Thursday, June 12, 2025

INTERVIEW WITH HUNTER SHEA (WE ARE ALWAYS WATCHING)

 


Today we welcome Hunter Shea to the page, and ask our three favourite questions:

Supernatural Central Short and Quick Interview


1. Tell me a little bit about your main character of this book.

– West Ridley is a teenage boy who has been through a lot over the past few years. His father has a permanent case of vertigo from a car accident, and the family has struggled to make ends meet. Things have gotten so bad, they have to move from New York to his grandfather’s decrepit farm in Pennsylvania. Total culture shock. Making matters worse, Grandpa Abraham is a basic stranger to West, and a cantankerous, mean-spirited curmudgeon to those who know him. He’s not happy West and his family are there, to say the least. Despite all of this, West is old enough to realize whining about his situation won’t make things any better. A complete horror fan (kind of like the author), he immerses himself in his horror magazines and movies as a way to comfort himself. That and his love for the band New Year’s Day (and crush on the lead singer). West is stoic for someone his age, and brave, maybe because he’s absorbed so much horror without flinching. He's the yin to Grandpa Abraham’s yang, that’s for sure. Together, they do start to balance each other out, even if they don’t fully understand one another. The horror and the mystery unfolds through West’s eyes, and perhaps he’s the right person at the right time to cast a light on the darkness that has plagued the farm for generations.  

2. Do you believe in the paranormal and if so, do you have an experience you can share?

– Absolutely. I lived with the ghost of a little boy who would appear like a flesh and blood child in our apartment from time to time. When I first saw him, I was washing the dishes and my wife, who was gravely ill and on a life support machine in our bedroom, was asleep. All of a sudden, I saw this boy standing in the hallway, looking at me. I thought he was some neighborhood kid who came up to our apartment (we lived on the top floor of a 2 family house). When I looked at him, he darted into my wife’s room. I ran after him, worried he would trip over the wires on the floor and disengage one of the machines. When I got there, he was nowhere to be found. I assumed at the time I was just cracking up from stress. I told no one about him because I didn’t want family or friends thinking I couldn’t care for my wife. Turns out, she was seeing him, too. When she first told me about him sitting on the bed next to her, I almost fainted. She described the same boy I’d been seeing. He would go away for a few years, and come back whenever my wife had a health crisis. He was an unofficial part of our family for almost 25 years. That experience, and some others, have proven to me that there is more to come after we die. 

That's a pretty good one! 3. What titles are you working on now that you can tell us about?

I write a lot about cryptids because I grew up a huge bigfoot and Loch Ness monster fan, thanks to shows like In Search Of. Over the years, I’ve written wild horror-action books about bigfoot, skunk apes, orang pendek, Nessie, the Dover Demon, the Montauk Monster, the Jersey Devil and the Texas Goat Man, just to name a few. Well, I’m finally getting around to what I think is the most fascinating cryptid story, the Mothman. That tale from West Virginia in 1967 is about so much more than a winged creature prowling the night. There were lights and objects in the sky, ghostly voices and apparitions, men in black, you name it. So fascinating, and a bit terrifying. I just started writing my Mothman book, setting it years after the 1967 event that culminated with the collapse of the Silver Bridge. It’s a blast writing about my favorite cryptid and setting it in a period of time that was so wonderful for me. If all goes well, it will be out later this year, so stay tuned! 


We Are Always Watching
Hunter Shea

Genre: Horror
Publisher: Dark Wolf Books
Date of Publication: 5/27/2025
ISBN: 979-8895679234
ASIN: B0F3QTH2WK
Number of pages: 353
Word Count: 94K

Tagline: They See Everything. They Know Everything. And They Never Stop Watching…

Book Description:

When West Ridley’s family is forced to abandon New York for a crumbling Pennsylvania farmhouse, he expects misery—but nothing could prepare him for the horrors lurking within its walls. His father’s worsening illness, his mother’s exhaustion, and his grandfather’s drunken ramblings paint a bleak picture of their new reality. But it’s the eerie warnings and shadowed figures that truly unnerve him.

The words “WE SEE YOU” scrawled on his ceiling are just the beginning. Something sinister roams the halls at night, whispering through the silence, watching from the darkness. Grandpa Abraham swears the house is haunted. But the truth is far worse than restless spirits—because in this house, secrets are buried deep, and the Guardians will do anything to keep them hidden.

As the Ridleys unravel the mysteries of their new home, one thing becomes chillingly clear: escape is impossible. No matter where they go, the watchers remain.

