Finding Katie #SomethingWickedTour @StoryEmpire

Hey, everyone. It’s hard to believe the week has passed and we’re wrapping up the Something Wicked Tour. For the complete list of today’s stops, click this link.

Today, I have the pleasure of hosting fellow author and friend Harmony Kent to tell us about her book, Finding Katie. Harmony, take it away!

Hello everyone, Harmony here. Thanks for hosting me today, Joan! It’s great to visit with you and your readers to kick off my fifth and final stop on Story Empire’s Something Wicked Blog Tour. In keeping with the scary theme, I’d like to visit the world of a troubled teenager, where those we should fear the most aren’t always strangers …

I killed someone, you see. I killed the girl who used to be me.

About the Series:

Evil doesn’t always lurk without. All too often, the people we should fear the most are those with whom we are closest. Find out how teenager Kate Charlesworth deals with the aftermath of human cruelty and devastation in this compelling read.


About Finding Katie:

I killed someone, you see. I killed the girl, who used to be me.

I’m Kate … Kate Charlesworth. I’m seventeen, and self-harming. This time I cut too deep, and I’m in hospital. I hadn’t meant for it to be so bad—it just sort of happened. I needed a lot of distraction that day.

You’ve had bad days, right? Days it hurts too much to think. Days you just wanna stay in bed. Days when the world needs to go away for a while. Right?

What do you do when you’ve hit rock bottom? When there’s nowhere left to turn?

This one little mistake lands me back on a psych unit—the last place I wanna be. Only this time, the nurse I end up with isn’t content to stick on a band-aid and send me home. She wants me to face my demons. But to do that, I’ll have to face who I am … who I used to be … I’ll have to find Katie.

If you’re interested in finding out more about Finding Katie, please click HERE.


About Harmony:

After spending around thirteen years as an ordained Buddhist monk, living in a Zen Buddhist temple, and six years after a life-changing injury following a surgical error, Harmony Kent returned to the world at the tender age of forty. Now, she is famous for her laughter, and has made quite the name for herself … she’s also, um, a writer … and fairly well known for that too. She’s even won a few awards. Harmony lives in rural Cornwall with her ever-present sense of humour, adorable husband, and quirky neighbours. Harmony is passionate about supporting her fellow authors.


To Learn More About Harmony Check Out:

Website|Story Empire (co-authored) |Amazon Author Page |

Twitter | LinkedIn | Goodreads | BookBub |

It’s hard to believe the week is over. I hope everyone has enjoyed the tour. I had fun with it. Who knows? We Story Empire authors might have something else in the future.

Viral Blues #SomethingWickedTour @StoryEmpire

Hey, everyone! Wow. Day four of Story Empire’s Something Wicked Tour. For today’s schedule, click here.

You’re in for a special treat for today’s stop of Story Empire’s Something Wicked Tour. I’m welcoming back a special guest – Lisa Burton, the Robot Girl. She’s here to talk about C. S. Boyack’s new release, Viral Blues. Lisa, take it away!

Thanks for inviting me over, Joan. Hi, everyone. I’m here as part of the Something Wicked tour from Story Empire. As Craig’s spokesmodel, sometimes I get to make these appearances. While I’m here, you can find Joan over at Harmony Kent’s place, so make sure to visit her.

I see a lot of playlists and videos on this site, so I decided to try using that to appeal to your readers.

Craig is also heavily inspired by music, and one of his characters, well two actually, front a band called Lizzie and the Pythons. She sings, and he plays the upright bass, but has to use her fingers to do it. Oh, I should mention that he’s a hat. Not just any old hat, he’s actually a creature from another dimension.

We all wound up going to a fancy country club to gather information about these paranormal crimes. The only way we could do it was to steal the musical gig from another band and gain access that way.

Girl talk happened, and we agreed that Lizzie’s saxophone player is hot. He’s just so stoic and wooden that we decided to tease him a bit during the show.

Turn your speakers up, hit the video, and enjoy:


Lizzie leaned the bass back. “We’re Lizzie and The Pythons, and we’re joined by a special guest tonight, Miss Lisa Burton. She’s asked to sing one for everybody. This is an old Joe Cocker song.”

