Saturday, July 28, 2012

Summer Blahs? Not a Chance

Win the Mortal Path Series as Ebooks! 

The manic pace has worn off from attending ThrillerFest, the International Thriller Writers conference in New York City. Saw a lot of old friends, made some new ones, learned some crafty things, and gained new contacts! Topped it off with the Awards Banquet, at which I got to sit next to my husband Dennis (the ThrillerFest Registrar) for the first time in years. Usually I've been sitting at a sponsored table or at the ITW table, but this year I got to put my shrimp on his plate (Surf 'n Turf dinner) and steal some of his yummy sliced potatoes with mushroom sauce.

On the second day of the drive home to St. Louis (I don't fly anymore) I found out I'd brought home more than a pile of signed books and good memories - I had the flu. My germs were well traveled by the time I got home and went to bed, leaving poor Dennis with all the unpacking and laundry. What a man! Big round of applause!! I think I slept for days. Then I got bronchitis as a parting gift.

Open Road
At ThrillerFest, I had a meet and greet with my editor from Open Road Media, which is picking up my PJ Gray series (written as @ShirleyKennett) to convert to ebooks. After a brief effort to do this myself, I discovered that while I like the idea of having my backlist come out as ebooks, (surprise!) I don't care for doing the process myself. I've pulled the two books I did convert (Gray Matter, PJ Gray Book 1, and Burning Rose, a standalone) off the market; I'm letting the pros do what they do best. All ebooks should be available this year. Yoo hoo. :-)

I've been wanting to add to the furry tribe for a long while now, and feline #3 has just joined the family. A little boy kitten from the Humane Society, he was a bargain at this time of year due to the June/July bumper crop of kittens. Wish I could bring them all home, but this completes our trio. He's extremely sweet with a loud purring engine in spite of the fact that he'd been named Booger by the shelter staff. I'm so happy to have my little Strider home with me - his shelter name didn't last! Strider is the name of a favorite character in The Lord of the Rings; one of his names, anyway. Our other two cats-in-residence are still adjusting with some hissing and whatever, but no real fireworks. It took me nine shots to get this photo. Most of them were of Strider's tail on its way out of the frame, or a brick-red nose sniffing the camera lens. Cropped out of this picture to the left is my hand holding the little ball of energy down for his first official photo.

Wouldn't you love to be in the next Mortal Path book? Name a character after yourself or a friend and you could have a multi-page, "speaking" role. Enter now!

All this talk must surely lead to something to win, right? Of course!

Win All Three Ebooks!
Leave a comment below on anything that sings to you to enter to win the Mortal Path series from Harper Voyager in ebook form (Kindle, Nook, or Epub) - three books that definitely won't give you the summer blahs! The last day to enter is Friday, August 3rd. Stay cool!

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

The Great Alaskan Hunt for Howard

Congratulations to Lisa of Ohio for winning this month's prize!  Please come back August 25th for the next giveaway!  And thank you all for dropping by and leaving such great comments!

The 25th of every month is my turn to blog, and sometimes (for example, Christmas), I write the blog early, knowing that I'll be busy on the 25th. Today is like that. Today I'm giving a speech at the Librarians Day luncheon at the RWA conference in Anaheim. (RWA is Romance Writers of America). Writing I can do. I'm all alone in my office, and that's a comfort for an introvert like me. But public speaking?  Let's just say, I won't be eating much of that luncheon. My stomach will be in knots. But once I get started, I'll be all right. (That's what I keep telling myself!)

Later today, from 5-8 p.m., there will be a giant booksigning at the Anaheim Convention Center. I hope to meet some of you there!  About five hundred authors are signing, and it's open to the public.(Although there is a parking fee at the convention center).

And now, the Great Alaskan Howard Hunt!!  Yes, I just returned from Alaska, where I saw humpback whales, seals, sea otters, squirrels, moose, caribou, but I couldn't find Howard.  Not that I really wanted to run into a grizzly bear!  I did, however, find some of Howard's friends. I've posted a few photos here, but you can find more on my Facebook author page. And the highlight of the trip-- finding Howard's underwear!

