Archive for the ‘Blog Tours’ Category

Guest Post with Jennifer Wylie

March 6, 2011 2 comments


Today I get to host Jennifer Wylie on her blog tour, celebrating the release of he short story, the Forgotten Echo! I have a treat for you. She’s sharing with you the events leading up to the story. So you get a prequel! I hope you enjoy it as much as i did.

For those who have read The Forgotten Echo, THANK YOU! I know more than one reader has also been captivated by the mysterious Immortal, Devon. This little tale will answer some questions, from his point of view.
For those who haven’t read it yet, I hope you’ll be intrigued and decide to try it out.
For more free random stories in the Immortal Echoes world, stop by my blog.


I walked down the darkening streets of yet another city. I had been through so many over the years, the centuries, they all seemed to blur together. It was strange, how so little changed over time. Enough did to be troublesome. Being an Immortal time meant little to me. However I lived side by side with mortals, and to them it meant everything. More so even, as the centuries had passed.

A faint, rueful smile crossed my lips as for a while I counted the number of people hurrying by, checking their watches.

I’d come to this city for business. Though I disliked dealing with mortals I pretended to be one, and so had to show myself on occasion. This time a meeting for one of my companies. A very important one, they had told me. Idiots. My executives had spent most of the time whining and complaining, blaming others for the last quarters poor sales. As so often was the case, the trip had been a total waste of my time.

Shoving my hand into my pant pockets I continued to wander as shops began closing up and the number of people rushing by dwindled. The street lights lit the sidewalks well enough, though I had no cause to worry about what may lurk in the shadows. No simple mortals could hurt me, not even with their silly mortal weapons. Other Immortals, creatures from the Otherworld, were another matter but one I didn’t worry about much either.

As Immortals went, I was one of the oldest, and also one of the strongest. Even if my own powers were not enough, I had my Echoes always close at hand.

As if I’d called, a form appeared in the shadows ahead of me, quickly solidifying into a person. The man walked out into the light, normal as can be.

“Devon.” He gave a brief nod of respect. Which he should, I’d created him, bound his soul at death to me and the Otherworld. A few did not appreciate it, though they all gave their consent at the time. They had to for the difficult magic to work.

My Echoes rarely bothered me when I roamed the cities I visited. They knew I wanted to be alone and took great pains to make sure it was so. “What is it?”

“You’ve received a message from Angela. She wants you to contact her as soon as possible.”

I could not stop the frown which came at his words. Angela was another Immortal, one I had foolishly become indebted to only a few years before. Apparently she was ready to collect. I wasn’t looking forward to finding out what I would have to do to remove a life debt.

A small growl of frustration left me and I looked down at the grey sidewalk, knowing my fire was likely flashing in my eyes. It was a part of me, part of my magic. It also appeared at the worst of times. I had to always stay in control of my emotions around mortals. Another reason I hated being around them.

“Would you like me to send a reply?”

I looked back up and shook my head. “I’ll return home shortly.”

My Echo nodded, paused a moment, and then turned and walked calmly back into the dark alley to disappear. Smiling a little I began walking again. Good help was hard to find. Choosing a human to become an Echo wasn’t easy. They would be spending forever with you, after all. If they weren’t destroyed trying to protect you. The trick was to find someone intelligent, not hard on the eyes and not annoying, yet at the same time to try to avoid one you would become too attached too. Add the problem of the person having to be actually dying and one saw just how hard it was. At least in these times, in the past wars and plaques certainly made it a little easier.

Over the centuries I had collected half a dozen Echoes. All were exceptional in their duties. None, however, were very good company. I’d been contemplating finding one for that purpose alone. They would still protect me, grant me their power if needed, but I wanted to be able to hold a decent conversation as well.

The streets began to fill again with young men and women making their way to the bars and clubs. I stopped and glanced down a side street, listening the the faint pounding of music and the growing sounds of more and more excited voices.

Had I ever been so young and carefree? I couldn’t remember.

Turning away I decided it was best to head home. I stepped to the side as a number of girls passed me on the sidewalk, giggling and chatting.

“Wow, did you see him?”

“I’m not blind, Sarah.”

More giggles erupted and I smiled faintly as I turned to watch them cross the street. I saw her then, walking arm in arm with a nervous looking man. Even from across the street she caught my attention. Not so much beautiful, but lovely. Curves in all the right places, dressed to go out, but not garishly so. Her smile was so radiant I felt pulled toward her. I wished I could look into her eyes.

With a startled gasp I turned away. Strange, that a mortal would affect me so. Strange, and also interesting. I glanced over my shoulder again, watching her walk away.

I stepped back, leaning against a building and cupped my hands. A faint whistle brought a tiny light. A little creature of flame. “Stay hidden,” I warned it.

It flew up, hiding in my hair. “Yes? Yes?”

I discretely pointed to the woman. “I want you to watch her for me.”

“Watch! Yes!” The flame darted off.

A faint smile crossed my face and I headed down the street to find a nice dark alley where I could create a gate home.

Over the weeks which followed I learned much about her, not just the facts, but little things. She was an extraordinary woman, in more than just looks. She had a big heart to match her intelligence, but could also be a little shy. I watched her when I could, and doing so made me more happy than I had been in a very long time. I was not, however, foolish enough to speak with her, or even let her see me.

My Echoes did not agree with my new pastime. It took them some time before they came to me, but they did. I suppose I should have been pleased they truly cared. They were concerned my obsession with her was not healthy. She wasn’t mine to have, she was mortal. I didn’t really care and brushed off their concerns. What I was doing was harmless. I merely watched her, nothing more.

Yet they persisted, pointing out my growing feelings for her were increasingly obvious, not only to them, but to my enemies. I had to let her go, before she became a pawn in their games.

They were right of course. I had to stop, and with great reluctance I did. Though I left a handful of flames to watch over her, just in case I’d done so too late. So I told myself.