Fat Larry and Shade started them off with some rhythmic piano chords and low saxophone support. Lisa turned her back to the crowd and started gyrating, making circles with her hips. She pulled her left hand through her hair, while her right arm extended toward Shade. Long elegant fingers grasped air in his direction as she sang the first verse.

She swiveled across the stage to Shade’s side, grabbed a handful of his shirt sleeve, then pulled him tight into her breasts. She made a quivering intake of breath, then sang directly into his ear, “You Can Leave Your Hat On.”

Shade’s jaw dropped open, and he missed the next two measures. Tanith tried not to crack up but kept the beat, and her backup vocals, in check.

Shade is still kind of wooden, and kind of hot, but it was a nice breather in the middle of the action.

Viral Blues involves several of Craig’s previous characters in a paranormal romp just in time for Halloween. Don’t panic if you haven’t read one of his stories before, there is no prerequisite reading. You can pick up Viral Blues and enjoy the heck out of it all by itself.

Thanks for inviting me over, Joan, and I really like the new look of the place.

Lisa, it was a pleasure to have you visit today. And now, here’s more info about Viral Blues.


Someone knows about the hat. The creature from another dimension that helps Lizzie fight against the creatures of darkness.

They are summoned to a cryptic meeting with a secret society, where they meet other people with enhanced skills. It turns out someone, or something, has been tampering with the world’s vaccine supply. The goal doesn’t appear to be political or financial, but biblical pestilence.

Can this group of loners come together in time to make a difference when even the proper authorities are obstacles?

Check out Viral Blues, for your dose of paranormal adventure, with a strong sample of dark humor. And in recent superhero style, don’t miss the secret last chapter after the back material.

Connect with Craig:

Banshee Curse #SomethingWickedTour @StoryEmpire

Hey, everyone. Hard to believe we’re already half way through Story Empire’s Something Wicked Tour. Be sure to check out all the tour stops. Click here for the links.

Today I have author P. H. Solomon as my guest. He’s going to talk about his book The Bow of Destiny with is part of The Bow of Hart Saga. Let’s welcome P. H.

Thanks to Joan for hosting me today. It’s been a lot of fun so far on the Something Wicked Book Tour with the rest of the authors at Story Empire. Please make sure to visit the other stops this week and share those.

One especially chilling scene in The Bow of Hart Saga occurs in The Bow of Destiny when the Banshee is conjured. The truly evil disposition of Corgren and Magdronu is on display as they use magic on a minion to create the creature. It’s a despicable act and highlights what Athson is up against in the story. The result is chilling and something disturbing to see for the characters later. Here’s the excerpt from the spell being cast and what happens:

Trolls ringed Corgren and his Rokan followers in cringing silence in the darkness before the moon’s rising above the distant Drelkhaz Mountains. The Rokans prostrated themselves, murmuring their prayers as the wizard stood facing the fiery breath of Magdronu displayed in the green nimbus of the communication spell. The blind servant tended his ritual wound, groveling in pain at the end of his leash held by the menacing Bane.

“He will be ours in the end, Master.” Corgren gritted his teeth. He must concentrate. The pain of the spell could kill him. Complete dedication rode with risk.

“The fulfillment can take longer than I am willing to wait, patient though I am.” Magdronu’s fire flared and cast flickers across the gathered throng of Corgren’s minions and servants before it ebbed.

“He will succumb to our attempts, though he has escaped so far.”

“Too many times for my liking. He has the luck of Eloch on him. Let us see if he escapes this trap.”

Corgren shrugged. “I do not see how he can. But our schemes are like a web he cannot escape.”

“Call her.” The flames sprang higher, and the dragon’s red eyes glared.

Corgren motioned, and his guards dragged the reluctant old woman before him. The wizard held his breath. The apprehension on her face told all. She was not so confident now. She served him and Magdronu well with her sly spying, petty though she was. Pity he’d lose her services. Corgren’s lip curled. But little more than that. He exhaled.

