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Dead Steam

DeadSteam

I am so happy to share this really cool book with you and reveal its amazing trailer! If you like the cover, wait to you see this! There is also a chance to win a digital copy of Dead Steam, so make sure to enter the giveaway at the bottom!

DeadSteam_Ebook.jpgDead Steam: A Chilling Collection of Dreadpunk Tales of the Dark and Supernatural

Expected Publication Date: October 1st, 2018

Genre: Anthology/ Dreadpunk/ Dark Steampunk/ Horror

Reader beware: to open this tome is to invite dread into your heart. Every page you turn will bring you closer to something wicked. And when the dead begin to rise from the steaming pits of hell, only then will you discover that it is already too late. Your life is forfeit.

Featuring an introduction by Leanna Renee Hieber, author of the Eterna Files and Strangely Beautiful saga, DeadSteam plays host to the scintillating writing of David Lee Summers (Owl Dance, The Brazen Shark), Jen Ponce (The Bazaar, Demon’s Cradle), Wendy Nikel (The Continuum), Karen J Carlisle (The Adventures of Viola Stewart), Jonah Buck (Carrion Safari), and more…

With seventeen chilling tales of Dreadpunk, Gaslamp, and Dark Steampunk, DeadSteam will leave you tearing at the pages, desperate for more. For within these pages, the dead rise from their graves to haunt the London Underground, witches whisper their incantations to the wind, a sisterhood of bitten necks hunts fog-drenched alleyways lit only by gaslight, and only one thing is certain: that dread will follow you until you turn that final page.

And that sinking feeling in the pit of your chest? That fear that something is following you, watching you, hunting you? It is not for nothing. Look over your shoulder, dear reader. Watch behind you. Listen to the whispers in the darkness.

But know this…it is all inevitable.

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Excerpt

Burke Street Station

The city was frost and fog. Icy crystals formed on the windows of the train station. Breath drifted up in a hazy clouds like puffs of cigarette smoke as Theodore tried to warm his hands, blowing hot breath onto his stiff, cold fingers and rubbing his hands together vigorously. When that failed, he thrust them back into his coat pockets, cursing under his breath. His threadbare coat offered little warmth. Drafts of wind found their way through the broken stitching and the tears in his sleeves like rats scrambling through the cracks in the station walls. A discarded page of newsprint, caught in the rushing wind, tumbled and turned in the air and landed, crumpled and torn, at Theodore’s feet.

He stooped over, picked it up, and glanced at the engraving of a wanted man. Even without a skill for reading, he knew what name was printed beneath the picture of masked man on the page. Anthony Tidkins.

Wanted, he read. That was one word Theodore recognized. Crimes was another, and then, finally…murder.

Rubbish. The newspapers always tried to make villains out of the radical thinkers of the world. The Resurrectionists, who named their organization after the sack-em-up men who provided the anatomists with subjects for their scientific endeavors, were scientists. They had provided the world with aether, revolutionizing air travel. They had brought Prince Charles back from the brink of death. They had devised the engines for the London Underground. Anthony Tidkins himself promised to cure death. Yet the newspaper men still called for his blood. Theodore balled up the page and shoved it in his pocket.

He pulled out his trick coin as he approached the gate. The station master was asleep at his booth, a little dribble of spit running down his chin. Typical. Thoedore stuck his coin in the machine, waited for the gate to open, and then, with a light tug on the fishing line threaded through a little hole in the tip of the coin, it popped back out. Easy. He was in before anybody noticed what he had done. He pocketed the coin and started down the hallway.

Tap-tap, clack, tap-tap, clack, his shoes beat a rhythm on the stone steps. The sole of his left shoe was beginning to wear, and the heel of his shoe tapped against the heel of his foot as he walked. He puffed on his hands again, and peeked over his shoulder. No one was after him. He had done this trick a thousand times before. So why did he feel like there was someone watching him?

Clack, tap-tap, clack. Again, he glanced over his shoulder. The odd double-rhythm of his broken shoe was suddenly unnerving in the deserted station. Where were all the other passengers? Nice folks avoided this place like the plague, especially after midnight. The oil lamps that lit Burke Street Station were so routinely out of oil that he could hardly find his own feet in front of him, but still, Theodore expected to see other passengers. But where were the other vagrants? They should be sleeping in the dark corners of the hallway under blankets made of rags. And the boys from the blacking factory should be heading home from their long shifts, fingers stained black with powders and oil. But there was no one. Only the rats skittering through rat tunnels to keep him company.

