Cloud Nine Girl

Flight Back To The Midwest

Exactly two weeks from this moment, I sat on a plane staring out the window over my honey’s shoulder, waving good-bye to Boston, Massachusetts. The water, the clouds, the sparkly glass skyscrapers mixed with the historical architecture reminded me of life and how we change as we age, but we never forget.

It had been years since I’d been to visit Boston. This time I was fueled with one important reason: meet the girl I’d been writing partners with for the past four years. We met online in a writing pair-up blog post Maggie Stiefvater resurrects every year. Similar in personality, I could say after meeting my friend Becky in person, she could be my soul sister.

My trip was amazing with haunted twists from the moment our airplane touched down. The weather was typical east coast style with patches of blue sky and sun in one blink, and then we entered an underground tunnel in a taxi on the way to our hotel. Exiting the tunnel somewhere into the city and close to Cambridge, our final destination, the air definitely changed. Thick billowy clouds slipped in from nowhere, and a baby soft rain misted through the air in an instant sheen of silk all over your skin. We walked quite a bit on our trip. I experienced this velvety rain many times throughout the weekend, a definite difference than the rain in the Midwest.

The Haunted Historical Tour.

Faneuil Hall. Not sure who the guy is standing behind me. 🙂

That afternoon my honey and I, checked into our hotel. We had plans to meet my friend Becky at Faneuil Hall.  A train fire created a long delay for her. Sadly, in our texting correspondence I didn’t think she’d make it to dinner and definitely not to the haunted historical tour of Boston we planned to experience later Friday night.

She showed! Grabbing a taxi, and then getting stuck in traffic, she bailed on some random street and ran the last stretch to the backside of Faneuil hall.

“Are you here?”

Words one of us might have texted.

“I am! Where are you?”

The other one of us possibly texted back. I can’t quite remember the exact series of words, but words can’t compare with the eagerness of finally seeing her face.

I searched the crowd eager to find her. Way up the block near a light post, I thought I caught sight of her dark hair. I might have yelled her name. I know I saw her wave. We both walked (and maybe skipped) toward each other in that first magical meeting in person. A spark for life twinkled in her eyes. She smiled. We walked and talked about her journey and the delayed train on our own mission to find a fun spot for dinner. I’m not a huge planner on trips. Sometimes it seems more magical when you stumble into something great and let your own intuition guide you. Our first dinner spot was exactly what I’d hoped for. Something interesting I’d never experienced back at home. A two story restaurant with red and white checkered decor, an interesting mix of people sat with a chair between their own groups at pieced together long tables in the dining room.

Time flew as we enjoyed our calamari and red sangria. We paid and with ten minutes to get to our tour, we left the restaurant and hustled down the uneven sidewalk. The sky had changed again, darkening with spotty patches of night clouds hiding the stars. We joined our tour near a statue and off we went through the street lamp lit night.

What I learned.

The Omni Hotel

I loved the mix of history with the haunted tales of Boston. We learned about the church where Ben Franklin had been baptized, the courtyard where Puritans had purified nonbelievers at an elm tree, which had been replaced with a modern day playground. The Omni hotel fascinated me. One of the oldest hotels in Boston, it supposedly had a haunted third floor and a room reserved strictly for Stephen King and his writing. Becky and I decided to sneak away and took the stairs later that night. We listened at the doors and waited …

… and waited.

Goosebumps. A few raised hairs up the neck. But nothing else happened. Not even as we stared into the infamous mirror where supposedly, you would soon see the shadows of someone else, instead of your own reflection.

On an up note in that same hotel, JFK proposed to Jackie at a table in one of the restaurants.

The Falafel King Restaurant.

It seemed ordinary at first, squinting through the glare in the windows as our tour guide talked. How could it be anything but just another restaurant on the strip of street? We quickly learned though, back in the early nineteen hundreds, this very spot was no restaurant. Once upon a time it had been a haunted photography studio.  An infamous couple were known for capturing the silhouettes of family members in the backgrounds of a portrait. These family members had all passed, but were asked to return for a final good-bye.

The ending for now.

I felt at home in Boston, even though I like wide-open spaces. Busy, full of people passing on the sidewalks and also in cars on the road, it wasn’t the same type of busy I’d experienced in a couple of trips to New York City. It seemed easy to chat with anyone while most people I observed seemed to enjoy being right where they were. Smiling, laughing, and many times biking or running. How could they not? Surrounded with history mixed with modern conveniences, views of the water and sometimes a sailboat or a fishing boat, locals seemed to have the best of both worlds.

In the next couple of weeks, Ill be back to reflect on my visit to Salem and the unicorn man I ran into at Fenway Park. I’ll see you then!

