Wednesday, December 17, 2014

{#GIVEAWAY Event} John Boos & Company Professional Cutting Board Giveaway ~ Ends 1/11

John Boos & Company Professional Cutting Board Giveaway ($130 ARV)

Sponsored BY: John Boos & Co.

Co-Hosted By:

PLUS a Big Thank You to all other blogs participating! You all rock!


Deliciously Savvy is so excited to host this giveaway! I LOVE anything "foodie" related and this is a dream come true!
 This is a professional cutting board made for chefs and chef "wannabe's" and will last a lifetime with proper use and care. It is 1 1/2 " thick and is a nice dark color. It is made of American Black Walnut and made in the USA! That is so HUGE for me! 

Now 1 LUCKY winner will receive the same cutting board valued at $130!!!

A BIG Thank You to John BOOS Co. for sponsoring this giveaway!

Here is a little about the cutting board that is up for grabs!

• American Black Walnut Edge Grain Construction • 18" Dia x 1-1/2" Thick - Reversible • Boos Block Cream Finish w/ Beeswax • Made In The USA
ARV $130


Follow John Boos Co

1 Lucky Winner will receive this Professional Cutting Board from John Boos Co. 

ARV $130

Giveaway Dates: 12/17 12AM EST until 1/11 12AM EST

Giveaway Valid for Continental US Residents ONLY and must be 18+ to enter
This giveaway is in no way endorsed, affiliated or associated with Facebook,
Twitter or any other Social Media Networking Site. This giveaway is valid only
in the Continental United States (48 states). Entrants must be 18+ years of age to enter.

This giveaway will end at 12:00 PM (EST) 01/11/15.

And Now The Giveaway!!!

{Blog Tour} Waterfall by Lacy Danes

A Dragon’s Fate Novella 
Book 1
Lacy Danes

Genre: Romance, Alternate Worlds, Paranormal, Steamy/Erotic
Publisher: Samhain Publishing
Number of pages: 138
Word Count: 38K
Cover Artist: Kanaxa    

Book Description: 

It’s easy to fall in love. Destiny requires tooth and claw. 

Curses are designed to be cruel, but the one afflicting Jordan and his brothers  is almost beyond bearing. A dragon born by blood magic, he is an immortal  trapped in human form, with only one hope of finding his eternal mate. He must  bite her—and pray she lives. 

One dark night, he senses the wounded heartbeat of a woman in the shadows, begging him to end her life. Ever the gentleman, he chivalrously obliges her wish. Only to discover three days later that she lives. And has married another. 

Celeste always dreamed of marrying for love, but the nightmare of living in her father’s home drives her to wed the Duke of Hudson. Yet on her wedding eve, she is compelled to follow a mysterious man who professes to know her secret. A man with curious blue scales on his muscular arms—whose shadowed eyes reflect a dangerous mix of destiny and desire… 

Warning: This novel contains explicit sex, sex in water, four super-hot dragon brothers, and a curse born from magical power that has left them wondering who they are all their lives.

  Samhain     BN  l   Amazon   l iTunes l   Google Books


Carefully stepping around scattered, fractured boards, trunks and lengths of tangled rope, Jordan and Ferrous neared the last grouping of rocks at the trees’ edge. Jordan sighed. About time.

A faint heartbeat crawled out of the obscure shadows, stalked up his spine. Something lived from this bloody mess. Though barely.

Jordan stilled.

Ferrous turned to the left. “I feel it too.”

Jordan followed.

On the opposite side of the rocks, jagged boards bumped, clattering against a boulder. A mass of tangled human remains bobbed and swayed with each lap of water against the shore.

From this mess, a heartbeat cried. Jordan closed his eyes and sighed as his stomach flipped. He would find it. He stepped into the water amid the carnage and shuddered. I must move as hastily as possible. I can do this. The sound of life grasped him as if a hand itself clasped his flesh. He flinched, then turned to the left.

An arm’s length away, half in the water, lay a woman. Her limbs were twisted and broken, as if made of nothing more than weeds. A man’s head, severed from the body it had once belonged to, floated close to her hand. Jordan’s heart pinched, and the scales on his elbows prickled anew.

No one deserved to be half alive after experiencing a tragedy such as this. He stepped up next to her, knocking the human debris away with his boot. He leaned down and wrapped one hand about her slim, bare shoulders. The other he slid beneath her knees, fisting up a handful of her full skirts. She should have drowned in such a garment. He lifted her, pulling her body up against his.

She hung like a sack of barley in his grasp. Her long, wet skirts and hair trailed cold water in a stream, trickling over the rocks and babbling down into his boots. He turned and stumbled along the slag toward the trees.

Ferrous turned after him. “She won’t live, Jordan.” He strode behind him. “Leave her.”

Her clothing, laden with seawater, soaked his coat in blood. Was it hers or the rotting blood of the pool in which she had lain? He shook his head. Don’t think about the stench. He grimaced. Think about her.

Ferrous was right. She would never live.

He fell to his knees and laid her on the high grass that bordered the trees. Her dress was that of an aristocrat, finely tailored with small pearls and embroidery now torn open down to her flesh in several places. Her hair had been swept up with the sun, golden rays that now hid beneath a cloud of red death. “I will end her suffering.” Yes, that was the correct thing to do.

“For bloody sake, Jordan. You are not to indulge unless you have an inkling she may be the one. There are no exceptions to our rules. Look what happens to Ilmir when he breaks one. Who knows what calamity awaits us in London.”

Jordan’s jaw clenched, and he narrowed his eyes, refusing to look at Ferrous, who stood behind him. “This is different, and you damn well know it. I am not Ilmir, and she is not a woman I am courting. She is dying.”

“Being chivalrous?” Ferrous threw up his hands, grumbled and walked through the trees back toward the shore. “Make haste. I wish to make this hellish scene vanish this hellish scene and be to London to deal with Ilmir.”

Did Ferrous truly think he wanted to do this? To kill another woman was the last thing he wished. Twenty years had passed… Jordan inhaled a deep breath and blew it out between tense lips. He ran his fingers down her pale cheek and around her chin, tilting her face toward his. A slender nose, full, angelic lips, and noble cheekbones. A beauty. “To a better afterlife, dear.”

He raised her chin, exposing her long, graceful neck and faintly beating pulse. Another death…

Dash it. He stared unblinking at the slight flutter of her blood beneath her skin. Relax, Jordan. He closed his eyes and exhaled. All will be well.

