In Memoriam

I don't know about the rest of you, but 2016 isn't even half over yet and I am DONE with all the loss and grief. All the death....

Seriously. I'm afraid to ask who's next. Go home '16: you're drunk.

Originally, I'd planned to blog about my experiences in Las Vegas last week at this year's RT Booklovers Convention. But what happened in Vegas is just going to have to stay in Vegas--or at least in my head--for a few more weeks. Thursday's news about Prince has left me too depressed to think about the future right now. So instead, I'm going to post a scene from the beginning of Ashes of the Day. It seems more fitting.  

December 31, 1999

New Year’s Eve

Damian leaned against the railing of the second-floor balcony and cast a jaded eye over the crowded ballroom below. The decorations were a tad overdone, in his opinion. Gaudy gold-and-silver Mylar festooned every surface—the bar, the tables, even the walls. The glare all but blinded him. Overhead, a billowing mass of champagne- and platinum-colored balloons were tethered to the ceiling, awaiting the stroke of midnight, when they’d be released. The last day of the year had dwindled down to the final hour. Y2K was on the verge, that ticking time bomb that would shortly send the world hurtling back toward the dark ages…or not.

Either way, Damian could not find it in himself to be concerned, or even very interested, in the fate of the world. The new millennium, as most people counted it, was about to begin. For the time being, however, it was still 1999 and the throng of people gathered on the dance floor was certainly partying like it.

Exhibiting far more enthusiasm than skill, the crowd sang loudly along with Prince’s signature anthem as they bounced and gyrated to the music. The once-familiar song struck a bittersweet chord in Damian’s heart and he closed his eyes as nostalgia overwhelmed him. How many times had he danced to this same record back when it was first popular? He didn’t feel even remotely like dancing tonight. Hadn’t felt like dancing in years.

Memories rose in his mind of a supple young body pressed tight against his own, warming his back, more often than not. He remembered arms holding him possessively close, sweet lips dropping kisses all along his cheek, his neck, his shoulder…

He remembered the feel of strong hands splayed on his hips, guiding him as they moved together, thrusting, grinding, taunting each other with graphic reminders of everything they’d be doing together later in bed.

Oh, how he longed to feel that way again, careless and wanton, desired, loved. Oh, how he longed to hear that sexy voice whispering in his ear. To feel those muscular arms encircling his waist or his neck, or wrapped around his shoulders. To see that smile, hear that laugh, just one more time.

Knowing those wishes would never come true, that those days of joy and innocence were lost to him, gone for good, never to return, did nothing to improve his mood.

I'm sensing that...you want to read this blog post. Does that make me psychic?

From the archives: A version of post originally appeared on Here Be Magic in 2012, but it's still relevant to my books, so I thought I'd update and share it. Enjoy! - Angela

***

These days I’ve got psychics on the brain, because I'm finishing up another book in my psychic detectives series.

I’m fascinated by all of the research I’ve been doing into the topic of psychics and psychic abilities. Do I believe in psychics? Well, sure. I wouldn’t be writing about them otherwise. But I’ve also grown pretty skeptical about them over the years. Like pretty much everyone on planet earth, I’d love to have advance knowledge of events so I can exploit it to win the lottery, find my soul mate, know when to go to the doctor, and know what career path is going to reap happiness and success. But I also think there are probably a lot of charlatans out there taking advantage of people desperate to know that information in these uncertain times.

Okay, I admit it. I’ve used the services of a psychic in the past, uh, once or twice — when I was much younger and curious. This one psychic had been featured on some forensics TV shows, so I figured that gave him some legitimacy. He was dead on about some things, and dead wrong about some others. For instance, he knew I was a writer — he could tell by my erratic finances, which he said were always up and down (snort) — but he also told me I’d go to New Orleans during Mardi Gras, get inspired to write a book about the place which would later get published, and oh yeah, I’d also meet my future husband while there. He would be older. The psychic thought my future hubby's name was John. The kicker was this was supposed to happen within 10 months — and that was about 10 years ago. Still single. Never been to New Orleans either. John, are you reading this? Call me.

A few years ago, I was given a real "fluff" assignment at the newspaper where I worked. A pet psychic had written a book we were going to feature for Halloween on our “pets” page. I was set to interview her by phone. Well, all righty then. I called her — she was, I think, based in Los Angeles — and one of the first things I asked her was, “Can you offer any proof to our readers that you’re psychic?” She invited me to email her a photo of my cat, which I did while she held on the line. A few minutes later, she freaked me the heck out when she said something that amounted to, “Your cat says you’ve been going through a lot of papers lately — like thumbing through papers, throwing them in the floor, making a mess in her space. She wishes you would stop. She says, 'Tell her to stop throwing junk in MY floor.'” At the time, I had been in de-clutter mode at home, going through old boxes of college papers and newspapers and junk I had kept for whatever reason. Okay, that was eerie. She continued on with my free reading. She said my cat was showing her a photograph of a man placed on the wall beside where my cat liked to take naps, and he was dressed in a policeman’s uniform. Was he my husband? Because my cat really loved him. Uh...actually I think she was referencing an old photo of my dad placed in the hallway. He'd been a cop for 32 years, and he was in uniform in the picture I'd framed. And yes, my cat LOVED him because he fed her lots of kitty treats whenever he saw her.He was putty in her paws.