Good Morning, all. 🙂

I’m happy to be a part of the blog tour for Minutes Before Sunset by Shannon A. Thompson. It’s a great book and the plot and characters are quite dynamic. If you’re looking for an interesting new Young Adult read written in an urban world mixed with supernatural sparkle, I highly suggest it.

You’ll find my review below, and of course an excerpt from the book. Stick around, enter to win a giveaway. Of course you can also visit the official tour page to find out more about the book.

I think you’ll find Minutes Before Sunset as intriguing as I did.

About the Book.

Title:  Minutes Before Sunset

Shannon A. Thompson is a twenty-three-year-old author, avid reader, and habitual chatterbox. She was merely sixteen when she was first published, and a lot has happened since then. Thompson’s work has appeared in numerous poetry collections and anthologies, and her first installment of The Timely Death Trilogy became Goodreads’ Book of the Month. As a novelist, poet, and blogger, Thompson spends her free time writing and sharing ideas with her black cat named after her favorite actor, Humphrey Bogart. Between writing and befriending cats, she graduated from the University of Kansas with a bachelor’s degree in English, and she travels whenever the road calls her.

Giveaway Details:

• A bookmark swag pack, winner’s choice of any Clean Teen Publishing eBook, and a $15 Amazon gift card.
• Giveaway is International.

Sign up to win some great free stuff by clicking this rafflecopter link.

Good Morning and Happy Wednesday, all.

I have some great news to share. My author friend Danielle E. Shipley is revealing the cover of her new book, The Story’s End, the 7th book in The Wilderhark Tales. I had the privilege to read and review one of her earlier books in the series. Danielle E. Shipley is a dynamite writer of fairy tales and fiction, and if you’ve ever liked Disney “feel-good” fairy tales, or grew up reading some of those stories by Hans Christian Andersen, you should definitely check out all of Danielle’s seven books.

So without further delay, here is the new cover.

About the Book.

For Gant-o’-the-Lute, “ever after” has been less than happy. With the last of Carillon’s charm over him gone, the minstrel-king puts royalty behind him in pursuit of the music he once knew and the lifelong dream he let slip through his fingers. But dark whispers on the wind warn that time is running out – not only for Lute and the apprentice in his shadow, but the whole of earth and Sky.

The Story’s End
Book Seven of The Wilderhark Tales

<> ~ <> ~ <>

 An enchantress’s curse turns a spoiled royal into a beast; a princess’s pricked finger places her under a hundred-year spell; bales of straw are spun as golden as the singing harp whisked down a giant beanstalk – all within sight of Wilderhark, the forest that’s seen it all.

 You’ve heard the stories – of young men scaling rope-like braids to assist the tower-bound damsel; of gorgeous gowns appearing just in time for a midnight ball; of frog princes, and swan princes, and princes saved from drowning by maidens of the sea. Tales of magic. Tales of adventure. Most of all, tales of true love.

 Once upon a time, you knew them as fairytales. Know them now as Wilderhark’s.

About The Author.

Danielle E. Shipley’s first novelettes told the everyday misadventures of wacky kids like herself. …Or so she thought. Unbeknownst to them all, half of her characters were actually closeted elves, dwarves, fairies, or some combination thereof. When it all came to light, Danielle did the sensible thing: Packed up and moved to Fantasy Land, where daily rent is the low, low price of her heart, soul, blood, sweat, tears, firstborn child, sanity, and words; lots of them. She’s also been known to spend short bursts of time in the real-life Chicago area with the parents who home schooled her and the two little sisters who keep her humble. When she’s not living the highs and lows of writing, publishing, and all that authorial jazz, she’s probably blogging about it at www.EverOnWord.wordpress.com.

General info:

Genre = fairytale novella

The Release date = October 13, 2015

Available to add to your Goodreads shelf.

Future availability = Paperback (Amazon and CreateSpace) and e-Book (Kindle and Nook)

Thank you all. 🙂

~Erika

Visit the official author page at Juniper Grove Book Solutions

Good Morning and Happy Tuesday, all! Today, I’m sharing a great new book by Author Angela J. Townsend, entitled The Forlorned. The subject and setting grabbed me the moment I saw the synopsis for the book. Lighthouses, ghosts and demons, and the promise of a really great mystery.

I’ll be posting an excerpt from the book below, so take a peek. There’s also a chance to enter a giveaway and win some great prizes.

A bit about the Book

Title: The Forlorned

Author:  Angela J. Townsend

Published: July 21st, 2015

Publisher: Crimson Tree Publishing

Genre: Horror

Content Warning: Violence

Recommended Age: 13+

Synopsis: When Tom Doherty first laid eyes on the lighthouse he knew it was damned.

