Hello riders. It's still Friday which means I come to you with another fun bookish post. This one is a cover reveal for Tammie Painter's upcoming book "Death Takes a Holiday." Check out this unique cover and why you should preorder your copy of this humorous dark paranormal mystery today. Happy reading everyone :).
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Death needed a vacation. What he got was a murder, a demon, and a 73-year-old detective with no time to kill.
Death Takes a Holiday
The Mortimer & Mrs. Morris Trilogy Book 1
by: Tammie Painter
Genre: Humorous Dark Paranormal Mystery
BLURB:
Death is bored. Immortality will do that to you.
** A hilarious new series from the author of The Cassie Black Trilogy! **
After an eternity of escorting souls to the afterlife, Death — who really prefers you call him Mortimer — is bored. There's been departmental divisions, technical developments, and fitness crazes that mean people just aren't dying like they used to.
What's worse… He's running low on romance novels to keep himself occupied.
His solution: a working holiday to Top World, where he expects room service, infinity-high thread counts, and an easy solution to get business booming again.
What he doesn't expect is Mrs Morris, a seventy-three-year-old detective with a tightly packed schedule that leaves no room for an immortal assistant.
But Mortimer refuses to go away. After all, detectives find murderers, and having his very own killer would be the perfect way to nudge up those mortality rates.
Luckily, someone's just been murdered — and Mrs Morris has been hired to find the culprit. The only trouble? The victim reeks of demons, turning Mortimer's perfect opportunity into a great deal of trouble that could end his career. Oh, and the human race.
Death Takes a Holiday is a humorous fantasy novel about the most inconvenient partnership in the history of the afterlife, where a pair of unlikely allies are thrown together by broken bones, murder mysteries, pesky demons, and the deadliest cup of coffee in Portland.
Like Terry Pratchett joining the Thursday Murder Club, Death Takes a Holiday is perfect for fans of wry humor, paranormal mystery, and unforgettable characters forming reluctant bonds.
Author of humorous fantasy whodunits full of mythical misfits and magical mishaps
Many moons ago I was a scientist in a neuroscience lab where I got to play with brains and illegal drugs. Now, I take wickedly strong tea and turn it into comic fantasy whodunits full of mythical misfits and magical mishaps that I hope give you a giggle.
My tales run the gamut from the ever-expanding Cassie Black Trilogy with its wryly humorous paranormal mysteries to the comical fantasy whodunits in The Circus of Unusual Creatures, and from light-hearted novellas celebrating my love of books to short fiction in which I really flex my myth-loving and humor-craving muscles!
When I’m not creating worlds or killing off characters, I can be found gardening, planning my next travel adventure, concocting some sort of mess in the kitchen, or working as an unpaid servant to one very spoiled cat and some very demanding squirrels.
Ho' there riders! This bookish Friday is going off with a bang. And I got you another book tour to enjoy from Silver Dagger Book Tours featuring Jim Nemeth's recent release "Stay at Castle Dracula." Check out the sneak peek below along with all the book details for this Horror Short Stories. Dive in and purchase your copy today. Happy reading :).
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I can scare and thrill you in only...100 words!
Stay at Castle Dracula...and Other Short-Short Stories
“Why does Christy have to come over to play,” six-year-old Chloe asked in the petulant voice in which she exceled. “She’s ugly and I hate her!”
“Chloe!” the girl’s father shouted in reprimand. “Don’t talk like that. Christy may not be the prettiest of girls, but ‘beauty is only skin deep,’ as they say. It’s what’s inside a person that counts.”
Later that afternoon in her room, Chloe lay aside the dripping, red-drenched scissors with which she’d used to slice open Christy’s midsection. Closely examining its contents, she frowned in confusion. “I don’t see what’s so special about her insides…”
BLURB:
Do you enjoy a good drabble? No, not America’s most popular word game—that’s Scrabble. No, not those cute, furry little creatures from Star Trek—those are tribbles. A drabble is a form of intense fiction writing consisting of 100 words. Not 100 chapters, not 100 paragraphs, nor even 100 lines. 100 words. Exactly.
Author Jim Nemeth loves the format and is an accomplished dabbler in drabbles. “Whenever I explain to friends what a drabble is,” Nemeth relates, “I get the exact same expression of disbelief: ‘100 words?’ In fact, I took these reactions and wrote a drabble about it, “Impossible Assignment,” which leads off the collection.”