A pulse-pounding horror thriller packed with eerie suspense, We Are Always Watching is perfect for fans of Stephen King, Paul Tremblay, and haunted house stories that linger long after the last page. Dare to uncover the truth? Order your copy today—before they see you first.

Amazon    BN     Dark Wolf Books


Excerpt:

His foot crunched on a three-foot long stick. It was gnarled and thick, a perfect walking stick and weed slasher. Whisking it back and forth, he swatted at the wild vegeta tion, heading for the woodpile. It would make a great bonfire. He’d never been to one in person, but he’d seen plenty in movies, especially the flicks from the ’80s with teen campers in peril.

West loved those movies, especially the parts where girls took off their shirts and either went skinny dipping or had sex in the woods or an empty cabin. Actresses took their clothes off a lot back then. He’d never even seen a naked boob until Anthony showed him this strange astronaut/vampire flick called Lifeforce. The girl vampire was totally naked, front and back, for half the movie. West’s mind was blown. Horror, sci-fi, and his first naked woman. The constant flip-flopping between arousal and terror left him both exhausted and too tired to sleep that night.

Something crashed through the brush to his left. He stopped, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. There was a garbled growl. The sounds of two cats tussling gave his nerves sweet relief. Not wanting to get in the middle of their fight, he veered to the right.

Closing in on the haphazard mound of wood, he realized what it was. The farm would have had a barn at one time. It must have collapsed decades ago. The old walls and floorboards were blighted by the sun and elements. The stench of decay grew stronger with each step. Weeds grew through the gaps, some of them so thick, they hid whole sections of the former barn. “I wonder what took you down,” he said, lifting boards here and there with the tip of his sneaker. The ground beneath it was black as pitch and had an odd smell, like something scorched and long forgotten. Could have been a fire. Or maybe it was a storm, some hurricane that sent people to their cellars. That is, if hurricanes happened in this part of Pennsylvania.

Did Grandpa Abraham’s place have a storm cellar? And what about a fruit cellar? He heard about them all the time, especially when it came to places for crazed killers to hide bodies. What was the point of a fruit cellar? Why stick your fruit in some hole?

There was sudden movement in the brush behind him. He waited for one of the cats to slink into view. The sound didn’t repeat itself and no cats came out to play. West felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. He had the very uncomfortable feeling that he was being watched.

Out here, surrounded by the tall grass, anyone could be lurking.

He closed his eyes and saw the words on the ceiling over his bed. WE SEE YOU West was suddenly very uncomfortable. All of this was so alien to him, he felt as if he’d stepped into a place where he didn’t belong. “Time to go back inside.”

He trudged away from the collapsed barn, unable to shake the feeling that there were eyes at his back

 

 

About the Author: 

Often called THE KING OF THE CRYPTIDS, Hunter Shea is a lifelong horror hound and NY Times bestselling author of over forty books of monstrous mayhem, ghostly frights, and newfound terrors. Some of his bestselling books include the critically acclaimed Creature, They Rise, and The Montauk Monster, the nostalgic Money Back Guaranteed and One Size Eats All series, and Jessica Backman’s Death in the Afterlife paranormal trilogy. His books have been found in the International Cryptozoology Museum and his face on the Discovery Channel where he talks about, well, monsters.

He can be heard and seen on his two long-running podcasts, Final Guys and Monster Men, both informed and humorous explorations of horror’s best – and worst – movies, books, and video games, as well as interviews with some of the hottest writers, directors and producers in the genre. You’ll also find exciting first-hand accounts of true-life hauntings, UFOs, cryptid encounters and more.

Website – www.huntershea.com








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Friday, May 16, 2025

FATE OF THE STORM Book 8 (VALERIE STORM)

 



Fate of the Storm
Demon Storm 
Book Eight
Valerie Storm

Genre: Young Adult Fantasy
Publisher: Shadow Spark Publishing
Date of Publication: 5/13/2025
ISBN: 9781956883343 
ASIN: B0F4BD7X8Y
Number of pages: 374
Word Count:  97,896
Cover Artist: @Ginkahederling

Book Description:

The shadows have retreated with Raven's downfall, but darkness still curls at the edges of the world. For a moment, though, Kari and Ari have a moment of peace. There is a glimmer of light that threatens to wash away the darkness as they finally bind their fates together in a formal ceremony.

But Raven hasn't given up, and there's an older, crueler foe who hasn't forgotten Kari - the Lord of Demons, the very one who crafted the Catalyst which Raven sought to control, still trapped in an ancient Tree.

Kari's moment of joy comes to a halt as the world shakes and Taris is ripped apart.

Velthas has risen.

