Spotlight & Excerpt: A Wisp of Fate + Giveaway

a-wisp-of-fate-tour-banner_orig
A Wisp of Fate
Elsie True Series #1
by Kristy Centeno
Genre: Urban Fantasy

 

Elsie True lives with only one goal in mind …
to avenge her father’s death.
 
Branded a traitor among the brotherhood of the Cause, an organization dedicated to the destruction of all magical creatures, her father was unjustly murdered for falling in love with a celestial being, leaving a teenage Elsie to learn the creature-hunting business with the help of her father’s old friend.
Her life revolves around besting the Cause and keeping the world safe from any creatures that get out of hand. When her mentor signs her up for another case, she jumps at the opportunity to steer business away from the corrupt organization.
 
Not long into the investigation, she realizes she might have walked right into a setup, including coming face-to-face with a creature she doesn’t know if she should kill or protect.
 
Elsie feared little in life, but she isn’t prepared to face the demons of her past, especially those hell-bent on killing her. Outwitting her enemies means solving the case, but in a world where she has more foes than friends, who can she trust?
 
 
A wisp of fate kristy centeno mock up

The oracle’s gaze settled on the cloth in her palm. She furrowed her brow in response to what Elsie was offering her.

“What is that you ask of the gods, Elsie True?”

“Can they tell me where I can find the object stolen from the shifter monk monastery? Where do I begin my search?”

“Are you sure you wish to ask the gods for help?”

Elsie blew air out via her nostrils. The gods hadn’t answered her appeals in years, but this time things were different. Things seemed different.

Renounced by the gods, abandoned by her mother’s brethren, she had been deemed unworthy to receive advice from whatever ruling body still made a half-assed attempt at pleasing underlings with answers borne of pity.

Elsie’s human blood had branded her a disgrace among all creatures of magical descent. So, she wasn’t expecting much in terms of answers of whatever god was listening, if any at all, but a tiny part of her hoped that not every god saw her as a nuisance or a disgrace. She wanted to believe at least one viewed her as equal—farfetched as the likelihood for that was

A wisp of fate kristy centeno mock up

 
 

Kristy Centeno loves to spin tales of creatures that go bump in the night, with a sprinkle of romance to top them off. Her passion for writing stems from a lifelong enjoyment of reading and the pleasure derived from the magical worlds created by authors like her. She prefers her female leads strong, independent, and stubborn who will stop at nothing to save their loved ones and protect those they care for.

Kristy currently resides in Pennsylvania with her five kids, a quartet of noisy parakeets, and a spoiled puppy. When she is not working or writing, she juggles her free time between raising a handful of minions and pursuing other career goals.

 
 
Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!
 
$25 Amazon

Guest Post: Delilah Night and Comet’s First Christmas

comet's first christmas cut

It’s Black Friday, which to me is the start of the holiday season. Our Elf on the Shelf, Chippy, is hiding somewhere in the house. We’ll decide which type of tree we want to set up this year, and decorate it with lots of decorations, many of which commemorate trips. My favorite decoration is probably this super delicate ornament of a swan boat from Boston (my hometown).

Of course one of the traditions of Christmas season for many is the return of the Hallmark Christmas movie. But there are none for queer women. And while I didn’t write the story of the big city lawyer who moves back home and falls for the small town vet…I did write the story of one of Santa’s reindeer and an elf falling in love while trying to solve the mystery of who’s ruining belief in Santa.

A bad Santa is turning believers faster than melting snow. Can the mystery be solved in time for Christmas?

Claudia
I’ve dreamed of this day for years, and now it’s reality. I’ve been called up for the Big Show. Official Pole phone and email, Naughty-or-Nice login, and upgraded I.D. with my new job title—Comet. In three weeks, I’ll be part of the team flying Santa around the world.

In an instant my life goes from peaceful, if boring, to a blizzard of last-minute flight preparations, route planning, and anxiety-triggering stress.

The moment I meet my P.A., Jillian, her beautiful smile and sparkling blue eyes are an oasis of calm. But I’ve barely got enough time to wonder if her plump lips taste as sugarplum sweet as they look. Disturbing news has popped up on Santa’s radar.

Someone is turning Santa’s most fervent believers into non-believers overnight. If we can’t find and stop this hacker, there won’t be enough reindeer cutout cookies and hot chocolate in the world to restore balance to Santa’s Naughty-or-Nice list in time for Christmas Eve.

Note to reader: What sweet Christmas romance would be complete without reindeer, The Nutcracker, ice skating at Rockefeller Center, and New York pizza?