Stay at Castle Dracula and Other Short-Short Stories, a chapbook, collects 26 tales, 23 of which are drabbles. With the three other stories, the author “splurged” and indulged himself with an additional 100-200 words.
Other tales of five score words include “Disgruntled,” where a joyous family Christmas celebration turns horrific when a little boy doesn’t get the toy he wanted; “Love Potion” relates what happens when a witch’s magic works too well. And in the title story, another young English traveler debates his decision in staying in Count Dracula’s centuries’ old castle.
In 1993, Nemeth won first prize in a national magazine’s short story writing contest for which legendary authors Ray Bradbury and Robert Bloch were judges. The award held special meaning for Nemeth, as Bloch remains his favorite writer and main literary influence. Nemeth is the author of two additional books: It Came From...The Stories and Novels Behind Classic Horror, Fantasy, and Science Fiction Films and Robert Bloch: An Unconventional Bibliography, as well as being the webmaster of The Robert Bloch Official Website (robertbloch.net).
A long-time community activist, the author is particularly committed to the cause of animal rescue. He lives in the historic harbor town of Marblehead, MA.
Hi everyone. Today I am featuring Darlene Burns book "Midnight Comes With the Dawn." Dive into this LGBTQ Paranormal Romance with sneak peeks, book details, and more. Check out why you should start this series today. Happy reading everyone. :)
What does the word really mean? I mean, does it come with the notion of flesh, blood, sweat, desires, and emotions. Does it mean that physically the body has a time limit? What can one accomplish before you finally punch that final time clock? I sit around and ask myself bullshit like this from time to time. Because time is all I have really. Along with a killer set of fangs. As I sit here sipping on what these creatures say is top shelf Hennessy. I slowly start to reminisce about my days of reign back in the
Motherland.
“Ahh the good ole days,” I say softly as I raise the glass. I sip slowly as if I am having an old friend for dinner. Or maybe a new friend! I laugh to myself about the devious thought. Oh, I’m so sorry. Forgive my rudeness. Just because I’m old that is no excuse for bad manners. My name is Katrine Baten.
Midnight to my loyal followers. Terror to my helpless victims. I will stalk, seduce, invite, torment - especially if I’m bored, and eventually take all that you hold precious and suck you dry. If you’re very beautiful consider yourself lucky, I will lovingly hold you in my arms until I hear the last beat of your heart. Not because I care about you, but because it’s the only connection I have left to the human race. Usually, when I’m done taking what I desire, I leave you for my babies to finish. They are sometimes
impatient little things, especially my two-hundred-year-old stud, Alex. Short for Alexis. She’s a bitch, I’ll be the first to admit that, but I tend to overlook it because she is so sexy. I loved making her. Her blood tasted so sweet. So pure. She screamed so loud when I sank my teeth into her pulsing left thigh inches below her sweet spot. I stopped feeding long enough to laugh at her suffering. To look at my baby now, enjoying the best our life has to offer, but more about her later.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am a Vampyir, one of the oldest remaining of my clan.My existence was carefully planned. Carefully executed. Ultimately by design, this life was to be my destiny. It may seem to you that I was cursed from birth. A deranged, sadistic, evil-ass shell of a carcass decided my fate a very long time ago. This isn’t the important issue on my mind. The Plague is.
BLURB:
Women. Infected blood. Rotting corpses.
Welcome to the world of Katrine Baten aka Midnight. She is one of the oldest existing Vampyirs (pronounced Vampires) and only surrounds herself with eye candy. There is a virus that's destroying not only the Vampyirs, but it's killing Humans as well.
Together with her Coven by her side, Midnight tries to find a cure. And what she discovers may change the course of how she lives as a Vampyir forever!
Darlene Burns grew up in Los Angeles, California. She attended L.A.Valley College to study Oceanography, but realized her true passion was creative writing and telling a good story. "I come from a family of talented women. So even though I put off my dreams of writing to raise my children, I challenged myself to become one of those women that I so admire. So after my children were old enough, I returned to writing. My true passion is reading and researching all elements regarding the supernatural. I fell in love with the old movies featuring Vincent Price and Bela Lugosi. I hope that you enjoy my work as much as I enjoyed writing it."
Hi everyone. Today I am featuring Kristen Illarmo's New Released book "Against the Red Sky: Mission X," dive into the sneak peek, book details and more to find out why you should purchase your copy today. BIG NOTE: You can purchase from the author's site for special goodies included with your book. Happy reading everyone.