Prickling pain clawed through the roof of his mouth as his two pointed teeth extended into thin slivers of bone. He stared down at her neck. She had been floating in blood and seawater. He spit on her neck, twice. His saliva glimmered as it slid down her throat to the grass below. There, that should wash away the dirt she had stewed in. Or would it? His throat tightened. Don’t lick her. Be done with it.

He leaned in and pressed his teeth to her vein. His mouth opened, saliva pooled heavily, and his tongue thickened. The pouches by his back teeth filled with poisonous blood, forcing his jaw still wider. He inhaled a jagged breath. His heart leapt and pounded, vibrating through his entire being…

Bite her, Jordan. Be done with it. Bite her.

Her faint pulse bumped against his teeth, willing him to take her as his mate. Mate? Well, that urge was pointless. She would pass just as swiftly as the others. He rolled his lip back and hissed, then pressed, slicing through her soft, salty outer skin and into her tepid blood flowing below.

She didn’t flinch.

This was the first time he had taken a woman when he was not passionately joined with her. Odder yet not to have her scream. To have her do nothing but lie on the wilted grass.

He swallowed. Dirt be damned, he needed to taste her and know that one essence of the life he now took. He fluttered his tongue on her smooth skin. Warm, salty blood slid thickly down his tongue. Damn. His muscles quivered as his poisonous blood streamed from his pouches and down his teeth, twisting into her veins. His cock pressed painfully hard against his thigh.

The task was done. There would be no more. He would not take his pleasure in her. He would not know the feel of her flesh against his. He would never know her favorite color. This woman, like all the others who had come before, was not meant to be his. Enough!

He growledand opened his mouth wide. Her soft flesh slipped from his fangs. He pulled his head back, and their mixed blood trailed in streams down her neck and dress. His vision shifted and popped. Adrenaline mixed with power bubbled through his veins. This…this, he had missed.

This was what he was meant to be. His full elemental power at a glimpse. He tossed his hair back and then growled a dragon’s cry up to where the moon should hang in a radiant, colored vision. Yet only the ebony fog resided tonight. There was no moon to lighten this scene. His vision rippled with detailed clarity. Ah. Indeed. This was the power that years of existence without his mate had diminished. He wanted this power back. It had been too long. In a burst of speckled light, everything changed back to somber mist. Bloody hell. His throat closed off, and his eyes burned. No! He swallowed hard, and his shoulders sagged. This was a tease. A temptation.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. He would never know more of what the Zir were than this… Death and a glimpse of the exhilarating power they were destined to have.

He inhaled and smelled her metallic, sweet blood on his lips. His tongue traced his teeth and upper lip, gathering up the enslaving essence. Sweet orange blossoms and candied cherries. His made-up version of what she should taste like. Remember her. His jaw trembled as hot blood pounded through him to his groin. His soul wanted more of her. To mate. To love. To live a lifetime of companionship.

He clenched his teeth, and his fangs pierced his lower lip. You have done enough to end her suffering. Quite enough. Let her be. He opened his eyes once more.

A shadow shaped as Ferrous stood head down and arms straight out in the air at the rocks’ edge. “Make haste. I wait no more.”

Jordan placed her head softly back on the grass. “Will scant be a moment more of pain, beauty.” He trailed his hand down her broken arm to a heavy, thick bracelet looping her wrist. He unclasped the chain and slowly rubbed the metal between his fingers. His token of her death. He tucked the jewelry in his inner coat pocket, then rose to his full height. Turning to his left, he skulked into the inky woods.

About the Author:

Lacy Danes made a New Year's resolution to write a hot, historical romance. 

A year and a half later, she achieved her goal. She lives in Portland, Oregon, where besides writing she enjoys playing cards, chasing her kids around, and savoring a great martini with the man of her dreams all while watching the world go by. 

Visit Lacy at her web site l Twitter l Facebook

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Tuesday, December 16, 2014

{#GIVEAWAY Event} Neater Feeder Giveaway ~ Ends 1/5

Neater Feeder Giveaway ~ (Winner Receives Color/Size Of Their Choice)


Sponsored By: Neater Feeder

Hosted By: Deliciously Savvy

Co-Hosted By:

Plus a BIG Thank You to all other blogs helping to promote this giveaway!

Deliciously Savvy was able to try out this awesome pet feeding dish and I don't know how I ever lived without it! 

Now one lucky winner will receive a Neater Feeder in their choice of color and size. 

They have the perfect size Neater Feeder for all of your pets! Check Neater Feeder Out HERE

A Big Thank You To Neater Feeder For Sponsoring This Giveaway!

Follow Neater Feeder On


Giveaway Dates: 12/15 12AM EST until 1/05 12AM EST

Giveaway Valid for Continental US Residents ONLY and must be 18+ to enter

This giveaway is in no way endorsed, affiliated or associated with Facebook,
Twitter or any other Social Media Networking Site. This giveaway is valid only
in the Continental United States (48 states). Entrants must be 18+ years of age to enter.
This giveaway will end at 12:00 AM (EST) on 1/05/15.

And Now The Giveaway!!!

{Blog Tour w/ #GIVEAWAY} Dead Jed 2: Dawn of the Jed by Scott Craven

Dead Jed 2:  Dawn of the Jed 
by Scott Craven

Title: Dead Jed 2: Dawn of the Jed
Publication date: December 9, 2014
Publisher: Month9Books, LLC.
Author: Scott Craven

The first part of seventh grade was rough on Jed, but things are looking up now that Christmas is almost here. As with past Christmases, Jed asks for the one thing he’s always wanted–a dog–and again, his parents tell him they’re not ready. But fate has a different plan when Jed sees a dog get run over by a car. Then, it happens. Jed suddenly has a pet, Tread, a zombie dog bearing his namesake–a tire tread down his back. Jed may have gained a dog, but he loses his best friend Luke, who fears the way Jed created his undead pet.

When Jed returns to school, he finds a mysterious group called the No Zombies Now Network spreading rumors of the dangers the undead pose to normal people. Forced to disprove Hollywood stereotypes, Jed has his work cut out for him as stories of a zombie dog begin to circulate. Jed could be expelled if he can’t expose the NZN Network as a fraud. Jed needs help from his kind of girlfriend Anna, especially after he discovers Luke has joined the shadowy group.

