Wednesday, February 25, 2015

AJ Krafton's THE HEARTBEAT THIEF: #coverart #blurb

paranormal, Victorian, dark fantasy, new adult, AJ Krafton, magicToday I'm blogging as AJ Krafton and talking about my latest obsession... THE HEARTBEAT THIEF! My latest book made some big steps toward its début recently. Stop by the NA blog to read the shiny new blurb...

AJ Krafton, New Adult Author: THE HEARTBEAT THIEF #coverart #blurb: My first New Adult title, a Victorian dark fantasy called THE HEARTBEAT THIEF, has made another step toward release. I've finally written the blurb!

Check out the description of my latest book and tell me what you think about it.

Cheers! Ash

Monday, February 23, 2015

Holy hot as Hades! Max is back and she’s SMITTEN BY DEATH! #AuthorSpotlight @SharonSaracino

SMITTEN WITH DEATH (Max Logan 3)By Sharon Saracino

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Publisher: The Wild Rose Press

Release Date: February 20, 2015

The Blurb:

A year after the death of her ex-husband and boyfriend, Roger-the-Proctologist, Max has accepted the loss and moved on. Well, at least she’s tried, but a dating pool consisting mostly of weekend golfers in plaid polyester has left her unenthusiastic about her prospects. When Morgan Kane, the sexy Hellhound Grim Reaper, suddenly reappears seeking her assistance to rescue the bumbling teenage Zombie King from Cerberus' filthy paws, Max realizes that maybe she was holding out for snug denim all along. But a trip to Hell during Vegas Week, with Lucifer masquerading as a tone-deaf Wayne Newton and Kane’s psychotic mother as Satan’s Showgirl Bride, isn’t exactly her idea of the perfect date. In Hell, everything has a price, and though Max discovers she’s already paid dearly, if she and Kane are to succeed, another sacrifice is required. Will Max finally get her happily-ever-after or will she lose the man she loves to the Sweet Hereafter? Again.


“Reaper, I need a favor,” I choked out and cleared my throat.
“Sure, Logan.” His gaze came back to rest on my face. “What can I do for you?”
“Um, kiss me?” I squeaked as my face heated with the fire of a thousand desert suns.
“Huh?” Judging by the expression on his face, whatever favor Morgan Kane had been anticipating, locking lips with the crazy woman hadn’t even made his list.
“Look,” I whispered in a rush after glancing back to confirm Denise had almost gotten the invading hoard under control. “My sister is determined to hook me up. The minute she sees you, she will devote the remainder of the morning to cute and embarrassing stories designed to impress you with my charm and delightfulness. Trust me, you’ll want to stab knitting
needles in your eyes after about ten minutes.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Logan.” He had the temerity to smirk while crossing his arms over his chest. His broad, muscular chest. “I think I might enjoy the cute and embarrassing stories. And I already think you’re charming and delightful.”
My eyes widened in shock, and my mouth fell open yet again. “You do?”
“Logan? You digress.” He snapped my pie hole shut as he had before. But this time he didn’t remove his hand. Instead, he stroked his forefinger lightly along my jaw, sending my pulse into a gallop to rival the Clydesdales pulling a beer wagon away from a crowd of alcoholic zombies.
“I do? Oh yeah. I do. So, anyway I thought if we gave her the impression we already had something going, well maybe it would divert her attention away from my relationship status for the day.”
“I see,” he murmured as he slipped his hand along the side of my neck and curled his fingers around my nape. Suddenly my knees buckled. I must have twisted my ankle more seriously than I thought. Fortunately, Morgan Kane caught me around the waist before I hit the ground and pulled me hard against him. I absently wondered if it would be considered rude to toss a breath
mint in my mouth. Then it occurred to me I didn’t have any. Oh well, moot point. His soft chuckle skittered along my skin like a physical caress. I swallowed hard. I tipped my head back, licked my lips enticingly, and closed my eyes, resigned and ready to make this sacrifice in an effort to thwart my sister and her underhanded plans. Kane chuckled again and then
gently swept his lips over mine.
Except for Roger and that one tequila-induced episode of poor judgment right after senior prom, I
didn’t have a whole lot of experience with men. I know, I know. Up until now, I’ve sucked you into that whole sophisticated woman-about-town façade I
wear so well, but really, it’s true. Morgan Kane, on the other hand, apparently knew
his way around this town and most of the continental United States. The ground tilted, the sun spun backwards, and I had difficulty remembering my own name when Morgan Kane finally lifted his lips from mine. Would I never learn my impulsivity always
comes back to bite me in the ass?
I coughed loudly, attempted to gather my wits, and looked around to gauge my sister’s reaction. Denise, et al, was nowhere to be seen. The whole crew had apparently hustled past our lip-lock and continued into the house completely unnoticed. At least, by me.
Kane’s wicked grin said he was well aware of the effect he’d had on me, and it was precisely the one he’d intended.
Wucking fonderful.