Today, I'm giving away a signed copy of Sexiest Vampire Alive plus a signed coverflat of Howard's book, Wild About You. (That's the cover/artwork for the book coming out at the end of November.)  Just leave a comment about Howard (boxers or briefs?) or Alaska (or wherever you've been this summer), and a winner will be selected at random. International entries are welcome. Good luck!

Sunday, July 22, 2012

Better late than never...

This post is a little late - apologies everyone.

It's nearly July 25. In Australia, this has become a bit of a moment in itself, known as Christmas in July.

The problem we poor Aussies have is that the traditional Christmas meal - roast turkey/chicken/ham, roast vegetables, Christmas pudding - is a hot meal. And Christmas here takes place during the hottest time of the year.

But we love a good roast, so we've come up with an ingenious solution - have a traditional Christmas dinner in July, when it's cold enough to enjoy.

The festivals we have in our lives  - those that are traditional, those that we make up ourselves - are an important part of the colour of our world.

It was important to me to have these sorts of festivals in my created world of the gadda, the secret magical race at the centre of my books. And so I devised the Festival of the Star - a yearly celebration of the gadda, their rules and culture.

The festival was the setting of the finale of the Dream of Asarlai trilogy and when I decided to write a sequel, setting it during the festival seemed the only thing to do.


If you were the member of a secret magical race, how would you hide from humans?

The bardria and its guardians have decided to hide in the open by showcasing the gadda stronghold of Sclossin to the humans as a tourist destination, in the process proving the residents are normal.

The purists, however, believe the best solution is to remove the gadda from all contact with humans. The Festival of the Star, the biggest celebration of the year, is the perfect place to begin their campaign.

The guardians are sure they’re ready for anything the purists throw at them. But are they ready for the resurrection of an old enemy?

The Festival is available for free until the end of July from here:

If you've not read a gadda book yet - make this the time you give it a go :)

And thanks to Aussie author and artist Patty Jansen for the fabulous cover!

Thursday, July 19, 2012

WINNER of the 2012 NK Hemming Award for SF & Fantasy...

To CELEBRATE my win of this prestigious Aussie Award for Excellence in the Exploration of Themes of "Otherness" in the human condition through SF & Fantasy (e.g. race, gender, sexuality, disability etc) , I'd love to giveaway a signed copy... So I'd love to hear from you about a significant moment in your life when you felt like an outsider...  
Champagne Glasses Clinking

And to whet your appetites, here's an excerpt:

Hindsight: Chapter 1: Severing Serenity

Mira noticed the body on the beach from halfway across the new bay bridge.
Jogging across from Likiba Isle to the mainland, trying not to look like an escapee from the sanctuary, she wore a cotton sundress instead of a track suit and stayed alert to every sound in the rising fog, and every shadow. Dawn chased her with the first sharp blades of the day but as she drew nearer to the body, she paused with her hand on the damp rail.
Heights and bridges always made her sway. Her violet sunshades helped to some extent; the darker hues making everything appear more solid and real. Still, she couldn’t help the feeling that the bridge might evaporate out from under her at any moment, leaving nothing between her and the stunted mangroves that dotted the small cove and its crooked inlet.
Gripping her shades with one hand to prevent them from falling, she clamped tighter onto the ghostly rail and looked down along the small beach below.
Through the violet haze, she saw a young blonde woman, much like herself, lying on her back, and except for one soggy jogging shoe, she was naked.
Mira clasped a hand over her mouth, feeling ill. The fresh corpse wasn’t the first she’d ever seen, but it was the first woman. Sunrise bathed the body in a soft ghostly glow, while the shallow waves of the incoming tide licked obscenely higher along the dead woman’s thighs. Semi-adrift against a patch of scuffled sand, her arm pointed above her head to a spilled bucket of fish, with a basket of tackle uphill and a long rod, still upright in the sand at the water’s edge. The line hung slack with the bait and hook bobbing at her knee, almost as if she’d caught and landed herself. Or perhaps netted. Her leather bikini was twisted around her mouth and head. However, it was the blast marks in her chest which had obviously put an end to her struggles. Three rounds at close range. Her hands were punctured and blown out too, as if she’d seen the shots coming and tried to shield herself.
A trail of scuffled sand stretched from the body to the bridge, disappearing below Mira into murkier shadows. Men’s voices came to her through the thinning fog too; the derelict tram bridge nearby now muttering with local fishermen.
A purple seagull swooped down past Mira’s shoulder, startling her. It landed on the dead woman’s face, and in reflex, Mira hissed at it before she realised she was too far away, and far too late. The bird preened its wings, oblivious. Then rumbling beneath Mira’s feet, the long bridge trembled with the approach of a heavy rig.
Anyone who recognised her outside the sanctuary could pose a risk. Gate pass or no gate pass, it was unusual for anyone to make it so far on foot and alone at such an early hour. Questions would be raised, and such delays were the last thing she needed today.
Glancing about, she calculated the chance of making a dash off the nearest end of the bridge onto the mainland. She might make it to cover in time behind a grassy dune or picnic bench. Or she could stay and maintain the pretense of normality; just a local cane farmer’s daughter, out for a walk. However, at such an early hour as 6am, she reassured herself it was common for delivery trucks to be as keen as she was to escape Serenity after unloading; time enough for them to get through the security checkpoint and make it off the isle completely before any of the most dangerous clients were let out of their wards for morning exercises.
Sea hawks squawked a warning overhead, invisible against the violet sky. Mira heeded them and spun her back to the road, hugging the rail and shielding her glasses just as a gust of small stones and sand whipped past her from the speeding wheels. She heard a series of jolts as the truck accelerated off the bridge, but by the time she uncurled herself from the rail, the engine was already fading inland, dissolving into foggier swamplands and cane farms towards the interstate freeway. Within seconds, she heard the familiar growl of another engine – Bennet Chiron’s old Camaro headed her way, this time through the maze of cane fields.
Mira hurried for the overgrown picnic area to meet him, but the meandering footpath led her closer to the beach first as it followed the low dune towards the old public parking area.
A horn sounded and brakes squealed as Ben slewed against the kerb to her right.
‘Mira!’ he called above the rough rumble of his engine. ‘What’s the deal?’
The car backfired, making her jump.
‘You okay?’ His door clanked as it stuck open. She heard him jogging over, leaving the engine chugging, but she didn’t bother turning to greet him. No point, since she couldn't see anything unless it happened to coincide with its exact position and movements a fortnight ago. Her crystalline eyes filtered out everything else from the present. 
He stopped a short distance behind her. ‘Does Matron Sanchez know you’re out here?’
She shrugged, and a cold shiver caused her to hug herself. A platinum pass gave her authority to come and go from Serenity any time during the day so long as she returned in time for meals and other scheduled activities, but no walking distance ever seemed far enough if she could still see Likiba Isle. As a gloomy backdrop to the dead body, it seemed almost inevitable that someone would die here.
‘Hey, Mira,’ he said, with a cautious step closer. ‘Are you with me?’
She nodded, wishing she never had to go back there...

But she was blind, officially, and where else did she belong, thanks to her "delusions" of seeing history - except a health sanctuary, once known as the Serenity Asylum.   

{Buy with free postage and great discounts any time from}

Monday, July 16, 2012

Is everyone in the mood for a giveaway?

The winners are:

Lexi H
Fiery Na
Marjolein van weers
John B

Thank you everyone for throwing your name in the hat! Winners, please email me your postal addresses so I can pop signed copies in the mail!

Again, thank you everyone. I loved all the comments!

I have five extra copies of 'The Spell of Rosette' and to celebrate her latest print run I'm giving them away.

All you have to do is leave a comment on this post and your name will go into the hat. Tweet or Facebook a link back here (include the @kimfalconer twitter tag or Kim Falconer Facebook friend tag) and your name will go in five more times!