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Two missions, one conspiracy, zero room for mistakes- or feelings.
"This YA novel is one long dopamine hit, an insightful saga with crush-worthy protagonists. Enzo, pulled between his ecoterrorism world and a gnawing realization that there may be flaws to his organization's methods, is a vibrant, well-executed character. Maddie's journey parallels his in many ways, and her resolve, spirit, and appealing energy make her equally entertaining. Their two paths collide, and Illarmo delivers a twisty examination of greed, loyalty, and the dark motives that drive people when pushed to their limits." Rated 10 out of 10.
-The BookLifePrize
“This is one of the best books I’ve read this year and I have read over a hundred so far! This is a nail biting, page turning masterpiece that will completely have you mesmerized and under its spell by the first few chapters!” ARC reviewer
“Great, fast-paced fun story with lots of twists and turns that kept me turning the pages. It has elements of academy, romance, scifi, and thriller that kept me up late reading.” ARC reviewer
Sardeth’s Reach
Maddie’s cuff flashed: emergency. She squinted past the alert to the outline of the water exchange warehouse ahead, adjusting the weight of her hydration pack as sweat poured down her back. Today’s rations wouldn’t distribute themselves, and she’d promised Stephie she’d cover the afternoon shift—no time for emergencies.
She pedaled more slowly, watching if the few other people out in the baking sun seemed bothered by an alert. Her cuff might be malfunctioning. A man leaned against the wall up ahead, arguing with another man sitting on a milk crate. A woman pushed a shopping cart filled with tires across the street. None of them seemed bothered by much of anything, but none of them wore cuffs either.
It flashed again. “Code Red. Seek shelter immediately at the compound.”
She never stopped in this neighborhood until she reached the warehouse, but now she rested both feet on the ground, her heart pounding.
“Is that gadget saying you’re lost?” The man leaning against the wall flashed a cold smile.
She ignored him and tapped her cuff. The alert didn’t go away. Code red. A credible threat. This didn’t feel like a drill. Was it a threat on her life? She spun her bike around. She’d text Stephie to explain as soon as she made it back to the penthouse, but now she listened for screeching tires or other signs that someone was closing in on her as she pumped her pedals harder.
A news helicopter thundered overhead, chopping the air as it carved a path back toward Center City. Her path. Her cuff flashed again; the device’s incessant plea sent her pedaling so fast her chest burned. As she passed Rittenhouse Square, a new fear set in; she’d made it back from Kensington with no interruptions. If this wasn’t a threat to her life—Maddie gripped her handlebars, needing to feel something solid. Where was Uncle Gus? They’d talked days ago. A business trip, somewhere in the Pacific, checking on some assets. Routine. Nothing to worry about.
Maddie’s stomach dropped as she skidded onto the sidewalk in front of her building. Mr. Henry burst outside. His cuff also blaring red. “Inside!” he shoved her bike at an attendant as he pulled her through the door.
Breathless, Maddie choked out. “What happened, Mr. Henry? Is he ok?”
The doorman shook his head vigorously. “Of course, he has to be fine.”
Maddie nodded. He had to be fine; couldn’t be dead on an island in the middle of nowhere. Too many people depended on him.
Mr. Henry shuffled Maddie into the service elevator. “Might already be cameras in the lobby.”
Sound seemed muffled as the doors closed, and the air in the elevator felt too thin, like when the atmospheric stabilizers in the domes malfunctioned. But Maddie only guessed what that felt like by gauging the depth of the dark shadows under her mother’s eyes and the exhaustion in her voice as she explained there was nothing to worry about, just recalibrating the machines. Routine processes and all that. Her mother would put on that exhausted smile, a constant reminder that up there, the most basic elements of survival required constant vigilance.
Vigilance and uninterrupted supply missions.
But there must be a plan to keep the colony going if something happened to him. A detailed plan, in binders with color-coded tabs. Copies in triplicate. Certainly, there was a plan. Maddie just wished she could see it now. The next shipment of life-giving supplies would go out on schedule. No disruptions. That would be spelled out in the plan. But many times, she’d heard rushed conversations in hushed tones behind his office door, negotiating for this and that to ensure the colony had what it needed. He’d tried to keep those conversations private, but Maddie knew. She kept tabs. Supplies were running low.
