Thursday, January 29, 2015

Book Blast: Something Wicked




SOMETHING WICKED
by Carol Oates
Add to Goodreads
Buy from Amazon | B&N



Infected by the vampire virus on the streets of Dublin in 1886, the search for a cure brought Henry Clayton to London and to the brink of madness. Salvation and friendship arrived in the form of Dougal, an immortal Highlander with a devilish sense of humor and a love of life.

Amidst turmoil in vampire society, Henry returns to modern day Dublin. The Circle, a cult determined to awaken their Celtic blood god, the first vampire, is once again active.

When Henry meets a young American woman who sees past his human pretense, he fears exposure. However, his fear is overshadowed by curiosity. What is the source of the strange energy between them? Why are vampires stalking her? Determined to find answers, Henry takes Ari into his home and under his protection.

As their connection grows, Henry begins to suspect Ari isn't what she claims to be. Their shared history may hold the answers to his uncontrollable bouts of rage and thirst. Perhaps, even a cure for his wicked blood.



19th century


“It’s not very inventive.” The Scot caught up to me.

“I beg your pardon.”

“No need for begging, brother, I give it freely.” He chuckled at his own ridiculous joke. “The name, The Leather Apron” He rolled his eyes and waved his fingers by his head in a gesture I felt sure meant to insinuate fright, but came nearer to emulating a fit of some sort. “Well, aprons don’t exactly instill terror, eh?” 

I noticed the intensity of his accent fluctuated, indicating he had probably travelled extensively outside his homeland. 

“How about The Ripper—‘Jack the Ripper’?”

I spared him a sidelong glance in question and he scratched his temple. 

“I knew a man named Jamie once, well hardly more than a boy really, but a big bugger. Legs as thick as tree trunks and a face that looked like his mother dropped him a few times. Anyway, when he swung a sword, sure it’d nearly cut men in two. They called him The Ripper.”

“So why not ‘Jamie the Ripper’?”

“Och, we’re in England. A good English name for an English madman.”

I flinched at his insult, but he didn’t appear to notice. “So what happened to The Ripper?”

“I killed him.” 

I hummed thoughtfully. “The Ripper got ripped.”

“So, where are we going?” enquired my new acquaintance, appearing suddenly anxious for a shift in the direction of our conversation. 

“We are going nowhere,” I answered flatly.

A weathered preacher stood at the junction of the Whitechapel high street, half-crazed and hollering at the top of his lungs to a rag tag captive audience. He called on them to repent and return to God, lest they be struck down for their sins.

I chuckled darkly. Now I was doing God’s work.

The preacher’s glassy eyes grazed across the two mysterious, beautiful gentlemen passing by his improvised pulpit. He heart stuttered out an uneven beat. By the sound of it, the man would be dead before the week was out—a blockage of some sort, preventing steady blood flow.

“Keep your pretty speeches, old man. Own the salvation of your soul before mine. He has already struck me down and I will rage against His damnation until the heavens burn and He feels the heat of the fire He cast me into.” The perfect vision of a tiny child’s hand dripping blood fortified my whispered vow, too low for the preacher to hear.

“How do you move?” The other vampire asked curiously, his eyes narrowed briefly, all joviality suddenly gone.

“I beg your pardon, sir?”

“That weight you wear around your neck like chains.”

I pursed my lips and continued walking. He was persistent—I had to give him that—and almost childlike in his enthusiasm, albeit a naughty child. I couldn’t help wondering what his story was.

With no warning or explanation, I experienced a pressure at my breastbone, as though a hand pressed over my chest. My own covered the curious warmth. I experienced the strangest sensation of being observed, of someone staring at the back of my head. I turned, searching. However, as quickly as it manifested, the sensation vanished and the only thing I felt was the London chill settling deep into my bones.

“I live a good distance west,” I told the vampire. “Keep up or I will leave you behind.”

“Nae problem. I’m Dougal, by the way.”





Carol Oates came into the world on Christmas morning, in an elevator. Raised just across the street from the childhood home of Bram Stoker, author of Dracula, it was only a matter of time before Carol’s love of all things supernatural would emerge. 

She began experimenting with fiction at school and keeps the notebook containing her first unpublished novel in her desk drawer. Over three decades later, all her stories still begin life scrawled on paper. 

When not writing, Carol can be found exploring history, old buildings, castles, and tombs.

Tuesday, January 6, 2015

Finding That Magic Thing



Hello again!