The Author:

Sharon Saracino is a paranormal and fantasy author who resides in the anthracite coal country of Pennsylvania with her long suffering husband, funny and talented son, and two insane dogs. She is the author of the Max Logan series and the Earthbound series with The Wild Rose Press. When she is not reading, writing, or enjoying photography and genealogy, she brews limoncello, dreams of living in Italy and works as a Certified Registered Rehabilitation Nurse.

Friday, February 20, 2015

The Scent of his Feathers ... Release Day! #Dark #Fantasy #Poetry

I first introduced my latest book during the Bloody Valentine Horror Hop... and it's finally here.

Happy Release Day!

A collection of dark verses
"My crow leaps in a sudden sweep of wing and sails past, the scent of his feathers a balm to a soon-broken soul..."

Pushcart Prize nominee Ash Krafton opens this volume with a piece that leaves the reader wondering: Is the speaker victim or victor? Shadows can obscure the details that would cement our perceptions of individuals or events. Sometimes, shadows tell us more than we want to know.

Shadows prevail in each of the poems in The Scent of his Feathers, but Krafton is not afraid of the dark. In this poetry collection, she explores the darkness that surrounds us, dimming the edges of our well-lit worlds. Themes of death, devotion, despair, and desperation are expressed in subtle shades, allowing the reader to determine their own definitions.

How a person interprets these pieces--a collection of tiny everyday deaths--will depend on the reader and the flavor of the shadows within that person’s heart.

Join Krafton as she explores the inherent beauty of twilight. Sympathize with the shadows of a soul. Understand what drives a spirit to desperation.

And remember: without darkness, there can be no light.

Get your copy on Amazon...

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Let THE WITCH'S KISS Spellbind #paranormalromance from @TriciaSchneider

Paranormal Romance Author
Tricia Schneider continues
the saga of the Meriwether witches
in her brand new release...
Marianne Grey is a ghost. But, she's not dead. Cursed by a necromancer, Marianne searches for the elusive spell needed to merge her spirit with her physical body. She's not alone in her search. Her neighbor and best friend, Sage Merriweather, has vowed to help her break the curse.

Sage suffers from his own demons. Literally. After surviving a horrific attack, a demon has bonded with him, mutating Sage's magic so he can only conjure fire. Until he can break the bond, he is a danger to everyone near him, including those he loves.

From the glittering ballrooms of London to eerily dark graveyards, Marianne and Sage battle forces of evil destined to claim their souls for eternity. Though their newfound love for each other may be the toughest battle of all.


“Do you ever wonder why I never propositioned you?” Sage asked, the anger in his soul making him lash out. “I’ve been with many women. They call me the Merriweather Rake, did you know?” He laughed at the absurd moniker the ton had dubbed him. “Yet you are the only one I’ve never seduced.”

She flinched.

He thought the pain spreading across her face would make him feel just in his cause. He needed to push her away. From the look on her face, he succeeded. Instead of the satisfaction he thought it might bring, he felt only pain.

Pain from her sadness, her suffering.

“You are a good man, Sage,” she said with a slight tremor in her voice, the only sign she was affected by his cruel words.

“Do not fool yourself.”

She stood and walked away.

The lavender scent faded. Sage rubbed a hand over his eyes, trying to block the image of her sadness from his mind.

Had he done the right thing?

This curse confined Marianne to a select few. Essentially, she was forced to speak with him, spend time with him, even just for the pure sake of her sanity. What choice did she have when no one else could hear or see her?

Marianne was not to blame for the fact that Sage’s feelings regarding her were changing, that when he looked at her he saw not a child with gangly limbs, but a woman full-grown. One who had become a close friend. And that he desired their friendship to grow into something much more…intimate.

Was he a fool to punish her for his own misgivings?

Sage heaved a heavy sigh, then slapped the surface of the water since he had nothing else nearby to strike. The water sloshed over the rim.

Since the bathwater had cooled and any therapeutic effects it might once have owned vanished, he stepped out of the tub. After he dried and dressed, he went out in search of Marianne to make his apologies. He couldn’t push her away. Instead, he needed to restrain his own growing emotions. No need to burden her with any more troubles. Who else could she speak with other than him? Only Julia. He could not imagine the invisible prison she suffered. He’d not make it worse for her.

He wandered the hallways, searching each room until he found her.

Well, in a manner of speaking.

He thought to check the yellow room in the east wing, hoping she might have retreated there to lick any wounds he had inflicted.

Although her body was in the room, her spirit was nowhere to be found.

He approached the bed where they had neatly laid her body. To the untrained observer, Marianne could be sleeping. Her chest rose and fell, indicating she breathed still. A rosy color kept her cheeks pink with life. He reached out and took her limp hand in his, feeling the warmth of her skin.