Tap-tap, clack, tap-tap, clack.

Another set of footsteps began to follow his own, beating out a different rhythm. A steady tap, tap, tap, tap. He paused to listen, and nothing but silence greeted him. He glanced over his shoulder. Nobody there.

He continued onward, and again, a second set of footsteps started up behind him. He paused to listen. This time, they didn’t stop.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

Whoever it was, they were getting closer. Closer and closer, louder and louder, tapping out a steady rhythm as they approached down the long, dark hallway. He could almost make out the solitary figure in the gloomy, hazy light, but then the fog grew thicker, and whatever he thought he’d seen was gone. The footsteps kept on getting louder, though, and closer. He turned and ran down the hallway.

A long flight of steps delved deeper into the darkness of Burke Street Station, down, down toward the platform. The train was already rumbling, announcing its approach. It vibrated through Theodore’s toes to the tip of his spine, rattling his bones.

He grabbed the railing all but flew down the staircase. The rumble of the train grew louder and clearer.

“Shit,” Theodore cursed. Taking the steps two at a time, he hurtled down the steps and didn’t stop when he reached the bottom.

Nails on a blackboard. The tines of silverware scraping against a ceramic plate. The screaming madmen at Newgate Asylum. The anguished cry of a mother weeping over her stillborn babe. Theodore had heard these sounds all, but not one compared to the shrill screech of an automatic train rolling into Burke Street. Iron wheels grinding against iron tracks. Hot metal sending up sparks, belching out steam as black as sin. The carriages rattling and clanging against one another. The hiss of hot coal burning in the engines. The shriek of brakes as the train ground to a halt. If it went on long enough, it would surely drive a man mad. Theodore covered his ears with his hands, pressing them against his head to muffle out the deafening noise, and waited for the thundering train to come to a halt.

When it did, he realized it must have drowned out the sound of the steadily approaching footsteps he’d heard in the hallway, because he could hear them again, and they were closer. So close he half expected to feel someone’s hot breath on his neck. He whirled around, but there was no one there. Silence greeted him like an old friend. His heart hammered against his chest.

“There’s no one there,” he muttered to himself. But he didn’t sound convinced.

A smell lingered in the air, as if something foul had passed through. The smell was familiar enough, the breath of a man with rotting teeth. It was a foul, cloying stench. He spun around again, and this time found himself face to face with the man to whom those dreaded footsteps belonged.

Only he wasn’t a man. Not really.

About the Author

Bryce Raffle.png

Bryce Raffle writes steampunk, horror, and fantasy. He was the lead writer for Ironclad Games’ multiplayer online game Sins of A Dark Age and is the founder of Grimmer & Grimmer Books. His short stories have appeared in numerous anthologies, including Hideous Progeny: Classic Horror Goes Punk, Denizens of Steam and Den of Antiquity. His short story, The Complications of Avery Vane, was awarded Best Steampunk Short in the Preditors and Editors Reader’s Poll in 2016. He lives in beautiful Vancouver, Canada, where he works in the film industry.

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Bryce is giving away a digital copy of Dead Steam to one lucky winner. The giveaway will run from Sept. 17th to Sept. 20th so make sure you enter!

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I would like to thank R&R Book Tours for the opportunity to share this book.

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 photo Cover1_zpsvyzz85qi.jpgFantasy

Date Published: 6/30/12
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The last of an ancient group of wizards leaves a gift to the newly arrived race of men. It is revered and cared for by a line of priests until it is stolen, and the high priest and his sovereign murdered by a king who believes himself destined to be a great wizard. But from ancient writings the high priest had discovered that the gift is not benevolent as was thought. This forces the son of the high priest, unexpectedly elevated to his father’s position, and the young prince who is equally suddenly King, into a race to find the gift before it can be used as that may cause the destruction of the world. Accompanied by the retired captain of the palace guard they hope to speed their journey by crossing the Wasteland, a seeming desert, which is fabled to be populated by monsters, and from which no visitor has ever returned. In the course of their adventures they are hunted by dog faced men and captured by slavers, but the young prince truly becomes a king, and the priest discovers that he has a destiny that goes beyond the bounds of his world.

