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Holly's Hurricane by Marie Carter Release Day Blitz and Giveaway

Holly’s Hurricane
Marie Carter

Genre: Literary Fiction

Publisher: Grace Goodrich Press

Date of Publication: November 1, 2018

ISBN: 978-1721563531

Number of pages: 192

Cover Artist: Marie Carter

Tagline: …a fantastical ode to New York City’s glorious and horrifying past, as well as a warning to us all for its future.

Book Description:

In the year 2040, Hurricane Diana descends on New York City. Holly Williams, an architect and immigrant from England flees to her home country, staying with her ailing stepdad in Boston, England. Her mother, who has Alzheimer’s, is living in a nursing home nearby.

Holly's purpose in life, it seems, has been to design factories and offices for robotics companies while overseeing the demolition of historic New York buildings. 

While seeking refuge from the hurricane that has destroyed New York City to the point that is barely recognizable, Holly begins to have strange hallucinations in which a mysterious stranger guides her through some of the city’s forgotten and dramatic past.

Amazon

What others are saying about Holly’s Hurricane

"Holly’s Hurricane, smartly set in the near future after a category 4 hurricane hits New York, will appeal to futurists and history buffs. An absorbing romantic novel that will make you think in new ways about the past, present and future of our most vulnerable cities as humankind battles climate change."—Laurie Gwen Shapiro, author of The Stowaway

"Here is New York City as we have never seen it, devastated by Hurricane Diana in 2040. Here too is our long overdue romantic heroine, Holly Williams, a sixty-year-old architect and immigrant struggling with ailing parents, unruly robotic aides, and an unexpected love interest twelve years her junior. Guided by a Virgil-like figure, Holly begins to realize at last her professional and personal potential as she embarks on a mission to preserve what's left of her adopted city. Prepare to be swept away by the sheer force of Holly's Hurricane—a fantastical ode to New York City's glorious and horrifying past, as well as a warning to us all for its future."—Molly Gaudry, author of We Take Me Apart

"Be prepared to travel through dimensions in time and space in Holly’s Hurricane. This is the kind of novel that haunts you, and you’ll find yourself thinking about it for days to come. You’ll become Holly, a brilliant architect, walking through the ruins of New York City in 2040 after a hurricane has devastated the city.  Gorgeously written and incredibly wise, it’s a page-turner that will leave you on the edge of your seat, wondering if you’ve just looked through the window of our very vulnerable future. But as Marie Carter asks, 'How could something so pretty and intricate emerge from some devastation?' Carter shows us that all is not lost, as she carves the beauty out of the destruction."—Liz Scheid, author of The Shape of Blue

Excerpt:

One minute I am sitting with my mum in the nursing home in Boston, England.

The next I was transported to the Strid, the stream that lurks about a hundred yards from the nursing home, with all the danger signs. It looks perfectly benign, but because of its deadly combination of fast currents and underwater rocks, anyone who has ever jumped in, or gone swimming in the Strid, has died. They put the first danger signs up about fifty years after the third person had gone missing, but still, about twenty years ago some troublemaker had dipped a toe in and was grabbed by the current as if by a hungry monster, angry with the daredevil for even tempting fate.

I was standing by the Strid when I saw a man who looked faintly familiar, sporting pince-nez glasses, a salt and pepper thick mustache, and wearing a bowler hat. He was stylishly dressed and a little portly—in fact, I would have said he had a similar profession to mine—like an architect, except he seemed to be from another era. He took his hat off as a gesture, and I could see his hair was parted down the middle. He beckoned me to come closer and gestured for me to look into the water. The remarkable thing was, I didn’t feel unsafe. There was something fatherly about the man, something I trusted. As I drew closer and closer, I noticed a kind of whirlpool gaining more and more momentum in the Strid. The noise of the water suddenly became deafening which was a shock to me, as I couldn’t hear it earlier.

The man said very simply, “Hello, Ms. Williams.”