She was no corpse. Merely sleeping. A deep, deep sleep. And she could not wake without her soul.

About the Author:

Tricia Schneider is an author of paranormal and gothic romance. Before the supernatural took possession of her pen, she worked for several years in a Waldenbooks store as Assistant Manager and bookseller. Since the closing of the bookstore, she now writes full-time while raising her 3 young children. She lives with her musician husband and 2 neurotic cats in the coal country of Pennsylvania.

Twitter: @TriciaSchneider

The Witch's Kiss is available today!
 I woke up to find my shiny pre-ordered copy waiting for me :)
You can get your own at...
 The Wild Rose Press        Amazon

Other Information:
SubGenre(s): Regency, Gothic, Paranormal
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Imprint: Black Rose
Length: Rosebud
Rating: Spicy (PG13)
Page Count: 208
Word Count: 49640
Keywords: romance, paranormal, historical, witches, witchcraft, demon, ghost, necromancer, magic, spells, Regency, England
Digital Price: $3.99
Print Price: $13.99
Release Date: February 18, 2015
ISBN Digital: 978-1-62830-751-1
ISBN Print: 978-1-62830-750-4
Series: Book 4 of The Merriweather Witches

Saturday, February 14, 2015

Bloody Valentine Horror Hop: Dark Poetry and the Downside of Love
Available for Amazon pre-order now:
The Scent of His Feathers by Ash Krafton
In between novels, my writing strays to more poetic endeavors.

As a writer, I see words everywhere--images and events aren't just creations of light or sound or scent. They are words waiting to be written. I'm inspired by the music I hear and the places I visit. That's why I'm never without a camera or a notebook (or, these days, my Windows phone, which serves as both). Sometimes I get struck by an object, a vista, or a misheard lyric and I JUST HAVE to write something down.

Otherwise, I'm haunted by those words that missed their chance.

A lot of my poetry focuses on the conception (or misconception) of death. See, I don't see death as an end to be feared--I imagine it's a doorway to something new.

Everyday life is full of tiny deaths: endings, losses, changes. Those deaths aren't final. They are just the beginning to something different.

The goddess Kali is often called the goddess of death, but that's only part of the truth. She is also the goddess of rebirth. She is the goddess of liberation in that she liberates us from the physical body and conquers the concept of ego.

And aren't those wonderful things?

My spec fic heart romanticizes the shadows and the darkness and the tiny deaths we endure, leading me to those poetic endeavors. My books are urban fantasy and paranormal romance, often with dark twists. Poetry is a way for me to overcome writer's block--I can sometimes better express an aspect I'm trying to write for a novel by exploring it in a poetic manner. Once the lines are out of my head, I can get back to work on my book. Sometimes, a poem is left behind, much like a pearl, pretty irritations as they may be.

THE SCENT OF HIS FEATHERS will be released February 20, 2015 on Amazon Kindle.

No better time to join a poetry hop, right?
AF Stewart has put out a call for all the bad love we can muster today... so a bunch of us are getting together to share the stuff you'll never get on a Hallmark card. :)
In the spirit of good love gone bad, I'd like to share one of the poems from The Scent of His Feathers. It was originally published by Niteblade Fantasy and Horror and has always been a favorite of mine.
What’s for Dinner?
by Ash Krafton
She only ever smiles
and says, “Your favorite.”
And he beams at her, obviously thinking how lucky he is
to have such a doting wife
even though he plays around with the waitresses at the truck stop
and thinks his wife never finds out
and who cares, right? because those girls
never stay in town long enough to cause problems.
So lucky, lucky, lucky to have the best of both worlds.
She, on the other hand, is only too happy to
peel baby onions and carrots and pig potatoes
to put around the large, sumptuous roast
of questionable origins and morals
(roast beast, she said once, and laughed at her own joke,
earning a chuckle from the pandering bastard
as he cracked open his second beer. He hadn’t
even finished his salad yet, for chrissakes.)
This could never pass as a dish served coldly,
not when procured by such hot passions.
And she smiles—
she may not be his favorite,
but at least she's not left-overs. 
In honor of the Valentine's hop, I will give away copies of my new poetry volume to anyone who would agree to read and review it on Amazon. Then (because there is always a surprise) everyone whose review is live on Amazon by midnight Sunday following the release (that would be Sunday February 22) will be entered into a drawing for an Amazon gift card, and the winner picked Monday February 23.

Are you in?


Enter the giveaway by filling out this form. Everyone who enters on this form will receive an electronic copy of THE SCENT OF HIS FEATHERS. You'll also receive periodic updates about upcoming releases, giveaways, and advanced reader copy opportunities.

On the Monday following the release, we'll pool all the readers who posted their review on Amazon and pick our lucky gift card winner!
 to visit other stops, including host AF Stewart.