Monday, December 23, 2024

The Storm Descends (Demon Storm, Book Seven) by Valerie Storm ~ Young Adult Fantasy #YAFantasy #YA #Fantasy @Valerie_Storm


The Storm Descends
Demon Storm 
Book Seven
Valerie Storm

Genre: Young Adult Fantasy
Publisher: Shadow Spark Publishing
Date of Publication: 12/13/2024
ISBN: 978-1-956883-28-2 
ASIN: B0DMTF6L5Q 
Number of pages: 433
Word Count: 110731
Cover Artist: @Ginkahederling

About the Book:

The Catalyst is quiet.

Kari struggles with the damage she did when she lost control. Her loved ones suffered at her hands, leaving Ari scarred in ways she will never be able to ignore.

How he survived? Only the Seraph of Nalmi knows.

Then a request arrives, a simple task compared to everything else she has been through: travel as Freehaven's emissary and meet with Brianna, a now-ancient half demon who destroyed the first demon city across the sea - and who may have some information on defeating the Catalyst for good.  Kari, Ari, and Guine prepare to cross the Demon Sea...

But the shadows await them.

Purchase from Amazon

Read an Excerpt:

Kari knelt in a field of dark grass beneath a dark cloud pouring dark rain. Ari lay limp in her arms, dead to the world. She bowed her head over his prone body, colder than death even without the rain to drench them. It pattered, loud against her flicking ears—the only sound all around.

“Wake up, Ari, please,” she whispered to his chest, clutching him tighter. “Please.” Her voice broke, and a wail wrenched free.

“Love makes you weak.”
Kari’s head shot up at the whisper, but there was no one around. There was only the rain, hissing now, each drop harder and sharper.

“You are a plague.”

The whispers came from the rain, now searing pinpricks rather than drops of frozen water. Gritting her teeth, Kari lifted Ari, held him close to her chest, and ran.

“One day, you will wish for the power you forsake!”

Kari’s feet sloshed through thick, black puddles. She slipped and barely managed to roll onto her back before she and Ari fell. She grunted, struggled to get back up with his weight.

A beam of light broke the murky sky. Kari squinted at it; the sight filled her with an unexplainable, instinctual hope. She pushed off from the muddy ground—harder now with her and Ari both sopping wet—and ran for the light.

“PLEASE!” she screamed to the sky. “SAVE HIM!”

It was all she wanted; she would give anything—anything.

“You have a destiny.” This whisper was deeper, ancient—a voice so full of raw power, it grabbed Kari’s spine and forced her to straighten. “Vessels do not earn worldly attachments.”

Velthas. His pull was strong even now, even though she had not seen the Tree in weeks—months. Forced rigid, Kari dragged her eyes to the beam of light.

“Holy light,” she managed through a jaw clenched shut. She curled her fingers around Ari. “I forsake everything else to you.”

A ripple—the jarring snap of something breaking in her mind. Kari gasped and fell forward, barely catching herself on one hand before she collapsed on top of Ari.

The rain slowed, she thought; at least, she felt the pattering on her back less. She closed her eyes, hoping, wishing, praying.

Fingers touched her cheek. Her eyes flew open and found Ari’s eyes—green as the deepest forest. He lifted one corner of his mouth tiredly.

“You’ll carry my faith, won’t you?” he whispered. “My light?”



About the Author:

Valerie Storm was raised in Tucson, Arizona. Growing up, she fell in love with everything fantasy. When she wasn’t playing video games, she was writing. By age ten, she began to write her own stories as a way to escape reality. When these stories became a full-length series, she considered the path to sharing with other children & children-at/heart looking for a place to call home.

She can be found online:






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Friday, December 20, 2024

#BookReview ~ Jingles by D.F. Jones ~ Women's Short Stories/Women's Fiction ~ @Author_DFJones @pumpupyourbook #HolidayRomance #Romance #Christmas #SantaClaus #Santa


With Christmas Eve fast approaching, Nick must convince Clara to trust in the magic they share before the magic fades forever—and with it, the spirit of Christmas itself.