I was glad I took such precautions when five years later my flames returned screaming in panic. She needed me. Unfortunately it was at the worst possible time. Battle between the two main factions of Immortals loomed so closely I had in fact been dressing for it when they arrived. I didn’t have time to go to her. I couldn’t afford the loss of power either.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” I told the flames.

“No! No!”

“She dies! Dies!”

Their words froze me. My actions. My heart. She couldn’t be dying. It wasn’t possible. She was supposed to live a long and wonderful, happy life. I closed my eyes tightly. Healing was not one of my powers, at least not one strong enough to cure imminent death.

Had it been any other time I still could have gone to her, taken her to another who could heal her. But no one would do so now, not with the fighting about to start literally at any moment. I should have been on the battlefield now.

The flames continued to dart around me frantically. But then, they had been watching her all these years hadn’t they? They had probably fallen for her charms as well. “Hurry! Hurry!”

I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. Whatever had happened, I couldn’t save her. There was nothing I could do if she truly was dying…unless I made her an Echo. One of mine. Bound to me forever.

I shook my head. I couldn’t do that. Not to her…

“Come! Come!” The little voices rose hysterically, pleading, breaking down my resolve.

“Where is she,” I demanded, drawing forth my power to create a gate.

They led the way, guiding me to her. It was hard to remain calm. I knew I shouldn’t be doing this, for more reasons than one. I should just let her go. Coming to her, helping her, was both breaking my own rules and dangerous. I still had a battle to fight.

I stepped through the gate into an empty parking lot. My flames continued to babble away as some of them gathered around me.

The rest danced around her where she’d fallen on the ground, blood soaking her clothes and pooling around her. Pain lashed my heart to see her again, like this. I couldn’t do this, I shouldn’t…

“Quickly! Quickly!”

I turned slightly, feeling one of my Echoes appear at my side.

“Devon, it’s started. They need you!”

My jaw clenched and I closed my eyes for a moment. I could still walk away, let her die. It was the natural order of things wasn’t it? I had to decide, and quickly.

“Tell them I’m coming.” I let out a deep sigh. “I’ll just be a moment.”


Jennifer Wylie was born and raised in Ontario, Canada. In a cosmic twist of fate she dislikes the snow and cold.

Before settling down to raise a family, she attained a BA from Queens University and worked in retail and sales.

Thanks to her mother she acquired a love of books at an early age and began writing in public school. She constantly has stories floating around in her head, and finds it amazing most people don’t. Jennifer writes various forms of fantasy, both novels and short stories. Sweet light is her debut novel to be published in 2011.

Jennifer resides in rural Ontario, Canada with her husband, two boys, Australian shepherd a flock of birds and a disagreeable amount of wildlife.

My website:

My blog:

Detour 2 Death

February 1, 2011 12 comments

Sean Blog Tour Post

Thank you so much for having me here today, Sean!

I’m so thrilled about Detour 2 Death coming out. This is the third book in the Extreme Hauntings series and almost didn’t happen. Because of some family tragedies, I stopped writing for nearly a year. The funny thing is, I had been eager to write this book before the second one even came out. School’s Out 4-Ever is a fabulous book with lots of thrills and chills, but in Detour 2 Death, I got to play with paranormal settings. Bonus!

For me, creating the three grim reapers that Kaylee has to battle in alternate planes of existence were really cool. The White Reaper works the hospital in real time. He collects the dead at Marsden Memorial is a formidable enemy. The Red Reaper, Molok, runs Davey’s Feverland and makes sure his victims suffer terribly before he collects their soul. The Black Reaper lives on the dark side of this reality, in a place called Shadowland, where he torments the ghosts of the dead who haven’t passed on.

Kaylee is forced between these three places on a spirit walk. While she’s out of her body, the whiter reaper sends an ancient spirit to possess her. Not only does Kaylee have to save Davey, but she has to do it before the evil entity inhabiting her body kills her parents at home. One of my favorite moments is when Kaylee thinks, “I’ve heard of people losing their minds, but not their whole body!”

Thank you so much, Sean, for hosting me today. I’d love to offer one of your readers a chance to win a free book thong! Please leave a comment and I’ll put your name in a hat for the drawing. I look forward to taking questions or hearing your thoughts, everyone!


There are worse things than death, but not at Marsden Memorial hospital.

Kaylee Hensler knows her best friend Davey is on the brink of death. She knows this because she’s a psychic. When she flees the girl’s reformatory to get to him, she has no idea the special sort of hell waiting for her.

Reapers are collectors and they come in many forms. In Feverland, the world created by Davey’s sickness, the red reaper goes by the name of Molok, an ancient evil with deep roots. In Shadowland, the dark side of the hospital, a black reaper promises torture and torment to lost souls. The white reaper is the most fearsome, giving Kaylee three days before he collects both her and Davey’s souls.

Kaylee has one secret weapon, one she doesn’t fully understand. Her abilities will be tested, her loyalty betrayed, and her love misplaced. No one escapes Death.

Award-winning author J.R. Turner lives in Central Wisconsin with her husband and three children. She began writing in high school, and after a decade working as a commercial artist, started her first novel in 1999. Aside from crafts, camping and cooking, she loves holidays. A favorite is Halloween, a combination of spooky supernatural fun and chocolate. Visit her at to learn more!

Categories: Blog Tours

My Interview with Judy Douglas Knauer

January 21, 2011 2 comments

Have you ever met one of those people you instantly took a liking too? Ya, those people. If you’re lucky you get to spend your life surrounding yourself with people just like them. Intelligent, witty, fun, entertaining. Well I have good news for you. I’m going to save you some trouble and introduce you to one of them. She happens to be a VERY talented writer too! Please say hello to my friend Judy Douglas Knauer.

When was the exact moment you decided to write a book?

I was 18 years old, lounging on a sofa with pencil and paper and thought I’m going to write a romantic western novel.  So I did.  I’ve always loved the West so researching Indians and Texas territory was fun.  The book made it to typewriter and my filing cabinet where it sits today.