“I’m faithful to the Master, I am,” the old spy whined. Her body quivered with tension, and her jowls shook.

“And so you will be in this.” Corgren showed his teeth with his best false-smile and nothing more. He waved his hand over her face and spoke the words of the entrancement spell. The old woman collapsed, and the guards backed away and knelt in reverent positions.

“Say these words.” Magdronu’s growl hushed the anxious stirring among Corgren’s servants.

Corgren gasped and winced at the flare of pain and squeezed his eyes shut. His thoughts flamed with words, so he must speak or die. He let the dragon’s snarling language flow from his lips, and the pain subsided. He needed precise speech. This spell meant death – his own if not executed properly.

The wizard opened his eyes, and the green glow blossomed sicklier. Roiling shadow enveloped the insensate old woman, and her wrinkled hands and face faded from his sight. Gone. Consumed. Corgren’s arms shuddered over the hidden form.

Magdronu’s words ended. Corgren’s teeth clicked when he finished the spell. The silence of a cemetery hovered in the air. The Rokans waited, heads bowed. Glowing troll eyes winked in the wan light of the dragon’s breath and the communication spell. The Bane shifted closer, drawn to the magic. It was darkness to death. Corgren’s skin crawled.

The body writhed in the conjured cocoon. Muffled groaning rose to distorted, fractured wailing. Corgren’s servants squirmed, the trolls snarled and shambled away and then cringed.

Nails clawed at the magical shroud. Magdronu huffed flame. Corgren cocked his head. How wonderfully powerful this spell was.

Hands flailed through the inky cloud and tore aside the constraining layers. A screaming face emerged out of the vile womb, skin smooth and deathly pale. The creature shrieked in sobbing wails. Corgren’s Rokan servants wallowed as whispered curses slithered across Corgren’s mind. The blind slave clutched his ears, his screams lost amid the wailing.

Naked, she rose and danced among the thrashing humans, her skin emitting a pale luminescence. She bent and touched them. At each touch, the Rokan pulled a knife or other weapon and slashed or stabbed their own lives away. Corgren arched an eyebrow. Deadly beauty. He’d only read about banshees but – such force of will.

When Corgren’s servants lay quivering in their own blood, the banshee turned for the blind man.

The wizard stepped between the screaming touch of death and her victim. “Not him.”

The screeching stopped. Wizard and banshee stood face to face. Her putrid breath assaulted Corgren in steady heaves of soft groans through incisors elongated into fangs. Her eyes were both wild and doleful. This creature was not to be tamed. Her hair, long, straight, and dark, waved in non-existent wind.

She raised her clawed hand and gathered her breath for howling. Corgren stood firm.

“Do as he says.”

The banshee flinched and cringed before Magdronu. She lowered her head in assent and uttered words soft and raw. “As you say, master.”

Corgren arched his brow. She spoke as well? He ran his hand along his jaw.

Flame flared. Corgren closed one eye against the light of the blaze. Heat? Through the spell?

The deep growl seared Corgren’s mind. “Go, seek the ranger. Trap him without death. We will be waiting.”

Trolls leapt in squeals when the banshee cackled. She snatched up a dark cloak from a dead Rokan and ran wailing north, into the night.

Nothing of the old woman remained in the banshee’s speed and vitality. Corgren cupped his chin and tapped his cheek. Perhaps she would be good for many uses.

Athson later encounters the Banshee in a sudden attack. Here’s a quick part of that encounter – I won’t share all of it because it gives part of the outcome away:

Limbreth snuggled closer for warmth in the chill mist and frowned into the lingering mist.

Tap, tap, tap.

They both jumped. Limbreth’s heart raced at the closeness of the sound. Was Athson afraid?

He separated from her and drew his father’s blessed sword. She unsheathed a sword with her right hand. He motioned her to crouch.

He leaned close. “Let’s check it out.”

She nodded. She preferred boldness to uncertainty. He wasn’t afraid, and neither was she. Her stomach no longer fluttered but tightened instead.