Title: Jingles
Author: D.F. Jones

Publication Date: November 1, 2024
Pages: 96
Genre: Women's Short Stories/Women's Fiction

About Jingles:

Jingles by USA Today bestselling author D.F. Jones is a heartwarming tale set in the picturesque town of HollyHaven, where Christmas magic is more real than anyone could imagine. At the heart of this magic is Jingles, a beloved Christmas shop that has always been the town’s festive centerpiece. But this year, something is different—the magic is fading, and the very spirit of Christmas hangs in the balance.

Enter Nick, the reluctant heir to the Claus legacy, who’s been tasked with saving Christmas before it’s too late. While Nick knows the pressure is on, he isn’t expecting the key to saving the holiday to come in the form of Clara, a talented baker who runs the town’s cozy cafĂ©, The Cinnamon Stick. Clara, still healing from past heartbreaks, has wrapped herself in the warmth of her bakery, keeping her heart and belief in magic safely guarded.

As Nick and Clara’s paths cross, sparks fly, and magical happenings begin to unfold around them. Nick sees something special in Clara—something that might just be the answer to restoring the holiday magic. But more than that, he feels a growing connection he can’t explain.

With Christmas Eve fast approaching, Nick must convince Clara to believe in the magic of the season and the love blossoming between them. Together, they must find a way to restore Christmas before it fades away forever.

Jingles is a feel-good, magical romance filled with the joy of the holiday season, perfect for anyone who loves a good dose of Christmas spirit, love, and second chances. It’s a gentle reminder that sometimes, the greatest magic of all is simply believing.

My Review:

Jingles is a wonderful holiday novella. 

With Christmas magic slowly fading from the town of HollyHaven, Nick Claus is aware of his need to assume the mantle of Santa from his father. The prophecy governing Christmas magic doesn't just include the retirement of the current Claus and the taking of the helm by Nick. Nick also must find the perfect partner. When he does, the realization of who Nick is and what her role would be, is overwhelming for Clara. Nick has the task of convincing Clara that magic and love are real.

The author did a wonderful job putting her own spin on the tale of Santa Claus. I love the prophecy concept. It's a unique twist on the Santa Claus legend. The novella is original and heartwarming.  The setting is festive and the magic bleeds off the pages and right into the reader's heart.

Jingles pulls the reader in with holiday magic and a sweet romance. I was captivated by the entire story. Nick and Clara are cute, wonderfully written, delightful characters. The romance is quick, but in a town filled with magic, it's not hard to believe in Nick and Clara's connection.

I was provided a copy of this book.

My Rating:



Jingles is available at Amazon

Read a Book Excerpt:


Nick ran his fingers over the delicate, gilded edges of the ancient book, its weight heavy in his lap, both literally and figuratively. The Saint Nicholas Revelation. The magic of Christmas resting on his shoulders? He had always imagined he’d carry on the family traditions, but not like this—not with the ticking of an unseen celestial clock urging him forward.

His father, Nicholas Sr., stood across from him, eyes weathered by centuries yet still bright with the same magic that pulsed through the very fabric of their family. He had seen countless Christmases come and go, carrying the burden of wonder and joy on his back like a well-worn cloak. But now, the mantle would fall to Nick, and it felt impossibly heavy. Between them hung a silent bond of understanding. The older man had walked this path once before, and while his demeanor was as steadfast as the North Star, Nick could feel his father’s concern beneath the surface.

“What if I don’t want to fulfill the prophecy?” Nick's voice wavered, betraying the doubt that had crept in under the cover of the predawn hours when uncertainty tends to dig deep.

Nicholas Sr.’s eyes softened, though his voice carried the weight of centuries. “It’s not about wanting, son. It’s about destiny. The magic isn’t just a job—it’s in our blood, the essence of who we are. There was a time when I asked myself the same question.” He paused, his gaze steady as he stepped closer. “But I won’t force you into anything. You've always had free will, just as I did. The choice is yours, but know this: without the magic, Christmas as the world knows it might just become another winter day. The joy and hope fade without someone to keep the spark alive.”

Nick swallowed, his throat dry as if the weight of his decision had sucked the moisture from the air. “But what if I fail? What if I’m not strong enough? You’ve had centuries to perfect it… I’m just—” He hesitated, unsure of how to put into words the inadequacy that gnawed at him. “I’m not you.”