Even though I knew it wasn’t a real date, I spent the full hour getting ready. I wanted time to try out different outfits. Because reindeers could morph, the apartments had very little in the way of “real” clothes beyond some extra outerwear in the front closet. I stood in front of the mirror I’d discovered on the inside door of the human bedroom closet and morphed through a number of outfits. Red sweater, black jeans? Bor-ring. Blue sweaterdress with silver tights and knee-high boots? Too cute for a mission, and I looked like I was trying too hard. Orange sweater and jeans? I looked like I worked for Halloween, not Christmas. Little black dress? Sexy, and something I’d wear on a real date, but it was a little too exposed for humans in December in New York, and it wasn’t a real date. The time passed so swiftly that I’d barely finished deciding on my outfit when I heard the knock at the stall door in the other room.

“Just a second!” I called. I frowned, changed my mind, and morphed my black pants back to jeans. Taking a deep, shaky breath, I went to meet Jillian.

“You look beautiful,” said Jillian.

My face burned with pleasure. “Thank you.” I’d chosen a white cable knit sweater and jeans with black boots. “So do you.”

Jillian looked edible. She was also wearing jeans, but they clung to her curves. The blue plaid flannel shirt matched the sapphire of her eyes. I noticed, for the first time, that her ears were pierced—little gold hoops hung from her lobes. Her blonde hair was in a loose braid down her back. I also noticed a little scar through her eyebrow, and I wondered how that had happened.
The subway was crowded when Jillian and I boarded. There were no seats, so we stood facing each other holding one of the central poles in the car. As the train headed downtown, it filled with more and more humans, pushing Jillian and I closer and closer.

“One more stop.” Jillian had leaned into me, so she could speak directly into my ear instead of shouting over the noise. Her breath was warm against my skin. I shivered, wishing I knew if she liked me, even a little. As the train screamed down the track, she gave me a smile. Then she leaned in again. “How do you like the subway?”

Another millimeter and my lips would graze the shell of her ear. “I like flying better.”

Her laughter crackled over my skin, making me want.

Our eyes met, and the screeching the train and the chatter of a dozen languages faded away. I felt my tongue wet my suddenly dry lips, and her eyes went molten. She was leaning in, my heart pounding so hard I was shocked it wasn’t audible above the cacophony. Then someone pushed past me, shoving me into Jillian’s arms. She caught me, our arms instinctively going around each other.

Plastered against Jillian, my heartbeat kicked up to a gallop. Our eyes met, and it was like we were enveloped in one of those snowstorms that make everything hushed and quiet. Her lashes were long, and dark with mascara. She had a light dusting of freckles across her cheeks. Her eyes were a deep blue, almost like a Caribbean Sea. When she licked her lips, my eyes were glued to the action.

I had an irrational thought—I was sure she’d kiss me. The desire was written clearly on her face for anyone to see. I was sure that my own desire was nakedly obvious on my own. She leaned in…

The subway shuddered to a stop. “42nd Street – Bryant Park,” crackled the distorted audio.

The moment was over, but I was (mostly) sure I hadn’t hallucinated it.

Although I spent the first thirty years of my life in the Northeast of the United States, I lived in Southeast Asia from 2010-2017. I currently live near San Francisco with my partner, our two kids, and two cats.

I’m a writer who doesn’t take myself too seriously–my characters range from parents trying to reconnect post-kids to shape shifting reindeer to photographers to a would-be pirate lass.

Pick up any of my deliciously naughty bedtime stories for a solid plot and steamy romance.

Connect with Delilah Night
Facebook
Twitter
Instagram
Email delilahnight at gmail dot com

Book Blitz & Excerpt: Tic Tac Mistletoe + giveaway

Tic Tac Mistletoe Blitz Banner

Tic Tac Mistletoe
N.R. Walker
Out November 27th 2020
Adult, Contemporary, Holiday, LGBTQ+, Romance

Hamish Kenneally is moving from Australia to the US for a fresh start, starting with Christmas at his sister’s place in Idaho. When a snowstorm diverts his plane to Montana and leaves him stranded two days before Christmas, he hires a car and drives right into a blizzard.

Ren Brooks has always called Hartbridge, Montana, and his family hardware store, home. After a few failed attempts at love, he’s resigned to being single forever—after all, no guy wants to stay in his sleepy little town for long. And after his dad’s passing earlier in the year, Ren’s Christmas is looking bleak. But when a car runs off the road in front of his property, Ren pulls the driver out and takes him home to get out of the cold.

With the storm and the holidays leaving Hamish with nowhere else to go, Ren kindly offers a place to stay. Hamish is certain he’s crashed right into a Hallmark Christmas movie, despite more car delays and road closures and the prospect of not seeing his sister for Christmas. And with help from Hamish, Ren is beginning to feel a little Christmas cheer.

These two unlikely strangers have more in common than they first realise, and after two days of Christmas decorations, cookies, and non-stop conversation, it looks like Christmas might be saved after all.

Goodreads / Amazon

Tic Tac Mistletoe NR walker

EXCERPT:

Hamish’s POV

A totally catastrophic, unmitigated disaster.

What is a totally catastrophic, unmitigated disaster, you might ask?

Let me break it down for you real quick.

My life, my relationship, my job, my plans, my future, and this whole damn trip.

So, basically me.

Me.