Excerpt:

The ground gave a sudden, violent shake. Kari and Essie stumbled, but managed to stay standing. All around people and demons staggered, fell, or bumped into each other. South of where they stood came a hoarse scream. Dust clouded quick and fast, obscuring the view of the southern gate and guard towers. The buildings around them quivered, shaking from left to right.

Kari held onto Essie as the ground continued to vibrate. Her teeth clattered. “What in the Yutemi is that?!”

Guine had his hand on Rathik’s shoulder to steady both of them. “Feels like a quake,” he said solemnly. “Have you had one on Taris before?”

“Not in my time!” Ari answered.

“We have to get everyone away from the buildings,” Guine said. “If one collapses—”

Rathik knocked Guine’s hand off and spun to the south gate. “NO!”

As he broke into a run, Kari, Guine, Essie, and Ari whirled. The dust cloud quickly thinned, revealing a messy shamble of splintered wood that had been Freehaven’s southern gate. And the guard tower, set beside it—

“The tower!” a demoness yelled. “It’s falling!”

Essie sprinted after Rathik.

“Essie, wait!” Kari shouted, then cursed. “Tell the council!” she ordered of the nearest townspeople before she, Ari, and Guine raced after Essie and Rathik.

The vibrations made it difficult to run; Ari grabbed Kari’s hand when she stumbled. The southern gate wasn’t far, but every shiver of the ground forced them to slow and regain their balance before they could go on. Kari’s mind roared as they ran. What was happening that could make the very ground move like this?

When they reached the south gate, they stopped and stood in silence. Essie and Rathik stood at the bottom of the guard tower, or what was left of it. The ground had cracked and lifted, and the tower had toppled, crushing part of the gate. Through a miasma of dust, splintered wood and slabs of stone made an incomprehensible pile of rubble.

“Killia!” Rathik dove for the rubble and hefted shattered planks of wood and cracked stone. Even as he coughed and waved away the dirt clouding around him, he dug for the young guard. Essie joined him, shoving slabs of rock out of the way as fast as she could.

Kari stood frozen, mind a whirl and blank all at once. Ari joined Rathik. Together they shoved aside a thick beam of wood that had snapped in half.

What is this? Why is this happening?

“They’re probably dead already,” Guine said. “That much weight...there’s no way.”

Something dark and heavy sank deep into Kari’s stomach. “Help them.”

With a short sigh, Guine stepped forward. He knelt and touched the rubble—at his fingertips, wood and stone crumbled, adding to the dust already fogging the air. Essie glanced up at him, then she and Ari pulled Rathik away. Rathik visibly trembled from head to foot before he dropped to his knees.

The new dust was grittier; Kari sputtered a short cough and waved a hand in front of her face. Maybe Killia would be okay.

 

 

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 and children-at/heart looking for a place to call home.











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Friday, May 9, 2025

INTERVIEW with REIGN REEVES PEARSON (POSEIDON'S DAUGHTERS)

 



Supernatural Central Short and Quick Interview


1. Tell me a little bit about your main character of this book.

Eirianwen Hughs was once Poseidon’s most acclaimed project. Now she’s at the top of their most wanted list. A mother turned mercenary. A little cocky, a lot sarcastic, and more sure of herself than could ever be safe. She’s such a brilliant, fussy mess. I adore how particular and picky she is. I think my favorite habit of hers is how she drinks her coffee. 


2. Do you believe in the paranormal and if so, do you have an experience you can share?

Hands down, 100% yes! I have had some very comforting and reassuring experiences with the paranormal. In fact, the Poseidon’s Daughters series owes its existence to a vision I experienced just over 6 years ago, and the confirmation I got from a being I will simply call Frank. I try to downplay it when I discuss it because so many people assume it can’t be true. But this series is like nothing I’ve ever written before, or plan to write again. It was a story that was “given” to me when I was trying to find out what the point of the experience and vision was. 


3. What titles are you working on now that you can tell us about?


I’m currently deep in editing and formatting the next few projects I have lined up for release. My next book, coming out in July, is titled “The Crows Will Speak for Her.” It’s a Southern Gothic horror novel tackling the issues of love, grief, and collective trauma. 





Poseidon’s Daughters: Reckoning
Poseidon’s Daughters
Book 1
Reign Reeves Pearson

Genre: Sci-Fi, Thriller
Date of Publication: March 21, 2025
ISBN: B0DZNZ6QPC
ASIN: B0DZCKJBGX
Number of pages: 262
Word Count: 62,400
Cover Artist: Reign Reeves Pearson

Tagline: They wanted a ghost, she’ll give them a reckoning

Book Description: 

They trained her to be a weapon. Now, she’s turning the blade on them.

