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Guardian by Courtney Cole Release Day Launch!


Guardian RDL Banner

 

We are absolutely over the moon excited about the Release Day Launch for Courtney Cole’s GUARDIAN!!! GUARDIAN is a YA Paranormal Romance, and a book close to Courtney’s heart. Not only is this fabulous book back in a big way, it’s Courtney’s birthday! To celebrate all of the awesome she is making a few select titles only .99 TODAY ONLY! Grab them all and thank us later.

Guardian

Barnes and Noble (Coming as soon as it goes LIVE!)

GUARDIAN Synopsis:

Sometimes, things that go bump in the night are real.

My name is Whitney Lane. I’m sixteen years old and at first, I thought I was crazy.

I kept seeing shadows move along walls, and hearing whispers around corners, but whenever I looked, there was never anything there.

Until one day, there was.

Our world isn’t what we think. There are things around us, good things, bad things, scary things.

Things that we tell ourselves aren’t real, but they are.

They’re very real, and they’re terrifying.

I’ve been swept up now, in a battle of good and evil, confused about love and what is supposed to be love, but isn’t. I don’t know what to think anymore. I can’t trust my emotions and I don’t know what is true.

There’s only one thing I know for sure.

Nothing is what it seems.

Guardian Available now

 

Excerpt:

Sometimes the things that go bump in the night are real.

Happy birthday to me.

I close my eyes and burrow into my pillow as I try to sleep, as I try to escape this life.

It’s a life I never thought I’d have, a life I most certainly don’t want.

I’m still feeling sorry for myself as the blackness of sleep finally overtakes me.

I don’t know what time it is when I shoot straight upward like a rocket. Something had yanked me from the oblivion of sleep, something loud and shrill scraping my window.

My room is completely dark and I glanceat my clock in confusion.

3:00 a.m.

As my heart pounds hard against my ribcage, I quickly scan every corner of the room.

In the last few hours, dark shadows had migrated onto my pink walls, but they’re familiar, nothing out of the ordinary, although in the night, they seem twisted and scary.

I remain motionless as I allow the sleep-induced fog to clear from my brain.

As I sit, I feel common sense and logic slowly returning.

Of course nothing had touched my window because my bedroom is on the second floor. Nothing can reach it. And there are no trees near enough to brush against it. It was just a dream.

It was only a dream.

I chant it silently to myself like a mantra as I consciously slow my breathing down, hoping that my racing pulse will soon follow. It was only a dream.

But just as I’m calming down, I hear it again.

A high-pitched shrill shriek, reminiscent of fingernails on a chalkboard, scraping down my window. I gasp and pull my feet up to my chest, which is when I notice the temperature.

I notice because I can see my breath.

Timidly, I blow a puff out again, watching the way my breath turns white in the air.

Holy crap. Oh my God.

What the hell?

The sound stops and stillness surrounds me once again, the silence so loud that it echoes in my ear.

Nothing moves around me, the shadows are perfectly still as they twist across my wall. They look like mangled fingers and arms and legs, but they don’t move.

My legs are weak and shaking, but I know I have to move. I have to move off my bed because it feels like something is under it. Something terrifying.

With a leap, I bound across the room, my feet hitting the floor several feet away from the edge of my bed.

The floor is ice cold, as though it had been covered in a blanket of snow.

I’m trembling as I race to the far wall and check the thermostat. Because that’s the only explanation. I must’ve bumped it earlier, I must’ve turned the AC way down.

But the luminous numbers stare at me in contradiction.

74 degrees.

It must be broken. It has to be broken.

My breath is coming in pants now, terrified, anxious pants.

My fear isn’t logical. I know there’s nothing here. I’m the only one in this room.

Or am I?

The air seems to push at me from all around, something dark, something heavy, something real. Something unseen.

My fingers shake, my legs tremble, and then all of a sudden, they can no longer support my weight. I go down like a pile of bricks, collapsing onto the floor. I lie still because I can’t move, because something seems to sit on my chest, holding me down.

The shadows start to move, to slither across the walls, to reach and pull and dance.

I struggle to focus, to see what it is.

But all I can see are the numbers on the thermostat suddenly moving, rapidly counting down from 74 to 20.

Twenty degrees?

The air is frigid as I suck it in, as I try to pull the ice crystals into my mouth so I can breathe.

All of a sudden, there’s a blackness in front of me. It hovers over me, a shapeless mass, sucking in the cells of the air, the atoms and the molecules. It’s darker than the blackness of my room, blacker than the blackest black.

Something is here.

With me.

“Dad?” I whisper in a white puff. Because what else could it be?