Below is an excerpt. Enjoy, and good luck! Winner announced Thursday midnight, on the new moon!

The Spell of Rosette pg 188 - 190

He drank the energy in. He drank her in. She could feel it! Her heart pounded and her breath came in ragged gasps. He pulled her to him before she could boost again and her wooden sword fell to the ground. His hands tightened around her wrists. Pressed against his neck, she could taste his salty skin. She didn’t know whose sweat dripped down her cheek, his or hers. The grip tightened further. She winced as her bangles dug into her flesh.
            ‘You’re not to boost with magic, Rosette,’ he whispered into the dampness of her hair. His lips moved slowly as the words formed against the curve of her ear.‘This is not practised in the arena. Not yet.’
            ‘You used it first!’ she said, tempted to bite. She let her teeth rest against his pulsing jugular. ‘I felt it.’
            ‘Did you?’
            Beneath the bravado, Rosette sensed the tiniest hint of surprise. Then she knew. He was shielding his mind, holding something from her. He had not expected her to feel his magic. This could give her an advantage.
            Too late. While she speculated, the Sword Master arched his back, lifted his arms and flipped her to the ground. As she hit, the air in her lungs rushed out and his knee came down hard on her hip. He pinned her arms above her head. 
            ‘Would you say that I have you now, Rosette de Santo, for the fourth time?’ An’ Lawrence dropped his face to her cheek, the roughness of his stubble brushing away the dust and sweat as he spoke.
            No, I would not! Rosette went for one last move. She let her entire body go limp as her lungs silently filled with air. He shifted the weight off her hip and she twisted like a cat inside its skin. Calling on a colossal boost of magic centred in her spine, she sent energy to her legs, tucking them to her belly, flipping over and pulling the Sword Master with her. Now his head was between her legs, his arms — for a millisecond — pressed into the powdery ground on either side of  her thighs. Not exactly the position she had in mind, but a small point none the less. She had him flat on his back  ‘Not quite yet.’ She could sense the stunned aura of the gathering. It would have been better if she had sensed his next move.
            His energy came from nowhere, no sign of a build-up, just total release. She was on her back in an instant with the Sword Master astride her hips, the weight of his pelvis against hers. He had her arms bound across her breasts and sweat fell from his forehead onto her throat.
Rosette, her familiar Drayco and her sword master.
            ‘You win, of course,’ she said as she shielded her mind. She started to gather energy like a tornado draws in the sky.
            A quizzical look came over his face for such a brief moment she wasn’t sure if it had been there at all. Suddenly he was on his feet, pulling her up from the ground.
            ‘That’ll do, Rosette. And well done. My imagination has been whetted, I’ll admit. Where did you learn those moves?’ he asked.
            ‘From . . . my brothers,’ she answered, catching herself before she talked of Maka’ra or Jarrod.
            ‘Brothers? Did they train at Bangeesh Temple?’
            Rosette stumbled. ‘They work on their own, mostly.’ She shielded her mind tighter. Not every sword
master had formal training in a temple or even belonged to a coven larger than one or two. It was plausible.
            ‘You’re lucky you had them.’ He smiled, taking in her bedraggled look. And where did you learn that magic? It’s not Nell’s, he asked telepathically.
            She didn’t reply.
            She shrugged her shoulders. Here and there.
            He looked at her, his expression impenetrable. Indeed. ‘We’re done for the day. Go to the baths now, and see the healer.’
            ‘I’m fine.’ She glared at him, daring him to contradict her.
            An’ Lawrence shook his head from side to side. ‘You’re cut, bruised and bleeding. Do as I say, and please stop questioning my every direction; it’s getting tedious.’
            ‘Yes, Sword Master.’ Rosette gave him a brief bow then picked up her weapon, brushed the dust off the hilt and headed towards the baths. The crowd made way before her, whispering things she did not bother to hear. She lifted her head, her shoulders back, stilling her mind even as her legs quivered beneath her.  She just had to get to the baths without them giving out, then she could let go . . .
 * * * 

 Kim Falconer is a Supernatural Underground author writing epic science fantasy novels set in the worlds of Earth and Gaela. Kim’s latest series is Quantum Encryption.