A gentle and knowing smile tugged at the corner of his father’s mouth. “I never expected you to be. Each of us carries the magic in our way. I wasn’t my father either. But the magic… it grows with you, Nick. It shapes itself around your heart, your desires, your dreams. And yes, your fears, too.”

Nick’s hands gripped the book's edges, feeling the ancient, worn leather under his palms. It was alive with an energy he didn’t fully understand yet. “What if the magic’s not enough?”

Nicholas Sr. went to him, placing a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “The magic is always enough. The question is, will you allow it to be? This world, this time we live in, needs more than ever what we have. It needs belief, Nick. Not just in the magic of Christmas but in something greater. In hope, in light, in the power of love to heal what’s broken.”

The room fell silent for a moment, save for the faint sound of the wind outside, gently brushing against the frosted windowpanes. Nick nodded, feeling the gravity of his potential choice settle over him like a cloak of invisible snow. He looked down at the book in his lap, which now seemed to pulse with ancient, expectant magic as though it were waiting for him to open it to begin the next chapter in their family’s story.

“The magic may be enough,” Nick said, finally meeting his father’s eyes. “But I’m not sure I am.” Nick turned his gaze to the large sash windows, where the snow-covered peaks of Reflection Ridge sparkled like a thousand diamonds under the afternoon sun. The sight was familiar, yet today, it felt distant. For a fleeting moment, he imagined life without the enchantment of the mountain, without the reindeer or the elves bustling about the workshops, and without the secret joy of slipping through time and space to bring wonder to children everywhere. Could he really bear the weight of that loss? “What about the store? What about Jingles? Items are selling like crazy, and the sales help create funds for those in need.”

Nicholas Sr. leaned back, his eyes reflecting the deep connection between their family’s magic and the store. “Jingles isn’t just a store, Nick. It’s an extension of you, of the magic that runs through your veins. Every ornament, every stocking, every trinket sold carries a touch of that magic. It’s why people feel a little more joy when they walk out of those doors, why they believe just a bit more. The magic within you breathes life into Jingles, and in turn, Jingles spreads that magic out into the world.”

Nick’s brows furrowed. “So, you’re saying if I don’t fulfill my destiny—if I step away—the magic in Jingles fades?”

His father nodded slowly. “That’s right. The store thrives because your belief and commitment to Christmas are embedded in every aspect of it. Without that, without you, Jingles becomes just another quaint holiday shop. The enchantment fades. It’s not just about selling ornaments; it’s about keeping the spirit alive. If your magic dims, so does the store’s. It’s all interconnected.”

Nick swallowed hard, the gravity of it all sinking in. But then a thought surfaced, one that gave him hope. “If I want to keep the store after the transition, is that possible?”

His father’s lips curved into a warm smile, the twinkle of Christmas magic in his eyes. “With Christmas magic, everything is possible, Nick. You can continue, Jingles—you can continue everything, but it must come from the heart. The Magic is about more than fulfilling a duty. It’s about love, belief, and a willingness to embrace the unknown. The store can thrive as long as you carry those things with you.”

Nick breathed out slowly, a tiny flicker of reassurance settling within him. He wasn’t just stepping into his father’s shoes—he could make this legacy his own. Nick took a deep breath and exhaled, the weight of the decision pressing in on him. “How does the transition take place, Father?”

Nicholas Sr. smiled, a gleam in his eye that Nick hadn’t seen in a while. “It starts with finding your soul mate. Without Mrs. Claus, the North Pole wouldn’t work how it needs to. Your mother and I have kept this going for centuries, but we’re ready to retire, to hand over the reins, so to speak, to you and a new generation.”

Nick blinked, feeling the ground beneath him shift. The enormity of it all—a legacy more significant than anyone—hit him anew. His father’s words echoed in his mind. A soul mate? It wasn’t just about magic, the North Pole, or Christmas. It was about partnership, about love. That, more than anything, had been the key all along.

“A soul mate? I don’t understand,” Nick muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of his turmoil. “How does this even work? Am I supposed to conjure her with a spell? How do I find this woman—the one destined to be my partner of Christmas?”

Nicholas Sr. let out a chuckle, the sound tinged with nostalgia. “Love isn’t conjured, Nick. There’s no spell for it, no incantation. It’s not a trick or a treat. She’ll find her way to you, as your mother did to me, turning everything extraordinary in the most mundane moments.”