And then, without warning, to my horror, the man pushed me in. I was instantly suctioned into a whirlpool but, to my amazement, I didn’t get wet. And, in spite of my age, I felt no discomfort. In fact, I felt light, and all of my daily aches and pains seemed to evaporate. I found myself in a vacuous tunnel-like interior, and I was falling like Alice down the rabbit hole, but in slow motion, as though I had developed wings. This was a relief. At my age, broken bones are harder to repair.

I landed weightlessly at the bottom of the steps of an imposing building that looked like an ancient Roman temple. I could barely feel my body, and I noticed I appeared to be see-through; my hands were opaque. The Architect was right behind me, looking at me and smiling, very proper and gentlemanly. He began climbing the steps of the building like an animated fairy sprite, turning and beckoning me to follow. But I stood gaping with a goldfish mouth, entranced. The structure was reminiscent of French palaces and Italian basilicas. The gigantic granite and steel façade was supported by Roman columns. The Architect bounced impatiently on the steps calling to me, “Ms. Williams,” and becoming afraid I might lose my guide, I began climbing to the top, punctuating each stair with a heavy footstep. I felt like a Roman goddess. Staring at the grandiose clock above me, I noted it was four in the afternoon.

Entering the gargantuan doors, I could hear crackly announcements being made over a PA system for what seemed to be the names of places and times. Commuters in stylish heels clicked past me.

“May I offer you a tour?” the Architect asked, presenting his elbow, his manners at once charming and archaic. He even wore elbow patches. “No one can see you,” he said, as if reading my mind.

“Are we ghosts?” I asked him, but he scoffed at my remark. Was this it for me? Had I died? “Where are we?” I pressed.

“The past,” he answered.

“What is this place?” It felt at once familiar and foreign.

“Penn Station, New York City, 1920 when it was in its heyday.”

I gasped. I had read about Old Penn Station when I was studying for my Masters at university many years ago. I hadn’t thought about it in such a long time.

We commenced walking at a regal pace. “Penn Station, New York, New York, was born in 1910 and died in 1963,” the man began.

On the interior, we were greeted by Italian-style shopping arcades with drugstores, clothing boutiques, and elegant restaurants, separated by columns of creamy, smooth travertine marble. There were two statues of important-looking men who were dwarfing the travelers; one was carrying blueprints.

“Not a lot of New Yorkers know or remember the original Penn Station,” the Architect said, smiling wistfully. “It was quite glorious, as you can see.” He gestured with his arm for me to drink in the splendor of Penn Station and I did. The walls were 150 feet high, I calculated, as I craned my neck upwards towards its magnificence and abundance of light.

“Let’s look at the waiting rooms,” he said, guiding me away from the stores, where patrons were chattering merrily.

In the waiting room, people were milling around smoking cigars or hugging and kissing, their faces changed from determined desire to softness as though they had finally found what they were seeking. Semi-circular windows bathed travelers in sunbeams. World maps crowded the walls.

About the Author:

MARIE CARTER is a Scottish writer, editor, writing teacher, and tour guide, based in Astoria, NY.

Her first book, The Trapeze Diaries, based on her experiences of learning trapeze, was published by Hanging Loose Press. Her novel Holly's Hurricane will be published in November 2018.

Marie has been a guest on NPR, and has been featured in The New York Times, Queens Gazette, Huffington Post, QNS, and many other media outlets.

Her work has been published in Hanging Loose, The Brooklyn Rail, Spectacle, Turntablebluelight, and Yogacitynyc, among others and in the anthologies The Best Creative Nonfiction (W. W. Norton, 2007) and Voices of Multiple Sclerosis (LaChance, 2009). She has also been awarded and attended a residency at the MacDowell Colony.

Marie currently teaches Memoir and Creative Writing at Gotham Writers' Workshop.

Fascinated by New York City's macabre and little-known histories in her writing and life, she decided to further her interest by becoming a licensed tour guide with Boroughs of the Dead. She created and guides the "Haunting Histories and Legends of Astoria" tour and also leads other tours in Greenwich Village, Lower Manhattan, Brooklyn Heights, and Roosevelt Island. She also lectures on various aspects of New York City's history on a regular basis at Q.E.D. in Astoria, Queens.