Did you have a specific inspiration for the story A Dirty Way to Die?

You bet I did!  Several in fact.  The two main male characters are based on six different men who were veterans of the Viet Nam war.  The story itself started as a romance novel about professional female mud wrestlers.  The Chicago Knockers did a show at the Fairbury, IL fair right after my first romance novel was published by Berkley/Jove and I decided to interview the ladies with the romance genre in mind.  The women gave me great material, but instincts told me not one New York editor would look at a romance based on mud wrestlers.  I ain’t no dummy.  So I began the book by killing one off in my hometown of Peoria at the Heart of Illinois Fair.  My inspiration for setting the private eye’s office in Peoria was a well-known female New York editor who I overheard saying in a phrase that used the f word: no book would ever sell set in Peoria.  Never say never, especially to me.

What is your favorite aspect of being a published writer? Is their anything that you don’t like?

Being a published writer is my favorite aspect!  I make up stories because I love doing that, but I write them hoping to have them read, to have readers taken to someplace outside themselves, where I am when I write them.  If my work just sits in a drawer or box, then the circle is incomplete and that I do not like.

If you had the opportunity to go back and change any portion of A Dirty Way to Die, what would it be?

I guess I would have Manny get beat up and shot more times, since that seems to be the popular way of today’s private eye novel.  I’ll see if I can make up for that in the next two Manny Shepherd novels in the works.

Do you write full time, or do you have another occupation as well? How do you find a balance between them?

If you mean 8 to 5 as full time, I retired from those hours and a good paycheck three years ago.  Besides a minimum four hours a day writing and at least another four contriving in my head, I’m semi-fanatic about a clean house and flower and vegetable gardens having no weeds.  I sew, knit and crochet for my grandchildren when I’m not on a writing deadline, which I’m on now.  Deadlines do  not allow for balance; the book is always in my head.

What’s next in the works for you? Do you have anything planned that you would like to share?

A second Manny Shepherd P.I. novel is two-thirds done with a third outlined, but on a backburner until I finish Mourning Preyers, my second thriller.  I’ve also begun a mystery with a female journalist protagonist with criminal investigation college courses to her credit, which is my background.  Editor Tom Colgan saw first pages years ago and told me that was the direction I should take.  Naturally, I’ve written two thrillers since then and almost completely ignored his wise advice.

Has any author or authors inspired you to write? Anybody in particular you would like to be compared to?

Every mystery author whose novel was on the shelves of my neighborhood library in Peoria since I was in third grade inspired me to make up stories, maybe in particular Mary Stewart.  I was so fortunate that the librarians allowed me to keep reading above my age level.  I once got a rejection letter from an editor who told me I should not write like Ross McDonald.  At that time, I did not know who Ross McDonald was, but now see him a lot in Dennis Lehane’s work!  A few years ago I’d have jumped with the answer Elmore Leonard as who I would like to be compared to.  No one does character or moves a story with character better than Leonard.  Then along came Stephen J. Cannell novels and Lehane.  I would love to be a writing mix of Leonard, Cannell, Lehane, Tom Wolfe and Carl Hiassen!  Perfect!
Along the road to getting published, what did you find the most rewarding and most difficult?

The most difficult task along the road to getting published is just that – getting published.  The most rewarding was that phone call from a Berkley editor telling me they wanted my book.

Tell us about the area you live in, did it play into the setting of your book in any way?

As I said A Dirty Way To Die is set in Peoria, my hometown, but my P.I. solves crimes everywhere but there!  In my first novel, a romance the publisher title Ecstasy Reclaimed (by Brandy LaRue my pen name) my setting was the farm and farmstead where I live–right down to the final love scene in the middle of a cornfield!

If you had once piece of advice to ive to aspiring writers, what would it be?

One piece of advice to aspiring writers – never give up and re-write.
You think you’ve got problems?

Doc Goold calls it cognizant premonition triggered by causal hypersensitivity, but Manny Shepherd and his Vietnam vet buddy Steve Mallinotti call it Shepherd’s Luck, that time-proven knack to sense bad shit lurks just around the corner.  Manny felt the premonition slump into his gut minutes before he witnesses Steve’s girlfriend Rita Hayward get slammed in the mud to her death by a well-stacked gal dubbing herself Screaming Eagle.

Mired in shock, guilt and a drunken haze, Steve coerces Manny, who has little on his Private Investigator’s plate, to figure out why Rita died like that with them and a SRO crowd watching and cheering at Peoria’s Heart of Illinois fair.  After all, back in earlier days at Neelys Landing, Missouri, Rita reigned as a star gymnast.  So how could a simple Judo throw have killed her?

No way will Manny jeopardize his tenuous yet sensual relationship with Tazewell County’s District Attorney, Lisa Shelton, to hang around half-naked, oiled-bodied beauties with names like Virgin Witch, Passion Queen, Midnight Fire, and Holy Terror, just to expose the obvious – Princess Lay-ya aka Rita Hayward just took a bad…okay, seriously bad header.

Steve’s heart-tugging story of Rita’s journey to professional mud wrestler fame, and haunted by Rita’s single staring dead eye watching him, Manny takes the leap onto the St. Louis Slingers on-tour bus.  Shepherd’s Luck bites hard amidst boobs and bullets as Manny is targeted while he hunts down a scheming, sadistic killer.


Purchase A Dirty Way To Die for only $2.99 at Amazon’s Kindle Book Store, B&N’s Nook, your PC, OR at

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What others are saying about…


A Dirty Way To Die


Manny Shepherd is a breath of fresh air for the PI scene. A Dirty Way to Die rocks, and J. Douglas Knauer writes with just the right combination of grit and savoir-faire to give the book both style and realism.

—Michael A. Black, author of Hostile Takeovers and I Am Not a Psychic, with Richard Belzer.


