Veronica sez: Our guest today has a new paranormal romance!
Blurb:
Average is for the birds.
And Jane Jones is average in every way. With sixty-seven Jane Joneses on Facebook alone, it’s easy to disappear in Manhattan. So when the universe spins its web of chaos, Jane refuses to interfere. Saving humans is somebody else's job. After all, as a peacock shifter, she's just here for the buffet.
When the local wanna-be-a-hero-priest corners Jane in Central Park to warn her that she’s a hitman's target, she’s convinced he’s lost his mind. But it soon becomes clear that a shadow-villain is out to kill her. Plain Jane has a price on her head. Her only hope for survival is joining the priest's mysterious band of misfits.
When those plans fail, Jane does the most logical thing: she captures the would-be hitman and drags him to The Hotel for the weekend.
In a fancy room with six-hundred-thread count sheets and complimentary champagne, can Jane turn an assassin into an ally?
A Hotel Paranormal story.
The Hotel Paranormal is THE place for supernatural beings looking to get away from it all. Beings like werewolves, vampires, elves, sprites, djinn and more check in from all over the world for business and for pleasure -- and sometimes for both.
And Jane Jones is average in every way. With sixty-seven Jane Joneses on Facebook alone, it’s easy to disappear in Manhattan. So when the universe spins its web of chaos, Jane refuses to interfere. Saving humans is somebody else's job. After all, as a peacock shifter, she's just here for the buffet.
When the local wanna-be-a-hero-priest corners Jane in Central Park to warn her that she’s a hitman's target, she’s convinced he’s lost his mind. But it soon becomes clear that a shadow-villain is out to kill her. Plain Jane has a price on her head. Her only hope for survival is joining the priest's mysterious band of misfits.
When those plans fail, Jane does the most logical thing: she captures the would-be hitman and drags him to The Hotel for the weekend.
In a fancy room with six-hundred-thread count sheets and complimentary champagne, can Jane turn an assassin into an ally?
A Hotel Paranormal story.
The Hotel Paranormal is THE place for supernatural beings looking to get away from it all. Beings like werewolves, vampires, elves, sprites, djinn and more check in from all over the world for business and for pleasure -- and sometimes for both.
Excerpt:
This can’t be good. Apogee had probably
gone off to hunt mice down the hall. That meant I was on my own.
The mattress didn’t move; the frame didn’t
squeak. It was as though the figure wasn’t even there, an advancing cloud. At
the edge of the bed, it stepped down to the floor. The dust didn’t move, and
the feet made no sound.
I reared backward, falling on my elbows and
scrambling away. I eyed the tiny window. There was no way I could get through
that. I’d have to get past the shadow person and break through the glass.
A knock at the door broke my panic. I
didn’t have any friends. I didn’t know anybody who would pop in to visit, but a
muffled voice called, “Jane? Jane Jones?”
“Come in.” I crouched on the floor,
preparing to shift. When the door opened, no matter who it was, I would be
gone. That cloud-mutant would have a new target, and I could get away.
The knob jiggled. Force of a century-old
habit, I locked the door when I was home, but the deadbolt wouldn’t hold anyone
out. I didn’t worry about it. I had nothing, and nobody ever bothered me. There
was a stream of curses, and then a crash as the door exploded inward. Jason and
Woe stood there, peering into my room.
I didn’t have time to ask them how they
knew where I lived or if they knew what that thing was. I jumped up, shifting
as I gained altitude. As I flew over the unwelcome visitors, Woe shook her
head, reaching for me. I leaned away from her, but I felt a tug as her fingers
grazed my tail feathers. Once through the door, my wings barely fit in the
stairwell; the tips touched the walls, throwing me off-balance until I tumbled
end-over-end down the darkened stairs.
I made the only sound a peacock could.
I screamed. Like the dying woman I was
about to be.
Updated Author Bio:
Bokerah Brumley is a
speculative fiction writer making stuff up on a trampoline in West Texas. When
she's not playing with the quirky characters in her head, she's addicted to
Twitter pitch events, writing contests, and social media, in general. She lives
on ten permaculture acres with five home-educated children and one husband. In
her imaginary spare time, she also serves as the blue-haired President of the
Cisco Writers Club.
Her work can be found in
Havok Magazine (July issue), Southern Writers Magazine (Summer 2016
issue), The Stars at My Door (April Moon Books), A
Fellowship of Fantasy Anthology: Fantastic Creatures, and two more upcoming
anthologies.
She was awarded First Place in the FenCon Short Story Contest,
Third Place in the Southern Writers Magazine Short Story Contest, and Fifth
Place in the Children's/Young Adult category for the 85th Annual Writer's
Digest Writing Competition. More recently, she was selected as a 2016 Pitch
Slam! finalist.
FEATHER Buy Links:
No comments:
Post a Comment