Athson motioned behind them. “We can’t go far and leave the others unguarded.”

“Yes, they depend on us.” Limbreth’s mouth spread into a grimace. Let them find this – whatever and chase it away.

Together they edged further into the surrounding trees.

Tap, tap. Tap, tap.

They paused and gauged the direction. Limbreth sensed the nearness. They stayed in night-shadows and crept toward a pine thicket.

Tap, tap, tap.

A shadow moved. They froze. Limbreth trembled.

The shadow faded into deeper night.

Athson inched forward, and Limbreth followed, gripping her sword too tightly. Athson stepped among the close pine trunks. Nothing lingered there.

A soft whimpering rose to their left. Limbreth almost dropped her sword at the sound. She bared her teeth at her cowardice. Athson turned aside, and she crept after him.

The crying washed over Limbreth, and she hesitated under conflicting urges. A mourner’s sadness escaped her in a sob. She dropped the sword, shrank back, and covered her ears. She wobbled as she moved after Athson.

They drew nearer and found the keening shadow where it knelt swaying. Limbreth’s arms dropped unresponsive at her sides. She gasped. There were words within this distressed display. It spoke of her own death, of her body rotting away, of her spirit rotting into eternal choking dust. Limbreth tasted ashes in her mouth and gagged.

Panic seized her body. Move! She loathed herself.

The wailing figure rose and stepped toward them. Limbreth sank to the ground, and hope evaporated from her thoughts. Life seeped away into the ground. She wept and writhed. She would die.

The cloaked figure approached, its wails deafening Limbreth’s thoughts. But this crushing sound, this dry, choking death, carried a soft undertone of whispering – inviting her. The voice whispered about the seductive promise of release from constant failure and pain in life – the emptiness of living could be wiped away.

Athson stood motionless with his sword in hand. Limbreth needed to move but merely whimpered and trembled. The mist caressed her. The soft undertone beneath the wailing flooded her awareness. Meaningless life was despair. The voice hinted at a welcome end. Her hands fumbled for her belt knife.

Why didn’t Athson move?

The fog folded around them. It smothered the breath from Limbreth’s lungs. She was dying. Athson uttered a hoarse gasp.

Limbreth’s knife moved toward her wrist. Death, come quickly.

No! She fought her movement. Limbreth’s left hand held the knife and trembled with the effort of holding back the fatal cut. She gritted her teeth. No! The knife ceased moving.

More despair harrowed her thoughts, and her resolve melted. She let the blade drift closer to her exposed wrist.

But then pain shot through her arm, and it locked. She screamed. Her left hand no longer drifted toward her other wrist.

Athson grunted as the cloaked figure eased closer. His hand twisted. The voice changed, and uttered subtle words. There is welcome release.

The shadow coalesced into a woman whose bare, slim leg extended from beneath her cloak. Hands of welcoming embrace extended toward Athson, and her slender arms rose, exposing the vulnerable nudity beneath her garment.

Limbreth shouted – or tried, but her breath squeaked away. The mist choked like dust in her mouth when she opened it. Breathe, she couldn’t breathe.

At last Athson lunged at the woman. The sword punctured her chest, and a scream erupted from the pallid figure. Limbreth covered her ears and wept.

The final screech faded, and viscous smoke spewed from the creature’s mouth. The vile blackness enfolded Athson, and he swooned.


Haunted by his past. Hunted in the present. Uncertain what is real.

Athson suffered hallucinations ever since he was orphaned, including a dog no one else sees. The will in his possession, bestowed in a dream, can’t be real. But the trolls now hunting him are. A destiny, both inconvenient and unavoidable, drags Athson into an unwanted quest that challenges all his assumptions. Can he trust anyone? Sworn to secrecy by his dead father about the bow, Athson wants nothing to do with it. A dragon and a wizard want the bow – and Athson dead. Running from the quest and his destiny are tempting options. Then he finds something unexpected. Will his discovery destroy him before he recovers the bow?

Find The Bow of Destiny on Amazon in e-book, audio and print.