No, hell hasn't frozen over. I'm actually blogging. I spent the majority of last year away from this blog, exploring different ways of connecting with readers and fellow authors. I created and maintain a book vlog on YouTube where I vlog about all things books. You can find that here.

That being said, I'd like to start blogging again. I do have this lovely site all set up, and all. Lol!

Today I want to talk about author visibility. I've got a new release coming out in just a couple of weeks, and with the influx of new authors and the ease with which websites like Amazon have made it for people to publish their work, I find myself wondering how I will manage making my new release visible among the vast sea of books floating around out there.

Publishing, as far as my own personal experience has been, is all about timing. It's about getting your work in front of the right person at the right time. This holds true from the moment you send out your first query letter, to the dreaded wait you experience while your agent searches for an editor who will love your work, and again when you release your book baby into the world. Getting your story into the right person's hands at the right time is critical. And getting there? Well, that can sometimes be a battle.

I'm blessed to have found a wonderful agent who loves my work. She's a champion for my characters and found my YA trilogy a wonderful home with a wonderful publisher. I'm happy, honored, and thankful to have been able to realize a life dream. I published a series! Huzzah!

My battle has always, and continues to be: getting my books in front of readers. I'm a shy gal by nature. I may seem somewhat confident and chatty online, but make no mistake—I'm terrified of you. Putting myself out there, along with my work is a big step out of my comfort zone, but something that has reaped great rewards. Despite the fact that I've been writing and publishing for a couple of years now, I still feel like I'm missing something. That one "Magic Thing." That one piece of the puzzle that, once found, will help things fall into place for me and allow people to discover my books.

I follow the rules (and there are plenty) with regard to promotion and author behavior. I don't rant, or respond to reviews, and make sure I'm available on several different social media platforms to chat about books, life, and everything in between. That said, I AM a shy girl, and I sometimes feel like I'm missing the mark. I hesitate when asking for help, and worry myself sick when I do. I've got three very busy girls, so my time on social media is limited. The time I do spend promoting is very specific, and I often feel as though I don't get to connect enough, which hinders me in building connections and a readership. I've approached a handful of larger blogs, and vloggers (following proper protocol as far as asking for reviews, of course), and nine times out of ten hit a wall. I'm a small author, and my experience thus far has been the larger blogs and booktubers who garner the most attention when promoting, only promote big name authors. This, of course, leads me to wonder where that leaves me and my books?

There are definitely options out there which will help authors become more visible. If I had the money, I could hire a publicist who would pimp my series out to the world. But what do authors do for promotion when they don't have the funds to back a huge campaign? Where do they turn? Who do they connect with?  How do they/I, put themselves out there? That's the burning question I've been struggling with over the past year, and let me tell you: the struggle is real, people! Lol!

Leave a comment and let me know if you've had any experience with this particular struggle. Have you found the "Magic Recipe?" That one thing that helps you connect with readers on a more widespread level? I'd love to chat! Thanks for reading!

 XOXO

My Reading Goals for 2015

Cover Reveal: Something Wicked by Carol Oates

From Omnific Publishing 



New Adult
Historical/Contemporary Supernatural

Releasing January 20, 2015

Infected by the vampire virus on the streets of Dublin in 1886, the search for a cure brought Henry Clayton to London and to the brink of madness. Salvation and friendship arrived in the form of Dougal, an immortal Highlander with a devilish sense of humor and a love of life.

Amidst turmoil in vampire society, Henry returns to modern day Dublin. The Circle, a cult determined to awaken their Celtic blood god, the first vampire, is once again active.

When Henry meets a young American woman who sees past his human pretense, he fears exposure. However, his fear is overshadowed by curiosity. What is the source of the strange energy between them? Why are vampires stalking her? Determined to find answers, Henry takes Ari into his home and under his protection.

As their connection grows, Henry begins to suspect Ari isn't what she claims to be. Their shared history may hold the answers to his uncontrollable bouts of rage and thirst. Perhaps, even a cure for his wicked blood.

Add it to Goodreads 


About the Author 

Carol Oates came into the world on Christmas morning, in an elevator. Raised just across the street from the childhood home of Bram Stoker, author of Dracula, it was only a matter of time before Carol’s love of all things supernatural would emerge.
She began experimenting with fiction at school and keeps the notebook containing her first unpublished novel in her desk drawer. Over three decades later, all her stories still begin life scrawled on paper.
When not writing, Carol can be found exploring history, old buildings, castles, and tombs. 


 
 
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