A Call to Heaven
Genre: contemporary romance with a paranormal twist
“Everybody’s loved, everybody’s lost.
Grief strips you raw and makes you feel as if you’re sleepwalking through life, like the pain will never go away.
I’m Amy Tristan. I’m no different than anyone else. I’ve loved, I’ve lost and it sucks. I’ve got a five-year old son and an abusive husband. My mother died six months ago and I miss her like crazy.
I’m the biggest skeptic when it comes to other-worldly stuff, so when I’m told that I can pick up the phone and call my mum in Heaven, I should disbelieve it, right? Wrong. I pick up that phone, because there’s nothing I want more than to hear her voice trickle into the receiver.
And you know what? It works. I get to speak to my mother. It’s a miracle. If only it could stay this way, with those calls just for me, but someone up on high wants me to choose three other people to make a call to Heaven too. Who should I pick? How can I trust them to keep the phone secret? Making the choice is agonizing – if I get it wrong, my calls will stop. I wish I hadn’t told Daniel anything. He’s this hot doctor that I’ve come to know. But doctors are scientists, and scientists are bigger skeptics than even me. He didn’t believe in the phone. He thought I should be admitted to a sanatorium. Telling him was either the best decision of my life, or the worst. I’ll let you decide…”
Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/6qQLxZbVs50
Everyone’s looking at me. I’ve got the yellow telephone in my hands and I’m not sure what to do with it. I take a seat at the end of the table and lay the phone down in front of me. Beth is to my left, Ben is to my right. Daniel is opposite me. I look from one to the other and feel color flood my cheeks. My gaze finishes on Daniel and stays there for a beat. He nods, his eyes encouraging me. I return the nod, take a deep breath and count down from three to one in my head.
“I’ve got to tell you all something.” My voice comes out as a thin squeak, but actually I’m surprised I manage to articulate at all. I’m hot, so hot. I lift the hair off the back of my neck, flapping it around to try to cool my sticky, clammy skin. I can’t breathe, I need air. I unlock the patio doors, flinging them wide open. The inside of my mouth feels rough as sandpaper. I’m desperate for a tall glass of water packed with ice-cubes but, when I turn to see six eyes staring at me, I dare not leave to fetch one. I feel like an exhibit in a museum and in some ways I wish I were. I could hide behind a Perspex box next to the yellow telephone with panel blurb doing the explaining for me. I could be part of a new exhibition entitled ‘Incredible Discoveries’. I would share the same hall as the dinosaurs and anything else which took aeons for people to believe existed. I draw a deep breath and continue.
“You’re probably going to think I’m mad, but I’m going to tell you anyway.”
A breeze blows through the open patio doors.
“What I wanted to tell you is this.” My voice is soft as a whisper. I sense all their bodies leaning closer towards mine, straining to hear. “I’ve recently started talking to my mother.”
There, I’ve said it.
I feel a great sense of relief, both that I’ve said it and that I no longer have to keep this to myself. Beth relaxes in her chair with a sigh, leans across and takes my hand, patting it. She’s got wavy brown hair and a kind, open face. She tilts her head sympathetically.
“Oh honey, you must have tried out that clairvoyant you mentioned. Please tell us all about it.”
I should have seen that one coming.
“No, you don’t get it.” I lift up the yellow phone, as if to demonstrate how to use such a contraption. In one hand I take the receiver, in the other the plug. “I don’t speak to her through a medium. I speak to her on this telephone. I plug it into a socket in my bathroom and I’m allowed to call heaven.”
There, I’ve said it now.
Not a muscle.
Their mouths all open, Daniel’s is the widest. I don’t think any of them even realize they’re doing it. As feared, they are looking at me like I’m certifiably insane.
“I can see you all think I’m mad.” I actually manage to pull a small smile. Now that I’ve started, I feel much calmer. “And, if I were in your position, I would think I’m crazy too. But one night my mother came to me in a dream and told me I could use this phone to call her in heaven and, bizarre though it must sound, it turns out she was right. That’s why I stopped coming to Grief Support Group every week. I wasn’t grieving so much because my mother had come back into my life.”