Maddie’s chest burned, each breath seeming to bring less oxygen than the last. Without Uncle Gus orchestrating the supply chain, how long until those careful calibrations failed completely? Her mother had never seemed farther out of reach than she did right now.
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Maddie pulled off her bicycle helmet, which suddenly seemed too tight for her head.
“Should I send up someone to sit with you?”
Mr. Henry’s face seemed distorted in size.
“I’m fine,” Maddie answered.
She didn’t remember walking to the door and opening it, but found herself standing in the foyer of the penthouse apartment, the whirl of the chopper blades vibrating through her body like an uninvited guest.
Massive dragonflies. No, that didn’t make it better. A tornado roaring in from somewhere hot and dry. Drier. Also not better. Maddie covered her ears, fighting to block each whomp, whomp, whomp. How close were those blades to the house? Damn company better have great insurance. She made her way to the window and peeked behind the curtain. A telephoto lens longer than her arm stared back. Snap. She yanked the curtain closed. How fast would they circulate that picture? What headline would they use?
Billionaire Missing, Niece Distraught
That would get the clicks.
BLURB:
Enzo Cruz knows sacrifice. After a failed mission to assassinate the billionaire behind the Mars colony—and the loss of his grandfather—he’s ready for redemption. His new target? The Mars Ascendance Academy shuttle. His orders: infiltrate, sabotage, escape.
As the youngest operative in Terra Primera, Enzo’s talent with explosives could tip the balance in Earth’s fight for survival. But inside the Academy, nothing goes to plan—especially when Maddie Westing enters the picture.
Maddie has dreamed of joining her mother on Mars since she was ten. Now she has her shot: one of thirty elite students in the Academy’s inaugural class. But being the niece of the colony’s powerful founder comes with strings—and shadows.
When Enzo’s mission collides with Maddie’s quest for truth, both teens are thrust into a conspiracy that threatens Earth and Mars alike. Loyalties will be tested. Secrets will be exposed. And the greatest danger may not come from the skies—it may lie in their hearts.
In this heart-pounding YA thriller, survival means risking everything—including the people you thought you hated most.
For fans of The Hunger Games, Red Rising, and Aurora Rising—Against the Red Sky delivers explosive tension, star-crossed loyalty, and a high-stakes rebellion that could destroy two worlds.
Kristen Illarmo is a New Orleans-based author of young adult science fiction and fantasy. Her action packed, character-driven stories explore the ripple effects of real-world choices, set in decaying societies and with tangled family dynamics. Her debut duology, Kirasu Rising, was featured at the 2023 Louisiana Book Festival.
Hi everyone. Today I am featuring David H. Millar's "The Blood Queen Series." Dive into this Historical Fantasy with sneak peeks from both book, book details, and a giveaway. Find out why you should purchase your copies today by reading on. Happy reading :).
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Blood is the link between humans, demigods, and demons—and is the Blood Queen’s domain.
The slave bowed, walked across the wooden floor, and set a wooden platter on the side table. Without turning around, Gràinne Ni Fearghal, the Blood Queen, Ruler of the Na Daoine Tùrsach and High Queen of the Eastern Tribes, knew what the plate held—a bloody, still-warm human heart. She had been served the same dish every full moon for the past decade.
The ritual was one of the details omitted from her conversations with the spirit of the original A ’Bhanrigh Fuil—Blood Queen. Yet if Gràinne had known, would it have stopped her? How else could I have saved Brianag? So far, battles and the sacrifices of those about to cross the veil sustained the supply of hearts. Yet when the conflicts ended through victory or exhaustion, what then?
BLURB:
Three childhood friends meet in the Scottish Highlands. Two hold secrets. One may be a monster.
As Gràinne reached for the still warm heart, tendrils of the red mist preceded her. When they touched the heart, she felt power drawn from the blood. She steeled herself and bit into the organ. Such was the curse of the Blood Queen.
Brianag is the sequel to The Blood Queen. It is 384 B.C. Ten years have passed since Sidheag’s execution. Gràinne Ni Fearghal, the Blood Queen, has ruthlessly consolidated her grip on the eastern tribes and reigns as High Queen. Meanwhile, her daughter imprisoned in a gilded cage grows in beauty and power and terrifies her guardians—the demigods of the Aes Sídhe. She must escape. Her grandma, the powerful Sídhe, Mongfhionn, agrees.
Brianag trembles at two questions: how will her mother receive her, and can she be redeemed?