Once again navigating the treacherous waters of middle school, Jed does his best to stay in one piece. Only this time he’ll need even more duct tape and staples than usual.

Purchase Links:
Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Chapters Indigo! | TBD | IndieBound

Guest Post:

How did you come up with the thought of a zombie dog?

The real question is, how could I not have come up with the idea of a zombie dog? When I hit upon the idea for the second book, I was mad at myself for not putting one in the first book. But as it turned out, the second book was the ideal time to tell of the un-death of a kid’s best friend.

I grew up with dogs, and my favorite part of the day was being greeted at the door by someone happy to see me (you’d think that would be my mom, but not when I tromped in mud). Misty had no idea I’d just spent half my middle-school day shoved in a locker, and she’d put a smile on my face in seconds.

Jed, too, could use a dog. But not just any dog. I figured if I could create a normal zombie kid who just wanted to fit in, why not a zombie dog who could care less if he fit in? Like any dog, Tread lives undeadness to the fullest, whether he’s tearing off his tail to bury it, or jumping on Jed in ways they may both lose limbs.

As I wrote the scene introducing the new character, I actually stumbled onto the perfect name. Sometimes, good stuff just happens.

For those wondering if a zombie cat is on the way – probably not. How do you tell a zombie cat from a normal cat? Am I right?


Proud graduate of Cal Poly, San Luis Obispo, have one son who will turn 18 in March 2013, now a features writer for The Arizona Republic.

Connect with the Author:  Website | Twitter 


 Five (5) winners will receive a digital copy of Dead Jed 2: Dawn of the Jed by Scott Craven (INT)

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{Book Blitz w/ #GIVEAWAY} Stolen Fate (The Mythean Arcana Book 4) by Linsey Hall

Stolen Fate
The Mythean Arcana 
Book 4
Linsey Hall

Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Bonnie Doon Press
ISBN: 9781942085300
Number of pages: 152
Word Count: 38,000
Cover Artist: Damonza

Book Description:

Fiona Blackwood is losing her mind

Fiona is an Acquirer, an immortal who uses magic to hunt for ancient artifacts. Ever since she failed to live up to her fate and find the Book of Worlds, she’s been shunned by those around her. Worse, she’s slowly losing her mind as her subconscious keeps trying to accomplish her fated task. When she’s presented with one last chance to find the Book of Worlds and thus save her sanity, she’ll stop at nothing to accomplish her goal. 

Ian MacKenzie has been in hell 

For more than one hundred years, Ian has been locked in a nightmarish prison. An accomplished thief, he was thrown into hell for failing to maintain the secrecy of his magical race. When Fiona presents him with an opportunity for escape, he’ll do anything it takes to ensure that it’s permanent, even if it means betraying the woman he’s grown to care for. 

A dark force could tear them apart 

As Fiona and Ian get closer to finding the book, they learn that there’s more at stake than they ever imagined – like the fate of the world. When their task threatens to tear them apart, they’ll have to make the ultimate decision: life, or love? 