You can find out more about her at or her blog The 11th House. She posts here on the 16th of every month. Her books are available worldwide with free shipping and sales help support the IS_Foundation.

Monday, July 9, 2012

Hot News and Hot Excerpt...

I can't believe it's July already. Where has the last few months gone?  I've been crazy busy and before I knew it, school was out, the kids are home and summer has officially begun.  Wow. I sure hope you are all surviving the heat because up around these parts in Canuk land it's been very, very HOT!

And speaking of hot, I've got some cool news and a HOT excerpt from the next novella in my League book, To Hell and Back.

First off, this week I'm releasing my first YA, Ravyn's Fall under the pen name JULIE BLACKSTONE. I'm uber excited about this book and well, the cover is stunning, don't you think?

Falling in love shouldn’t be dangerous…

Sixteen year old Ravyn Creed has always known she was different.  But even she doesn’t know the secrets of her birth… secrets that should have remained hidden.  Secrets that can kill her. 
On a night meant for fun—for music and dancing and boys—darkness enters her world and nothing will be the same again. With both Heaven and Hell after her, will the mysterious Zeke Lancaster be the one to save her?  Or will she find the strength to save herself…

Ravyn's Fall should be available on Amazon by July 11th, and then on B&N and various other vendors by the end of the week. Visit my website by clicking HERE for updates and if you are inclined to read the first chapter you can click HERE 

On a side note, my kids band Ravyn's Fall (and yes they stole their name from the title of this book) has written an original piece of music and I'll have it up as soon as it's mastered.

Now onto To Hell and Back.

I'm nearly done writing the second novella in my LEAGUE OF GUARDIANS series and it continues Logan and Kira's story. It's set to be released on October 30th, but here's a sneak peek at the first chapter... Enjoy and yes, as you can see a lot of nasty business awaits these two as they struggle to find their HEA!

Water dripped somewhere behind Logan Winters.  It was a steady fall, one he’d heard for days it seemed and yet he knew it could only have been a few hours.
  Drip. Drip. Drip.
It would eventually drive him crazy, he knew this, but for the moment his sanity was intact. For the moment, he was still alive. Besides, he’d rather concentrate on the wet, monotonous sound that echoed against cold stone, than the pain that ripped across every inch of his body.
            Because it was a pain he was all too familiar with and he sure as hell knew what was coming next.
Another wave of hurt rolled over him but Logan managed to hide a groan, aware he was no longer alone.  Aware that she was back and as a new scent drifted over to him he realized she wasn’t alone. Something dark, putrid, and malevolent had joined her.  One of her pets not doubt.
He tensed and prepared himself for what was to come.  He knew it would be awful. He knew it would be brutal and without mercy. Such was the way of it down here in District Three.  In Hell.
Logan’s arms—spread wide and held up by chains of fire—ached, the muscles stiff and useless.  His left eye was swollen shut, his cheekbone smashed, while the fingers on his right hand were broken.  His bottom lip oozed blood, but it was only one of many abrasions that marred his face, his chest and torso.
And they’d barely gotten started.
He saw her then. Her pale, white feet, toes painted blood red—and then slowly as he raised his head—her rounded hips, tapered waist and breasts that swelled generously, their puckered tips a dusty rose. She wore a sheer bit of cloth that did nothing to hide her nakedness. Her skin was creamy, her mouth plump, the candy red lips slightly parted. Not one blemish marred her flesh and her long hair hung in golden ropes, over her shoulders, streaming down like shining wisps of the silkiest threads.
His chest burned with hatred and his heart was tight with pain as he gazed into eyes the colour of liquid glass.  He clenched his teeth, ignored the pain and let his beast show through.  He vowed, if nothing else, that he would survive this.
He had to, or all was lost.