Eirianwen was Poseidon’s crowning achievement—until she walked away from everything. She’s evaded them for years, carving out a life in the shadows, leaving behind the bloodstained world they forced her into. Now, the past she’s been running from has finally caught up. A storm-wracked night. A breach in her sanctuary. Someone is watching. Someone is waiting. And this time, they don’t just want her dead—they want her to doubt herself. They want the world to believe she’s lost her mind.

They’ve been watching her. Manipulating her. Preparing for her downfall.

Now, the elite organization that built her is coming to collect. Not to kill—to control. They don’t need to break her. They just need to make sure no one believes her when she starts screaming.They want her to understand that her escape, her freedom, was all an illusion.

Erased. Discredited. Untouchable.

But Eirianwen has spent her whole life surviving. And when the walls start closing in, she doesn’t run. She hunts.

Poseidon wants her desperate. Unraveling. Helpless.

They’re about to learn just how dangerous she can be.

Amazon

Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/hpJsOfvRKxI

Excerpt 

Eirianwen ripped out the earpiece and slammed it onto the desk. Panic swirled at the edges of her mind, but she forced it down. Now wasn’t the time. She grabbed a larger bag from under the desk, slung it over her shoulder, and stormed out. In the closet, she set the bag aside, pressing a hidden panel on the side of her bed. A drawer slid open, revealing her arsenal. Her hands shook as she armed herself, snapping a knife into its sheath and loading a handgun with quick, practiced movements. Now, to find them. Moving swiftly, she ran through the house, slipping out the back door and straight into the storm-charged air. Sullivan’s workshop. If she was going to do this right, she’d need a shovel. She yanked open the heavy wooden door, eyes darting over the mess inside.Where the fuck is it? Why is this place always such a goddamn disaster?

A glint of metal under the workbench caught her eye. She crouched, snatched up a spade, and bolted back outside. The rain had started in earnest, cold drops slicing through the thick humidity. She sprinted to where the trackers last pinged, her boots sinking slightly into the softening earth, almost tripping thanks to a low spot. Looking back at the spot, it was all wrong. She knew something was buried there.

Gripping the shovel tightly, she drove it into the ground. The soil gave easily...far too easily. The clay should have been a nightmare to dig through. Someone had already done the work for her. Within moments, her blade hit something solid, and dread curled in her stomach. She dropped to her knees, clawing at the loose earth with bare hands until the objects were free. Her breath hitched. Six trackers. All of them. Cold, useless, and buried like a mockery of her own paranoia. Eirianwen sat back on her heels, mud caking her fingers as she stared at the pile in her hands. Someone knew.

Her cheeks burned hot, but the rest of her body felt frozen. Tears welled, spilling silently down her face as the questions flooded in. Why? Why would Sullivan do this? Had he done this? He wouldn’t put the kids in danger—would he? Where were they? How long had he planned this? Her stomach twisted. Then, her phone buzzed—a single notification. Hands trembling,  she wiped her palms on her pants and yanked it from her pocket. Wi-Fi restored—a new alert. Someone had just crossed the perimeter.

“It better be Sullivan and the kids.”

Eirianwen exhaled sharply, swiping at the sweat and tears streaking her face. Standing, she brushed the dirt from her clothes as best she could, shoving the useless trackers deep into her pocket. She locked her phone and steadied herself. If the kids were with Sullivan, she needed to stay calm. Normal. They couldn’t see the weapons strapped under her clothing. At least the incoming storm gave her an excuse to rush them inside. She’d get them safe first—then she’d deal with Sullivan. She turned toward the tree line, heart pounding in her throat. The property was massive, and she had built the house at its farthest edge. Finally, headlights cut through the gloom. A vehicle emerged. Not Sullivan’s truck. A cold, electric jolt shot down her spine. Every instinct screamed at her.

No one came out here. No one. She had made sure of it. For years, she had meticulously crafted the illusion of a perfectly ordinary life. She knew everyone in town—just enough to avoid suspicion, but never enough to invite curiosity. A delicate balance of friendly but distant. She never gave anyone a reason to visit. She didn't even use their real address! She picked up all of their mail and deliveries in town. So who the hell thought they had the right to pull up to her house? The SUV slowed to a stop, tires crunching against the gravel. The doors swung open in near unison, and two men stepped out. Sheriff Ford. Deputy Pines. Ford adjusted his jacket, his gaze steady, unreadable. Pines lingered a step behind, eyes sharp, scanning. Ford closed the gap between them, and gave Eirianwen a curt nod.

