a look at ‘The Time’ by Peri Elizabeth Scott #Dystopian #YA


Excerpt:
The quick retreat
wasn’t totally silent. She could hear the sounds of the others, moving quickly
along parallel lines to her own painful effort. Wondering how long she could
keep the burst of energy up, she noted the noises diminished as people worked
their way outward like the spokes of a wheel. Four hundred paces and the air
burned in her lungs. Sh e fought the tough terrain and avoided the thickening
flora, the damn sled hanging up at each and every turn. Her arms burned with
the desperate efforts to free the runners and the hound whined with pain.
Six hundred paces
had her bent doubled over with a stitch in her side. She went to her knees when
the ground sloped away into a small ravine, nearly causing her and Gehlert to
tumble into its depths, the momentum of the heavy sled a terrible burden. It
was the dog who saved them, digging his forefeet in and throwing his body
weight back to settle on his haunches. She hugged him fiercely, his pants and
thundering heartbeat mirroring her own.
Skirting the
ravine took them well away from what she reckoned was a straight path outward
from the original starting point. She scanned the treetops in a near futile
effort to reorient herself. The filtered light told her the sun was at four
o’clock, so she deviated slightly to her right and pushed on, wondering where
the strength to do so had come from.
Having lost count
of her pacing, she chanced another three hundred, using images of what would
happen if they got caught to spur her on. Certain they’d walked a half
marathon, she chose a thick clump of gorse bushes, insanely wondering how
they’d come to flourish this deep in the woods. The hound stepped away from the
harness the instant she freed him and staggered sideways to collapse on a bed
of leaves and other organic debris. Doggedly working to separate the lower
branches of the bushes and wincing at the spiny press of the remaining leaves
despite the cover of her thin gloves, she managed to secret the sled, or at
least muddle the outline of it. She bent thinner twigs to camouflage it further
and made herself take the time to stand back and take as critical a look as she
could. Satisfied, she found another clump of the same vegetation and crawled in
backward, stopping only when her feet couldn’t press any deeper. She then pressed
a dog sized space open to her right.
“Gehlert.” Even a
whisper hurt her parched throat, but she was rewarded with a faint thump of his
tail. “Come.”
The hound visibly
considered her command, ears lowering and eyes drifting before he levered
upward, limping to her. He’d pulled more than his weight and was clearly on the
brink of exhaustion. Even in the dappled light she could see where the harness
had cut harshly into his hide, the thick guard hairs rubbed away. She wanted to
cry. Blinking hard, she swallowed against the emotion.
“Here.” She patted
the small space beside her and he obligingly wiggled in, somehow turning in
place three times before he settled down. Draping an arm over him, she tugged a
few branches into place over, poking herself in the cheek as she did so, then
dropped her head onto the fertile earth.
After a time, her
heart slowed and her breathing returned to normal, as did the hound’s, although
he hitched from time to time with a little gasping noise. At last, she could
focus on her surroundings and actually hear the forest sounds, the faint creak
of living wood, the rustle of a small breeze among the remaining leaves, and
the occasional call of a bird. The ground was reasonably warm, despite the
approach of winter, and with Gehlert pressed close, she wasn’t terribly
uncomfortable. She only wished she’d thought to bring one of the water bottles
into her makeshift shelter, her body crying out for moisture after the forced
march.
Time crept by and
she became aware of how her pistol rested with solid intent against her belly,
the barrel grinding into her hip. Seeing that her weapon was the only thing
between her and whatever was out there hunting them, she cursed fluently under
her breath and hitched up enough to worm a hand beneath her. With some
judicious pulling and peeling back of the layers of clothing, she was able to
free the butt and work the pistol out from under her, blessing her foresight to
set the safety. She brought it up beside her head, one finger through the
trigger, palm resting lightly against the pommel, before she flicked the safety
off.
The hound
stiffened beneath her lax arm and she strained her ears, suppressing a shudder.
Perhaps it was one of the others, off course and passing by, still trudging
those thousand paces, that had alerted him. Or an animal, picking its way
through the trees. Alas, it was the base notes of a number of male voices she
heard, far off, their words indistinct, distorted by the numerous trees and the
uneven terrain—and the sudden escalation of her heartbeat. Stark terror froze
her in place, chilling her blood, making her sex draw up in self-defense. Her
belly clenched in on itself and goose flesh broke out all along her spine. Air
rushed in and out of her nose as she tried hard not to pant, knowing how
foreign the sound would be, how easily heard if someone cared to stop and
listen. Her dog shivered in response to her angst and made a faint whine.
That whimper
awakened her higher brain functions and she gained control. With a firm
squeeze, she signaled Gehlert into silence. They huddled together and waited as
she held her weapon at the ready.
Disjointed phrases
drifted to her ears, accompanied by faint crashing sounds of something larger
than a person.
“…signs of at
least…”
“Over here!”
“…nothing…”
She was certain
she felt a cold stare focused on their location, something malevolent and
inhuman, and remained as still as possible, willing their hidden forms to blend
into the surroundings. Nothing to see here. Just more trees and underbrush. She
prayed there were no dogs, and cast her eyes down, refusing to risk even that
chance of a flicker of awareness.
Minutes passed as
she counted the seconds. Three hundred and sixty, then six hundred and sixty.
Eleven minutes, give or take. The evil stare lingered in her imagination, or
perhaps its owner was still out there, patient as a spider. The adrenalin
leached out of her muscles, leaving her spent and far more fatigued than ever.
She wouldn’t move, wouldn’t make it easier for whoever it was out there to find
her, but felt as though she had nothing left to defend herself if he did. Her
pistol seemed impossibly toy-like against the threat and her knife was still in
her boot.
 