Also in this series:

An Arrow Against the Wind

The White Arrow

About the author

P. H. Solomon loves reading and writing fantasy of all kinds, especially epic fantasy. If a book has dragons, elves, dwarves, wizards, magic or mythical creatures, it’s in his reading zone. He lives in the greater Birmingham, AL area where he strongly dislikes yard work and sanding the deck rail. However, he performs these duties to maintain a nice home for his loved ones as well as the family’s German Shepherds. In his spare time, P. H. rides herd as a Computer Whisperer on large computers called servers (harmonica not required).

Additionally, he enjoys reading, running, most sports, and fantasy football. Having a degree in Anthropology, he also has a wide array of more “serious” interests in addition to working regularly to hone his writing. His first novel, The Bow of Destiny was named 2016 Book of the Year by Fantasia Reviews and is the first book of The Bow of Hart Saga. The sequel novel, An Arrow Against the Wind, was released in April of 2017. The third book of the series, The White Arrow, was released during October of 2017. P. H. Solomon also authored the award-winning short story, The Black Bag, which won best published short story at SCWC 2012. P. H. is also a member of Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA).

Connect with P. H. at the following locations:

Twitter   |   Facebook   |   Goodreads   |   Website   |  Bookbub   |   Pinterest   |   Amazon   |   Wattpad

Gate of The Gods #SomethingWickedTour @StoryEmpire

Hey, everyone. It’s day two of Story Empire’s Something Wicked Tour. Yesterday was so much fun! For a list of today’s stops, click this link.

Today I welcome a dear friend and fellow author Staci Troilo back to my site. Her new Astral Conspiracy Series is written under the pen name D. L. Cross. I’ve read the first two, and I guarantee you’ll love these books.

Let’s hear what Staci, AKA D. L., has to say!

Thanks for welcoming me here today, Joan.

The Gate

Ciao, amici! We’re on day two of the Story Empire Something Wicked tour. Yesterday, I discussed the significance of the Great Serpent Mound in Ohio. Today, I thought I’d go international and talk about Peru—specifically the Gate of the Gods.

(We’re still using the futuristic tech and ancient history themes. My version of the Ancient Aliens show, I suppose.)

In The Gate, the first of my five-book series, my characters head to Peru because they think they’ll find a weapon to fight the aliens. Do they? Well, I can’t say. (I mean, I obviously can, but I won’t.) But I can tell you about the Gate of the Gods.

Aramu Muru
Photo Attribution: Yurileveratto [CC BY-SA 3.0 (
This is a nearly-forgotten site in Peru near Lake Titicaca. Carved into the rock is an adult-size T-shape alcove. It’s thought to be an abandoned architectural project.

Locals refer to it as “Puerta de Hayu Marca” or “Gate of the Gods” and legends claim people have crossed through the “doorway never to be seen again. People also tell stories of strange sights, such as “tall men accompanied by glowing balls of lights walking through the doorway.”

There is a round indentation carved into the rock, the perfect size for a key (or, say, the Golden Solar Disc) to fit into. Legend says when the key is inserted into the impression, the doorway opens. On the other side? The gods, of course.

Or could it be aliens?

In the novel, I explore the ancient lore about a priest, the disc, and the doorway. It was a lot of fun mixing fact, legend, and fiction to fit an ancient locale into a futuristic novel.

Whatever the true purpose of the site, it has a great significance in my novel, The Gate, book one of my Astral Conspiracy series. If you’re curious about how I used it, I encourage you to read the book.

The Gate

He lost his job. Lost his girl. Now it’s all he can do not to lose his life.

Landon Thorne is a disgraced archaeologist, a laughing stock in his field because of his unconventional beliefs – he’s an ancient astronaut theorist. No one takes him seriously.

Until an alien armada targets Earth.

Now Landon’s in high demand – by the US government and someone far more sinister.

They race across two continents to the Gate of the Gods, the one place on Earth that might give humans an advantage over the aliens. But no one is prepared for what they’ll find.

And not everyone will make it out alive.

The Gate is the first of five novels in the Astral Conspiracy Series, part of Sterling and Stone’s Invasion Universe.