Purchase Link

Amazon

Excerpt
“My Lord” he said, the words finally exploding from his lips.
“Stay and be easy” Caran Tuith said. “Tell us what happened to you. You were hurt in your boat and drifted out to sea?” he tried to help the man’s memory.
Once more a startled and worried look came onto his face. He stared for what seemed an age into the Prince’s eyes and then slowly began to shake his head.
 “No my Lord. I was injured before I reached the boat. I was wounded in the fighting.” His voice was steady but still weak and low.
At this revelation all of the men became attentive, even Janorin seemed to recall his thoughts to the present.
“Fighting?” said the ship’s Captain “What was this, some seafront brawl. An argument over fish?”
Again the man shook his head. “No sir. Fighting with the soldiers who came into the city. We tried to defend ourselves but there were too many, and they came in complete surprise. “ Once more he raised his hand to the wound on his head. ”I thought that I was killed when I saw that sword swing at my head. Then I woke the next morning alive, I do not know what saved me, maybe the power of the Gift.” He looked over at Bataan, realising now who he was.
Caran Tuith was now on his knees next to the man, and the others had crowded in closer to him to hear his weak voice.
“The city was attacked, by whom? Where were the Palace Guard?” he looked quickly at Janorin and saw shock and disbelief in his sallow face.
“I do not know by whom my Lord” the man continued “They were short men with cruel eyes. They came as if by magic. No one saw them and then suddenly they were all around and inside the city. They seemed to want to kill everyone. During the day I was in fear of my life. I could hear yelling in some language I had never heard before. And screaming, I heard lots of screaming. I was so weak that I could not move from where I had fallen, but by the power of the Gift they did not see me. That night I managed to crawl along the back ways down to the harbour. There were fires everywhere. The invaders in their green tunics were looting the houses and shops. I thought once or twice that I saw our soldiers stop them, but they seemed to be with them, only different, taller men.
When I reached the harbour it was night and I thought that I would surely be seen, but there was no one on the quays that I could see, so I got down into the nearest boat and set it adrift. I knew that the tide was ebbing and that it would take me out into the open water. I had not thought beyond that. The last thing I saw as the cobble cleared the quays was the sun rising behind the city and smoke filling the sky everywhere. From the city and the palace.”
About the Author

 photo Michael Waller The Wizards Gift_zpssmhkv7kz.jpg

Michael Waller is British and was born in the industrial north of Yorkshire. After being asked to leave school by his Headmaster he began a varied work career. This went from Chemist to Dog Catcher with stints as a Bingo Caller and door-to-door Insurance Salesman in between. For twenty years he worked in the oil and chemical industry which took him to the Middle East and finally the USA where he is now retired and living in upstate New York.
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I would like to thank Reading Addiction Virtual Book Tours for the opportunity to share this book.