Pulse-pounding action, a flawed hero with a code of ethics, and the inside story on women mud wrestlers combine for an exciting adventure in J. Douglas Knauer’s A DIRTY WAY TO DIE.

—Luisa Buehler, author of The InnKeeper: An Unregistered Death; Grace Marsden Mysteries ~ Think Monk in a skirt solving Cold Cases ~


Sexy and lusty mud-wrestlers and murder. Manny has his hands full. Looking for some entertainment? You’ll find it (in A Dirty Way To Die).

—Frank J. Scully, author of Resurrection Garden, release date January 1, 2011, MuseItUp Publishing


Judy Douglas Knauer got her first critical author review for a poem she wrote while in second grade.  One of the little girls in her Peoria, IL Brownie Troupe disapproved of the way Judy depicted her in the poem, even though it was true.  Multiple years later her first novel, Ecstasy Reclaimed by Brandy LaRue (a pen name) sold to Berkley Publishing without ever seeing a rejection.  Years later she was hired as chief editor, reporter and photographer for The Citizen, a weekly newspaper that covered Livingston County, IL.  During seven years in the newspaper business she won 14 journalism awards including eight from Illinois Press Association. She has sold non-fiction to Buckeye Farm News, Time/Warner, and Countryside magazines and a short mystery to Over My Dead Body.  One novel never being rejected notwithstanding, she admits to having a bulging folder of rejections compiled over many years for multiple novels yet unsold.  Her motto is “You never fail until you stop trying.”  She has three published novels with the latest, her first private eye novel, released in August 2010.


Judy is the proud mom to two daughters and two sons and Gramma to three boys and one girl.  She lives with her husband, Dennis, on four acres about 75 miles south of Chicago.  When she’s not working on her current thriller-in-progress, she enjoys gardening, fishing, reading, cooking, refinishing antique furniture, learning, walking and travel.


Please visit to learn more about the author and her books.

Follow her on Twitter and FaceBook!


A Ghost of an Echo-Part Two

December 12, 2010 5 comments

Greetings and salutations fans of Jen Wylie!.  I have a special treat for you all today.  I’m sure most of you are familiar with Jen’s short stories.  She has a new short story and has decided to share some of it with her fans.  It’s called A Ghost of an Echo, and from the title I’m sure you can tell it’s part of her echo series.  The first part of the story can be found here, but the SECOND PART can be found, yup you guessed it.  Right here.  I have the honor of hosting the second part of the story my friends.  So, ENJOY! When she opened her eyes she stared up into darkness. It took at moment for her to realize dark was perfectly normal, it had been nighttime after all. However then her other senses slowly returned.


SMELL came first, wet grass and rain and…gas? Sound next, the steady downpour of rain and a strange metallic popping sound. The sense of touch came last, strangely distant, the simple feel of the hard ground beneath her.

That wasn’t right. She had been in the car, driving home with Brian, when he’d lost control when lightening had struck the road in front of them. Had she been thrown clear? If so, why couldn’t she feel the rain? Panic rose within her as she realized nothing hurt. Something should have, all of her should have.

A whimper escaped her lips as she struggled to orient herself, to get her arms and legs to move. With relief they finally did, for a moment she had wondered if she had been paralyzed in the accident. The accident, the car… Brian!

She scrambled blindly to her feet. Everything around her was cloaked in fuzzy black. She turned quickly as the panic and fear continued to grow. A faint light in the distance above her caught her attention and drew her eyes.

Headlights. A car had stopped on the road above. She wondered if it was the vehicle which had been following them. Then again, she had no idea how much time had passed, it could very well be just another passing car which stopped to investigate the mangled guardrail.

Another light moved above and separated from the car, making its way slowly down the steep rocky slope. She moved forward, opening her mouth to call for help.

The light brightened, illuminating the scene before her and stealing any words from her lips.

Their car rested in a mangled mess at the base of the slope, the roof crushed in, the side and hood smashed. It had landed the right way up, the driver’s side facing her. The popping sound came from the car as the metal protested and the dead engine cooled.

Taking a hesitant step forward she could still smell gas. At least in the rain she didn’t have to worry about it catching fire. Part of her wanted to rush forward and make sure Brian was alright. The rest of her was afraid of what she would find.

“What a mess.”

She turned her gaze away from the car to the man who had spoken. Two people had come down, him and a small woman who held the light.

“It was a bad spot,” the woman said quietly.

The man turned and she saw him scowl in the light. “And whose fault is that? You had better hope they are both not dead already!”

Becky cringed at his words and hoped they couldn’t see her. Obviously they’d had a part in the accident. She remembered the bump she had felt before Brian had lost control again. Had they rear ended them on purpose? Why?

The man picked his way around the side of the car, the woman following silently behind.

She bit her lip and moved closer, keeping out of the light. She hoped Brian wasn’t hurt. For some reason she still couldn’t bring herself to call out to the couple. The man pulled on dark gloves as he peered in the driver’s side window, the woman a few steps behind him.

Becky moved around toward the front of the car, hesitant and worried. She couldn’t see within the car, the light glinted off the windshield in the rain.

She froze. If the windshield remained intact, how had she gotten thrown out of the car?

“The girl is dead.”

Her head jerked around at the woman’s words. She stared at the strangers from her new vantage point in front of the car.  He was tall, dressed well in tailored shirt and slacks. She stood much shorter, everything about her small and delicate looking. Dark hair hung like a shadow past her waist. The man cursed, wiping water off of his face. The woman was staring at her, her face sad.

She remembered the rain. Though it continued to pour she couldn’t feel it. Meeting the woman’s eyes she saw it didn’t touch her either. She looked down, raising her hands. She looked solid, however she wasn’t wet. She raised a hand, cupping it to catch the rain. The drops went right through her.

Her breaths quickened in horror. She was dead? She was… what? A ghost?


The man muttered something under his breath.