I am the totally catastrophic unmitigated disaster.

Hamish Kenneally, thirty-one-year-old Australian, who quit his shitty job and sold his shitty apartment and left behind his shitty life in Sydney, packed his said-shitty life into two suitcases, and boarded a plane to spend Christmas with his sister in God-knows-where, Idaho, USA.

Well, Christmas first. Then two years, at least, in America trying to unshitify his life.

And if the trip to said God-knows-where, Idaho, was any indication of just how spectacularly extra-shitified my life was going to get, I should have turned around and stayed right where I was.

Because if the flight from Sydney to LA was bad, which it was, then the second flight, LA to Spokane, made the first flight look like a joy ride.

Because I didn’t get to Spokane, did I?

Oh no, of course I didn’t.

Because you see, Christmastime in America is in winter. Which is weird enough for this Australian. Christmas should be hot summer days at the beach, seafood and salads, beers and watching the bronzed surfers and drunk foreigners at Bondi. That is what Christmas should be.

None of this “sorry folks; to avoid flying into a massive snow blizzard, we’re being diverted to Missoula, Montana” crap the captain of the plane said when we were halfway there. Like the screaming baby in the seat next to me, or the vomiting lady in the row in front of me weren’t bad enough. Like we had any choice about which direction we were flying into.

I had no choice. I was now going to Montana. In a freaking blizzard, of all things. Ever been on a plane that flew into a snowstorm? There is zero joy in that kind of turbulence, believe me. It would also explain the screaming baby and the vomiting woman. And the man behind me saying Hail Mary’s . . . which you’d think might be comforting. But oh boy, is it ever not. Especially when he yelled the prayer every time we hit a particularly large pothole in the sky on the descent. Honestly, if this flight was a scene in a movie, you’d think it was too ridiculous to be real.

After the plane landed—to which I would have clapped and cheered like everyone else if I wasn’t stuck in the brace position after trying to kiss my own arse goodbye—we were kicked off the plane without so much as a good luck in the wrong bloody state.

So there I was, a clueless Aussie, after flying for twenty hellish-hours and now a few hundred kilometres from where I was supposed to be, trying to wrangle two overweight suitcases down the concourse, when one little wheel on my suitcase broke.

Because of course it did.

Frazzled and trying not to cry— Yes, cry. A thirty-one-year-old man can cry; shove your toxic masculinity in your cakehole and stop judging me. I was having a jetlag-fuelled shitastic day meltdown, trying to keep my shit together the best I could, and clearly not doing it very well. I was allowed a little saltwater leakage.

Anyway, getting back to my story. I tried to call my sister.

No signal.

Because of course there’s not.

So, taking a deep breath and willing myself not to spiral, I found my car rental kiosk. Finally, something is going right. “I have a car booked,” I said, trying to keep my now-broken suitcase upright with my foot while rifling through my backpack for my booking confirmation and driver’s licence. After dropping my passport and half the contents from my backpack all over the floor, then scrambling to collect it all while still trying to keep my suitcase upright, I handed everything over with a flourish of triumph. “Oh, that flight was the worst,” I said, sagging onto the counter. I was about to tell her all about my day from the ninth circle of hell when she looked up at me with that look.

You know the one.

The look of superficial appeasement before they cut you off at the knees. “I’m sorry, sir. But I don’t have a reservation under your name.”

I stared at her. My brain short-circuited and the will to live left my body. It was an actual out-of-body experience, I’m sure of it. I could see myself staring at her, mouth gaping like I’d been lobotomised.

Because of course they didn’t have my booking.

Why would they? My rental car was waiting for me in Spokane. In Washington. Not in freaking Montana.

“Oh,” I whispered, and my left eye twitched. “That’s nice.” I looked around the airport, at the line of annoyed people behind me. “Excellent. I’ve seen that movie where Tom Hanks lives in an airport. It wasn’t so bad. Could be worse. Could’ve been the one where he’s stuck on the island, I guess. Though I didn’t pack a volleyball, so that would’ve sucked.”

She blinked and tap-tap-tapped away at her keyboard. “But sir, we’ve had a lot of cancelled flights today because of the weather. I can arrange a vehicle for you, if you’d like?”

Oh, my sweet baby Jesus in a manger, why didn’t she lead with that?

Tic Tac Mistletoe

 

Author Bio:

N.R. Walker is an Australian author, who loves her genre of gay romance. She loves writing and spends far too much time doing it, but wouldn’t have it any other way.

She ismany things: a mother, a wife, a sister, a writer. She has pretty, pretty boys who liv

e in her head, who don’t let her sleep at night unless she gives them life with words.

She likes it when they do dirty, dirty things… but likes it even more when they fall in love.

She used to think having people in her head talking to her was weird, until one day she happened across other writers who told her it was normal.

She’s been writing ever since…

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Bookbub

Tic Tac Mistletoe

GIVEAWAY!
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by:
XBTBanner1

Scroll Up