The three pairs of eyes grow wider and wider, as if I’m slowly sprouting four serpent heads. I replace the receiver back into its cradle and drop the plug, holding out my hands in submission.
“You can believe me or not. It doesn’t matter. But the reason I’ve gathered you all here is because I’ve been asked to choose three other people to call to heaven.”
I sound like a fairy godmother or the good witch in the Wizard of Oz. I do not sound normal. I pause. The effect is dramatic although it’s not intended to be.
“And I’ve picked you guys.”
I look at them one by one.
“Beth, I know how much it might mean to you to be able to speak to your daughter and know that she is safe.”
Beth nods. Her gaze turns glassy.
“Ben, I’d do anything to be able to give you a chance to speak to your brother again.”
Ben nods, his mouth still formed in a perfect ‘O’.
Daniel is the hardest one for me to look at. He’s not nodding anymore and his eyes are no longer urging me to continue. Instead he’s shaking his head, a slow, subtle movement, but I catch it all the same. His full lips have now formed a thin line. He’s the only one who looks like he still thinks I’m certifiably insane. Hell, he’s a doctor; perhaps that shouldn’t come as a surprise. Part of me wonders whether I should abort this whole escapade and pretend it was all a joke. I’d do anything to not have Daniel stare at me in this way. He looks ready to call the local sanatorium and send them round with a straitjacket. But I can’t abort and I must continue. What happens next is up to him.
“And Daniel, I thought that maybe you might like to speak to Katie.”
He opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, but clamps it shut again without speaking. Nobody else says anything either. They all shift in their seats, pretending to take sips of coffee and look around the room. Perhaps they’re checking out the photos on the mantelpiece above the fireplace, trying to work out if I look like a madwoman in any of them. I pick up the knife. Now I probably do look mad or, at the very least, dangerous.
“Right, who’s for some more pie?”
Jo lives in London with her husband, three children and Jerald the cat. In addition to being a novelist she works as a TV and print journalist (Sunday Times, The Telegraph, the Daily Mail and the Express.) If she could change one thing about her life it would be to introduce the thirty hour day, because twenty-four hours just isn’t long enough to squeeze it all in! Many a late night has been spent with a glass of red wine (preferably French) at her desk trying to keep her eyes open long enough to write these stories which keep demanding to be written. If only her cat didn’t constantly jump onto the keyboard as she writes, this book might have been finished months earlier. She loves yoga, skiing, travelling and English custard – though not necessarily in that order.
Secrets: In Wolf Lake
Secret Series Book 1
Genre: YA, sci-fi, fantasy
Samantha discovers a gifted creature living in Wolf Lake; now his life depends on her saving him.
Samantha’s dealing with a lot of emotional blow-back from her mother’s new marriage. Then she discovers a gifted creature living in Wolf Lake, and life suddenly becomes all about keeping his existence a secret, earning his trust. That is until his life depends on her saving him. But she won’t be able to do it alone…
A series of secrets, invisible yet glaring, and most include a Supernatural spin, like an unwelcomed sensation sparking every nerve ending.
Buy it at: Amazon
“This freakin’ rocks!” Lisa zipped by again, spraying diamonds of water all over me. I gripped hard on the rod and stood up to keep the fishing line from snagging onher or the jet-ski. The boat pitched, dipping. I shuffled to regain my balance then turned to give Lisa a piece of my mind. In that nano-secondthe fishing line snapped. I spun around and tumbled nose first over the top of Koko. My rod splashedinto the water in front of me as if I’d thrown it.
Instant coldness prickled through me, but I didn’t want to lose that fishing pole. I dove a little deeper, waiting for the water to settle. The sun illuminated beneath the surface and made it easy to see the rod leaning against a big rock right below me. I swam toward it.
A curl of water slid along my arm as something swam near me. I expected the lunker fish, the big guythat snappedthe fishing line, butinstead, I stared at two round black eyes. I couldn’t look away from its flat green face, the size of a baseball, with small slits for nostrils and a wider slash for its mouth.Shorttubular ears stuck out from each side of its head.Not any kind of fish or amphibian I’d ever seen.