I reach out a finger to touch it, and then I can’t see anything else, because the darkness of it surrounds me, bleeding into everything else, even my vision. The shriek is back, screaming into my ears, bleeding into my brain.

Then there’s nothing.

To celebrate the release of GUARDIAN and Courtney’s birthday the following books are on sale for .99, today only!

Birthday book Sale Banner

GUARDIAN
Confessions of an Alli Cat
Dante’s Girl
Mia’s Heart
The Minaldi Legacy
Soul Kissed
Soul Bound

HeadshotABOUT COURTNEY COLE:

Courtney Cole is a novelist who would eat mythology for breakfast if she could. She has a degree in Business, but has since discovered that corporate America is not nearly as fun to live in as fictional worlds. She loves chocolate and roller coasters and hates waiting and rude people.

Courtney lives in quiet suburbia, close to Lake Michigan, with her real-life Prince Charming, her ornery kids (there is a small chance that they get their orneriness from their mother) and a small domestic zoo.

 

 

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A Conversation with Melodie Campbell, author of ‘Rowena and the Viking Warlord’


Melodie CampbellBilled as Canada’s “Queen of Comedy” by the Toronto Sun (Jan. 5, 2014), Melodie Campbell achieved a personal best when Library Digest compared her to Janet Evanovich.

Winner of nine awards, including the 2014 Derringer (US) and the 2014 Arthur Ellis (Canada) for The Goddaughter’s Revenge (Orca Books), Melodie has over 200 publications, including 100 comedy credits, 40 short stories, and seven novels.

Melodie got her start writing stand-up.  In 1999, she opened the Canadian Humour Conference. Her fiction has been described by industry reviewers as “hilarious” and “laugh-out-loud funny.”

Melodie has a commerce degree from Queen’s University, but it didn’t take well.  She has been a bank manager, college instructor, marketing director, comedy writer and possibly the worst runway model ever.  These days, Melodie is the Executive Director of Crime Writers of Canada.

Her latest book is the paranormal romance time travel, Rowena and the Viking Warlord.

For More Information

Thank you for this interview! I’d like to know more about you as a person first. What do you do when you’re not writing?

Rowena 2Eat!  I love to eat.

I’m also wild about fast cars.  I blew my last advance on a 2006 sapphire blue Corvette, Bad Girl.  Okay, I’ll probably regret it one day.  Maybe.  But not now.

If you could go anywhere in the world to start writing your next book, where would that be and why?

Back to the south of England, where my Land’s End series takes place.  I’d love to roam the ruined castles and tramp the land that my heroine comes to know as her own.

What do you find fascinating about the time travel/paranormal genre?

The ability to leave reality behind!  (Really, I think it’s highly over-rated.  Everyone does it.)  Fantasy allows me to take my readers on a rollicking adventure, away from the concerns of our every day world.

Truly, that is the best thing about writing, for me.  The ability to whisk readers into a world that is exciting, sexy and fun.

When was the adrenalin rush – writing that first chapter or the last and why?

Last!  I get that ‘Ah!’ just as the reader does.  If not a HEA, then definitely a HFN, for my readers.  I want them to feel huge relief, and elation that Rowena has made it through this grand adventure!  With a man, of course ;)

What is the most important thing about your book that we as a reader should know?

I write to entertain, first and foremost.  Yet even then, there is a dark side to the Land’s End series.  What would happen in a world where women are scarce?  Would they be more valued and therefore have more power and freedom?  I explored that theme throughout and came to some disturbing conclusions.

Most people see these books as comedies, and I’m glad of that.  But there is this underlying theme that some readers have picked up on.  Comedy is a good way to present serious ideas, don’t you think?

Your best friend is an aspiring author and his book really sucks.  What would you say to him or her?

Take a good novel writing course.  I teach Crafting a Novel at Sheridan College in Toronto, and it can make such a difference, learning the craft.  Most poor novels are that way simply because the author doesn’t know the basic rules of viewpoint and plot (what is a novel, for instance – there is a definition.)  A good novel writing course will take years off your apprenticeship.

You’re sitting at a dinner party and seated next to NY bestselling authors.  They are intimidating indeed and one of them remarks that your book sucks.  What would you say to him or her?

I would say:  “Oh, so you don’t like broad comedies?”  And I would smile sweetly.

But certainly, I would ask why they didn’t like it.  I don’t expect everyone to like my novels.  I write comedies, and used to be a stand-up comedian, so I know that not every person will appreciate my humor.