Marie has provided editorial and layout and design services to Hanging Loose Press, one of the oldest independent publishers in the United States. She is the editor of Word Jig: New Fiction from Scotland (Hanging Loose, 2003) and co-editor of Voices of the City (Hanging Loose Press, 2004).

Marie graduated from Edinburgh University with an MA in English Literature.

www.mariewritesandedits.com

www.facebook.com/mariewritesandedits

www.instagram.com/mariewritesandedits

https://twitter.com/mcwritesedits

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Saving Grace by Vi Carter Book Tour & Giveaway

Saving Grace

A Broken Heart Book 1

by Vi Carter

Genre: Contemporary Romance

I’ve tried so hard to bury my past.

But nothing stays buried forever...

It’s been two years since I lost so much. Two years since I started a new life, in a new college, with a new group of friends. Two years, and now my troubles are rushing back.

When Derek walked into my life, he made me feel things I’d hoped never to feel again. The box I hid all my secrets in is opening, and I don’t think I am able to keep it shut this time.

My past is back to haunt me, but Derek is my distraction but I’m not sure he’s enough to keep the ghosts away. I’m not sure if I’ll walk away fully intact this time.

If you like “The Problem with Forever” by Jennifer L Armentrout or “Hopeless” by Colleen Hoover, then Saving Grace will feed your addiction for a romance with real-life struggles.

Buy Saving Grace for a heart-breaking Romance Read Today!

THIS BOOK CAN BE READ AS A STANDALONE OR AS PART OF A SERIES.

**Only .99 cents!!**

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When Vi Carter isn't writing contemporary romance books, you can find her reading her favorite authors, baking, taking photos or watching Netflix.

Married with one child, Vi divides her time between motherhood and all the other hats she wears as an Author.

Vi's main goal is to give readers the same emotional ride that she got from reading Colleen Hoover and Jennifer L. Armentrout books.

Website * Facebook * Street Team * Twitter

Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

Follow the tour HERE for exclusive excerpts, guest posts and a giveaway!

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Raimond Monsters and Angels by Anne Marie Andrus Virtual Book Tour

Raimond
Monsters and Angels 
Anne Marie Andrus

Genre:  Paranormal

Publisher:  Anne Marie Andrus Publishing  

Date of Publication:   October 25, 2018

ISBN-13: 978-0-9984155-2-9

ISBN-13: 978-0-9984155-2-9

ASIN:   B07HYFKPXY

Number of pages:  260

Word Count:  59,000

Cover Artist:  Eight Little Pages

Tagline:  The road from soldier to saint is paved with blood and magic.

Book Description:

A lone soldier on night watch. A single bullet through the heart. Every light in Paris flickers—the city’s thundering silent scream.

When Commander Raimond Banitierre was assassinated, French Revolutionaries lost their gallant leader. After a villain’s offer of eternal life condemned him to slavery, Raimond rebelled again, driving his vampire comrades to freedom.

Raimond escapes to Savannah, Georgia where his dream of becoming a doctor comes true. During his trial-by-fire residency on the Civil War’s battlefields, he discovers his true calling—the power to preserve memories and dignity in the face of death. His chance meeting with a beguiling mortal nurse ignites passionate nights and a long overdue crack in the door to paradise.

Vicious flames and an unholy miscalculation deliver Raimond back to the depths of hell. Being arrested for treason makes him wish for death and the arrival of Prince Draven Norman appears to be the final nail in Raimond’s coffin.

Will the prince’s eccentric judgement grant Raimond a true reprieve? Is Draven’s invitation to join New Orleans mystical royalty an extension of his own treachery, or the next step in Raimond’s miraculous journey?

Has the legendary Crescent City found a spirit noble enough to protect her future?

Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/-uSS41Ytoak

Amazon

Excerpt Rise The Demons

Paris, France 1852

In a derelict neighborhood on the fringe of Paris, one burning red eye glowed through the crumbling foundation of a formerly grand hotel. While family and friends still struggled to put the Revolution’s gory ugliness behind them, their every move was scrutinized by a trapped predator.