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Silver Dagger Book Tours is now 2
years old this month!
Believe it or not, Silver Dagger Book
Tours was created and is mainly operated by just one person!
I used to be just an internet crawler
looking for new books and giveaways and stumbled upon book tours.
After indulging in many dozens of tours, I decided I’d like to try my
hand at blogging in my spare time (with absolutely no blogging
experience at all!) I was a book blogger for several companies (and
still am) and stuck with it for over 3 years. In that time, I learned
all the ropes and became a pretty efficient blogger, but there was
still something missing- I wanted to make my posts stand out a bit!
So, I started creating small graphics like “about the book” and
the other standard graphics that you see in all my tours nowadays and
started jazzing my posts up.
I became pregnant with my second child
in the fall of 2015 and me and my hubby decided to try to purchase
our first home finally, so I quit my waitressing job to pack up
everything for the move and never looked back!
It took several months of trying to get
the ball rolling and was quite difficult at first to get authors to
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comfortably afford instead of set rates as I thought what some other
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Since then, I have done over 1000 tours
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I have an absolutely amazing group of
bloggers that share my tours on their sites and really couldn’t have
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– Janet, who’s been with me over a year, and Laurie, who is a new
addition. Ya’ll ladies are spectacular and I couldn’t do it without
you!
Absolutely everything else is
completely run solely by me though and I really enjoy organizing
tours and helping new authors get discovered. I don’t discriminate
and host ALL fictional genres in ALL age ranges as me and my bloggers
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After two years of astronomical tours,
I am going stronger than ever now and growing on a daily basis with
plans to continue hosting tours for many many years!
If you are an author interested in
booking a tour with me, you can see a general FAQ page and booking
HERE!
If you are a blogger interested in
joining some of my tours, you can see my current sign ups HERE!
And sign up for email invites HERE!
A third generation local of the
historic town of Fredericksburg, TX, I was born and raised among the
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landscape is breathtaking and town is famous for the Main Street historic
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A country girl through and through, I
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while enjoying the many rivers and swimming holes around town. I’m a
stay at home mom with three beautiful boys, ages 9, 2, and 1 that
encompass my entire world!
A bookaholic from birth, I have always
had a deep passion for reading and spend many late nights devouring
books into the wee hours of the morning. My “real” book
collection numbers over 3000 books and take up an entire small room
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my “book cave”. I’ve been building this collection since my
childhood and will keep on adding to it for the rest of my life. Of
course, I also have a similar collection of ebooks as well as I
finally went digital a few years ago.
In my spare time, I enjoy reading,
playing with my kids, doing DIY renovation projects with my husband,
cooking, and relaxing on my back porch with a good cup of coffee
while I watch the massive axis deer herd come through the yard.
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 photo The Mystery of the Hidden Cabin_zpserxkk5sb.jpg

Middle Grade
Date Published: October 2017
Publisher: Plaisted Publishing House Ltd
 
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After Bess Silver had settled into her new home in Pineview she thought her biggest problem would be settling into a new school. She was surprised to learn that it was a one room school house which was different from what she was used to.
That all changed when Megan Skye, her best friend and cousin, dashed into their kitchen late one afternoon with exciting news. Megan’s father discovered an old cabin, hidden behind a wall, when he started doing kitchen renovations. Megan asked him to take the suitcases, ledgers and trunk they found over to Bess instead of throwing them out. Clues turn up in the suitcases and in a secret compartment in the cabin which leave Bess puzzled. When she first looked around the cabin she sees a ghostly figure that disappears in an instant but is as real as Megan. Dreams about the cabin and occupants haunt Bess. These feel so real that she can’t shake the feeling that she was actually near them.
Who is the figure that Bess saw in the cabin? What is she trying to tell her? Why is she having dreams about the old cabin? Will Bess be able to figure  out who the mysterious figure is? Or would these secrets remain secrets forever?
The Mystery of the Hidden Cabin is the sequel to Bess’s Magical Garden and can be read on it’s own.

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 photo Besss Magical Garden_zpsguiaqs7c.jpg
Bess’s Magical Garden
Published: October 2015
Publisher: FriesenPress
Bess’s mother moves them to Pineview, away from her best friend Megan, and she terribly misses her. Six months earlier, Bess’s father died in a car crash, and she’s also in the midst of recovering from the final stages of polio. She’s in a sad and lonely place.
From the moment she and her mother settle into their new home, Bess hears whispering voices and encounters a ghostly figure in the well-kept garden and in her dreams. She can’t make sense of everything and so shares her observations with Megan by writing her regular letters.
During the summer, she makes new friends, including an orange and white tomcat that she names Pumpkin, and her new neighbour Josie. With the help of Mrs. O’Toole, the woman who watches her, Bess continues to recover, both physically and emotionally. She becomes more and more curious about the garden and the unexplained clues that she finds there.
In Bess’s Magical Garden, Bess discovers her own true strengths through enduring life’s struggles. She – with Josie and Megan’s help – also finds some hidden items in the garden, including a map, that leave the girls with more questions than answers. Who was the figure that visited Bess? Will Bess and her friends be able to uncover the garden’s secrets? Or will those secrets be mysteries forever?
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About the Author