Chapter One
Two days earlier…

Logan leaned against the window, his right leg casually bent at the knee, while he pulled the collar of his leather jacket up a little higher. The wind was chilled and rushed along the sidewalk, blowing bits of debris and dust, dead leaves and garbage. It was nearing dinnertime and behind him the hair salon glowed warmly in the gathering dusk.
He’d stopped in this small Canadian town only an hour earlier and now, his brow furled menacingly as his gaze swept up and down the sidewalk. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d done wrong.  They should be on the road, moving North…getting closer to their destination, not hanging around some small country town teeming with humanity and—his nostrils flared—more than a few otherworld creatures.
Especially not so close to All Hallows Eve.
He crossed his arms and glared at a woman who smiled seductively as she moved down the sidewalk. Her smile faltered for a moment, probably because the tall, statuesque blonde with breasts as large as melons, legs as long as sin and a mouth as ripe as a cherry was the kind of woman who wasn’t used to men ignoring her.  Hell, she was the kind of woman he would have tasted with no regrets, once.
But that was before.  Before Kira Dove. 
 Behind him a giggle, a soft, wonderful, feminine giggle pierced the silence and for a second everything inside him stopped. His face softened and he looked to the side wanting to turn around so that he could see her, but Kira had made him promise he’d wait.
And so he would.
He shook his head, wondering what his brothers would think of how this little slip of woman had managed to get under his skin more than any before. And in just under a month. All she had to do was lower her lashes, bite her lip, gaze up at him…and he was done for. 
Him. Logan Winters.  Ruthless hellhound and all around bastard.
He’d had no plans whatsoever of stopping in Waterford but once Kira caught sight of the quaint town she’d begged him to, and considering she’d been locked in a mental institution most of her life, he had a hard time saying no.  Everything through her eyes was new and shiny and wonderful.  It soothed something in his old, tired, soul.
And really, when she asked so nicely, how the hell could he turn her down?  She’d gone on for a good twenty minutes about pumpkins and Halloween and trick or treaters, witches and black cats.  
She’d done it all. Bitten her lip, turned her head just so. Told him about the parties her parents used to host, parties she’d spied on from the landing when the adults got crazy and the booze would flow.  She’d leaned in and kissed him, there beside his mouth where he loved to be teased. And though he knew better, though the danger they lived with was real, he ignored it.  The sun was shining, the air crisp with fall and he couldn’t say no.  Not to Kira.  And especially not when he’d spied the joy in her eyes.
For the last month Logan Winters had lived, no, he’d fucking breathed, to see the shadows lessen from their dark, depths.  Christ two days ago he’d taken her dancing.  Him.  Dancing to some honkytonk shit in some honkytonk bar out in the middle of nowhere.  He’d even mastered the two-step but that was more or less because Logan Winters never did anything halfway.  If he was going to twirl his woman across a whiskey soaked dance floor he was going to do it right.
Logan growled softly and banged his head against the glass behind him.  He was, for want of a better term, pussy whipped, and he didn’t give a rat’s ‘effing ass.  A smile tugged the corner of his mouth.  Pussy whipped.  Whatever.  He’s given in to her wish to spend the night in Waterford with the promise that she would pay a high price later.  Much later when he had her all alone.  When her hot little body was pressed against his. When he stripped her bare and made her cry out his name with passion.
When he joined with her.  Mated with her. When he…
Christ, he was hard just thinking about all the ways he was going to make little Dove pay for this side trip and he’d scored bonus points because he’d agreed to wait outside while she had her hair done.  Though truthfully, he’d gotten used to her bad bleach job, with the dark two inch roots and the hacked off ends. 