Universal Purchase Link

Red Eyes and Winged Beasts #SomethingWickedTour @StoryEmpire

Hey, everyone. I am so excited to kick off Story Empire’s Something Wicked Tour. The six Story Empire authors are visiting one another this week to talk about our books. For a complete list of today’s stops, click here.

Today I have the pleasure of hosting the lovely and talented Mae Clair. She’s here to talk about the legend of the Mothman and her book A Thousand Yesteryears. So, without further ado, here’s Mae.

Red Eyes and Winged Beasts

Hi, Joan’s readers! It’s fun to be here today kicking off my first stop of Story Empire’s Something Wicked Blog Tour.

October is a fun time that brings plenty of shivers as we draw closer to Halloween, our mind naturally drawn to things that go bump in the night. Sometimes, however, those things are seen rather than heard.

As an example, I offer one of the first original sightings of the Mothman.

dark road disappearing into the distance at night, trees line either side

On the night of November 16, 1966, Mr. and Mrs. Raymond Wamsley, along with Mrs. Marcella Bennett and her baby daughter Teena were on their way to visit Ralph and Virginia Thomas. The Thomas family lived near the TNT, an abandoned WWII munitions site located outside of Point Pleasant, West Virginia. It was on TNT grounds that Roger Scarberry, his wife and friends were chased by a giant winged creature the night before.

When the Wamsley’s and Marcella Bennett arrived at the Thomas home, they discovered Ralph and Virginia were out for the evening. They stayed a short time, chatting with the Thomas’ three children, Rickie, Connie and Vicki, then headed back to their car.

Before they could reach the vehicle, a figure slowly rose from behind it. Marcella Bennett described the thing as being big and gray, larger than a man, “with terrible glowing red eyes.” She was so terrified by the creature she dropped her daughter and froze, hypnotized by what appeared to be a winged, headless being. Raymond Wamsley scooped up the little girl (who was not hurt), snared Marcella and, along with his wife, raced back into the house. They quickly secured and bolted the door.

Within seconds, they heard a noise on the porch. Two red eyes appeared in the window, staring through the glass. The women and children broke into a panic, and Wamsley frantically called the police. By the time the authorities arrived, the creature was gone. It would not, however, be the last time it was seen. Between 1966 and 1967, there were over 100 Mothman sightings.

While writing A Thousand Yesteryears, I had the Wamsley/Beneet sighting in the back of my mind when spinning a plot thread that involves one of my main characters. A house by the TNT, red eyes staring through the windows…they both play into a tragic occurrence that affects the life of Caden Flynn.

To meet Caden, and the other characters who populate my Point Pleasant, I hope you’ll give A Thousand Yesteryears a try. The novel is the first in my Point Pleasant Series but it can be read and enjoyed as a standalone. The book—which New York times Bestselling Author, Kevin O’Brien called “Masterful, bone-chilling fiction…one intense thriller”—is a blend of fact and fiction based on historical events.

Banner ad for A Thousand Yesteryears by Mae Clair features the night sky over an old farmhouse

Behind a legend lies the truth…

As a child, Eve Parrish lost her father and her best friend, Maggie Flynn, in a tragic bridge collapse. Fifteen years later, she returns to Point Pleasant to settle her deceased aunt’s estate. Though much has changed about the once thriving river community, the ghost of tragedy still weighs heavily on the town, as do rumors and sightings of the Mothman, a local legend. When Eve uncovers startling information about her aunt’s death, that legend is in danger of becoming all too real…

Caden Flynn is one of the few lucky survivors of the bridge collapse, but blames himself for coercing his younger sister out that night. He’s carried that guilt for fifteen years, unaware of darker currents haunting the town. It isn’t long before Eve’s arrival unravels an old secret—one that places her and Caden in the crosshairs of a deadly killer…


Connect with Mae Clair at BOOKBUB and the following haunts:

Amazon | BookBub | Newsletter Sign-Up
Website| Blog | Twitter | Goodreads | All Social Media

bio box for author Mae Clair