Sidheag, was not the only Blood Drinker. Two others, Áine and her daughter, Leannán want vengeance for Sidheag’s death. Both claim to be Sidheag’s mother. Yet is Sidheag dead?
Can Cassán, Dùn Brion’s king, control his temper and work with the demigods to defeat the Blood Drinkers? Will the beast known as the Hound destroy every living being with three barks or will the ancient Cait People awaken and intercede?
Content warning: Brianag: The Blood Queen Chronicles contains scenes of sex and violence appropriate to the time it is set in (400 B.C.). It is not recommended for readers under 16 years of age without parental agreement.
Spluttering, pitch-soaked torches spoilt the blackness of the autumn night. Splashes of red and yellow flames combined with the fragrance of pine to create a pleasant, if false, festive ambience. Across the loch’s rippling waters, the sinister chanting of the Tuireadh—the Death Song of the Na Daoine Tùrsach—rang out. Such invocations had not been heard abroad in a score of summers.
The young girl looked into the eyes of the gaunt-faced man who stood before her. Her expression spoke of unconditional trust—much as a daughter looks into her father’s face. He was a striking man, tall with a shock of snow-white hair and eyes that appeared violet and red in the torchlight. Yet her faith was born, not of parental love, but the blend of plants and fungi fed to her. Like her companions, she was naked, her feet were bound, and her hands were tied behind her back. She shivered uncontrollably in the chill of the autumn night.
He cupped her chin and tilted her head backwards. The act was deceptively gentle, as if he wished to let the silver moonlight bathe her face. Yet his desires were vile. Having abused her virginal body earlier, he needed to savour her terror. Her eyes widened at the sting of the blade’s cold edge, drawn from one side of her neck to the other. Soft flesh parted. Helpless, she felt the throb of her lifeblood spurt from slashed arteries and warmth as the blood flowed over her adolescent breasts.
The priest turned the child slightly, allowing the surging blood to splash his nakedness. He sighed in orgasmic delight before pushing her backwards to tumble off the jetty and into the loch’s icy waters. In total, the lives of nine young girls ended that night. Their eyes condemned the priests before, amid swirls of blood, their bodies slipped below the surface. Yet the thoughts of the ecclesiastics were not of guilt or regret but of anticipation of their next victims.
The High Priest smiled. The blood sacrifices began many moon cycles ago with the random slayings of young females. This night saw the beginning of a new, more deliberate phase and heralded the arrival of the promised one.
In one sense, he was right. Yet, in another, he was terribly mistaken.
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On the deck of the trireme, Gràinne Ni Fearghal awoke screaming and fighting those who tried to calm and hold her down. It was an old vision, which had become more vivid with each passing night and the closer she got to her homeland in the highlands of Northern Albu.
She rubbed a hand across her neck and exhaled, relieved that only sweat wet her palm and soaked her clothes. Yet Gràinne could feel the sharp edge of the sacrificial knife wielded by her grandmother, Diadhaidh, and the satisfied look on her face as she drew it across her granddaughter’s throat.
Recently, the old nightmare had changed. A new abomination stood behind Diadhaidh. Its mouth opened, revealing rows of needle-pointed teeth as it spoke: “Come, child, it is time to fulfil Diadhaidh’s promise to me and take your place as my ‘Bhanrigh Fuil—my Blood Queen.”
Brianag Ni Brion, wise beyond her years, smoothed her mother’s long auburn tresses and mopped up rivulets of perspiration with a cold, damp cloth. “Hold me, Ma. You’ll be all right. We’ll be all right. You’re safe.”
Only after her mother slipped into a mercifully untroubled sleep did Brianag let the tears flow down her young cheeks.
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A score of summers past, lust for unlimited power drove Diadhaidh, the Blood Queen and High Priestess of the Na Daoine Tùrsach tribe, insane. Two black-shafted arrows and flames stopped Diadhaidh from sacrificing her granddaughter to the evil that lurked in the loch’s depths. The missiles had been loosed by Mórrígan Ni Cathasaigh, An Fiagaí Dorcha—the Dark Huntress. The fire was provided by Mórrígan’s hand-fast partner Conall Mac Gabhann, Rí—king—of the newly founded Clann Ui Flaithimh.
Ironically, Mórrígan’s arrows pinned Diadhaidh to the same sacrificial post to which she had bound Gràinne. Fire devoured the Blood Queen and the royal crannag, burning the wooden edifice down to its pilings. The wind had scattered the building’s ashes across the loch’s surface by the next sunrise.