Available at Amazon



Blisteringly hot hellwinds scraped across Ian MacKenzie’s flesh as he hoisted the great stone block into place. His muscles burned as he shoved it into position, and the manacle affixed to his ankle cut into his flesh. Why they made them wear these things, he had no idea. It wasn’t like the prisoners were going to flee.
A desert wasteland stretched out as far as he could see, burning sands surrounding the cathedral they built in hell. Certain death awaited them in the desert, which was saying something for an immortal. It was nearly impossible to destroy the body of one of their kind, but the hellish afterworld called Moloch could do it.
“It’s wrong.” The voice of the overseer boomed from behind him.
Rage burned in Ian’s chest, searing his ribs and lungs like hell’s fire. It was always wrong. The great stone walls of the partially constructed cathedral soared above him. He called it a cathedral, but he had no idea what it truly was. No one ever told the prisoners what they were building. But the labyrinthine structure was never up to the standards of the designers.
“Do it again.”
Ian ground his teeth and picked up the sledgehammer that he used so often it was driving him mad. He swung it at the stone wall, pain singing up his arms when the hammer connected with the stone. Something in his soul tore away as he destroyed the wall over which he’d toiled.
He kept up the motion until the voice of an overseer echoed across the red sands.
Thank gods. His muscles burned, his skin stung from the hellwinds, and his mind felt near-fractured from the constant repetitive toil of build, destroy, build, destroy. One of the three overseers unlocked the chain at his ankle and Ian followed the other prisoners, a dozen of them in total, to the departure area. It was nothing more than a patch of sand guarded by two of the overseers. He joined the rest of the men in line to be transported back to the prison. 
When he reached the front of the line, the third overseer appeared out of the air. Ian didn’t bother to look at him as the cloaked man gripped his upper arm and aetherwalked him back to the Immortal University’s Prison for Magical Deviants in Edinburgh, Scotland. 
Ian cursed the aether, that ephemeral substance that connected earth and the afterworlds, as the heavens and hells of all the true religions were called. Select Mytheans—supernatural individuals who lived secretly alongside humans—were able to travel through it. It allowed the overseers to transport him from the hellish prison to the even more hellish afterworld every day for his work shift.
As soon as he was shoved into his small stone cell back at the prison, his skin began to feel tight. The walls closed in on him immediately, as they always did.
Ever since he’d been thrown in here, life had alternated between the painful misery of toiling at the cathedral on Moloch and the claustrophobic hell of his cell. His mind felt like it was about to crack from the strain.
He scrubbed a hand over his face and grimaced at the grit. He felt like little more than an animal as he walked to the shower in the corner. It was no more than a hose over a drain, but it washed away the dirt carried by the hellwind.
He pulled on another pair of the ubiquitous black pants and sweater that he’d been wearing every day for nearly a century and settled onto his bunk to count the stones that made up the walls. And dream about the past.
Ian jerked when the door to his prison cell swung open. That was off-schedule. Nothing was ever off-schedule at the prison. 
He surged to his feet and watched the burly prison warden escort a small figure into the cell. 
His breath caught in his throat and his spine stiffened.
It was a woman. 
Every muscle in his body tightened. He hadn’t seen a woman in nearly a hundred years. And this one was pretty.
Her shining brown hair was pulled back from her face, and she wore trousers. And a tight leather jacket. Gods. Times had changed.
He dragged a hand over his mouth as his gaze traced from thighs to hips to breasts, devouring. The fabric clung to curves and muscles, so different from the gowns of the women he’d seen when he’d last been a free man.
An attractive woman used to make him stand up straighter, adjust his cravat. The vanity that he’d possessed before his interminable prison sentence didn’t stir. But the rest of him did. Made him want to kick the guard out the door and get to know her better.
 “To what do I owe the pleasure?” His eyes raced over her face when she stopped a few feet in front of him. Strong features and a determined gaze. She had an expression that looked like she’d roll over anyone who got in her way. 
“Can we have some privacy?” she asked the warden.
The idiot in his pants twitched at that. He shifted so that it wasn’t evident.
“I’ll be just outside the door.” The guard leveled a warning glance at Ian. He left the door cracked behind him.
Her gaze met his. Steely eyes—both in color and hardness—searched his own. 
It made him wonder what she saw. Once, he knew she would have seen someone stylish, wealthy, good with words. A man with a silver tongue who knew how to get what he wanted. 
He didn’t see that man in the mirror anymore, and he had the feeling that, on the day he finally got out of this damned place, that man wouldn’t return. 
No, she’d see a harder man, half animal by now. Shaped by his time in prison like a canyon carved out by a river. The qualities of that man, well, even he wasn’t familiar with them. 
 “I’m Fiona Blackwood.” Her accent was local like his, and he assumed she’d grown up in Edinburgh, too. Though the prison contained inmates and staff from all over the globe, her Scottish burr was distinct. She didn’t reach out to shake his hand. 
It reminded him of what he’d become and that there was no reason to engage in the social pleasantries that were once second nature. “Ian MacKenzie.” 
“You’re in here for blowing up the west wing of the Scottish Museum of Antiquities,” she said.
He shrugged. “Aye.”
Her jaw clenched. Apparently she didn’t like his blasé attitude about the catastrophic damage he and his partner Logan had caused while trying to rob the museum a hundred years ago. It should have been an ordinary job, but their magic had gotten out of hand. 
“That’s it? You doona feel terrible that you destroyed ten thousand years of history? Bronze age swords and jewelry? Viking hoards and medieval art?” she demanded.
“Aye, of course. I wanted to sell them. Blowing them up and getting locked in here wasn’t part of the plan.”
She huffed a disgusted sigh. Didn’t like that, did she?
“What do you know about the enchantments at the museum?” she asked.
Everything. But he didn’t give anyone anything. The habit had started early in his life, back when he hadn’t had anything to give. When he finally had, he couldn’t see the point. It was no way to survive. “And why would I give you that information?” 
“I could get you out of here, if you’re interested.”
The muscles in his shoulders tightened. He tried to force them to relax, to hide the thrill her words elicited. He had so damn little power in this place already, he hated to give away any more by showing how much he wanted what she offered.
But it was foolish, wasn’t it? Of course he wanted out of this endless hell. 
“Could you, now?” He tried to stifle the raw desire in his voice.
“Aye. If you help me get past the enchantments. You’re the only Mythean who can get through the museum, from what I hear.”
“And how did you hear that?” Only one person knew about that, and Ian had nearly given up hope that Logan would get him out of here.
“A thief that I’ve been looking for tipped me off that there’s something I want verra badly inside that museum.” Her voice shook, betraying the depth of her desire for whatever the museum kept from her. “And he said that you know how to get through the enchantments that protect the vault.”
Logan. Ian focused, straining not to reveal the thrill that ran through him. Was this the day Logan would finally get him out? Whatever the plan, he was in if it meant an escape. “Aye. I can get through the enchantments.”
“You’re sure?” She sounded doubtful.
“Of course. I put them there, did I no’?”
“Why the hell would you enchant a mortal museum? What the hell were you thinking?” Her voice gave away how incredibly stupid she thought he was. Mytheans were forbidden from revealing their existence to mortals. As long as a Mythean looked human, he could walk among mortals, interact with them—hell, even sleep with them. As long as he never let the mortals know that the things that went bump in the night were actually real.
Break that rule, and the Immortal University would come down on your head and toss you into this hell for as long as they saw fit. They took their job of protecting the secrecy of their kind seriously. Though many Mytheans possessed powers that mortals could only dream of, they were vastly outnumbered. If the witch hunts had taught Mytheans anything, it was that it was best not to spook the mortals.
He had most definitely spooked the mortals.
“What did you hope to gain by enchanting the museum exhibits?” she prodded.
Ian snapped out of the memory of arcs of magic shooting across Edinburgh’s night sky, billowing plumes of purple smoke blocking out the moon, and mortals running screaming through the streets. “Why do you care?”
