierre harrumphed, frowning, and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Allie shot him a quick apprehensive glance.
* “Why the antlered man? Who is it?” repeated Armin, a little confused, looking at Van.
* Van shrugged. “He’s … Amun, and Silvanus and Pan, and the Leshy and Veles and Svyatibor … even the Minotaur, perhaps. There is a picture of him as old as fifteen thousand years in a cave in the Ariege, la grotte des Trois-Frères. The Sorcerer. Prancing fellow with antlers and a thumping big dong.”
* Every woman in the room, including the young girls, giggled.
* “Van!” said Allie.
* He grimaced theatrically. “Sorry. All these old horned males. What can I say?”
* “Van!”
* “Anyway, some would say he’s the Devil, too, and Baphomet. And lately, just the Horned God. It all got twisted about since the Christians started messing with the old deities. And the Wiccans just made one big stew of it all to cover all the bases and be on the safe side. They may not be wrong however. In France, the Gauls came to call him Cernunnos or Carnonos or Cerunincos, which all simply mean the horned one or the antlered one. I suppose we might go with Cernunnos.”
* He smiled.
* Allie looked at him adoringly. Jean-Pierre scoffed.
* “Wherever you look, there was always a god of the forest, the earth, the water… a god of low places, valleys, sources, meadows. His trees were always small trees. Healing trees. The willow, the elder, the rowan. Not a sky god. Not a war god. He was also, as often as not, a god of agriculture and fertility. And death and healing, even resurrection.  Fall, winter, and spring, the seasons. Nature again. It was easy in the old days to believe in such a divinity. And it was wise to pay tribute to him. Forests, fields, death, rebirth, the cycles and forces of nature were rather more … central.”
* “They still seem central enough in this place,” said Edith, smiling.
* Van bowed.
* “But why the antlers?” asked Josefine. “It seems awfully impractical, even for a forest god.”
* Van gave a wry laugh. “It sure is,” he said. But then he sobered and added, “There has always been something mystical about the stag and his antlers, in all the old Indo-European cultures. The stag was important enough to have his own constellation, roughly where modern astronomers place Ophiuchus. The Celts put it nicely, saying that the stag carried the solar disk in his crown. His antlers and his strength are greatest in the autumn, and they are lost in the winter and emerge again in the spring. He incarnates the death of nature and its awakening. He and Cernunnos are avatars of the fall, of the death of nature and its rebirth. Cycles again.”
* “Is that why he’s sculpted everywhere?” asked Armin. “Do you, like—er—believe? In this… god?”
* Van scratched his graying beard and gave him a roguish grin. “Let’s put it this way. Just on the off chance he’s still walking about in these parts, I’d rather not piss him off. Those olden gods…” He waved a hand and rolled his eyes, and everyone laughed, but Armin held eye contact with him for a moment and had a feeling Van had not spoken completely in jest.

Beautiful drawing, isn’t it? ❤

Buy

Find it on Amazon (free sample available):

Or (with 25% discount and a hot excerpt) at Evernight Publishing: https://www.evernightpublishing.com/the-elder-man-by-katherine-wyvern/