Book Trailer, Excerpt, Giveaways, Playlists, Release Week

Book Trailer, Playlist, Quiz and Excerpt featuring In Between: the Novel by Shannon Foy w/a rafflecopter giveaway! @MTWPromotions @inbetween_novel

Title: In Between: the Novel
Author: Shannon Foy
Genre: Adult, Paranormal Romance
Published: August 4, 2016
Loan officer Roosevelt St. Vincent travels the globe as she unravels the secreted histories of the vampire community invisibly surrounding her. Follow her on the journey that confirms the existence of the paranormal which gives her the strength to accept someone else’s past, even as it alters her future.

Peppered with sex and sarcasm, Foy’s light hearted voice finds depth and detail that will cause the reader to both laugh and cry, probably at the same time.

“How vampires should be written.”
“She doesn’t take the easy route.”
“Maturely polished….hooked after the first page.”

Enjoy the Blooper Reel:


In Between: the Novel Excerpt © Shannon Foy 2016
I was nestled on a vintage couch, tucked in a windowed corner of Average Joe’s Coffee Shop, avoiding the claustrophobic trek home out of Boston’s Financial District. I wouldn’t have noticed him had his entrance not changed the air pressure equilibrium, sending dust from the busy street into a spin around polished leather shoes. He took a quiet gaze around the room, catching my eye, prompting a weak but polite smile.
I returned to my book and took a sip from my upside-down caramel macchiato. The macchiato wasn’t upside down; it’s a preparation technique. It didn’t matter though because my curiosity was not to be distracted by coffee. I dared to sneak a peek over the horizon of my book at the tall man in a long coat placing his order and looking my way once again.
Did I have something on my face?
Coffee on my shirt?
Was there someone behind me?
No, Roosevelt, just you being insane.
Focus, I thought, returning to the same paragraph. Apparently the control tower lost contact with the plane.
That was not a metaphor.
Though I tried to willfully ignore the man, he made it much more difficult to do so by pointedly sitting in the maroon armchair across from me.
Focus on the book.
The control tower lost communication with the plane.
But there was a feeling that started at my toes and worked its way up. A buzzing pulsing through the air between us. Electrical energy connecting me to him and him to me. I found it hard to breathe. And difficult to look away.
Say something, I encouraged myself.
Good looking guy, coffee shop—this is how romantic movies start.
It is also how stalker movies start.
It didn’t matter what scenario I was about to engage in because his phone rang, screeching common sense into me, retreating back to my book.
The control tower had lost communication with the plane.
Almost as quickly as he came in, he stormed out, nearly tearing the bell off the door as he left.
Stranger things had happened to me before.
But that was not the only time the gentleman from the maroon armchair and I would cross paths. Of course not.
After work the next day, I crossed the street once again to Average Joe’s.
“Hey, Roosevelt. What can I get for you?” asked Adrienne, the Snow White waif of a barista who always seemed to be working.
“Upside-down caramel macchiato, please.”
“Anything else?”
“Not yet.”
I weaved my way through scattered seating, passing a couple playing Yahtzee. Occupying the same couch in the corner, I pulled the same book from my purse and began again at the paragraph I couldn’t get past the day before. Turns out, everyone on the plane was dead.
I will admit that I never anticipated seeing the gentleman from the maroon armchair again, but I won’t deny that I secretly wanted to be wrong. So much so that I let myself be distracted by the bell of every customer’s entrance and the shadow of every tall man walking outside.
As my coffee was delivered and as the circumstances in my book elevated my heart rate, the moment I had been waiting for arrived.
Such as before, he entered. Long coat. Polished shoes. He crossed to the counter, but this time I did not hide my intrigue. Nor did he. And just as before, he took the seat across from me.
Another polite smile—this one a bit friendlier, with a twinkle in my eye and a bite of my lip. He winked the slightest wink.
The same magnetic tension that reverberated between us the night before continued its drumming.
Adrienne, seeing our slight exchange, delivered the gentleman’s beverage, then continued to my side of the table.
“Do you need anything, Roosevelt?” she asked, eyeing me for some sort of telepathic transfer of information.
“I’m good, thanks,” I responded, wanting nothing more than my unwelcomed wingman to fly away.
And, just as before, the gentleman from the maroon armchair received a phone call.
“Hello?” he began, frustrated. Frustration turned to anger, and anger made him terrifying. His jaw tightened and his eyes fired. I swear his breathing stopped as that buzzing around us began to shudder.
“Who is that?” Adrienne whispered as he left.
“I don’t know,” I answered, watching him climb into the passenger seat of a dark car.
“Wasn’t he meeting you here?”
“No.”
“Huh. He acts like he knows you. Are you sure you didn’t make out with him at a party or something?”
“Pretty sure.”
No, I was very sure. First, I knew the names and life stories of every man I’d ever slept with; and second, I didn’t just make out at parties.
“Well, let me know if he bothers you.”
“Yeah,” I said in a daze.
I heard a buzzing from my purse and grabbed my cell phone. I had a message from a friend of mine, Patrick.
“You know you want to meet me at that Scottish place in 15 minutes,” the message read.
“No, I don’t,” I responded. “I just had the weirdest encounter, and I want to go to the store then go home.”
“You want to tell me all about it at this restaurant while watching two hot guys play music.”
A loud band in a crowded place was the last thing I wanted. But I needed to get out of my own head.
“Fine. But you owe me a drink,” is how I replied.
“Deal.”