Nick frowned, the gears of logic turning in his mind. “But how will I even know? What if she’s just—” He waved his hand vaguely, “—some mortal passing through? What if she doesn’t believe in magic at all?”

“Ah,” his father said, his eyes twinkling with a secret knowledge. “That’s the tricky part. The magic only reveals itself to those who believe. She'll see it if she’s the one, just like your mother did. But you can’t force it. You can’t rush the magic.”

Nick wasn’t convinced. “And what if she doesn’t come at all?” He asked the question again, frustration creeping into his voice like frost over the windowpane. “What if I’m not cut out for this? For love, for magic, for any of it?”

His father tilted his head slightly, his gaze never wavering. “Then we live as mortals, and the world turns,” he said. “We adapt. We let Christmas become just another day on the calendar.”

Nick felt a surge of indignation at the thought. Adapt? That wasn’t in their blood. Adapting was for people who settled, who gave up the extraordinary for the mundane. His jaw tightened, a flicker of resolve igniting deep within him.

“I won’t let that happen,” Nick muttered under his breath, though the conviction rang between them like the unmistakable chime of a sleigh bell.

Nicholas Sr. smiled knowingly, a twinkle in his eye suggesting he’d once stood in this spot, facing the same dilemma. But he didn’t press further, allowing the weight of Nick’s choice to settle around them like the snow falling outside.

The room seemed to hum with ancient magic as if waiting for Nick’s next move. One thing was sure: time wouldn’t wait for him forever.

– Excerpted from Jingles by D.F. Jones, D.F. Jones, 2024. Reprinted with permission.

About the Author:


Ever wonder what it’s like to step into a world where angels, demons, witches, wizards, and time travel collide? That’s the magic D.F. Jones weaves into every story she tells—worlds where the supernatural and romance meet, pulling you in until reality and fantasy blur in the best way possible.

Before she became the USA Today bestselling author, D.F. Jones had a pretty different gig. She worked as a broadcast consultant at an ABC Affiliate in Nashville. But then, in 2015, she decided to downsize her ad agency to take care of her family and focus on something constantly tugging at her heart—writing fiction.

Writing, for her, is more than just putting words on a page. It’s her escape, a place where the stress of everyday life melts away, and anything is possible. And she wants to share that world with you. The stories she crafts aren’t just filled with magic—they’re packed with action, love, and characters you’ll be thinking about long after you turn the last page.

At home, D.F. Jones shares a love story of her own. She’s married to her best friend, a man who keeps her laughing every day. Together, they raised two incredible sons, who are the true lights of her life and the spark behind the heart and soul in her books.

When she’s not writing, you’ll probably find her in her flower garden. She loves the feeling of her hands in the soil, coaxing life from the earth just like she does with her characters on the page.

So, if you’re ready to escape into a world where love and the otherworldly go hand-in-hand, D.F. Jones is the perfect guide. Her books promise adventure, a bit of whimsy, and heart-pounding moments that’ll keep you hooked. Welcome to her world, where the impossible is just the beginning.







Sponsored By:


Winter Solstice By Nicola Solvinic, Author of The Hunter's Daughter ~ @NSolvinic ~ Supernatural Mystery, Serial Killer Thriller ~ Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza ~ #ExtravaganzaGive@way



Winter Solstice
By Nicola Solvinic

The sun god is gone
He stripped the leaves when he went
Trampled the grasses 
And swept into the bronze sunset

The winter god is here
The stag-horned watcher
Known only by cloven tracks in the snow
And the weight of his gaze under snow-spangled lashes

Heavy twitching branches of green
Once obscured the moon in summer
That seething night
Of cicadas, crickets, bullfrogs singing 

Night’s perfectly still now
Except for the crunch of snow 
And the moon burns through skeletons of bare trees
With the thousand flickers of dead stars

Underground, curled in thick earth
Prey dreams of summer days, 
He will dig it up, drag it, bellowing and twitching
To the surface

In the red and white field
Prey races across the snows
He will overtake it, felling it
In a tangle of broken legs and sinew

He is the hunter in both seasons, king of these woods
Seething and silent
Searching out his precious sacrifices
Sunless, in shadow, he reigns.