 

About the Author:

Reign Reeves Pearson is a writer, storyteller, and chaos enthusiast based in Houston, where she lives with her husband, four kids, and three cats who may or may not be plotting world domination. She thrives on Kopiko, rainy days, and an endless love for Final Fantasy VII and Dungeons & Dragons.

 

She’s been writing for as long as she can remember. But in 2019, a health scare forced her to take a hard look at her life, and the answer was clear: writing wasn’t just something she did. It was what she was meant to do.

 

Her debut novel and series, Poseidon’s Daughters: Reckoning, is her first and only planned adventure into sci-fi. Going forward, expect Southern Gothic chills, cosmic nightmares, and nostalgic ‘90s horror—all infused with her signature mix of heart, humor, and a touch of the macabre.

 

When she’s not writing, she’s probably dreaming up elaborate D&D campaigns, getting emotionally wrecked by Final Fantasy VII (again), or staring dramatically out a window while it rains.

 

Follow her chaotic creative journey at:

 

https://reignvox.com/

 

https://x.com/notorious_rrp

 

https://www.twitch.tv/ReignVox

 

https://www.youtube.com/@notorious_rrp

 

https://www.instagram.com/notorious_rrp/

 

https://www.instagram.com/reignreevespearson/

 

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/48135392.Reign_Reeves_Pearson

 

https://www.amazon.com/stores/Reign-Reeves-Pearson/author/B0DZDDF88T





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Friday, April 18, 2025

DARK SHADOW OF GUILT - Winged Assassin Series, Book One (TM Smith)

 



Dark Shadow of Guilt
Winged Assassin Series
Book One
TM Smith

Genre: Fantasy/Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
Date of Publication: April 18, 2025
ISBN: 978-0-3695-1163-8
ASIN: B0F2XZZ55K
Number of pages: 377
Word Count: 96,146
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Book Description:  

Dominion, a guilt-ridden Immortal who is the black-winged assassin of the OneCreator, rescues Madeline, a mortal who has been thrust into a world she never existed knew. Kidnapped, she was brought to Angor in OneWorld and tortured. As her path intertwines with Dom’s, she grapples with her evolution and newfound gifts. 

Theirs is a tale of doubt and forgiveness, forbidden love, sacrifice, and conflict that threatens the existence of OneWorld. 

Packed with puzzling occurrences and twists and turns, this is a story that will mesmerize readers from start to finish. Amidst chaos in OneWorld, their love is put to the ultimate test against looming threats that threaten the fabric of existence.

Amazon       Apple      Smashwords      BN      Goodreads      Books2Read

Excerpt:

 

Madeline dragged a fork through her potatoes, eventually shoving a bite into her mouth. When she finished chewing, she broke off a piece of crisp bacon and popped it in, licking her lips. “I was thinking about going home, but when you came into the kitchen, I realized how much help you need around here. You probably don’t pay enough attention to yourself. Like eating regularly. Your laundry. Cleaning house. I could organize stuff. Take care of your place.” She winked again. “And you.”

She tilted her chin, a strand of hair feathering across her cheek as she slipped him an irresistible smile. He followed the sweep of her tongue across her lower lip again.

Damn. Things were taking a definite turn toward strange.

Finished, Dom pushed his plate away. He gripped the handle of his coffee mug, taking a sip. Good. Brewed just right. He cleared his throat, searching for something to say. Conversation wasn’t part of his skill set.

Madeline scooted closer, thigh to thigh, a hand caressing his shoulder, floating down to clasp his bicep. “Don’t you like having me here? I could be very convenient to have around.”

When her breast brushed his arm, his heart pounded against his ribs. She was coming on to him.

Dom escaped her grip and moved out of boob range. “Be careful, little female.”

As she leaned close, her whispery breath puffed across his ear. “I’m not so little.”

“Uh-huh.” He swallowed hard. What the hell was she doing? She’d gone from scared to distrusting to cautious acceptance. Now this? Was this typical human behavior?

She inched nearer again, heat radiating off her body. He never turned down an offer from a female, and this one was cooking more than breakfast. But Dom was cautious. He didn’t like not knowing the game.

Madeline tilted into his chest and crushed her lips to his.

To hell with caution.

Not about to allow her to control the situation, Dom yanked her onto his lap, her legs straddling him. He took over, forcing her mouth open and caressing her tongue with his. As she melted against him, his cock got with the game.