But because of my experience performing, I’m pretty hard to intimidate.  If they said that comedy was silly, I would say, “Oh, then you didn’t catch the underlying serious theme of what happens when women are scarce in a world?  Let me tell you what you missed…”

You catch someone sitting on a park bench reading your book whether on a e-reader or the real McCoy and you walk over to him or her and what do you say?

“I hope you’re enjoying that book because I spent 1000 hours writing it!”  J  And then I would sit down beside them and happily discuss books.

You’ve just been offered the Pulitzer Prize.  Who do you thank?

My readers.  They make it all worthwhile.

Any final words?

Yes – how my idea of what success would mean has changed.  I used to think that success meant huge sales, or winning awards (I have 9.)

Then one reader emailed to tell me that my first book, Rowena Through the Wall, was her favorite book of all time.  I cried that night.  It changed the reason I write, forever.  I write for her, and readers like her.


Book Excerpt: Moonflower: A Memoir of Healing by Tara Edin


Moonflower 2Title: Moonflower: A Memoir of Healing
Author: Tara Edin
Publisher: Tara Edin
Pages: 156
Genre: Memoir
Format: Kindle

Purchase at AMAZON

Blooming was her Birthright. Darkness the Unexpected Catalyst.

Tara is an incest, rape and sexual abuse survivor, who suffered from PTSD for many years but was misdiagnosed with mental illnesses instead. This took her down a near-fatal path ultimately ending in an accident, which nearly claimed her life at age 29. Most only know the abridged version of the story, yet the real story holds many truths and miracles that must be shared. With a second lease on life, Tara faces the sexual abuse and betrayal from her younger years with support from a compassionate zen therapist. Tara begins to recreate her life with a new spirituality that feeds her soul and encompasses her painful past, giving life to the love that has always been her birthright. With lucid prose and powerful poetry, Tara details her soul’s transformation from darkness to light, offering her readers the gifts of honesty, empathy, and empowerment.

Moonflower is Part Memoir, Part Self-Help & Part Spiritual Odyssey.

Rape, incest and sexual assault are unspoken controversial topics that still fester behind closed doors in the 21st century as survivors are still being told to “Get over it,” or worse, “It didn’t even happen.” It takes years to heal from such life-altering, traumatic experiences, and many survivors are doing this work alone. There is a great need for testimonies from those who have emerged from their ordeals stronger.

This revealing story uncovers the aftermath of abuse that often leads to unstable relationships, repeated abuse, and mental or physical dis-ease. Although Moonflower covers difficult topics such as emotional and sexual abuse, the author sifts through these experiences to offer her readers the gifts and lessons that can be drawn from such setbacks.

There is no cookie-cutter journey to healing, but there is great power in sharing our stories. Moonflower exhibits the power of the self and spirit in the healing process. It stretches beyond what may be considered a “normal” path and braves a non-traditional spiritual road to wellness, inspiring others to broaden their perspectives of the healing experience. Readers will be inspired by Tara’s fiery spirit and deep reflective soul, cheering her on as she finds her way back to herself.

Book Excerpt:

THE MOONFLOWER: IPOMOEA ALBA

Moonflowers are night blooming flowers that blossom in a matter of minutes. Their tight unicorn-like pods swirl open to five-pointed stars and then bloom into full five-petal flowers. Moonflowers turn their faces toward the moon and remain open until sunlight. Moonflower vines boast large, heart shaped leaves and gorgeous white blossoms. Their 4 to 6 inch fragrant white flowers grow on vines that can reach up to 20 feet in a season.

INTRODUCTION

At first glance, I am an average upper middle class woman who goes to work in the morning and comes home to her family every evening. I delight in my children’s sweet smiles and am thrilled when I can bake a delicious batch of vegan chocolate chip cookies. I am a teacher, a wife, and a mother.

What most people don’t know about me is that I am a survivor, many times over. My experiences have defied many things considered rational. In fact, I would not be alive had my life followed a rational route. Like any living creation, I was born to grow and bloom, but darkness was the unexpected catalyst. On my darkest night, my greatest peace would begin to unfold into a journey that would lead me on an unconventional path of healing, a path of self-love.

The conviction to share my story has evolved over several years. At age 16, I had originally begun writing this account in a journal format. It was a cathartic vehicle for my emotional suffering after being raped. In the following years, I explored the idea of sharing it but stopped and started many times, still unsure of myself and my story’s significance. Eventually, I stopped questioning the Universe’s nudge to finish it and just resolved to see it through. If anything, I intended it for my children and their children to read much later in life as a record of where their mother/grandmother had been in her life. Sometimes I simply thought of tucking it away in a drawer indefinitely—completely safe but not very helpful.