She looked up, shocked to see flashes of light come from his hands and hit the car door. With a pleased smile he jerked it open and bent to look within.

All she could think about was Brian. Frustrated she couldn’t see she moved closer to stand by the hood of car, peering around the open door.

“Rhea?” The man stepped back and woman moved forward.

“He lives. His injuries are not severe.” Rhea stepped back again, a faint smile for a brief moment crossing her lips.

The man scowled and cursed. He bent into the car again. “He’s unconscious?”

“Yes,” Rhea replied softly.

Becky grimaced, worried about Brian and not understanding what was going on. For some reason it seemed the man could not see her, yet the woman could. She moved closer, coming up to the door which separated her and the strange man. Biting her lip she finally forced herself to look within the car.

She shouldn’t have been surprised to see herself sitting there, eyes wide and staring blankly. Still the sight stole her breath away, which made her pause. She was dead. She didn’t need to breathe. Hysteria bubbled within her. She didn’t know whether to scream or to cry.

She did neither. Obviously there wasn’t anything she could do for herself, but maybe there was something she could do to help Brian. Certainly there must have been some reason she remained in this world.

She looked again, noting the mess of articles scattered about, trying to ignore her broken and twisted body. Brian sat back in his seat, eyes closed yet clearly breathing. A small, relieved smile crossed her face as she watched him. Brian, her Brian.

“Shit,” the man muttered. He reached over and grasped Brian’s chin, turning his head. “Well. We won’t make this a wasted opportunity.”

“Simon, no!”

Becky jerked at the pain in the woman’s voice. The man, Simon, pushed out of the car to glare furiously at her. Rhea scrambled backward, fear spreading across her beautiful face. She stopped abruptly, pain contorting her features as she bent slightly,  a hand going to her chest. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

A wicked smile slid across Simon’s face. “Mind your place, Echo.”

Rhea nodded, turning her head away.

Becky watched in confusion, having no idea what was going on other than Simon had somehow hurt Rhea and had some kind of control over her. Simon again returned to the car and Becky quickly moved closer, remembering his cryptic words and frightened over what he might do to Brian.

Simon looked Brian over. “So then, let’s speed things along shall we.” He paused a moment, clearly thinking, before leaning in and picking up a smashed CD case. He snapped a large piece of the plastic cover off. Leaning back he turned it in his gloved hand and then forcefully jammed it into the side of Brian’s neck.

“No!” Becky lurched forward, shocked and horrified. This man hadn’t just stabbed Brian. He couldn’t have.

He also hadn’t heard her scream, or noticed she had moved through the door, through him. Freaking out she scrambled backward past the door again, choking sobs ripping through her. She wanted to run, she wanted to scream. She wanted to help Brian but she couldn’t. She could only stare through her tears as blood poured from his wound.

Simon wiggled the plastic, pushed it in a little further. Frowning, he started slapping Brian’s cheek. “Wake up. You need to wake up for this to work.” He grimaced, frustration darkening his eyes. With a bloody hand he wiped more water off of his face.

Becky looked up, noticing the rain had started to let up, the downpour now reduced to a light drizzle.


She jerked her eyes back to Brian, instinctively moving toward him. “I’m here…” Her words died. He couldn’t hear her.

His eyes blinked in confusion as he grimaced in pain. “Becky?”

Simon smiled in satisfaction. “There we go. Look at me. Good.” He reached one hand behind Brian’s neck, the other holding his head steady. “Becky needs you. Do you understand? This is important.”

“Becky…yes.” Brian murmured, fighting to keep his eyes open as blood poured from his neck.

She shook her head frantically. “No! No, Brian!”

“He can’t hear you.”

She turned with a gasp. Rhea now stood directly behind her. “What’s going on?”

“You can’t help him.” The woman closed her eyes for a moment. “You don’t want to see this. You should go on. Find the light and go on.”

“You can see me.”

Rhea nodded. “I died a long time ago. Most humans can’t see ghosts. You know that.”

“But he can see you,” she said in confusion.

“I am very old, I have the power to materialize. Simon also, is… different.” Rhea looked away. “I  am his. He has power over me.”

Becky bit her lip, both confused and horrified.

Rhea looked back at her. “Truly, you do not belong here. It will be alright in the end. I will do what I can, but you need to go on.”

She looked back to Brian and Simon, apparently neither had heard the quiet conversation, Simon continued to talk rapidly and quietly to Brian who grew weaker and fainter by the moment. Dying. Brian was dying. She shook her head in denial. This wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be happening. “Brian…”

Simon shifted and leaned in closer over Brian. “You must choose,” he said loudly enough for her to hear.

Brian nodded faintly. “Her, I must help her…I will…” He sucked in a small breath and closed his eyes. “Becky…”

The words stopped as his heart failed.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she reached a hand out to him, her eyes widening in shock as Simon leaned forward, placing his lips over Brian’s and inhaling deeply. He remained that way for a moment before stepping back, a satisfied smirk across his face.

“What just happened?” She looked back to Brian, sucking in a startled breath as suddenly he moved.

“Rhea,” Simon snapped. “Gather him. I want to get out of this damn rain.”

Rhea moved around her, head bowed slightly. “Of course.”

Simon took a small flashlight from Rhea and turned on his heel, quickly making his way back up the slope to his car.

Rhea reached out and took Brian’s hand, pulling as she stepped back. Brian came with her, yet remained behind.

Becky stared at him by the faint light of the cars indoor lights. He was like her. Simon had turned him into a ghost. But why?

Rhea turned to her as she looped an arm through Brian’s. “You need to go. Now. You cannot help him.”

She took a step forward, trying to see around Rhea. “What are you talking about?”

Rhea shook her head in annoyance. She turned to look up at Brian. “Hold on to me.”  Then they shimmered and became a blur of light which quickly disappeared.

Becky stared, shock freezing her in place. Where had they gone? What the Hell had just happened? She sank to the ground, tears sliding down her cheeks as her lips trembled in frustration and anger.