Raimond kept watch, as he had done for decades, until his eye smoldered from distant sunlight. Switch eyes. A smile drifted across his face while children scurried behind their parents, shopkeepers threw open their doors and the light of hope shone on every street except one. The worn and rutted surface of Rue Le Cross remained cloaked in darkness.

Footsteps echoed off the cobblestones outside Raimond’s portal and he strained to see the trespassers. He flinched at the sight of glowing torches, retreating again into his underground gloom.

A woman barked orders. “Tell those youngsters to stay behind the barricade.”

“Go to school, you little fools!” a man called out. “This is no place for kids…or anyone.”

“What are you so afraid of husband?” 

Raimond stepped forward to hear the man’s answer. I should hope they’re scared.

“I’m not the only one who hears the awful noises in this passage after dark and it’s always night on this bloody street.”

“Can we just light these lamps and get out of here?” The woman’s eyes darted around. “The mayor paid both of us a fortune.”

Here they go again. The gas lanterns blazed to life and Raimond drummed his fingers on the wall.

“They’re burning,” the woman hissed. “But why are they flickering?”

The flames shivered and gasped, as if being blown out by invisible lips. Raimond shook his head.

“This alley is cursed. Every lock is broken. Nothing opens.” The man rattled handles and knobs. He froze at the shuttered hotel’s rusty door. “Do you hear that?”

Raimond rhythmically smashed a rock on the iron bars of his prison.

“We didn’t get paid enough for this wife.”

A menacing growl ricocheted off the walls and the couple dropped their torches, slammed into each other and scrambled toward the main street.

Don’t come back. Raimond let the rock slip from his grasp and slumped against the dusty wall. Those doors are jammed shut for a reason.

As the final, auburn embers of sunlight faded behind the craggy roofline, the underworld groaned to life. Raimond turned around to the absolute black of the catacombs and the squeal of rodents that drowned out hungry cries. He kicked a rat across the cell and his stomach twisted at the whimpers of miserable children sleeping in the cold. They were all victims of a monster that the mortal world above didn’t believe existed. He didn’t have the heart to tell the little ones they were vampires, too. He sighed. None of us will ever be warm again.

Raimond punched walls he’d been beating on for years. A few remaining slivers of stone broke free and he slid to the floor, clawing at his eyes.

Don’t fall apart now, soldier. This moment has been years in the making.

As an officer, he’d been expected to sacrifice his life.

Until a maniac stole my soul.

That crime was nothing compared to what the innocents who lived beneath the street with him had endured.

Tonight, it all changes.

In a flash Raimond slammed into iron bars that tore the skin from his forehead. He drew a breath of putrid air.

The villains beat me and I plotted.

He looked at the blackened skin of his hands.

They burned me, and I schemed.

His escape from the torture was a dive into the darkest corners of his mind, and each time he let himself dream, the hallucinations became bloodier and deadlier.

Never mind revenge; I want absolute victory.

His eyes wandered across the dungeon full of unwilling vampires, landing first on a fellow soldier.

Such an odd story, a Scot fighting alongside the French.

Two younger lads slept next to the burly man, both clinging to the ends of a tattered blanket. Nuns, farmers and even patients from the local infirmary had been ripped from their beds and turned into slaves by a madman. In the middle, a young nurse huddled with the frailest children. Her voice, touch and passion to heal had never faltered, despite the hellish conditions.

The Devil's Fingers by Hunter Shea Book Tour & Giveaway

The Devil's Fingers

One Size Eats All #3

by Hunter Shea

Genre: Horror

“Old school horror.” —Jonathan Maberry

WHAT HAS LONG PINK FINGERS AND SMELLS LIKE ROTTING FLESH?

It is a slime-covered fungus known for its pinkish red tentacles and pungent odor. It is indigenous to Australia but has spread to North America. Its Latin name is Clathrus Archeri, also known as Octopus Stinkhorn. Most people call it The Devil’s Fingers . . .