 

About the Author:

T. M. Smith is the award-winning author of the Blood Coven Series paranormal romance novels and the spin-off Blood Coven World novellas. Her current release is a new romantasy, in the Winged Assassins Series, Dark Shadow of Guilt. She draws upon her imagination to craft stories about strong women and powerful but flawed men in a richly detailed magical world. After retiring from a career as an educator, Smith settled in to write something more creative than lesson plans on split infinitives and inner-school memos on noise in the hallway. She is now living in the Pacific Northwest with vampires, demons, ylves, mages, and winged beings who keep her awake at night with their tales of love and adventure.






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INTERVIEW WITH ELI RAINWATER (Welcome to Jessie's)

 



A big hello to our guest today, Eli Rainwater. Welcome, Eli...we have a few questions for you.

Supernatural Central Short and Quick Interview


  1. Tell me a little bit about your main character of this book.

Jessie, who was inspired by my best friend, is a witch who was born in a small village in Scotland in the 800’s. With her long, silver curls and the laugh lines around her bright blue eyes, she looks as though she’s in her late 40’s rather than 1700’s. You’re more likely to see her in well worn jeans and obscure band t-shirts than elegant suits and dresses, especially when she’s behind the bar or chatting with regulars at her neighborhood pub called Jessie’s Place, where fae, cryptids, witches, and humans rub elbows.

Witches use elements to hone their magic, and Jessie is a fire witch. She spent years on the Witches’ Council fighting against power and greed to make sure all voices were heard and now uses skills she honed for centuries on the battlefield and in the council chamber to fight a new threat to the world. 

2. Do you believe in the paranormal and if so, do you have an experience you can share? 

Do I have a word count limit on this one? Yes, I do believe in the paranormal, and this is why:

As a child, I saw a woman watching my siblings and me one day under our carport. When I went to get my mother, the woman was gone, and my brother and sister had no idea what I was talking about. A few weeks later, I saw a picture of an aunt who had passed away over a year before and recognized her as the woman. 

In college, my boyfriend and I visited one of his friends, and when we went to leave, a very old baby carriage stood outside the door. It had moved from a closed room that now stood open. We were the only people in the house. 

I worked at a pub in Marietta, Ga for a few years. The pub was located in the original fire department which was established after the Civil War. I was alone setting up one day when a man in a very old uniform walked in the main room from the basement stairs, tipped his hat to me, walked into one of the side rooms, and disappeared. I finally found his picture in one of the original pictures of the first fire fighters! The owner’s wife also saw a man in the mirror over the bar dressed in a dapper, 1920’2 or 30’s suit, and we frequently felt touches like our hair being pulled or something brushing against our arms.

I managed a pub in Durham, NC that was very haunted. I have video footage of a giant connect four game moving on its own, and I often had my hair pulled when I worked alone in the office. One day a stack of papers dropped, one by one, on the desk. Another day, a sheet of tin foil dropped onto a cutting board in the kitchen, and the word “Toby” scratched itself on the sheet. We would sometimes see chairs move on the security cameras too.

When I moved into my house, I recorded my friends and I watching movies for a podcast and picked up a separate woman’s voice several times that interacted with us and the movies. Items roll across a surface on their own and then stop like someone put a hand on them, my boots topple over, and things pop out of containers. Two days ago, a friend who was staying with me heard a man’s voice very politely tell her good morning when she walked into my kitchen. These spirits seem very benevolent to the point that even my cats are comfortable in the house, and I’ve never tried to have them removed.  

3. What titles are you working on now that you can tell us about?

I’m working on a stand alone horror urban fantasy novel called The Rag Doll Collective that combines body snatching with elven lore, a new series in which a barista stumbles upon the supernatural after a stoned werecoon knocks over her trashcans when he gets the munchies, and book four of The Witch’s Bar Chronicles when Jessie and her friends take on a new threat from the cabal. 









                                                      
Welcome to Jessie’s
The Witch’s Bar Chronicles 
Book One
Eli Rainwater

Genre: Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Eli Rainwater Books
Date of Publication: August 8, 2022
ISBN: 979-8-218-05342-0
ASIN: B0B8YMLBRM
Number of pages: 340
Word Count: 82.981

Cover Artist: Photo by Juliana Finch

Tagline: A vampire, a ghost, and a fairy walk into a bar

Book Description: 

When Jessie, one of the oldest and most powerful witches in the world, joined the Witch Council over a thousand years ago, she was embroiled in politics, saving the world, and trying to keep the supernatural world a secret from humans. 

Now supernaturals are out in the open and a tentative alliance between the fae, cryptids, humans, and witches is underway. Jessie finally gets to leave the intrigue and drama behind to own a bar in a small town north of Atlanta where the most annoying thing on her plate is making sure the vampire groupies don’t wind up as someone’s dinner. 