An advertisement lured him to the island, offering a job renovating the old lighthouse and ramshackle buildings. What he didn’t know was that he was the only applicant. None of the locals wanted the job – no one dared.

Isolated and alone, Tom soon discovers why. Messages from disembodied voices; ghostly visitations and escalating horrors draw Tom deeper into the island’s evil past—a darkness that forces Tom to unbury the truth and bring demons of his own into the light.

Where you can buy it.

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | GoodReads

The Forlorned upcoming movie release information can be found on IMDb at: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt4294968/?

About the Author.

Angela Townsend was born in the beautiful Rocky Mountains of Missoula, Montana. As a child, Angela grew up listening to stories told by her grandparents, ancient tales and legends of faraway places. Influenced by her Irish and Scottish heritage, Angela became an avid research historian, specializing in Celtic mythology. Her gift for storytelling finally led her to a full time career in historical research and writing. A writer in local community circulations, Angela is also a published genealogical and historical resource writer who has taught numerous research seminars. Currently, Angela divides her time between writing, playing Celtic music on her fiddle, and Irish dancing.

Angela resides on a ranch, in rural Northwestern Montana, with her two children Levi and Grant.

Links to Author Information:

Amazon Author Page | Facebook | Twitter | GoodReads | Blog

Crimson Tree Publishing:

(An adult division of Clean Teen)

Website | Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway Details:

There is a tour wide giveaway. Prizes include the following:

• A bookmark swag pack and winner’s choice of any Clean Teen Publishing eBook.

Giveaway is International.

Click the link to enter your information and take part in the giveaway.

Check out a sneak peek of the book.

The trap stood in the entryway of the kitchen, smeared with a thick glob of Peanut Butter. Tom sat in the living room and waited for it to spring. He’d take the rat to the opposite side of the island and release it. At midnight, he gave up and climbed into the chair by the fire. The tightness in his body relaxed and sleep overtook him.

Tom was awakened by his shivering only an hour after dozing off. He peered outside his frosted window. There must be a cold front moving in.

He added more wood to the fire and shivered under the quilt. The temperature continued to drop. He could see his own breath come in puffs of steam with every exhale. Exhausted and still shivering, Tom finally dozed again.

Deep asleep in the middle of the night Tom struggled, fought to move, but couldn’t. His eyes refused to open.

A sinister presence loomed over him, trapping him under like a heavy fish net, constricting his every movement, only inches from his face. Icy breath pelted his forehead.

Tom’s eyes snapped open. His chest seized with panic. He was no longer in the chair. He struggled to hold himself upright. Cold, fog-laden night burned his lungs with each gasping breath. His bare feet froze onto cold, wet wood. The crash of thunder and flash of lightning took turns adding to the torment of the night.

As if waking up from a bad dream, Tom stood on the deck of a strange ship. The massive vessel leaned forward and back, driving hard through the waves. Wailing winds and icy sleet tore at her ravaged sails, creating an eerie flapping noise. Tom’s heart pounded. Muffled voices of men shouted over the storm.

A shot rang past his head.

He struggled to wake himself from the nightmare but couldn’t.

Somewhere in the dark a man yelled, “Hold tight!” The sea rose and a wave washed over the ship.

Wrenched off his feet, he landed hard on the deck. He slid to the opposite side of the ship and grasped the edge of a rail just in time to avoid being washed overboard. A hot flash of pain seared in his back.

Tom rolled over and saw the men loading grape and canister shot into cannons lined up along the deck. Scrambling to his feet, he bolted to a man busy loading another round into one of the large guns.

“Who are you?” Tom shouted.

The man looked directly at him but didn’t seem to hear. Angry at being ignored, Tom shouted again, “What’s going on?”

The man looked past him.

Tom ran to the other side of the ship to avoid the salt-stiff rigging as it crashed to the deck. He realized the crew couldn’t see him.

A flash of lightning struck near the rear of the ship and he saw the pursuer, a massive frigate. Her great prow sliced through boiling black waters. An English flag boldly whipped back and forth atop her mast. Daggers of ice hung from her gun ports.

Someone grabbed his arm. He tried to wrench it away, but the hand held fast. He looked into the eyes of a young mast-hand.

“What ship is this? Where am I?” Tom yelled.

Lightning struck again, and the young man turned into a bloated corpse. The flesh fell away from his raw bones. A grape shot wound appeared in his forehead.

“It was hell, Tom. Don’t forget us. Come find us, Tom. Come find us.”