            He shifted again and hissed as his jeans rubbed against his thickening erection.   If she didn’t hurry up…
            “I’m ready.” Kira’s soft voice jolted him and he turned, nostrils flaring as her subtle, earthy, scent washed up and over him.  His heart tightened and for a moment he could do nothing but gaze down into her heart-shaped face.  The woman could be bald for all he cared.  She’d had him way the hell before fucking hello, it had just taken him a bit to catch on.
            “Well?” She touched the flirty ends that just touched the tops of her shoulders. They were now dyed her  natural, ebony color with a few crimson highlights.  “Do you like it?”
            He saw the hesitation.  The fragile confidence that threatened to take away the lightness of the moment.  He raged inside at the madman Mergerone who’d abused her so, though he knew the bastard would suffer.  Only yesterday he’d learned from his brother Lucian, that Mergerone had been dragged to hell and sent to District Three for processing.  He’d pay and the price would be steep.
            Logan reached for Kira, slid his hand along her jaw, cupped her head as she leaned into his touch and then bent low.  He felt her shiver as his warm breath rolled across her flesh and the emotion inside him was so fierce he had to wait a second before he could speak.  He cleared his throat and nuzzled her just underneath her ear.
            “There is nothing about you I don’t love.” His voice was husky, thickened with desire. “Now, let’s find a hotel,” he growled, his erection straining even more as she made that little sound in the back of her throat…the one that drove him crazy.
            “A hotel,” she whispered. “But don’t you want to eat first?”
            A wicked glint entered his eye and he drew back.  He slipped his arm around her shoulders possessively.  “Oh, I’ll be eating.  Don’t worry your pretty little head about that.” He loved the blush that stained her cheeks. “It’s just, my menu is a little more exotic than what we’ll find in a local pub.”
            She made that sound again and her arousal was instant. It flooded his nostrils and he smiled, content, soon to be sated, and for the moment…happy, which was an odd thing for a hellhound.
            Logan led Kira down the street, his steps slow and unhurried, not at all like the emotions that raged inside him.  They turned the corner and followed a sign touting Waterford’s best Bed and Breakfast.  It was near the end of the street, nestled among old oak trees and all the colors of fall.
            For a moment something drew his head up—a sense that all wasn’t right—and he ran his eyes over the milling humans.  Several feet ahead a werewolf paused and held his gaze for several seconds until the tall, golden-haired shifter bowed his head in respect and looked away.  Logan glared at him for good measure before turning his attention elsewhere. He sensed a vampire nearby and when he would have taken a moment to dig deeper, send his senses flying on the wind, Kira tugged on his arm and suddenly the darkness was no more.  There was only sunlight and fresh rainwater and Kira.
            “Thanks for letting us stay.”
            His arm slid around her shoulders possessively and he turned once more toward the Bed and Breakfast. “We’ll spend the night and most of the morning but that’s it.”
She nodded, clung to his side and beneath his skin, the beast stirred. Aroused and possessive.
  Logan didn’t see the dark shadow that melted into the alcove of the coffee shop across the way. He didn’t feel the ripple of evil, or the scent the putridness of the underworld.  In that moment, Logan only saw Kira and even though her safety was paramount, he was helpless to stop the tide that was coming.  It was an unusual lapse in judgement and yet it was so much more.  It was hunger, desire and need…and for the moment, it was weakness.
            As it was, Logan Winter’s world was about to implode and he had no way of stopping it.