Funny thing is, my dad’s name is John. Coincidence? Or just weird? Hmmm.

What about you? Do you believe in psychics? Have you ever visited one? Tell me your stories in the comments below. You never know. They might inspire another book of my series!

***

Angela Campbell is the author of the psychic detectives series from Harper Impulse. Learn more about her and her books at www.AngelaCampbellOnline.com. Looking for a psychic mystery that's a little spooky? Here's a recommendation (it's Book 2 in the series, but it can be read as a standalone, and it's currently only 99 cents!):

Something wicked this way comes…

All homicide detective Dylan Collins wants is a few hours of pleasure to take his mind off of the case haunting him. A serial killer is stalking the streets of Charleston, SC – a killer who calls himself The Grim Reaper. When the woman he'd just spent the night with turns up and offers her services as a psychic consultant on the case, his ardor quickly cools. Last thing he needs is to get tangled up with a con artist.

It doesn't take long for Dylan to realize Alexandra King is the real deal – and the killer's next target. Dylan's protective instincts battle his reluctance to get too involved with a woman he isn't sure he can trust. As they get closer to finding the killer, they also grow closer to one another, but will Alexandra's secret agenda destroy their chance at happiness – if the killer doesn't strike first?

Amazon |  Amazon UK | Barnes and Noble |  Nook (UK) |  iBooks |  Google Play |  Kobo 

Three SciFi Romance Book Trailers For Your Viewing Pleasure

I love having book trailers made for my novels. I have no idea whether they actually enhance the sales of the books, but I enjoy having these mini movies. I'm sharing three by three different production houses - which one do you like best?

Here's the newest novel:

 And the trailer for the first book in the series:

 And one for an earlier novel. USA Today Happily Ever After recommended this trailer!:

I enjoyed the creative process involved in all three, where I had to approve the music, and did some selection of stock photos and video. It's interesting to see how the professional video-makers tell the story, based on the blurb of course.

Maybe someday I'll be able to afford a custom made video, with my own actors and sets, but for now, these are fun for me.

So, do you pay attention to book trailers? Do you have a favorite from another author?

Buy Links for Star Cruise: Outbreak
 Amazon     Kobo      Barnes & Noble   Apple iBooks

Flash Fiction - Don't Open the Chest!

I’m a were-mongoose; small, fast and mostly immune to poison. That was about to be tested.

The fabled Pandora’s Chest was in the pit. So was a seven foot long King Cobra. Or it could have been eight feet, maybe ten. It was coiled. Only its head was raised, undulating in that weird way snakes have. It was mesmerising.

“Snap out of it.” My best friend and treasure hunting partner, Breanna, nudged me in the ribs.

I rubbed my side. “You have the sharpest elbow.”

“That’s because I poked you with the key.”

The key was as long as my hand, old, and forged of bronze to unlock Pandora’s Chest. We only wanted one thing from the chest: the Eden Chart.

“Maybe we should have refused to take the key from that weird nun,” I said.

“You want to visit the Garden of Eden and steal those Apples of Wisdom, or not?” Breanna demanded.

I studied the cobra’s weaving head. Back and forward, side to side. I blinked. “You know what happened the last time someone ate one of those apples.”

“Yeah, yeah. Edith got over-clever and bopped Isaac Newton on the head with one. Voila, the Industrial Revolution.”

“Pollution, environmental destruction. Eeeek—hsss!”

My best friend had just pushed me into the pit. Breanna never had much patience for philosophical discussion. Fortunately, shifting from human to mongoose is instantaneous and I landed on four feet and launched myself at the cobra in a whirlwind of teeth, fur, claws and aggression.

Breanna scrambled down on a rope—she’s plain human—and darted past the cobra guardian to unlock the chest. She opened it. “Got it!”

The cobra smacked the chest closed with its tail.

Breanna didn’t waste her breath squeaking. She shoved the Eden Chart under her shirt and swarmed up the rope. I was two seconds behind her, digging my claws into the pit’s dirt walls and scrabbling up and out. We lay flat on the floor of the temple cellar and panted our exhaustion and triumph.

We should have run while we could.


***

Sorry, sorry. I know this was meant to be flash fiction with a complete story, but this snippet just wrote itself – and now I have no idea how to end it, or even who the narrator is!

The prompt word was "cobra".

***

If you enjoy shifter romances, my new release, DOCTOR WOLF -- out in just 7 days -- has a werewolf botanist hero and a pack princess heroine.