“If I’m going to get you out of this hellhole, I want to know what landed you here in the first place. The only thing on record is that you blew up the museum and alerted dozens of mortals to the existence of magic. It was a shit show. The university had to wipe memories and put down the mortals who were too stubborn to forget what they saw. But you’ve never said why you blew it up in the first place, and I’m guessing it has to do with the enchantments that Logan told me about.”
No, he’d never said why the museum had blown up. The university hadn’t cared. All they’d cared about was the explosion and who was responsible. They’d thrown him in here and hadn’t looked back. 
If it would help him get out of here, he’d tell her anything she wanted to know. “I made a living stealing artifacts. Mortal artifacts sell quite well on the black market. My preferred museum was the Scottish Museum of Antiquities. Eventually, other thieves decided it was prime hunting ground as well. I enchanted the museum exhibits to stop my competitors before they got to the best bits stored in the vault. The enchantments only activate in the presence of Mytheans. The museum blew up that night because other thieves tried to use counter-magic. Something went wrong.”
“So Logan was your partner?”
“Nay.” It was a lie, but no way in hell was he ratting out his friend. The night that the museum had blown up, Logan had managed to escape. Ian, knocked unconscious in the blast and buried under an enormous pile of rubble, had not. “What’s there that you want so bad?”
“The Book of Worlds. Mortals have it in the museum.”
“What’s that?”
Her jaw slackened. “How could you no' know about it?”
“Never had any reason to know about it.” He folded his arms over his chest.  He hadn’t had the same education as most Mytheans growing up. It had bothered him once, but no longer. Prison had hardened that type of concern right out of him.
“Well, it’s the single most important book in the world. To Mytheans and to mortals, though they doona even know it exists. It’s a record of all the true religions.”
“Interesting, but what’s the big deal? Mortals would no' believe it anyway. They’re too stubborn.” 
Though Mytheans were the creatures of myth made real by mortal belief, mortals had no idea. They still fought over the one true god or the one true afterlife. They’d never accept that mortal belief had birthed everything from the gods to mythic creatures like witches and demons to the afterworlds where mortals went after death. It’d be terrifying to realize, particularly since Mytheans now existed independent of mortal belief.
“In the back of the book is a covenant signed by all the gods—Greek, Norse, Hindu, Christian, all of them—promising no' to interfere on earth to gain more followers or more power. If it’s destroyed…” She gave him a loaded look.
“The gods would no longer be bound by their promise,” he said.
“Exactly. They could come to earth and wage divine war. No’ all pantheons are power hungry, but it’s in the nature of gods to seek worshippers. Many of the ancient gods’ followers are dead, and they miss the adulation. They’ll seek new ones, here on earth. And of course the mortals will fight amongst themselves to prove which god is best.”
He whistled low. So not only was the book real, it was important. Damned valuable, too. His fingertips tingled.
“Why is the book in the museum?” It hadn’t been there when he’d been a free man or he’d have stolen it.
“I doona know. And Logan will no’ tell me unless I get your help in retrieving it. He thinks my only way into the museum is with your help. I can get you out of here for the time it takes to retrieve the book. After that, depending on your behavior, the university will reopen your case and consider an early release.”
His fists clenched. “The university does no’ change its mind. I’m in here for another two centuries.”
“They might. And this is your only chance.” Her voice was hard, but desperation crept in at the edges. 
She was lying about the university, and she wanted this. Very, very badly. Why, he wasn’t sure. But he was her only shot if she wanted to get past the enchantments he’d placed on the museum.
“Well?” she asked, a brow arched. “Are you going to help me?”
He nodded. No question—he’d take any opportunity to get out of here. He’d see what Logan had planned, and if that didn’t pan out he could just steal the book for himself and barter his release. Either way, freedom, that elusive dream that was once so far away, was too close now to prolong it with questions. Questions could wait. Everything could wait, until he was on the outside. 
“Good.” She reached into the bag at her side and pulled out a circular piece of metal. She held it up. “You’ll have to wear this.”
Fuck. A gods-damned collar.
“It’s been spelled so that you canna get more than ten meters from me. You also will no’ be able to use your invisibility. That had to be added specially to the collar. But considering your talents, I think it’s worth it.”
An angry flush crept into his cheeks. Collared like a damned dog. Like a pet. That’d kill any chance he had of escaping. He realized that she was watching him with calm gray eyes, as if she knew how much this pissed him off.
“Will it negate my other powers?” he asked. He had a mixed bag of talents, courtesy of his Historius and Sylph parents. The Historius side allowed him to find ancient, valuable artifacts and work a little magic, while the Sylph side allowed him to become invisible even though he wasn’t a full-blooded air spirit.
“Your Historius talents will remain, but it will diminish your strength and speed a bit, so that you canna turn on me.” Her face hardened.
“Fine.” He jerked his head. Even without his Mythean strength, he was far stronger than a mortal. He was stepping into another prison, but at least this new one didn’t have four walls. It would make stealing the book more difficult, but he’d worry about the damned collar when he got out of here.
“Good.” She stepped toward him.
The clean scent of her—no perfumes or fragrant lotions—wrapped around him. Soap, her skin. Nothing more. When he’d lain in bed at night, alone, so fucking alone, he’d dreamed of all the things a woman could be. The shape, sound, smell of her—in his mind, it had always been sweet scents, flowers and perfume. 
But this woman smelled of none of what he’d wanted for so long. Yet she had ensnared his mind all the same, lighting up long-neglected needs. She stood so close he imagined that he could feel the heat of her radiating against his arm. It made his skin prickle with awareness.
The guard stepped into the room. “Everything all right?”
“Fine.” Fiona pinned him with a steely gaze, trying to take control of the situation. To take control of him.
He held out a palm. “I can put it on.”
He didn’t want her to collar him.
“I have to do it. It’s part of the spell, so that it knows I’m the one it canna leave.”
He frowned, then jerked his head in assent, and she stepped closer. Effortlessly, she broke the collar in two and raised the halves of dull metal. Every muscle in his body tightened as her arms neared, anticipation and nerves burning through him. The reaction pissed him off. 
There’d been a time when he’d been the one in control, able to move a woman with his charm. Make her melt, make her want, make her. No longer. Prison had taken his smoothness and turned it into jagged need.
She was so close it made his muscles tense up and his cock harden. Her gaze was riveted to his neck. He could feel the guard watching the strangely intimate moment as she clipped the two halves in place around his neck. Her fingers brushed against him, hot as a burn, and his nerves lit up all the way to his cock, like a live wire connected the halves. He sucked in a breath to get himself under control. The metal, only a centimeter in diameter, rested at the base of his throat, heavy and obnoxiously symbolic.
“Done,” she said. “Now me.”
His eyes snapped to hers. She handed him a smaller circle of metal. A bracelet. 
Too bad. He wouldn’t mind collaring her. 
He took it and she held out a wrist. “They’ll link us. If you exceed the ten meters’ distance, your body will freeze up.”
“Will yours?” Sounded like a dangerous damned device if they were in a bad way. He’d be trapped.
“Nay. And I’m the only one who can remove your collar.”
So she was the one he’d have to convince to remove it. He drew in a deep breath and broke the bracelet in two as he’d seen her do with the collar. Though it had looked like a solid circle of iron, it broke easily in two places. He raised the pieces to her wrist, both desperate to put the thing on as quickly as possible and to stroke the pale skin of her wrist. 
He clipped it on her and stepped back, his eyes lingering on the circle of metal that linked her to him.
“Good. We’ll go.” She turned and headed for the door.
That was it? He was free to walk out? Just follow behind this no-nonsense woman and out into the sunlight? 
Fine by him. He followed his savior out the door, his mind buzzing with the possibility of freedom. Fiona, she’d said. Tough, and a little bit ruthless from the look in her steel-gray eyes. 
But damned if he didn’t like her. Hard not to—she was getting him out of this place.