I DON’T KNOW BUT IT’S GROWING ON YOUR NECK.

Deep in the woods of Washington, botanist Autumn Winters stumbles onto a field of the luridly colored fungi. Two of her fellow campers make the mistake of touching it. Now it’s growing on them. Fleshy gelatinous pods. Sprouting from their skin. Feeding on their blood . . .

AND IT’S STILL GROWING.

Autumn watches in horror as her friends are transformed into monstrosities—grotesque, human-fungal hybrids as contagious and deadly as any virus. Autumn knows she must destroy these mutations before they return to civilization. But if there’s one thing that spreads faster than fear, it’s The Devil’s Fingers . . .

Add to Goodreads

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Hunter Shea is the product of a misspent childhood watching scary movies, reading forbidden books and wishing Bigfoot would walk past his house. He’s the author of over 17 books, including The Jersey Devil (Pinnacle 2016)), Tortures of the Damned (Pinnacle 2015), and We Are Always Watching (Sinister Grin). Hunter’s novels can even be found on display at the International Cryptozoology Museum. The Montauk Monster (Pinnacle 2014) was named one of the best reads of the summer by Publishers Weekly. He was selected to be part of the launch of Samhain Publishing’s new horror line in 2011 alongside legendary author Ramsey Campbell. His video podcast, Monster Men, is one of the most watched horror podcasts in the world. Living with his crazy and supportive family and two cats, he’s happy to be close enough to New York City to see the skyline without having to pay New York rent.

Website * Facebook * Twitter * Amazon * Goodreads

Follow the tour HERE for exclusive content and a giveaway!

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Goetia by Sam Poling Release Day Blitz

Goetia 

The Oldenrai Archives

Book Two

Sam Poling

Genre: Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

Publisher: Tirgearr Publishing

Date of Publication: 10/31/18

ISBN: 9780463828861

ASIN: B07GKYH54D

Number of pages: 180

Word Count: ~74,500

Cover Artist: Cora Graphics

Tagline: Integrate your shadow

Book Description:

After imposing a controversial quarantine, Adelstadt Mayoress Mirabel Fairfax finds herself in the crosshairs with vengeful highwaymen. When they target her family and the vital shipments her village desperately needs, she turns to witchcraft to restore order herself. But something is wrong: her magic becomes unreliable, and monstrous images torment her mind's eye.

When gruesome murders terrorize Adelstadt, she suspects the highwaymen have turned to the occult, allying with a demonic entity. A Goetia. The hallucinations become all-too-real, and Mirabel must rely on her cunning, wrath, and what few friends she has left if she hopes to rescue her valley, her beloved, and her mind.

Felix Fairfax does the best he can as the husband of a controversial mayoress witch, but his life is once again turned into a fight for survival when he’s kidnapped by the highwaymen. They force him to help investigate his wife’s hidden lair, where they become trapped with creatures of unspeakable horror. Whatever Mirabel had locked away hunts indiscriminately—it hunts him—and if it gets out, plagues and highwaymen won’t be Adelstadt’s problems any longer.

Amazon     Amazon UK     Smashwords     Apple     Kobo     BN

Excerpt:

Mirabel’s boots clicked down a stone, spiral stairway, blowing past the half-melted candles lining the steps. The candles provided the only light, at times leaving her to fumble for footing on the disrepair of the steps. The descent into darkness went on longer than she’d ever recalled experiencing before. What a time for metaphysical nonsense. An echo of raspy, hollow screams chased her, reverberating within the stairwell, challenging her to keep up speed.

She stumbled off the final steps, at last on the ground floor, and clawed her wild, deep red hair from her face. Archaic, religious candle racks illuminated the chamber. Nothing had changed down here. At least, not yet.

She sped past rows of dilapidated tables and pews, reached a laboratory-style workbench, and threw her arms against a stack of journals, scattering the research. Upon snaring a specific handful of pages, she sprinted for the tower entrance.