Saturday, July 7, 2012

New Release: The Asylum Interviews: Bronx

Do you like elves? Do you like warlocks? Do you like trolls?
Do you like vampires, ogres, incubi, werewolves, sirens, and all manner of craziness?

If so, then I think you should take a trip to Low Town, where all the creatures of the world have gathered to try to live in some semblance of peace.

On Tuesday, my new series The Asylum Tales officially launched with the release of the first novella, THE ASYLUM INTERVIEWS: BRONX.  This novella takes place in Low Town and introduces readers to the main character Gage Powell, a former warlock in training who is now a tattoo artist and general magnet for trouble.  The story tells of how Gage meets Bronx and comes to hire him at the tattoo parlor Asylum. 

The tales starts of with Gage trying to help his friend Parker with his love life.  It doesn't go so well, but then you'd expect an incubus's love life to be complicated.  Throw in a succubus, a Vestal Virgin, a troll, and it's a big crazy party that you don't want to miss.

The novella is about 80 pages and the e-book also includes a sneak peek of my first Asylum Tales novel, ANGEL'S INK, which comes out on October 16.  What's more, the e-book is a bargain at only $1.99!  A great summer read at a great price.

If you'd like to read more about the characters that will be appearing in The Asylum Tales, check out the following interviews:


I took a risk in traveling to Low Town myself for those interviews and it was an interesting experience.  Though, I still feel the urge to throw something large at Gage's head.

And finally, if you're looking for some other great e-book deals to help pass the time as we wait out this horrible summer heat, check out my recent blog entry here. Great deals on great books!

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Nothing like a little action to keep you sane

As you all might know, I've had a busy year. I've finished a masters degree, written a book, and got a new day job all in a matter of three months. Its been crazy. I barely had enough time to eat and yet still managed to gain seven pounds (but that's a whole other blog for another time).

After the last paper was turned in, after the last of the copy edits was emailed, my life came to a grinding halt. There wasn't a deadline. My time was my own.

And that's when the crazy set it. See, there was no reason to keep going, and as much as a life on the couch with a free subscription to Netflix sounds good, you can only watch Sherlock  so many times before you start to go a bit mad.

Some people might say I can't relax, can't just be still. Some people might have also said that I should take up a relaxing hobby that has nothing to do with shooting guns or calculating a lion's bite force.

I like to think that I grow restless easily because I am the heroine of my own story. I've just completed a pretty intense journey and am settling back into my ordinary world, which I'm finding was not as fun as when I was plotting demon demises. And yes, that's what I call fun.

Most good stories start out with a character who needs adventure, whether they want to admit it or not. Granted, thanks to the new day job, I can't actually jump on a pirate ship and sail off for foreign lands, I can at least read about it.

And as I fill my ereader with sample chapters from every genre, I'm gearing up for my next adventure- reading, another activity that I haven't been able to do for two years. We all know that if there is no action in a book, it gets boring. This is more than just our need for swash-buckling and espionage. If there is no action, there is no opportunity for growth, for the characters and for us. The mistakes that we learn from do not have to be our own. There is no shame in living vicariously through a character on a page. I did not need to experience Bridget Jones' embarrassment to learn a lesson.

I'm looking for my next lesson in life, and if I have to learn that on an airship with a corset and a crossbow, so be it. I'm ready.

So, my dear adventurers, I offer you a chance to learn through another's mistakes. Tell me about a lesson you learned from a book and I'll send a random commenter a copy of Diaries of an Urban Panther so you too can learn the struggles of a single girl in the big city without all the messy shapeshifting stuff getting in the way of your real life.


Amanda Arista
Author of Diaries of an Urban Panther, Claws and Effect, Nine Lives of an Urban Panther (out Aug 21st ).

Sunday, July 1, 2012

"The Heir of Night" — A Gemmell Morningstar Award Winner

The Gemmell Mornmingstar Award

On Tuesday May 1, I posted here about my excitement that "The Heir of Night" (The Wall of Night Book One) had recently made the shortlist for the international Gemmell Morninsgtar Award for Best Fantasy Newcomer.

On  the morning of Saturday 16 June (the evening of June 15 in the UK) I received a phone call from my London editor to say that The Heir of Night had won — yes won! — the award. Needless to say I was over the moon — and although it is a few weeks on now, would love to share some of the photos with you.

And yes, you're right, the award on the left really is made of solid crystal! 

Obviously winning a major international award is tremendously exciting in and of itself.
The award with the ceremony invitation & programme, with the English language editions of HEIR

My UK editor, Jenni, receiving the award on my behl
But I believe The Heir of Night‘s win also checks several firsts, being the first time either of the Gemmell book awards ( the Legend or the Morningstar) have been won by a woman author, or a Southern Hemisphere writer—so go the HEIR, I say!

So a HUGE thank you to everyone who voted for The Heir of Night, many of you right here on the Supernatural Underground—because we couldn’t have done it without you!

And the flowers, wine and chocolates to go along with the award were rather nice... 

Plus my "author's words" have just been added to the Gemmell Awards' site: you can read them here.