About the Author:

Linsey Hall is the author of the Mythean Arcana, a sexy paranormal romance series. Before becoming a romance novelist, Linsey was an underwater archaeologist who studied shipwrecks in all kinds of water, from the tropics to muddy rivers (and she has a distinct preference for one over the other). Her books draw upon her love of history, travel, and the paranormal elements that she can't help but include. 

Several of her books may or may not feature her cats.

Tour giveaway 

$30 Amazon gift card


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Monday, December 15, 2014

{Release Blitz w/ #GIVEAWAY} Feel by Karen-Anne Stewart

Karen-Anne Stewart

Genre:  New Adult Paranormal Romance 
Suspense /Contemporary
Date of Publication:  December 15th, 2014.
ISBN:  978-1502757746
Number of pages: 276 
Word Count:  94,000 

Book Description:  

The one whose emotions I can’t feel is the one who makes me feel the most.

I was a sensitive, at least that’s what I was told by the boy who saved me from the overwhelming emotions that consumed my soul, the boy who saved me from myself when my gift became stronger. Through the years, he was my redemption, my reason to take my next breath…then, he was gone.

Jensen always told me I was strong, but I didn’t believe him until I was forced to be strong on my own, and I kept breathing without him. I’ve taken 42 million breaths since the moment he sent me away. Now, four years later, he’s standing in front of me, and I can barely breathe.

This isn’t just a story about the abilities I possess; it’s a story about something much stronger…the love of the man who possesses every part of me.

Disclaimer – Feel is intended for readers 18+ due to strong language, mature scenes, and some violence.

Book Trailer:

Available at Amazon


   “He’s going to act soon.  We don’t have time to wait on a team to arrive.  Andy and I will handle him,” I tell Darrin, one of the best men I know, aside from Andy, before closing the phone.  Leaning against the side of the van, I groan.  This bastard is good and that is thoroughly pissing me off right now.
  “Jensen, I’ve got one for you,” Andy states, stepping out of the van and slamming the door I opened behind him, “but, I’m warning you, she’s got a mouth on her that rivals mine, man.” 
   “She?”  Banging my head against the van, I let out another groan, “You took a girl?” 
   “Your southern gentleman manners need to stand down on this one.  This girl’s got that sweet accent, too, but don’t let that fool you; she’ll shove her fist down your throat while kicking you hard in the balls.  She unleashed some dirty southern charm on me and I had to restrain her.”  
   “You tied her up?” Pushing Andy aside, I go to open the door, “Shit, Andy, since when did we start taking girls and tying them up?” 
   “Since this girl bit the hell out of me,” Andy grumbles. 
   Giving Andy a glare letting him know this discussion is far from over, I slide the door the rest of the way open and freeze.  The entire world stops when I see the dark caramel eyes that have haunted me every damn night staring back at me.  A thousand thoughts spin through my head, but I can’t seem to form one coherent word as my chest aches from memories.  Flashes of the best moments in my life play on fast forward in my mind, right up until the worst night of my existence strikes me like a bolt of lightning.  “Saige,” I finally manage to rasp.
   “Holy shit,” Andy lets out a low whistle, “so, she’s the one?” 
   Ignoring Andy, I watch the one girl who consumed me, healed me, fuckin’ wrecked me, slowly blink as she looks at me so intently, it feels she’s staring straight into my soul, just like she’s done a million times before.  Her eyes are different now…guarded?  Sad? Hours or a few seconds pass.  I don’t know which, before she releases the lip she’s been absently chewing on and speaks in that soft voice that used to bring me to my knees, “Can you please cut me loose?” 
   Shaking through the fog, I glance at her bound wrists.  Shit. “Of course,” I blurt, grabbing my knife.  As I place my hand on the tape, my fingers brush against her hand and she inhales sharply, looking away.  The sorrow in her eyes doesn’t go unnoticed, lancing my heart and sending me back to the night I sent her away, the night I felt like I lost my soul.  “Hold still, okay?” I say as I slice through her bonds, quickly taking her hands in mine and rubbing her red wrists with my thumbs.  “I’m sorry Andy restrained you,” I begin, but my voice trails as I look at her, not knowing what in the hell to say after all this time.  She’s beautiful.  She’s always been beautiful but, now, she’s…breathtaking.   
   Saige looks at my hands holding hers and slowly swallows.  I never thought I would touch her again, and she feels just like I remember, better than I remember.  
   Andy clears his throat, and I know I’m going to catch hell later but I don’t care.  The only thing that matters right now is the woman I’ve thought about every day for the last four years.  
   I open my arms to pull her to me, needing to feel her closer, to make sure she’s really here. “Damn, I’ve missed you,” I breathe, tangling my fingers in her hair as I brush my lips against her temple. 
  “Don’t,” Saige whispers, pulling away, “please, don’t touch me.” 
   The raw pain in her voice makes me want to hold her, protect her, but I’m the one who caused her pain.  My chest aches seeing her hurting.  I reach for her again, but she pushes me away, anger replacing the sorrow in her eyes.  

About the Author:

Karen-Anne Stewart  is an author of New Adult Romance who doesn't shy away from writing about sensitive issues and hot heroes.

She has always adored reading and has now fallen in love with writing. Her written works are The Rain Trilogy: Saving Rain, Healing Rain, and After the Rain, and the newly released standalone novel, Ash to Steele. Her debut novel, Saving Rain: The First Novel in The Rain Trilogy, was a nominee for the Book Junkie’s Choice Awards, and Saving Rain and After the Rain were nominees for the 2014 RONE Awards. 

When Karen-Anne isn’t writing, she enjoys spending time with her family and friends, hiking, and visiting new places. She fuels her addiction of creating new stories by her only other addiction, caffeine, and listening to a myriad of musical genres. Tucked away near the Blue Ridge Mountains, Karen-Anne lives with her husband, daughter, three dogs, and their cat. She plans on writing new adult romance as long as her fingers maintain dexterity. 

Tour giveaway 

1 free e-book copy of Feel (winner must be 18+) and a $15 Amazon gift card

5 ecopies of Feel (winner must be 18+)

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{Release Day Blitz w/ #GIVEAWAY}The Debt Collector: Season 2 by Susan Kaye Quinn

Debt Collector 1
Susan Kaye Quinn

Genre: Urban Fantasy with a Cyberpunk Twist
 Date of Publication: Mar 2013
Number of pages: 48
Word Count: 12,000 words
Cover Artist: Steven Novak

Book Description:

What's your life worth on the open market?