Author Bio:

Peri Elizabeth Scott lives in Manitoba, Canada. After closing her private practice as a social worker and child play therapist, she joined her husband in running their season business where they pretend to work well together.

Writing for years, The Time is a departure from her usual romance genre, but it was a story that had to be told!

Peribeth also pens erotic romance under a different pen name and reads everything she can lay her hands on.

a look at Valerie Willis & ‘Tattooed Angels Trilogy’ @Valerie_Willis @SDSXXTours #Teen #UrbanFantasy

Rebirth
Tattooed Angels Trilogy Book 1
By Valerie Willis
Genre: Urban Fantasy
High school life is almost over, but Hotan’s life as an immortal has only just started…
Already struggling with a mountain of hardships, Hotan is just trying to get his diploma as his mother had always insisted. Friends know if he’s not at home or at the club playing in his band, you can always find him thinking at the old broken down church. Basking in the moonlight, Hotan finds himself under attack by an immortal named Geliah, the element of Fear. Talib, the element of Judgment, interrupts the fight, furious that Geliah would force Hotan to awaken his own abilities and immortality. Normally when pulled out of the reincarnation spell, an immortal would remember whom and what they were, but he is not the Hotan from the Past. Walk beside him as he struggles to keep his chaotic life in order as he tries to break the secrets of his own element, Rebirth.
Judgement
Tattooed Angels Trilogy Book 2
Talib and Hotan find themselves facing off with the element of Death, Iapetos. Failing to take him out, Talib’s life starts flashing before him. As he experiences thousands of years, things that were once forgotten begin to emerge. Will he find the answer in his past in time to aid Hotan?
Valerie Willis, a sixth generation Floridian, launched her first book, Cedric the Demonic Knight, at the start of 2014 on Amazon.com. Since then, she has continued to add to The Cedric Series, a high-rated Paranormal Fantasy Romance Series. This series features an anti-hero who finds himself dragged away from his revenge on his maker by both love and the onset of a larger threat. She pulls in a melting pot of mythology, folklore, history and more into her work with a remarkable amount of foreshadowing that makes reading her books a second time exciting. Rebirth is the first book in her Teen Urban Fantasy, the Tattooed Angels Trilogy, where the main character struggles with social issues with the complications of turning immortal. And if fantasy isn’t your cup of tea, head over to her Blog for some “Val, Tell me a Story” posts featuring true, hilarious, and sometimes bizarre, life events from recent to old.

Paranormal Bar & Grill Tour #SuperNatural #books #Halloween @GoddessFish

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Today we have authors Craig Boyack, Mae Clair, Sandra Cox, Harmony Kent, and Staci Troilo visiting on their Paranormal Bar & Grill Tour. Welcome!