The sharp sound of a car door slamming made her look up and she watched as Simon turned his car around and drove off.

They had all left her. She had died. Strangers had killed Brian and then stolen away his ghost. She was a ghost, yet  they had left her behind. She was alone. Dead and alone.

She had no idea what to do. She closed her eyes, trying to regain some semblance of calm. She had to think. She had to do something. She couldn’t stay here.

Light brushed against her lids and she opened her eyes again. In the distance a faint oval of light shone warmly, invitingly. She stared it, uncomprehending for a moment until she remembered Rhea telling her she should go on.

This was the light everyone always spoke of. The gateway to heaven, or whatever else lay beyond death. She rose unsteadily to her feet, the light pulling at her, promising rest and peace and everything else anyone had ever longed for.

She stopped, planting her feet and shaking her head, trying to clear it.

Bugger that. She wasn’t going anywhere without Brian. She turned and began heading up the rocky slope, not having any plans, or any idea what she was doing, only knowing she had to try.

The light behind her dimmed and faded away.


Author Bio

Jennifer Wylie was born and raised in Ontario, Canada. In a cosmic twist of fate she dislikes the snow and cold.

Before settling down to raise a family, she attained a BA from Queens University and worked in retail and sales.

Thanks to her mother she acquired a love of books at an early age and began writing in public school. She constantly has stories floating around in her head, and finds it amazing most people don’t. Jennifer writes various forms of fantasy, both novels and short stories. Sweet light is her debut novel to be published in 2011.

Jennifer resides in rural Ontario, Canada with her husband, two boys, Australian shepherd a flock of birds and a disagreeable amount of wildlife.

Short Story Blurb: Jump- Release Date Dec 15 2010


If you were told to jump off of a bridge would you? Perhaps it would depend on who was doing the asking. Our heroine has spunk and a sense of humor, however suffers from an extreme case of inappropriate clothing. When things take a turn from dangerous to worse what will she do when fantasy becomes reality? Warning: May include hot leather clad men, singing and demons.

My Interview with The Rainbow Queen-Jen Wylie

December 7, 2010 14 comments

Happy Tuesday everyone.  I have the distinct honor of having the nicest person you’ll ever meet as my guest for an interview.  She lives in the frigid wastelands of Canada, hates snow, and writes some of the best stories you’ll ever read.  Her name is Jen Wylie.  Please feel free to stop by and ask a multitude of questions.  I’m sure she’d be happy to answer!


Rarely have I seen an author with the variety you seem to encompass with your works.  Where does your inspiration come from? Where will it take you next?

My inspiration comes from everything, everywhere. However I will admit music plays a huge roll. I get so many ideas when I listen to songs, a single phrase, or the emotions a song will invoke can jump start a whole new world in my mind. Mostly, I think I just have an overactive imagination. 🙂

I know you wrote Sweet Light years ago as well as its subsequent sequel.  Did you ever think you’d see the day when you found it published?
Back when I was writing it, no. I will admit I occasionally thought ‘It would be cool if I got this published.” However I was more interested in writing than looking into that. Eventually my parents gave me a bit a push and away I went. It wasn’t I didn’t think the story was good enough, I just knew it would be a lot a work finding someone to read it in the publishing world. I’d often read about my favorite authors and their journeys to get published, so knew it wasn’t something easy to do. I wasn’t wrong there. 🙂 I have a tendency not to give up once I have my mind set on something though. I did have some help from a friend to give my butt a kick now and then too. I certainly wouldn’t be here otherwise. 🙂
I am positively enamored with your Echo stories.  Where did you come up with the idea and what can we expect in the future from this line?

The original idea came from a line from a song and then just grew as I wrote it. The line was “I will always be here, for the rest of my life.” Which created in my mind the Echoes, who are bound to their Immortals forever. They can not leave. They can’t even die and pass on, only be utterly destroyed. Different Echoes handle this in different ways.

I’ve written two short stories in the Immortal Echoes world so far. I recently started a book as well. I have the general idea in my head, and the first chapter written. Now I just need to sort out a few more things as I write.

Stay home mom, is synonymous with superwoman.   Where do you find the time to balance your home life with being an author and editor?

I think a lot while I clean. Sweeping and doing dishes doesn’t require a lot of brainpower. Mostly I write in the evenings, since that is what I have gotten used to, even though this year both boys are now in school full time. Daytime I clean and putter at some writing and work on reading and editing jobs. I’ve learned to write in little spurts when I can, and also to just write whatever comes into my head. I might write chapter 5 before chapter 3. Whatever works. I usually have very little trouble connecting everything up eventually.

I often ask this question to the authors I interview.  From the time you started writing, to the time you became published, what was the most rewarding leg of your journey?  What was the most difficult?

The most rewarding was of course having someone actually READ my work. I spend over a year just sending out queries and collecting rejections. These didn’t bother me overly much, none of the the agents had read my work after all.

The most difficult part is the WAITING to hear back. It still is. I’m not a very patient person at the best of times. (All patience goes to dealing with the kids LOL) I am starting to get used to it though. Mostly. 🙂

Reader’s like to be tantalized with what’s coming next.  What is coming next from Jennifer Wylie?

I just finished my first young adult novel, Broken Aro. I’ll be submitting it soon. Right now I’m working on it’s sequel, the Echo book, and also editing the sequel to Sweet Light. I have a few short stories on the go too. I’m a bit of a multi-tasker. 🙂

Of all the stories and novels you’ve written. which is your favorite and why?

That’s a hard one. I love all the many (many) books I’ve written in the world of Sweet Light. I’ve been writing them for almost a decade, they have become a part of me. However I also love my new YA, maybe because it’s new? I’ve also learned SO much in the last six months on HOW to write, I think it turned out pretty darn awesome. 🙂 (Plus it has Fey and Elves in it, and I love them!)