In this gritty urban fantasy, debt collectors take your life energy and give it to someone more "worthy"... all while paying the price with black marks on their souls.

Lirium plays the part of the grim reaper well, with his dark trenchcoat, jackboots, and the black marks on his soul that every debt collector carries. He's just in it for his cut, the ten percent of the life energy he collects before he transfers it on to the high potentials, the people who will make the world a better place with their brains, their work, and their lives.

That hit of life energy, a bottle of vodka, and a visit from one of Madam Anastazja's sex workers keep him alive, stable, and mostly sane... until he collects again. But when his recovery ritual is disrupted by a sex worker who isn't what she seems, he has to choose between doing an illegal hit for a girl whose story has more holes than his soul or facing the bottle alone--a dark pit he's not sure he'll be able to climb out of again.

***first episode of the nine-part serial***

"Absolutely riveting!"

"Quinn has a way of writing heart-breaking characters."

"You'll be holding your breath, looking over your shoulder, and begging for more."

Contains mature content and themes.

Book Trailer:

Available at Amazon


2014 Semi-Finalist in Science Fiction in the Kindle Book Awards

It is recommended that you start with the first season, but each season is a complete story for that debt collector and can serve as an entry point to the series. There are five planned seasons in the Debt Collector series, the first four each from the perspective of a different debt collector with the fifth season bringing all four together.


Season One - Lirium – COMPLETE

Episodes 1-9: Delirium, Agony, Ecstasy, Broken, Driven, Fallen, Promise, Ruthless, Passion

Season Two - Wraith **available for pre-order** releases 12.15.14

Episodes 10-18: Wraith, Specter, Menace, Temptation, Shattered, Penance, Judgment, Corruption, Atonement


My jackboots are new, the latest ultra-light material out of Hong Kong’s synthetics district, and they make a strange squeaking sound against the hospital floor. It’s the kind of sound that might gather snickers or a raised eyebrow, but no one looks at me, at least not on purpose. I stroll past the ICU desk, taking my time, breathing in the antiseptic smell that masks the odor of death held back by machines and drugs and round-the-clock care. The nurses duck their heads and study their charts, ignoring me. As if catching my eye might mean I’m coming to collect their debt, rather than Mr. Henry’s in Room 301.
The floor is so highly polished that I see the reflection of my trenchcoat running ahead of me, black as a midnight grave, a spook that lives on the surface of the oft-scrubbed tiles. It reaches the door to 301 before me and disappears in the dim, flickering light coming from the room. The spook has gone back where he belongs, into the dark recesses of my soul, assuming I still have one. If I was a betting man, I would say the odds of having a soul keep getting longer with every transfer I do. The older debt collectors, the ones who are still alive, don’t have anything shining out of their dull-glass eyes, even when they’re hyped up on a transfer. There’s no telling what my eyes look like.
I stopped looking in the mirror a long time ago.
Mr. Henry’s hooked up in all the usual places—tubes in his arms and monitor patches hovering over his temples and the blue-veined skin of his chest. His knobbed knees and shriveled legs stick out the end of the blanket. I don’t know if he’s tossed the blanket aside or the nurses just forgot to cover him up again after his sponge bath or whatever they do to prepare patients for a debt transfer. Goosebumps raise the hair on what’s left of his legs into a small forest of gray fur. I tug the thin, white-weave blanket over his exposed legs, and Mr. Henry opens his eyes.
They’re pale green and watery—washed out and used up like the rest of him.
“You’ve come for me,” he says.
I pick up one of the hard-backed, plastic hospital chairs, the kind that makes you uncomfortable sticking around the ICU, just in case all the death-waiting-to-happen doesn’t do the trick. I carefully set it down, backward facing at the head of Mr. Henry’s bed, and settle in. I don’t answer him, just study him for a moment over my laced fingers.
“What’s your name, son?” he asks, which makes me lean back and mentally check over his file again. No, he’s not an Alzheimer’s patient. He shouldn’t think I’m his son. And I’m only twenty, but no one’s mistaken me for a boy in a while, not since I started collecting.
“Lirium,” I say. It’s just my collector name, short for Delirium. Some punk collector thought it was funny when we went through training and it stuck. I don’t use my real name anymore, so it’s as good as any. Most people don’t ask.
 “Is it going to hurt, Lirium?” His hand wanders out from the blanket, shaking a little and fluttering around his chest, like it’s searching for something. Then it lands on the rail of his bed and grips it.
“No, sir.” Relief gushes through me like water from a busted hose. When patients have been properly prepared, that’s the question they ask. It means they’re ready. I should thank the nurses on the way out, if I can get one of them to look at me. “It won’t hurt at all, Mr. Henry. In fact, it will be a relief.”
This isn’t really true, but I imagine it will be better than what he’s feeling now, all the aches and pains of the cancer slowly eating him from the inside out. This is where I usually tell them that transferring out is a good thing and how paying their debt will make the world a better place. I tell them it’s better for everyone—they get relief from having to live the last painful stages of their disease, they’re no longer a drain on the resources of the world, and someone else, someone in the height of their productivity, whose contributions to the world will be long lasting, will receive their debt and do even more with it than they can imagine. And I get my cut. Everyone wins!
I usually leave out that last part.

What's a Serial and Why Would I Read One? 

by Susan Kaye Quinn, author of the urban fantasy serial, Debt Collector

A serial is a series of episodes - or short stories - that are connected to tell a larger story.

Must Read TV
Serials are actually a lot like a TV series, which themselves vary a lot in type. Series like Law and Order and House are more self-contained, with only a few character storylines carrying over from episode to episode. Series like Lost or Heroes would be difficult to watch out of order because the storylines carry more strongly, sometimes with cliffhangers, sometimes not.

Some readers like the week-by-week suspense of Must Watch TV; others would rather wait until the season is done and get it from netflix so they can watch it back-to-back. Likewise, some readers enjoy the suspense of reading a serial episode-by-episode as they're released. Others would rather wait until the entire serial is complete and read it all at once. Either is fine!

Is a Serial a New Idea?