We are all here on Earth to learn and to help each other heal through our work. This story is part of my contract on Earth, and this gift can only provide assistance when shared. Today it is my intention to lend healing to those in need. If just one poem or sentence creates a soulful “hit,” I will have fulfilled a fraction of my purpose here on Earth. Thank you for gifting me with that opportunity. The chapters and poems in this text have been written over the past 22 years and reflect various stages of my life: from victim, to survivor, to healer. I have carefully sifted through these experiences to offer you the gifts and lessons I’ve drawn from them. My hopes for telling my story are two-fold: I hope to open an avenue of thought in you, as well as provide you with the unique comfort that lies in being able to identify with another’s experience similar to your own.

Your journey will vary from mine, but my hope is that you will feel less alone, less crazy, and more hopeful. Moreover, that you will be inspired to keep going in life and seek your highest reality. Just as there are no two personal histories alike, there is no cookie-cutter road to healing. It can happen in a multitude of ways. Perhaps that’s why there are various spiritual paths, philosophies and religions available to us. Although a religion can sometimes support a person on a healing path, it may not always create the healed. The spirit within the individual must initiate that process. Throughout the book, I often refer to the Universe, God or Infinite Spirit, as they are all terms I relate with spirit. If you do not relate with such references, please replace them with a term that embodies the higher power to you.

Healing is omnipresent, opening out in all directions of time—past, present and future. It is happening today at this very moment you are reading this page. The fact that you are seeking healing means that healing is already in motion. At times the momentum is slow, or seemingly still. Other times, it moves at the speed of light, diminishing black holes, lifetimes of darkness. You will sense this variation in movement as you progress on your path.

The opportunities to learn lessons in this life will not always be comfortable. Some of my most excruciating times have evolved into my most valuable lessons. Some days, months or even years, there may be suffering involved in getting better and feeling better. It’s the intention to heal, which is the bridge to that higher spiritual plane. When I planted the intention to heal, the Universe supported me in the new creation of my life. By Cosmic Law, even in the darkest of places, love and light will always prevail when that is what one embodies.

ABRIDGED

Time does not heal all wounds. If we trust in the Universe’s natural inclination to heal, we can be sure that illnesses will heal, wounds will smooth over. But some untreated wounds can fester and spread, causing more illness and even death.

For several years, there were only a few people who knew the truth of what happened to me, but even less knew why. The car accident was the abridged version of the story, the one my parents shrewdly advised me to tell. The one I still revert to when people inquire about the scars.

Would this incident have happened had I not been raped or misdiagnosed with a mental illness? At first, the answer may seem easy—an unequivocal no. However, knowing better now how the Universe works, my answer is an unwavering YES. The very cells in my body ordered a tragic culmination. A young lifetime laced with abuse, anger and shame would have manifested in a similar apocalyptic manner no matter how the outcome were packaged. As a young girl, I had subconsciously created a death wish. Through the years, this barrage of negative beliefs about myself had gathered dangerous momentum.

Who is to blame for this tragedy? My abusers? My parents? My doctors? Myself? The Universe? As with any unfortunate occurrence, there are a variety of factors that come in to play. No one person or situation can carry the entire burden of responsibility. In my case, people and circumstances conspired with my own subconscious to create the outcome. Therefore, it is not so much a question of who is to blame, as it is a question of how it could have been prevented and how I ultimately healed. As painful as it was, this incident opened the door to the upper floors in life.

Truth be told, I lost my mind, my legs, my hope and nearly my life. This downfall was much like a hurricane: there were warnings, its onset, its desolation, and its wake. Survivors, with nothing but the bodies they were born with, are left dazed and broken yet thankful to be alive. This loss was a gift because it squelched spirals of lifelong destructive cycles. It challenged me to pick up my own broken heart with the two hands that had long dismissed their power.

I am not mentally ill. I am no longer prescribed any pills. The doctor who prescribed them to me faded into oblivion; the hospital never sent any bills. To them, it never even happened; I was simply another casualty of their medical practice and the Big Pharmacy industry. Nevertheless, I decided it was better to move forward than backward, so I focused on my own healing: mind, body, and spirit, trusting that my life possessed a value that would reveal itself in time.

Since then my spirit has grown legs that ground me, and my mind is clear so I no longer wince at its depth. I heed the voices that speak to me knowing I am not psychotic but gifted. I fearlessly inhale the scent of roses or smoke, knowing there are messages from my angels attached. Through a fortuitous alchemy, all darkness, pain, and shame have been transformed into the beautiful life I indeed signed up for.