You’re the acquisitions editor for Echelon Press’ Explorations line.  Do you enjoy your work?  What’s your favorite part?

I love it!!! It’s like a dream job. 🙂 It’s hard to say what my favorite part is. I love all the technical aspects of marketing and the keeping up the website etc. (yes I’m weird) but interacting, helping and encouraging the authors is such a wonderful experience. Sometimes I think I get more excited than they do when things are going well. Getting to read a lot of awesome books certainly doesn’t hurt either. 😀

Many people write just for the thrill of it.  Inspiration for being an author can come from anywhere.  What’s yours?  Why do you write?

Why? I have to write. I think I’d go crazy (crazier) if I didn’t. I can’t do anything without stories rambling around in my head. Most nights I lie awake with scenes playing before my eyes. I find if I get them typed out, they leave me alone. 🙂 I have huge files of story ideas and partials just because of that. I love writing, I love the stories my mind creates. I hope everyone else will as well. 🙂

Could you give us a brief outline of what books and short stories are coming out from you, when we can expect them?

Yes I can!

Jump (ebook short story) Released December 15 2010

If you were told to jump off of a bridge would you? Perhaps it would depend on who was doing the asking. Our heroine has spunk and a sense of humor, however suffers from an extreme case of inappropriate clothing. When things take a turn from dangerous to worse what will she do when fantasy becomes reality? Warning: May include hot leather clad men, singing and demons.


The Forgotten Echo (ebook short story) Released March 1 2011

Sometimes death is only the beginning…

After a bad day Cassy is surprised to find her self shot, an innocent bystander in a drive by shooting. Bleeding to death in an empty parking lot she knows she is going die. What she doesn’t expect is the arrival of a strange, yet gorgeous, man who tells her he can keep her from passing on in return for being his forever. In desperation she agrees but afterwards she is beyond dismayed to discover she has died. To make matters worse the stranger has disappeared. Her spirit wanders, afraid and alone until she meets another like her and she discovers she not a ghost at all but something much more.

Sweet Light (novel) Released May 2011

When fate conspires against you and gives you three loves to choose from, what do you do?  When you do decide, what if you made the wrong choice?

Shara is a Healer, raised and trained from childhood until her unique gift manifests itself. When she gains the rank Journeyman she is hired to serve as the court healer of the barbaric kingdom of Glendor.

Untrained for war she is thrust unmercifully into its bloody arms when the kingdom is invaded. Ordered by her king to the front lines to tend the wounded, she is forced to flee when their camp is attacked.  Happening upon a wounded soldier in the forest, every mile back to the capital is a struggle, and breaking the Healer’s code, she falls in love with her charge.

If Shara thought that to be the least of her troubles, the appearance of a fierce warrior captain who takes it upon himself to be her protector teaches her differently.  Trouble comes in threes at the appearance of her former love and fellow healer.  Faced with decisions of the heart and the sudden manifestation of her gift leave little room for anything else to go wrong.  Or at least that’s what Shara thought...

Author Bio

Jennifer Wylie was born and raised in Ontario, Canada. In a cosmic twist of fate she dislikes the snow and cold.

Before settling down to raise a family, she attained a BA from Queens University and worked in retail and sales.

Thanks to her mother she acquired a love of books at an early age and began writing in public school. She constantly has stories floating around in her head, and finds it amazing most people don’t. Jennifer writes various forms of fantasy, both novels and short stories. Sweet light is her debut novel to be published in 2011.

Jennifer resides in rural Ontario, Canada with her husband, two boys, Australian shepherd a flock of birds and a disagreeable amount of wildlife.

Jennifer’s Website:

Jennifer’s Blog:

You can also follow her on Twitter!

You can also “Like” her on Facebook!

The Lost Daughter- Chapter One

November 22, 2010 2 comments


Click to Purchase

I have the HONOUR of hosting up and coming author ELLA GREY on her first stop of her blog tour.  Her book What a Way to Start the Day, Is now available for pre-sale on Omnilit.  For her blog tour she decided to put up select chapters of her new story, The Lost Daughter. Read Chapter One here today on my blog and then Chapter Two on my friend, Jen Wylie’s Blog!  If you want to keep reading, you’ll have to follow the story from blog to blog to blog!  Give it a read, and I’m sure you’ll see why Ella Grey was picked up by Echelon Press.  Enjoy my friends!



The Lost Daughter

Chapter One

Part One

I’ve always had nightmares.

If you had seen what I had seen you would have them too. The setup was always the same. I was in a room carved into the middle of a cave. Laid out there was enough room to see that I was the center of something that could have passed for a morbid clock face. Twelve slabs of rock, twelve bodies in various states of decay. I had seen Dad as I’d been dragged in.

From the look on his face he could have been sleeping. It was only by looking lower to the messy blood stained hole that you knew that he wouldn’t be waking up. Above each of their heads was the red mass of muscle that was the human heart. The urge to fight left me in a wave. These were the days before I knew that I was a witch. Five years ago, I was just like any other fifteen year old girl. It’s hard to believe that life was ever that simple.

I was half lead, half dragged to the slab in the center, number thirteen. It was only after Thomas rescued me and I’d been safety hidden away in a police station I’d become hysterical. They’d sedated me after I’d tried to claw out my eyes, the image of my Dad on that cold stone slab haunted me to this day..

That was the funny thing about dreams. They didn’t always play out events the way you remembered them. My nightmares always played out the, what if? What if Thomas had been late? What if he had never shown up at all?