It stared back at me andmoved closer.
When it touched my arm, I screamed.A stream of bubbles flushed out of my mouth, blinding my vision. I pushed off from the huge rock with my feet andfought my way to the surface.
Air, I needed air.
Koko’s paws churned through the water just above me. His nails scratched across my cheek as I surfaced.
“Koko, get back, buddy,” I croaked, sucking in air,and then I nudged him to move back.But I didn’t want him too far away. My mind flashed to the thing beneath the water, greenish body, short arms and legs, and a long lizard-like tail. But those black eyes…the way it stared at me, almost like it had intelligence.
DK Davis writes YA sci-fi, supernatural, and fantasy with a good dollop of all the relationships woven in between. When she’s not writing, editing, or reading, she’s hiking, RV’ing, fishing, spending time with grandchildren or her favorite muse (her husband) in Southwest Michigan.
Twitter – https://twitter.com/DKDavisBooks
Website – http://suda788.wixsite.com/dkdavis
Books We Love Ltd. Author Page –http://www.bookswelove.com/authors/davis-dk/
Poison My Pretty
Genre: Paranormal Cozy Mystery
As soon as Poppy Parker turns 21, the star of a popular TV show about witch detectives discovers she has supernatural powers off the set as well as on. When the show is canceled, she returns home to figure out how to harness the magic brewing inside her.
Freaked out by these recent paranormal gifts, Poppy just wants to fit in, so when she’s asked to serve as a judge for the annual Bloomin’ Belles youth beauty competition she readily agrees.
But when the pageant’s snooty director drops dead and Poppy’s friend is arrested, the former TV sleuth sets out to uncover the real killer, only to find…
the business of beauty can be deadly.
Buy it at: Amazon
Skylar’s twin sister Mads called while I was driving to the convention center. “Are you really going over there? I can’t believe they’re going to continue this pageant.”
“So you heard about the murder?”
“Yeah. Skylar told me last night when she got home. It’s awful.”
“Yes, but you know how it is. The show must go on! Surely you can’t be that surprised.” I was only beginning to understand the importance of these competitions to their participants, and I could picture pageant moms dragging their glitzed-up toddlers over the dead bodies of fallen competitors. The way zombies climbed over each other to get to the top of the pile in movies—only prettier.
“Are they sure it was a murder? She didn’t just have a heart attack or something?” I could hear the anxiety creeping into Mads’ voice, and I didn’t blame her. Our little town was supposed to be safe. Murders didn’t happen here. That was the sort of thing that happened in the city across the bridge, not in our sleepy little bedroom community.
“That’s what they said, Mads, but I don’t think you need to worry. If it was a murder, you can bet it was personal. Certainly not the doin’s of a mad man or a serial killer. If Heather Morgan was murdered, it was by somebody who knew her and had something to gain from her death. This was no a random act of violence.”
Amity grew up reading every mystery she could get her hands on, burning through everything by Agatha Christie in record time and wanting to be Nancy Drew when she grew up. After writing books in other genres for the past few years, she’s finally come home to her true love – cozy mysteries.
Amity and her husband live in L.A. (lower Alabama) with a houseful of teenagers and a half dozen pets. Besides books, Amity’s favorite things are football, needlepoint, fried shrimp, and sweet tea.
Sign up for Amity’s Book Club: http://eepurl.com/coqgxX
Text MYSTERY to 24587 for new release alerts.
Tour giveaway $20 Amazon GC
Bound Souls (Forever Yours Book 1)
Genre: Science Fiction Romance
Publisher: Kuumba Publishing
A supernatural love triangle that tests the bounds of science, truth, and faith.
Regent Lela of Asiya is the most powerful person on her planet but she is powerless to save the life of her beloved soulmate—Zion Grace. For thirty years they lived as husband and wife, but Zion’s time is at an end. Lela must go on without him.
“There will never be anyone else for me.”
Despite having died, nothing can keep Zion from his soulmate. He’s back but not as the man he once was. Zion must help Lela move on with her life, lest he lose her forever. But how can Zion convince Lela to accept the love and affections of another man when he still wants her for himself?