Ebook serials are a new thing, because ebooks are a new thing - but serials have been around since Charles Dickens wrote and released Great Expectations (self-published through his own literary magazine!) in 6,000 word "installments" every week for nine months. Readers today aren't accustomed to reading in serial format because publishing serials was restricted to magazines, which didn't have wide circulation. Now with ebooks, the cost of transmission is low and the distribution is wide. Ebooks have revived the short story form! But for readers raised on novels, who crave longer works and more in-depth stories, serials are the next natural step.

Is a Serial a Novel Cut Into Pieces?
No. A serial is not a chopped up novel, just like a TV episode is not a chopped up movie. It's a different way of telling stories. In a way, it's more demanding to write than novels - you need to immediately draw the reader in, you have to reach some kind of reader-satisfaction-level by the end of the episode (even if you have a cliff-hanger), and you have to maintain that pace and storytelling arc over multiple episodes. But all that hard work on the part of the author makes it (potentially) more enjoyable for the reader.

Can You Name Some Successful Serials?
Hugh Howey's Wool
RaShelle Workman's Blood and Snow
Platt and Wright's Yesterday's Gone

These are all recent bestselling science fiction and fantasy serials that have drawn audiences in and helped revitalize the serial form. Romance is another genre where serials have taken off like crazy in recent years.

Why Would I Read a Serial?
Readers tell me that they enjoy the short episodes - they can read them quickly over lunch or in an evening and get a full "story" worth of entertainment. The fast pacing means there's a lot of story packed into a short number of words. Readers also say they enjoy the anticipation of finding out "what will happen next" much like a TV series where you get invested in the characters. Think about how a favorite TV series will sometimes focus one episode on one character or another, diving into their backstory. As a writer, I like that I can go in-depth a little more in each "episode" than I could in a novel, giving a richness to the story and characters that might be more difficult to do in a novel format.

All serials eventually come to an end, just like a "season" of your favorite TV series. Whether you enjoy reading serials as they release, or want to wait until the complete season is out so you can read the episodes back-to-back, serials are a fast-paced, exciting way to enjoy a story.

As a writer, I find serials are the hardest writing I've ever loved.

About the Author:

Susan Kaye Quinn is the author of the bestselling Mindjack Trilogy and the Debt Collector serial, as well as other speculative fiction novels and short stories. Her work has appeared in the Synchronic anthology and has been optioned for Virtual Reality by Immersive Entertainment. Her business card says "Author and Rocket Scientist" but she mostly sits around in her PJs in awe that she gets to write full time.

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Saturday, December 13, 2014

{Book Promo w/ #GIVEAWAY} Ratgirl: Song of the Viper by Gayle C. Krause

Young Adult
Date Published: December 31, 2013

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The only things sixteen-year-old JAX STONE has of her former life is an antique watch and an old storybook her grandmother left her, a five-year-old brother, ANDY, her mother left her, and a hypnotic singing voice she inherited from her father.

A streetwise orphan, she is an expert at surviving in a dangerous city, where the rich have fled to the New Continent and the deadly daytime sun forces the middle class to live in sewer tunnels. Jax, along with the rest of the homeless, must be wary of rats—the furry ones underground that steal their food and invade their shelter and the human ones above ground that steal their children and threaten their lives.

When the tyrannical mayor, SYLVANIS A. CULPEPPER, kidnaps Jax’s brother it’s no coincidence. His son has died from multiple rat bites and he kidnaps all of the city’s children with a two-fold ulterior motive. One, to find his illegitimate offspring, and two, to garner a slave labor force to build his planned underground city using those he did not father.

Jax is surprised when Culpepper’s personal pilot, COLT CONRAD, a stranger from the New Continent, facilitates her escape from the mayor’s mansion after her first attempt to save Andy goes awry. Romantic emotions interfere with her determination to rescue her brother and though she knows who Colt is, she doesn’t know they are both descendants of the founders of an environmental militant group called the ECOS, who battled Culpepper two generations earlier, and lost their lives to the unscrupulous tyrant.

Jax accidentally discovers her singing has a hypnotic effect on the rats. Desperate to win Andy’s freedom, she disguises herself as a world-renowned exterminator with the help of a rag-tag band of friends. ASTORIA CRUZ, a teen nightwalker. RAFE JOHNSTON, the leader of a street gang. And a genius boy nicknamed CHIENSTEIN, who designs tools from scavenged machine parts Jax picks at abandoned mansions and industrial sites. Colt introduces her as THE VIPER and she barters with Culpepper. If she rids Metro city of the rats that killed his child she will receive enough gold to pay passage for her brother, her friends and herself to the New Continent.

In a life-threatening ruse Jax uses her mesmerizing song to lure the city’s rats to their death in the toxic river. But when the corrupt mayor reneges on the agreement, Jax and her friends ultimately outwit and out battle the greedy autocrat. Culpepper and his Megamark Guards kill Rafe as he protects Astoria, his unrequited love. In Jax’s grief over his death a new relationship blossoms with Colt, one that changes her life forever. Though the price paid for her brother’s freedom is extreme, Jax saves not only her brother, but all of Metro City’s children from life in a dying city.

As Jax and Colt bond, they discover the ECOS secrets for saving the planet and put their ancestors’ plan into action as they start a new life in Antarctica, the new sustainable continent. Culpepper starts a new life too, one he never envisioned for himself— stinking, dowsed in darkness and scratching through the alleys of Metro City for food— the life of a sewer rat!

Book Trailer


"We are orphans. We use our brains and our bodies to survive. But the only things that thrive in Metro City are the rats, and not all of them are rodents."

                                                                                               Jax Stone

Chapter One

Whoever said the teen years were the best of a girl's life didn't come from Metro City. Hell, they can't imagine what it's like to be me, living in a sewer tunnel by day, and foraging the forest for food or scavenging through abandoned mansions at night. Anything I find that I can't use to survive this hellhole I trade for money.

And then, there's the Megamark Guards who patrol this dying city. I avoid them at all cost. One never knows when they'll turn on an innocent person. I've seen them beat up the homeless on a wager or for sheer entertainment. No, it's not an easy life.

We used to live in brick houses and modern apartments, but the sun's savage rays turned our lives upside down. It took a while to get used to sleeping in the day, but night, as dangerous as it is, is the only time we can venture to the surface to seek food or trade our services.

Between the vindictive Guards and the deadly daytime sun, I spend half my time surviving, and the other half planning how to. If this is the best part of my life, I might as well be dead. Only one thing keeps me alive . . .

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