Then a gargoyle is killed in her bar. It‘s not just any gargoyle though– he was the secretary for the European cryptid ambassador to the Alliance. Finding herself in the center of an international– and interspecies– nightmare, Jessie has to rally her allies to stop a power-hungry cabal from starting a war and destroying life as she knows it.

Author Website      Amazon      BN     Apple     Smashwords     Kobo


Excerpt:

“No one will ever love me again. I shall die alone with naught to mourn my passing.”

Jessie MacCaverty stopped wiping down the bar top to raise an eyebrow at the chestnut curls belonging to the adorable and devastatingly handsome yet extremely annoying, melodramatic vampire who flounced through the door in a swirl of early autumn air and leaves before dramatically collapsing on a stool in front of her. Her bartender and apprentice Caroline rolled her blue eyes before going back to pouring beers for the amused regulars at the other end of the bar.

“Get your head off the bar. I just wiped that spot,” Jessie tucked a long, silver-gray curl behind her ear, completely unsympathetic to her friend's plight, whatever it was this time.

Nicodemus shot up on the stool, outrage and wounded betrayal reflected in his honey gold almond shaped eyes. The younger of two vampiric siblings, he was as beautiful in death as he had been in life as a long dead king’s military advisor and member of a noble family.

“You! You who are supposed to be the one I hold most dear, the most treasured of my bosom companions, have you no mercy on my poor soul? My wounded heart?”

“Not when you start talking like the bastard child of a Hallmark card and Harlequin romance, I don't.” Jessie was extremely unimpressed-- and unsympathetic.

“So be it,” he huffed, slumping back down to prop his elbows on the oak bar top that had been lovingly polished over the decades until it gleamed forever. “Take away my poet's soul. See if I care.”

Jessie beamed. “See, isn't that better? Now, do you want a drink while you calmly and sensibly tell me what's going on without all the histrionics?”

He scowled before relenting. “Fine. But none of those weird, fruity, sweet things the kids are drinking everywhere! Those colors should never have been put into anything consumable,” he shuddered in disgust.

“Caroline, make him a Manhattan, will you?” Jessie called over her shoulder.

“Sure thing, boss,” Caroline replied cheerfully, tossing her long, blonde, curly ponytail over her shoulder as she deftly flipped a martini glass over and grabbed the bottle of rye.

Nicky studied Jessie as she settled down next to him. She was tiny. Long gray curls framed a slightly oval shaped face, high cheekbones, and huge, piercing blue eyes. She lived for broken in jeans and obscure band or bar t-shirts that were so soft and well worn, they were one stitch away from falling apart. Like all witches, she stopped aging in her mid forties and was eternally in that stage of beauty when the laugh lines enhanced the late summer glow of youth.

“Now. What happened this time?” she asked, settling in for the long haul.

He heaved a melancholy sigh that sounded like it came from his toes. She resisted the urge to follow Caroline's eye-rolling example.

“I thought I met the one. He was so perfect. The gargoyle of my dreams!” Jessie choked on her tea.

“I'm sorry, the what of your dreams?”

He looked affronted. “Gargoyle! I told you about him last week!” ”

Jessie barely managed to hide a guilty look. To be fair, when he started on the love interest du jour, it could get a little... repetitive. It wasn't her fault if it was easier to tune him out and concentrate on inventory. Bits and pieces of his hours-long recitations of adoration started to come back to her.

“Oh, right! That gargoyle!”

Jared, Jessie's other apprentice and barback, a tall, young man with impeccable style and skin the color of dark chocolate and who had lined up a promising career in role playing game production, stopped with the ice bucket in midair to stare at Nicky.

“Dude! How does that even work?” He demanded, fascinated.

“Well, if you must know,” Nicky drew himself up haughtily, “Gargoyles are only stone by day when they revert to their... less attractive but more widely known visages.”

“So, what, at night they're hot?” Sometimes talking to Jared was like talking to the blunt side of a hammer and about as subtle.

“If you must put it that way, yes, they can be. Are. Usually are.” Nicky would have blushed if blood pumped through his veins. Jessie realized that he hadn't fed recently. He must really be enamored with this guy.

“Did he ghost you?” Caroline asked with a sympathetic glance. “No offense, Charlie!”

“None taken.” Charlie was the bar's resident ghost. When Mary Jo Sutton, who was still the town’s most beautiful and seductive succubus at the age of fifty, had propositioned him in the bathroom, he had neglected to mention that he had a heart condition. He swore the resulting heart attack was worth it. She still felt guilty about the whole thing.