Among the people of the north-eastern highlands, the fiery glow in the night skies prompted heartfelt sighs of relief and an outpouring of thanks to the Goddess. Those of the Na Daoine Tùrsach’s priests and acolytes who survived the final battle fled into the high mountains. They were hunted down and executed with a grim resolution by Drostan Ruadh, the one-eyed rìgh—king—of the Forest People, and Blàr Mac Artair, Rìgh of the Ravens.
Yet true evil is a persistent and tenacious beast, and its desire for existence is eternal and insatiable. It needs to infect but one mind for its insidious philosophy to take root and spread. By all accounts, Blàr and Drostan did an excellent job. Yet a handful of priests survived, which proved enough to restart the cycle.
In the eddies of the sacrificed’s blood, an amorphous shape began to take corporeal form. At the mercy of the loch’s currents, it drifted without direction. With blood came sentience, rage, and an all-consuming desire for the crimson liquid that sustained life. Its mind gradually re-formed; the evil ceased its dependence on being fed and began to rely on native cunning and an instinct for survival. It began to hunt.
A plan formed that did not distinguish between animal and human or age and sex. The latter was a human obsession. It would feed on all living creatures until strong enough to enjoy a more discriminating palate. As for the waste of young females, that would change.
BLURB:
"It is a king's decision," said Brion.
"It will not be you who deceives and delivers the lamb to the butcher's block," retorted Eimhir.
True evil is a persistent and tenacious beast. Its desire for existence is eternal and insatiable. It needs to infect only one mind for its insidious philosophy to take root and spread.
It is 394 B.C. At a remote loch in the highlands of Northern Albu, a priest sacrifices nine innocents. Below the water's surface, a shape feeds on their blood and begins to take form. Soon, it becomes sentient and begins to hunt. Sidheag has risen.
Humans cannot defeat the abomination. Neither can Mongfhionn, the powerful demi-goddess of the Aes Sídhe.
The only remedy is the Blood Queen, and Gràinne is the reluctant heir to that throne. Will the Blood Queen stand alongside Mongfhionn to confront Sidheag? The cost for Gràinne may be too much—unless her daughter, Brianag, is in jeopardy.
Passions, always near the surface of the Gaels, burst into flames in The Blood Queen, where father is pitted against son, mother against daughter, sister against sister, brother against sister, and father against daughter.
The Blood Queen contains scenes of sex and violence and uses language appropriate to the period it is set in, i.e., 400 B.C. It is not recommended for those under 16 without parental consent.
REVIEWS:
5/5 ★★★★★
Genre: Fantasy, Historical fiction
Review by Jan Foster/History Quill: Last updated Jun 12, 2023
A must-read Celtic ‘Game of Thrones meets Bernard Cornwell’, blending history with dark fantasy and a truly terrifying villain. The Blood Queen will keep you turning the pages deep into the night.
The Blood Queen is a dark fantasy nominally set in 400 B.C. Scotland, wherein a misguided priest sacrifices innocents in the hope of bringing forth an entity that will do his bidding. This starts a tale of ‘be careful what you wish for’, as the entity – Sidheag – forms a corporeal being and a consciousness complete with dark desires for domination. No one can resist Sidheag’s allure and subsequent enslavement, and few will survive her rampage across the land as she builds an army to fulfil her calling.
Aside from the descriptive prose and the brilliant battle scenes, the equality of the sexes feels genuine rather than a nod to political correctness. Women rule, fight, murder and fornicate as violently and passionately as the men and the female characters are badass!
I thoroughly enjoyed The Blood Queen, even at its most uncomfortable. The historical accuracy of weapons and battle strategies blended perfectly with the epic and fantastical storyline. I loved the tiny moments of humanity within the bleakest moments. Reading the novel felt like watching a horror movie unfold, compelling you to turn the pages in the hope that somehow, against the odds, humanity will win.
Born in Belfast, Northern Ireland, internationally published and award-winning author David H. Millar is the founder, owner, and author-in-residence of A Wee Publishing Company—a business formed to promote Celtic authors and literature.
David is the author of the five-volume, ancient Celtic-based Conall series and the spin-offs The Dog Roses, The Dog Roses: Resolution, The Blood Queen and Brianag: A Blood Queen Novel.
David resides in Houston, Texas, with his family and two recent family members, tuxedos Beau and Stiletto.
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