The Hunter's Daughter 
Nicola Solvinic 

Genre: Supernatural Mystery, Serial Killer Thriller
Publisher: ‎Berkley 
Release Date: May 14, 2024
Hardcover: ‎ 384 pages
ISBN-10: ‎0593639723
ISBN-13: ‎978-0593639726

About the Book:

A hypnotic, sinister debut mystery about a seemingly good cop who is secretly the daughter of a notorious serial killer.

Anna Koray escaped her father’s darkness long ago. When she was a girl, her childhood memories were sealed away from her conscious mind by a controversial hypnosis treatment. She’s now a decorated sheriff’s lieutenant serving a rural county, conducting an ordinary life far from her father’s shadow. 

When Anna kills a man in the line of duty, her suppressed memories return. She dreams of her beloved father, his hands red with blood, surrounded by flower-decked corpses he had sacrificed to the god of the forest. 

To Anna’s horror, a serial killer emerges who is copying her father – and who knows who she really is. Is her father still alive, or is this the work of another? Will the killer expose her, destroying everything she has built for herself? Does she want him to?

But as she haunts the forest, using her father’s tricks to the hunt the killer, will she find what she needs most…or lose herself in the gathering darkness? 

Purchase Links:

Penguin     Amazon


Read an Excerpt:

“I didn’t mean for you to find out like this, Elena.”

A soft voice echoed from the other side of the house. I turned my gaze to a pile of rotted fallen beams. My dad sat there quietly in the dark, perched as he would in a tree stand in the forest. His hat was low over his head, and his rifle was slung over his shoulder.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out at all.”

I whimpered.

He sighed.

“Are you a monster?” I demanded. The word didn’t seem adequate. “Monster” sounded like a word for fairy tales. Not my beloved dad.

He looked at the bodies arranged around the room. “Maybe.”

He stretched his legs and slid down the pile. I backed up against the rusted stove. Liquid sloshed, and something cold and wet splashed down my side. I recognized the smell immediately: curdled blood. A metal bucket turned over and crashed on the floor, spilling the rest of the blood over my sneakers.

I was frozen. I saw the outline of the door, and I should’ve run. But I was rooted in place, as motionless and helpless as any of these women.

My dad loomed over me. His face was strange, his eyes too dark and still. This man who stood over me was not my dad. He was some changeling who had come to take him, leaving an evil shell in his place. A monster.

“What have you done with my dad?” I croaked.

He reached out to touch my cheek. I flinched.

“Your dad is gone.” His voice was a low hiss, like rain in a gutter.

And I knew then what I saw. It was my dad’s Forest God, the one he called Veles, dark and terrible and devouring everything under this roof. He wanted me. I didn’t know if he meant to consume me like those other women or if the Forest God was wanting to do to me as he was doing to my dad, wearing my skin like his own . . .

The door crashed open. The Forest God spun, reaching for his rifle, but he was tackled by a snarling dog. Percival.

An armed shadow stood in the doorway. Agent Parkes. “Freeze,” he ordered.

The Forest God had no intention of obeying anyone’s orders. He wrestled with the dog, and the rifle went off. A new hole was blown in the roof, and I was partially blinded by muzzle flash and deafened by a gunshot in a closed space.

“Drop it!” Parkes commanded. His voice was faint and tinny over the ringing in my ears.

The Forest God scrambled away from the dog, kicking Percival in the chest. He sighted his rifle on the dog.

I screamed.

The Forest God hesitated for an instant—only an instant.

It was enough.

More gunfire, muzzle flashes. The Forest God tumbled across the floor. Parkes advanced on him, shouting, his shoes slipping in the blood. Percival was growling, clamping my dad’s right hand in his jaws. The rifle spun out on the floor, the barrel skidding up against my sneakers. It was hot, and it singed the rubber of my shoe.

“Put it down!” Parkes yelled. The man who had once been my father had gotten his hunting knife loose from his belt and was slashing at Percival. He’d pulled himself up into a half crouch, dripping on the floor, snarling like a cornered animal.

“Put it down now!”

I knew Parkes was going to kill my dad.

Trembling, I reached down for the gun at my feet.

 

About the Author:

Nicola Solvinic has a master’s degree in criminology and has worked in and around criminal justice for more than a decade. She lives in the Midwest with her husband and cats, where she is surrounded by a secret garden full of beehives.










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