* October starts out warm and sunny, but this is the month when everything changes. Mornings grow frosty, leaves change colors, and the breeze takes on a bite.
* Summer dies.
* It’s a time for harvest celebrations. A boy loans a girl his coat. She snuggles a little closer and takes his hand. A riot of autumn splendor accompanies the farmer’s market where they stroll.
* But the vibrancy of daylight doesn’t compare to the darkness of night. Is that chill on your neck the breeze or something else?
* October night
* You walk a tad faster and look over your shoulder. The trees creak when the wind whips through their branches—at least, you hope that noise came from the undulating bows.
* You check under the bed and inside the closet before climbing under the covers. Sleep doesn’t come easy. The old house groans its complaints, and the night magnifies every innocuous noise until terror paralyzes you—because you know nefarious things go bump in the night.
* 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.

What would you like to tell readers about yourselves?
mediakit_authorphoto_craigboyackCraig Boyack – Just a fiction writer, trying to reach the world.
* Craig came to fiction writing later in life than most authors. He always had to write, to one degree or another as part of various jobs. Early one winter morning, he conquered the Internet and didn’t feel like shoveling the sidewalk until the sun came up. He tried a few pages of fiction and got hooked.
* Craig doesn’t like limitations and calls himself a writer of speculative fiction. It’s a broad field, but he limits himself to science fiction, paranormal, and a bit of fantasy. He has eight published works—six novels and two collections of short stories.

Find Craig Boyack here…
Amazon Author Page | Blog | Facebook | Goodreads | Twitter

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Mae Clair – Mystery & Suspense…with a dash of Myth & Romance
* Genres: Mystery, Psychological Thrillers, Supernatural Suspense, Romantic Suspense
* Quirky fact I don’t want anyone to know: (or maybe I do)….I saw a UFO when I was six. Probably why I write some of the stuff I do. ~ooOOoo~
* They say everyone has a story to tell.
* I wrote my first childish “masterpiece” at six and was immediately bitten by the writing bug. Since then, I’ve been composing nonstop, and have dabbled in multiple genres over the years, writing everything from fantasy, westerns, and horror to inspirational fiction, romance, and sci-fi. It took me a while to find my niche, but I’ve settled comfortably into the mystery/suspense genre (with a just a dash of romance tossed in).
* Several of my earlier works have strong romantic themes, but all are infused with threads of mystery. I have a passion for folklore, myth, and urban legends and that attraction often factors into my writing. You’ll find threads of archaic tales and mysterious places woven throughout many of my novels.
* I am a member of the International Thriller Writers and a past president of the Central Pennsylvania Writer’s Organization. If I’m not camped out at my keyboard or have my nose buried in a book, I’m likely looking up blurry images of cryptids on Google, sorting through vintage photographs or imagining life as a cat.

Find Mae Clair here…
Amazon Author Page | BookBub | Facebook | Goodreads | Google+ | Kensington Publishing | Newsletter | Pinterest | Twitter | Website

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Sandra Cox – Living life. Writing fantasy.
* Sandra writes YA Fantasy, Paranormal and Historical Romance, and Metaphysical Nonfiction. She lives in sunny North Carolina with her husband, a brood of critters and an occasional foster cat. Although shopping is high on the list, her greatest pleasure is sitting on her screened in porch, listening to the birds, sipping coffee or a latte and enjoying a good book. She’s a vegetarian and a Muay Thai enthusiast.

Find Sandra Cox here…
Blog | Facebook | Twitter |

Harmony Kent – The author who gets write into your head.
* Genres: Multi-genre
* Quirky Fact I don’t want anyone to know: Wrote the entirety of The Glade while listening to the Twilight movie soundtrack. And she’s not mentioning the glass of white (ahem) ‘grape juice’ that kept finding its way to her computer station.
* Harmony Kent is famous for her laughter, and has made quite the name for herself … she’s also, um, a writer … and fairly well known for that too. She’s even won a few awards. Harmony lives in rural Cornwall with her ever-present sense of humour and quirky neighbours and refuses to admit to her age.
* If you catch her at work, you’ll see that she also offers editing, proof reading, manuscript appraisal, and beta reading services. Not to mention being passionate about supporting her fellow authors.