A werewolf in London romance. 

 Liz Jekyll might be the most wanted werewolf in London—wanted for dating, that is—but she doesn’t take it as a compliment. In fact, it’s a wretched nuisance because Liz has a vital secret to hide. What she needs is a disinterested werewolf who could pretend to be her boyfriend.

Carson Erving would be very interested in Liz if it weren’t for Gentiana Aeternae. The botanist werewolf from Alabama has found the legendary Elixir Gentian, and ruthless people will do anything, kill anyone, to get their hands on a plant that can grant an extra hundred years of life.

As danger explodes around them, two very independent werewolves will have to do the unthinkable and rely on one another. But when Liz’s secret is revealed, who will die?

Being Kind--To Yourself

We do everything. We work, haul kids around, pay bills, file taxes, cook dinner, do the shopping, try to balance the budget...

Somebody's got to go to the school conferences, the work conferences, and if you're incredibly lucky, a reader's conference like RT which just wrapped up in Vegas this weekend.  (I didn't go this year, but it's a wonderful experience if you can go!)

Then there's the chores. House. Yard. Homework. Doctor's appointments.

We schedule and plan and bullet list weeks, months, and even years in advance, trying to take care of everybody.

But do you actually slot in time for YOU?

I'm not talking about doctor's appointments or work meetings -- but time to just take care of yourself. Something that makes you feel good. 

This is something I really struggle with.  In a perfect world, our families would telepathically know when we need a break or a boost, but let's face it.  I'm lucky if someone will help me with the dishes, let alone say, "Honey, why don't you go take a nice long bath and let me do these dishes..."  Hahahaha, that never happens, at least in my household!

It has taken me awhile, but I've finally made an effort to take those breaks for myself.  The dishes can wait an hour or two and if I'm extremely lucky, someone might decide to do them for me.  (I'm not waiting because I'm pretty sure hell will freeze over first.)  I'm going to read a book.  Take a nice long bath. Drop in some essential oils.  Or maybe even make a fizzy bath bomb to enjoy.  Sit on the deck and have a glass of wine.  (Not while taking a bath though. I'm sure the neighbors would be traumatized.)

Whatever it takes. I need that downtime to find the creative well inside and bring it forth.

I need to stop all the frantic to-dos and add one important slot every single week.  Time to be kind to myself.

What kinds of things make you feel rested and refreshed, ready to face another mountain of tasks in your life?

Here Be News

Jeffe Kennedy received the RT Reviewers' Choice Award for Best Fantasy Romance of 2015, for THE TALON OF THE HAWK, at the RT Booklovers Convention last weekend in Las Vegas. Here's a bit of her acceptance speech.

Flash Fiction Challenge

Welcome to Here be Magic's Flash Fiction Challenge!

We had 12 words. You should find them all in the snippet below:  

Hallucinating * Calculator * Abomination * Cobra * Acrobat * Attachment 

* phantom * vigilante * revenge * miracle * ocean * ecology

They called him a vigilante, out for revenge, but all he wanted to do was make sure the abomination known as the Cobra never got a chance to hurt anyone else. 

When Jenny had died, the shrinks had told Kyle he was hallucinating. Owens Petrochemical had a perfect reputation for maintaining the ecology and the purity of the ocean, though they admitted to using the tidewater to cool their machines. There was no way that Richard Owens had let one of his experiments get out of hand, let alone doing harm to a sweet young intern.

But Kyle knew better. He’d been there when Owens transformed into the giant snake and killed the only girl to whom Kyle had ever had a serious attachment. Though he was a math student, more at home with a calculator than a romance novel, he’d even planned out his proposal. Now, not even a miracle could bring Jenny back. But the bastard who’d killed her could be brought to justice.

Kyle knew that, even as he trained with a retired circus acrobat, who’d also been a cat burglar. He’d always dabbled in martial arts, and now he increased his training. His electrical engineering roommate had built all the spy gear Kyle needed to learn exactly what Owens was up to. He’d done plenty of reconnaissance. In six months, six interns had gone missing from Owens. That was more than just coincidence.

It was a full moon tonight. The Cobra would strike again. But this time, the Phantom would be waiting.

* * * * * 

Check out Cindy Spencer Pape's latest release, Curses, a paranormal romance novel available in paperback or e-book at Amazon, through the Ethan Ellenberg Agency. Buy Link

Blurb:

Some people are really cursed when it comes to love!  For innkeeper and witch Melissa MacRae, a family curse means that falling in love is the ultimate bad idea. Author Jonas Pierce is a werewolf, who has seen too much evil to even  consider  passing on his curse to another generation.  So why does a hot summer fling have them both thinking about happily ever after?

Praise:

EPIC Finalist and 4 Stars from Romantic Times Magazine: “The characters are appealing, and passionate sex leads to a satisfying romance.  Well-developed histories make the couple real and one readers will care about.”