A story teller and creator at heart, traversing both performing and visual arts, it is only natural for Shannon to explore a focus on literary pursuits. In Between: the novel, her debut work, is the beginning of this new adventure. She currently lives in Boise, Idaho with her fiancé and her dog, who inspire her imagination more than they’ll ever know.
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Book Trailer, Excerpt, Giveaways, New Release

Happy Release Day to In Between: the Novel by Shannon Foy w/a book trailers, a quiz & a giveaway! #romance #paranormal @inbetween_novel

Title: In Between: the Novel
Author: Shannon Foy
Genre: Adult, Paranormal Romance
Published: August 4, 2016
Loan officer Roosevelt St. Vincent travels the globe as she unravels the secreted histories of the vampire community invisibly surrounding her. Follow her on the journey that confirms the existence of the paranormal which gives her the strength to accept someone else’s past, even as it alters her future.

Peppered with sex and sarcasm, Foy’s light hearted voice finds depth and detail that will cause the reader to both laugh and cry, probably at the same time.

“How vampires should be written.”
“She doesn’t take the easy route.”
“Maturely polished….hooked after the first page.”

Part One:
Part Two:
Part Three:

In Between: the Novel Excerpt © Shannon Foy 2016
“Um,” I started nervously, “is Mount Fuji active?”
“Yes,” Don answered, “but don’t worry; it hasn’t erupted in like three hundred years.”
That didn’t make me feel any safer.
Don grabbed a pack out of the back seat of the car and headed into the trees. I took a deep breath and followed him.
You can romanticize suicide anyway you like, but nothing prepared me for what I was about to experience.
I had not been afraid of death; I had killed people. But finding bodies littered about the trees affected me on a terribly deep level. I’d step over a fallen trunk only to trip upon a tangle of brush and body. I’d sweep a branch aside, chance a look up, and see another hanging above me. Eyes open. Eyes closed. Various states of decomposition. A man in a suit with his shoes set neatly next to him.
And the smell. I’ll never be able to properly describe the smell and I hope to never encounter it again. Blood. Gun powder. Moss. Decay. Earth. Hair. Sadness. Laundry detergent.
We hiked deeper and deeper into that suspended forest. The sounds of our footsteps, our voices, our invasion of the uninhabited landscape were swallowed by the soft earth. No echo. No breath of life beyond the flora. And us.
And then a gunshot—shattering the silence into a million pieces, the fragile glass of life gone in an instant.
I wanted nothing more than to be out of that forest immediately.
“Are you okay?” Don asked, tentatively.
I gulped and shook a quick nod, fear keeping my voice hostage. I didn’t mean to cry, but I did.
Don took my trembling hand and we continued on the path, which wasn’t much of a path at all, but rather the course of least resistance. And believe me, the forest resisted.
If Don hadn’t been leading the expedition or if I hadn’t been rapt with fear, alert to every micro detail, the sunken chamber in the ground would have swallowed me up forever. Barely a few yards across with roots emerging from where the soil had fallen away was a hole—the rabbit hole to Wonderland.
“This is it,” Don whispered.
“How do you know?” I had seen pictures of other ice caves around Mount Fuji. They all had signs, railings, stairways, or ladders. They were well-manicured and definitely not reminiscent of a place to dispose of a petite, American body.
“This is where Tatsuya found me.”
Don removed his backpack and started setting items out along the ground—a rope, a flashlight, and a knife that shone a brilliant silver. He quietly and quickly tied the rope around a nearby tree whose trunk was covered in thick moss.
“Take these,” he said, handing me the knife and the flashlight and the center of the rope. “You must go alone.”
“What? I thought that’s why I’m paying you?”
“You’re paying me to help you find Miyuki, but if you want her help, it is a journey you must make alone.”
I grumbled to myself as I wrapped the rope around my waist, knotting it so that I could slowly rappel into the earthen pit.
“I’ll wait here for you.”
“What do I do down there?”
“Just look,” he said simply.
I, the novice, and Don my mystical, Japanese Master—him speaking to me in riddles like Yoda or Mr. Miyagi. I squatted down and shimmied myself into the opening.
Slowly I went. I had rappelled a few times from a rock wall at the gym—my fear of heights calmed by the harnesses and belts and foam mats beneath me. Right at that moment, I was inching down toward anything—and it scared the shit out of me.
The deeper I got, the more heightened my senses became as blackness enveloped the passage through which I was lowered. The cold nipped at my nose and other uncovered bits of skin. I could hear the strain on the rope and the subtle echo off of the earthen walls. The overwhelming scent of damp soil was unbelievably refreshing compared to the stagnant air in the forest above.
I didn’t think it would ever end. I knew logically that I hadn’t gone that far below ground, but my mind played tricks on my stomach, and I thought I felt gravity switching. I came to my senses as my feet abruptly hit the ground, buckling my knees, landing my backside in the dirt. I untied myself, zipped up my hoodie, and removed the flashlight from my pocket. The floor was slick and my first steps were hesitant. Slipping on ice was not my favorite activity.
As I turned the flashlight on, its wide beam illuminated the narrow cave. There was nothing. No markings on the wall, no scratches on the floor, or giant sign that read, “Miyuki—Straight Ahead.” I had hoped for signs.
I followed the frozen floor along a straight path. There were no off-shoots or dead end corridors, just solid icy walls. It took me five and a half minutes to get from one end to the other.
Five and a half minutes of anticipation and fear and baited breath . . . and no Miyuki.
It wasn’t the right cave.
I turned and made my disappointed way out. I got back to my rope, tied it around my waist, and sent a ripple up the nylon cords. Shortly after, I felt a tug and was lifted back to the surface.
“Nothing?” Don asked.
“Nothing.”
“Then we keep going.”
A story teller and creator at heart, traversing both performing and visual arts, it is only natural for Shannon to explore a focus on literary pursuits. In Between: the novel, her debut work, is the beginning of this new adventure. She currently lives in Boise, Idaho with her fiancé and her dog, who inspire her imagination more than they’ll ever know.
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Excerpt, Giveaways, Release Day