Find Harmony Kent here…
Amazon Author Page | Facebook | Goodreads | Twitter | Website

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Staci Troilo – Writing Relationship Wrongs.
* Genres: Romance, Suspense, Paranormal, Mystery, and Mainstream
* Quirky fact I don’t want anyone to know: The socks in my sock drawer and the books on my shelf are arranged in rainbow order.
* I’ve always loved fiction, ever since my parents read me fairy tales when I was little. Today, my interests are much more eclectic. I love getting lost in sci-fi battles, fantasy realms, horror worlds, suspenseful intrigues, and romantic entanglements.
* As goes my reading, so goes my writing. I can’t pick a single genre to focus on, so I don’t even try. I’m proud to say I’m a multi-genre author.
* When I’m not reading or writing, I’m spending time with family and friends, possibly cooking for them, or maybe enjoying an afternoon in the pool. To learn more about me, visit me at my website or connect with me on social media.

Find Staci Troilo here…
Amazon Author Page | BookBub | Facebook | Facebook Reader Group | Goodreads | Google+ | LinkedIn | Newsletter | Pinterest | Twitter | Website

Now a taste of one of the books…

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~ Blurb ~

“Masterful, bone-chilling fiction…one intense thriller. A Thousand Yesteryears will keep you guessing, gasping and turning the pages for more.” — New York Times bestselling author Kevin O’Brien
* Behind a legend lies the truth…
* As a child, Eve Parrish lost her father and her best friend, Maggie Flynn, in a tragic bridge collapse. Fifteen years later, she returns to Point Pleasant to settle her deceased aunt’s estate. Though much has changed about the once thriving river community, the ghost of tragedy still weighs heavily on the town, as do rumors and sightings of the Mothman, a local legend. When Eve uncovers startling information about her aunt’s death, that legend is in danger of becoming all too real . . .
* Caden Flynn is one of the few lucky survivors of the bridge collapse but blames himself for coercing his younger sister out that night. He’s carried that guilt for fifteen years, unaware of darker currents haunting the town. It isn’t long before Eve’s arrival unravels an old secret—one that places her and Caden in the crosshairs of a deadly killer . . .

~ Excerpt ~

* “The phone might be on the fritz,” Eve said as she carried Doreen Sue’s glass to the sink. “I’ve been getting a lot of strange calls with screeches and clicks. I had the phone company check it out, but they couldn’t find anything wrong with the line.” Whatever their verdict, she still wasn’t convinced the odd calls weren’t the fault of an electronic malfunction.
* “Screeches and clicks?” Doreen Sue paused mid-dial, pressing the receiver to her chest. “I’ve heard that happens sometimes when a family member dies.”
* Eve rinsed the glass with water, then set it in the drain board to be washed later. Something cold slithered down her back. “Excuse me?”
* “Your Aunt Rosie.” Doreen Sue bobbed her head as if the answer was obvious. “She might be trying to communicate with you.”
* Eve started to laugh, then quelled the instinctive reaction when she noted Doreen Sue’s expression. The woman wasn’t joking.
* “Spirits often try to converse through electricity and everyday instruments like TVs, lights, and phones. I know it sounds silly, but I follow all of that stuff…horoscopes, psychics, UFO theories.” A wave of her hand said she took only half of it seriously. “I’ve seen some strange things around here, especially by the TNT. I’ve never seen the Mothman, but I remember reading an article about a medium who was convinced her dead husband tried to communicate with her through phone calls. She heard things like amplifier feedback, insect noises, and strange clicks whenever she answered the phone.”
* Eve felt her face drain of color. After talking to a disembodied “thing” in an igloo at the TNT, she should have no problem believing her dead aunt was reaching out to her. She’d sat in the living room only days after arriving and voiced that wish aloud. Aunt Rosie, I wish I understood what was going on. I wish there was some way you could talk to me. The phone calls had started not long afterward. Fluke or answer to her request?

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Buy the books here…
Will O’ the Wisp by Craig Boyack on Amazon | A Thousand Yesteryears by Mae Clair on Amazon | Vampire Island by Sandra Cox on Amazon | The Glade by Harmony Kent on Amazon | Love Set in Stone by Staci Troilo on Amazon

Thank you everyone for joining us here today! It was a pleasure getting to know you and your stories.

 

ANNOUNCEMENT! The authors will be awarding a $50 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour! So be sure to leave a comment AND use this RAFFLECOPTER LINK to enter the drawing. Also, visit the other tour stops for a greater chance of winning!