A bony tusk punched through a nearby wall, knocking candles from their altar. They struck silver offering plates on the floor, crashing like cymbals. Mirabel leaped back, one hand clutching her research against her body, the other gripping the handle of her rapier.

Black, viscous slime poured from the hole around the horn, crept over the altar, and dripped onto the floor. Small, misshapen hands sprouted from the goop like blooming black-fingered flowers, grasping at the stone tiles. A reek like sweet, rotting fruit flooded the air.

She closed her gaping mouth, turned away, and continued running down the hall. Her burned-orange cape fluttered and whipped, a nuisance, rescinding its value.

The entire tower quaked, followed by more disembodied shrieking. A spiny, gray tentacle as thick as a branch smashed through the wall ahead in a deafening boom, lashing and twisting like an eel out of water. She drew her rapier and severed the tip with the sharpened, distal edge of her weapon. The piece of otherworldly flesh fell away, but several more tentacles punched through imperfections in the surrounding walls, blocking her path. Each unique arm contorted at varied rates, some more aggressive than others.

Still holding her sword, she extended her arm and channeled magic through it with a rush of heat. Upon releasing her focus, the heat fled her body and flames burst in front of her, engulfing the tentacles and transforming them into crackling ash.

Vertigo crashed over her in waves as penalty for her sudden, great expenditure of soul energy. With inhuman moans drifting on the air, she shook off her fatigue and proceeded to the iron double doors ahead, ramming her shoulder against them. They opened a crack, blasting her face with freezing air from outside.

She pushed against the door, and it ground open, scraping through a layer of fresh snow. She slipped her thin frame through, dropped her research and rapier, and shoved the door closed.

“Mayoress?”

She spun and straightened her posture. “Under no circumstances is anyone to approach the tower.”

Two guardsmen clad in vermillion red, double-breasted uniforms stood at the base of the tower steps, shoulders dusted with snow. They possessed several weapons: muskets with bayonets, sabers, and crossbow pistols. All useless.

“Aye,” said the leading guard. “We thought we heard some rumbling from our post. Another quake?”

She knelt, sheathing her rapier and collecting her papers. And then she saw the ooze. Not much, but strands of it slithered under the door. She backed away and marched down the steps.

“Evacuate.”

“Excuse me, Mayoress?”

She stopped between the guards and faced the shift lead. “Evacuate. It’s a simple concept. Do it now.”

“Evacuate what? Ironsnow?”

“Yes, the entire hamlet. Get everyone to Adelstadt at once.” She looked past him at dozens of wood-framed homes at the base of the tower’s hill, billowing smoke from their chimneys. “No one goes near the tower. Get everyone out now.”

The other guard spoke. “But why? Minor quakes happen all the time. My family lives here.”

The three marched down the hill. Mirabel said nothing.

“Mayoress?”

“Miasma. I’ve discovered the tower is the source of plague-infested miasma. Likely the cause of other outbreaks around Adelstadt. Deadly strains. None can reside here any longer. I’m sorry.”

“Tordin’s mercy,” said the guard. “I’ll have my family pack right away.”

“Nay. Full evacuation. Immediately. Have the citizens take only what they can carry on their way out.”

“It’s that urgent?”

“I am the Mayoress and a syndicate-certified disease specialist. You think I give this order lightly?”

“Of course not, Mayoress Fairfax,” said the lead guard. “We’ll get everyone out within the hour.”

“Faster if you are able. Much faster.”

About the Author:

Sam Poling has been writing fantasy and science fiction for the thrill of it his entire life, from short stories to screenplays. His love for each of the subgenres led to dedication to writing genre-skirting fiction with all the elements that make up the human condition. He holds a strong enthusiasm for medical studies and currently works as a medical assistant in a large clinic while taking classing for nursing. He also serves on a health and safety committee, including disaster preparedness and infection control. His interest in epidemiology and medical science tends to spill over into his writing endeavors.

Find Sam Online:

Website – http://www.sampoling.com

Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/Samuel.T.Poling

Twitter - https://twitter.com/SamuelPoling

Tirgearr Publishing - http://www.tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Poling_Sam

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