 photo The Mystery of the Hidden Cabin Author M.E. Hembrof_zps0i30tup1.jpg

Marjorie (M.E.) Hembroff is the author of Bess’s Magical Garden, a middle grade novel and picture book Gramma Mouse Tells a Story. Marjorie is a member of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators,  and Writer’s Guild of Alberta.
Marjorie has been an avid reader since early childhood and has always been imaginative. Growing up on a farm before television aided in her using her imagination to create a variety of pastimes. Stories formed in her mind but most of them were never written down until later in life. It wasn’t until her children were growing up that she started to take art and writing courses. At that time, her writing improved and short stories formed. It was when she retired that the idea for Bess’s Magical Garden surfaced.
After Marjorie’s divorce she worked in the plant industry. First at a greenhouse and then looking after tropical plants in downtown offices. For awhile it looked like her adult children would never leave home but they have now all flown the nest and are having their own life’s adventures. After retirement she moved to Strathmore where she lives with her pets.
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Collateral Damage by Jessica Wayne

After a spell left him frozen in time, Timothy McGinley swore off all things magic and accepted that he was destined to walk the earth forever. But when a witch saves his life, he discovers he is facing his own mortality for the first time in two centuries.

Paislee Adams was stolen from everything she knew because she possessed what one man craved: power. After she escapes, she dedicates her life to honing her magic in an effort to destroy the man who owned her for so much of her life.

Fate brings these two together and as they race against the clock to stop the man who has a deadly obsession with them both, Timothy and Paislee are both forced to face the demons of their past in an effort to secure a future they weren’t sure they deserved.

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Not everyone gets their happy ending, sometimes a persons soul is too dark for that.

$0.99 SALE! DAMAGE

COLLATERAL

A TETHERED NOVEL

JESSICA WAYNE

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Excerpt

The darkness enveloped him as he leaned against the door and puffed on his cigar. There was nothing in the world like the taste of a fine cigar as the tobacco seeped into your system.

The calming effect it had on him was one he’d failed to find anywhere else. The chill in the air had the puffs coming out even more defined than usual, and Timothy was enthralled by them as they faded from view.

It wasn’t until he was half done with his cigar that he saw the shadow lurking in the corner.

“Can I help you?” he asked easily, and the man stepped from the dark. Timothy straightened when he saw the gun in his hand. “No need for that, tell me what you want, and I’ll be sure you get it.” Timothy wasn’t overly worried; the man couldn’t actually kill him. But damn, gunshots hurt like hell. He should know since he’d been at the receiving end of one too many times to count.

The man stepped close enough Timothy was able to see the glint of amusement in his eye. Timothy had only ever seen that madness once before, and that man had been responsible for two innocent deaths and the root reason as to why he was trapped.

His back straightened, and he gave the man before him his full attention. “What is it you want?” he asked again.

“I want to see you bleed,” the man said with a smile and pulled the trigger.

It was the pain that hit him first, that sharp tearing of skin and flesh as the bullet forced its way into his body. He fell to the ground, cigar falling next to him, and clutched his abdomen. No matter how many times he’d been shot, stabbed, punched, or even on occasion-burned—over the years, the pain was not something he ever got used to.

The coldness came next and was something Timothy had not been prepared for. His wounds, no matter how severe, had always healed themselves before the numbing fingers of death gripped him as they were now. How was this possible? He thought to himself. What was happening to him? He tried his best to move but found his body had gone completely numb as he lay there in the pool of his own blood.

And as his attacker knelt next to him, he felt for the first time, as if he wouldn’t survive the night.

“I knew he was wrong about you.” The man smiled. “Oh well, I suppose it was worth the trouble. There is just something about having the ability to snuff out the light within someone’s eyes.”

“Hey!” a voice screamed, and the man stood.

Timothy wasn’t sure what happened next, but where it had once been dark, a light appeared, and his attacker was thrown away from him. He watched as the light faded, but not before he got a clear picture of the one who had saved him.

A woman, with hair the color of fire, and kind blue eyes, ran to his side and knelt in the blood that poured from him.

“Cait?” he whispered. Was he dead? Was she sent here to usher him into what waited beyond this life?

“You’re going to be alright,” Cait said as she closed her eyes and pressed her hands to him.

It would always be the pain he remembered first, but the surge of power that came next would be impossible to forget.

 

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