A shadow fell over me. I looked up into a pair of dark inhuman eyes hidden behind a mask. Gripping my face with a gloved and he turned it from side to side, studying me. After that was done he left, eventually returning with a steel container. He opened it and I was hit by an unfamiliar smell, as he held my head still, he dipped in a finger and drew something on my forehead. The substance had been thick and it left clots of something that later I’d found out was made up of the blood of the earlier victims. The man had then moved to the side and had been joined by six others. All of them were dressed the same, red robes and black masks that covered the entire face. Their hands seemed to snake out, holding my legs, arms and head. At the time I had been terrified, where they planning on raping me first? The man that marked me now stood between my spread legs. I remembered being fully dressed the day they grabbed me but dreams were tricky things. Sometimes the situation would be warped by my mind and I would appear naked, even more vulnerable than I’d actually been. He climbed onto the stone slab with me and it was always at that moment I saw the ornamental knife that had been tucked between a rope belt and his robes.

It had been right about now that Thomas had came in, all guns a blazing with his team to rescue me. I remembered this and so did my dream self. What my dream self never seemed to remember was that in this version he never came. Instead the blade came down and I screamed. I felt every incision as they cut a hole, broke my ribs and still I screamed. Why wasn’t I dying? Why did I have to feel every second? I felt his hand travel into my chest and grab my heart.

“You bastards” I screamed as he tugged it free from its resting place. It was finally over.


Like the beginning to the story of Alice Young? Part 2 can be found tomorrow at

My eshort, ‘What a way to start the day’ A Molly O’Brien Tale is being released on the 1st of December.

Waking up to realize you may be in the family way would make anyone worry. Especially if the would-be daddy has fangs and is the hunted son of the vampire mafia.
Molly O’Brien runs the small shop ‘Forbidden Charms’ and is the witch to go to if you want something. Operating on the outskirts of a supernatural world isn’t easy either, especially when trying to keep your secret from the human world. Who would have thought life could get any more complicated for the little fire witch?


My Interview with Norm Cowie

November 10, 2010 2 comments

Just want to say, “Dude you crack me up.”  With that out of the way I have to ask, could you imagine writing anything without an element of humor in it?


Yep, gotta crack people up.   I treat each reader like an egg I want to break.  If I can scramble some brains, poach some feelings or egg the reader on any other way, I’m going to do it.  As far as writing without humor, I have to admit it’s a challenge not to slide down the sophomoric slope of immaturity and humor.



To date, what work of yours brought you the most satisfaction in seeing it to completion?


I think my second book, THE NEXT ADVENTURES OF GUY.  Wring(s/b Writing)  this was satisfying because as a sequel, I could skip the boring stuff where I’m introducing characters and romp right on into the story.  This one actually starts with the characters running in a graveyard.



What possessed you, I mean inspired you, to write a book for young adults?


Well, there was this kid ghost who spoke to me during a séance and … well, okay, not really.  What really happened was a librarian came up to me at a writer’s conference and told me teens were reading my Adventures of Guy series.  When I heard that, a light bulb went on over my head, dropped on my noggin and broke, sending tiny shards of glass all over my shoulders. And I decided I had to give it a try.



On the same topic, I was introduced to Fang Face on your website and I’ve added that to my “MUST READ” list.  Was writing to a younger audience difficult?


Besides getting in touch with my inner child, there are certain challenges to writing Fang Face that I didn’t face with my adult books.  Mostly, how to walk the fine line where it’s realistic enough for the kids, while not crossing lines that I didn’t want to cross.  There’s no sex or cussing in Fang Face, and that’s just not true in a kid’s life. I mean, think about all of the cussing and orgies going on in today’s schools.

I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you agreed to this interview.  Now that I have you here, what would be the BEST advice you could give to aspiring writers?


Don’t.  Bore.  The.  Reader.    By that, I mean, don’t spend a long time setting up scenes so the reader can see something exactly the way you picture it.  Let their imagination fill in some of the blanks.  I can’t tell you how many times I stopped reading a book because the author spent too much time laboriously explaining scenes.



I see you’re working on a new book, WEREWOOF.  Would you care to share with everyone a little about what to expect?  Any idea when we might expect it on the shelves?


It’s done.  I’m not sure what I’m going to do with it yet.  In the meantime, I’m working on my next one (see below).



Some authors are born into the craft, others are introduced, but I’ve never met an author who would give up writing because they love it so much.  How important is your craft to you?  If you could do anything else besides being an author what would it be?


Oh, without a doubt, I would want to be the guy who cleans up after parties at Chuckie Cheese.  Imagine all of the fun things you can find in the play section. Diapers, food, spilled drinks, barf.  How fun.


Being a father of two children myself, I plan to incorporate them at some point in my novels as characters, probably evil ones bent on the destruction of the earth and refusing to clean their lairs.  Have your children ever had roles in any of your work?


Yeah, kids are like that, aren’t they.  My younger daughter Lauren is my official ‘bounce-offer.’  I bounce ideas off her, and discuss possible plot turns and things.  She’s a freshman in college, and really in tune with what’s fun and popular. As far as characters, both of my daughters claim they were the inspiration for the sisters in Fang Face.  I tell them not. They tell me yes, I tell them no.  They disagree.  It’s an ongoing argument.



I ask this question of everyone I interview because I love to see the diversity of the answers presented.  Form the moment you started writing until the moment you held your completed first work in you r hand, what leg of the journey was the most difficult to overcome or get through?


My left leg, ever since I messed up my knee. But I’ve been icing it, taking anti-inflammatories and babying it, so  it’s getting better now.  It’ll be okay.


What’s next for Norm Cowie?  After you complete WEREWOOF, do you have another story rattling around in your head that you can’t wait to get down on paper?


I’m about two thirds done writing the third Adventures of Guy.  In this one, my college characters are angry about the price of oil, so they decide to take on Big Oil in its headquarters, which they find is in Hell. When they get there, they are shocked to find out that George Bush and Dick Cheney have taken over Hell, torturing Satan with an unending colonoscopy – meanwhile, the terrorists are wandering around going, ‘Where are the virgins? We were promised virgins.’  The guy from Verizon is down there, too, saying, “Can you hear me now? Can you hear me now?”  Meanwhile, Sarah Palin can see them from her back yard.    Yep, more wackiness.

All of this can be seen on my website

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