Happy Book Birthday for Jennifer Osborn’s The Dawning of Scarlett w/a rafflecopter giveaway! @hondagirljen

MediaKit_BookCover_TheDawningOfScarlett

The Dawning of Scarlett

by Jennifer Osborn

 

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GENRE: YA Paranormal

 

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BLURB:

 

As a pale revenant—the vampire faction believing all life is sacred—sixteen-year-old Scarlett Ellis has learned to hide in the human world. She goes to night-school, works at a coffee shop, and her uncle Chasem trains her in martial arts. No matter what, she has to be prepared, because when she turns seventeen, she’ll be of Dawning age—and her biological father Apollo vows to see her dead first.

Expecting her Dawning to be impossible, she accepts the fact that she will become a rogue, forever hunted by revenant renegades and outcast by her own people. Scarlett thinks she’s prepared for this—until the curly-haired Nicholas Lightener walks into her life and asks her out on a date.

Torn between her feelings for Nick and the danger of the revenant world, Scarlett’s strange life is turned inside-out when she’s kidnapped and forced to do the one thing she swore she’d never do. Plus, she has no idea whose memories keep appearing in her dreams, or if they can even help her. Determined to free herself from a death sentence, Scarlett must fight to become who she was born to be.

 

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Excerpt Three:

 

His lips freeze in surprise for a moment, warm and tasting like salt, but they quickly yield to mine. Before I know it, his surprise melts into participation, and he kisses me back. It’s all pleasantly confusing, and I feel dizzy. My blood pounds wildly in my veins and I’m worried my eyes are going to change out of excitement. But before I can pull back, he does first, and his breath is hot on my cheek.

 

I keep my eyes down, for fear of what they might show. I glance up at the artery in his neck, veiled by the paper-thin skin of a human. The blood moves in thick shots and I hear his heart pounding. I feel the urge to let my canines drop and lean over to bite him. I’ve learned to control myself so much around humans that I’m able to push the desire down. But he gives off the most intoxicating smell. I find myself wondering what his blood would taste like. It’s odd to even think about, because I don’t even need blood right now, but he’s somehow attracting me in a way I don’t understand. It’s a strange desire to bite—not to hurt, not even to drink, but to bite. I can’t make sense of it.

 

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AUTHOR Bio and Links:MediaKit_AuthorPhoto_TheDawningOfScarlett

 

After working in the legal and technical fields for many years, Jennifer Osborn took the plunge into full time writing in 2015. She is the award-winning author of The Shilund Saga and The Sentinel’s Insurgency.  When not writing, she listens to a different muse and creates paintings and collages of all sorts.

 

She lives in the Cincinnati area with her husband, three dogs and two cats.

 

You can find out more about her at

 

Website: www.jenniferosborn.org

Facebook:  AuthorJenniferOsborn

Twitter: hondagirljen

Instragram: hondagirljen

 

 

Amazon Author Page & Buy Links: http://www.amazon.com/Jennifer-Osborn/e/B00EMWYFX0/

 

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GIVEAWAY INFORMATION and RAFFLECOPTER CODE

 

 

 

Jennifer will be awarding a digital copy of The Dawning of Scarlett via iBooks to 3 randomly drawn winners via rafflecopter during the tour.

 

 
a Rafflecopter giveaway