“Ghost me? Ghost me??” Nicky was stunned, floored, flabbergasted that anyone could even consider such a thing. Jessie gave in to the urge to roll her eyes. Trying to hold back was exhausting.

“Focus!” she slapped her hand on the bar harder than she planned and instantly regretted it. “Where were you supposed to meet?”

“Well, here, tonight actually. I wanted him to meet you.”

Jessie blinked at him.

“So you're telling me that you just waltzed in here and immediately went into hysterics without even bothering to see if he was here first? I mean, we're not exactly balls to the walls over here, but it's not like we're dead either! No offense, Charlie.”

“None taken,” Charlie replied with a burp. One of Jessie's neatest (in his opinion) little pieces of spellwork involved creating a mug that acted as a portal that gave whatever it contained the ability to exist on the spiritual plane. At the moment, that happened to be beer. No one was entirely sure if the belching was necessary, but not even Jared was willing to ruin Charlie's contentment by asking and possibly ruining the experience.

Nicky looked faintly abashed. “I don't see him though! That's understandable, right? I mean, I even came late on purpose!”

Jessie dropped her head in her hand and shook it with the long suffering patience of one who realized a long time ago that their friend genuinely did not have a clue how personal relationships should go.

Nicky squirmed on his stool.

“Well... it seemed like a good idea at the time. But he didn't stick around, so it doesn't matter! And besides, I was only about fifteen minutes late!”

Jared shook his head as he walked toward the back to put away the ice bucket.

“Man, even I know better than that, and I can't keep a girl around to save my life. No offense, Charlie.”

“None taken,” Charlie replied with equanimity. He had never realized how many turns of phrase involved life or death until he himself switched from one side to the other.

“Hey, Jared, check the bathroom for trash and toilet paper on your way back, please,” Jessie called before turning back to the matter at hand.

“Admittedly, I don't really remember seeing a stranger hanging around tonight. What does he look like? And what’s his name? Also, have you tried calling him or do you have a picture, she asks, knowing that of course you didn't, you just immediately broke down into hysterics and started talking like you came off the cover of the best selling romance novel of the decade?”

Now Nicky rolled his eyes. Jessie felt herself get twitchy as she resisted the urge to pop him on the arm.

“I do not talk like that,” he protested.

“Well, no, not when you remember what year it is,” Jessie replied. Nicky pulled out his phone.

“His name is Warsaw, and unfortunately, I can't take a picture. Gargoyles turn into stone in front of a camera,” he showed her a picture of him kissing a stone... lion? dog? on the cheek while gazing coquettishly at what was obviously a phone camera perched at the end of a selfie stick.

“You carry a selfie stick? Of course you do. Why do I even ask?” She snorted in amusement.

Caroline snickered, grabbing the phone,“You're such an adorable couple! Do you think your kids would have your eyes or his density?”

“Ha ha!” Nicky glared as he snatched the phone out of her grasp. “You're so funny.” He tried-- and failed-- to regain some control of the conversation. By this point, Caroline was giggling uncontrollably, and Charlie laughed himself through his stool.

“Okay, okay, let's calm down,” Jessie grinned. “Try to call him. See what happens.”

“Fine, if it will get you all to stop cackling like a pack of hyenas,” Nicky huffed as he hit a button and held the phone to his ear.

“Wait, did you hear that?” Caroline switched from hilarity to alert in seconds. Jessie was way ahead of her.

She met Nicky's eyes with a growing sense of dread. Out of nowhere, a phone had begun to ring, a muffled sound that could only come from behind a closed door.

At the same time, they heard Jared's scream and the thud as he fell over backwards, scrambling away from the bathroom. Inside was a lifeless body that once belonged to a shy, love struck creature who had, for one brief, shining moment, thought he could have everything his heart, which would never be stone, had ever longed for and found in the deep, deep love of a whimsical, sometimes overly dramatic, slightly narcissistic vampire.


About the Author:

Eli’s love for reading started at an early age when her mother taught her to read almost as soon as she learned to talk. She discovered the fantasy genre and fell hard for it when her brother let her sit in on his D&D sessions and then lent her his collections of Dragonlance and David Eddings books while he was away at college.

Eli wrote short stories and poetry in school, but like so many of us, she never really pursued her passion as an adult. Then, COVID hit. After two years of being in “go mode” while she managed a pub, she spent a week reading in a yurt in the mountains. When she came home, she wrote and self-published her first book.

Now, Eli gets to write stories she loves and travel to conventions and events where people are nice enough to let her talk about her books and the world she created for hours on end.









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