“I love you, Lela. My heart is forever yours.”
Lela and Zion are bound souls, destined to live eternity together. For these lovers, death is not an end, but a fateful beginning.
This novel includes “The Garden,” a bonus short story.
Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/A5Nb2IdY_gE
It was true, Zion had only three more years left on his thirty-year life extension. He was tired and felt even more so as the days, weeks, months and years crept by. Zion spared a sidelong glance at his wife, whose head was down, eyes closed and hand still fiercely gripping his own. She wasn’t ready for the ride to end either, yet they both knew it was slowing, preparing to grind to its final halt and he would have to disembark, leaving her behind.
This thing with Ammon had eaten away at Zion for the last several months. Yet Ammon was simply an outlet for his own anger, fear, and depression. He was growing older, his hair thinner and grayer, and his stomach… well, let’s just say he’d had to use the services of a good seamstress over the years. Yet Lela was still as beautiful and fit as when they’d first met.
Zion didn’t begrudge Lela her slow aging or fine, alluring features. In fact, he loved that about her. What did bother him was that other men could see what he saw. Everything about Lela exuded intelligence, grace, dignity, strength, and beauty. Zion learned a long time ago, she could never see herself the way others did, especially men.
While Zion rarely entertained jealous thoughts before or cared much when he caught a male giving Lela an approving look, now he saw nothing but. Under the circumstances, the little signs of masculine appreciation for his beautiful wife enraged him.
“I’m sorry,” Zion spoke into the quiet breach, lifting Lela’s chin with his bruised hand.
Tears flooded her eyes. Even wet, they were still the most stunning eyes he’d ever seen. Picasso marble Zion thought the first time she’d looked at him—a combination of black, brown, gray, and white. Back then, they’d sparkled with intelligence and curiosity, now they glistened with pain. Lela wasn’t ready for this conversation. How could she be?
“No, it’s me who should apologize. I thought you were paranoid, seeing things that didn’t exist.”
“I acted like a jackass, a Neanderthal, damn near dragging you out of the banquet room before the function was over. Hell, I might as well as hoisted you over my shoulder and beat my chest like a caveman.”
He rubbed his thumb across her right cheek, then lips. “You’re an incredible woman, Lela.” Zion paused, nearly biting his tongue on his next words. The ones his selfish heart screamed at him to not utter. “You’ll live for a long time, probably another four or five decades. I only have three years left. For an Asiyan, you’ll be in your prime when I pass on.” His voice cracked when the held tears dropped from his wife’s eyes. She knew where he was going with this, Zion realized.
“You’ll have to go on without me, and I don’t want you to spend the next fifty years by yourself.”
“I won’t be by myself. I’ll have Xavier.” Lela pushed off the bed and moved away from him. She walked to the window, refusing to acknowledge the true meaning of his words.
Zion followed, watching her stern but sad image in the window. Needing to touch and reassure her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled Lela to him.
“The thought of another man being this close to you,” Zion whispered, stirring tendrils of her long hair, “makes me want to commit murder. When I heard Ammon offering for you, it took all of my self-control to not take a laser gun to him. The only thing I kept thinking was that he couldn’t have you. That you’re mine and mine alone.”
“Is that why you’ve been so angry these past few months?” She turned in his arms, then rested her head against his resilient shoulder.
“Yes and something else.”
Zion lifted her chin, compelling her to meet his eyes.
“I didn’t want to acknowledge how selfish I was being,” he said, leaning down and placing a warm, soft kiss on her lips. “I want you to be happy in those four or five decades you have left, Lela, but I don’t want you to find happiness in the arms of another man.”
“I have no desire to mate with anyone else, or to take a lover,” she reassured, initiating another kiss, a desperate embrace full of a wife’s integrity and denial. “I can’t imagine being with anyone other than you. I love you, Zion. I could never love another.”
He knew she spoke the truth. He believed her, but she didn’t understand. Zion did. He’d experienced the loss of a spouse.
“When Iman died, a part of me died with her. Like you, I thought there would never be anyone else for me. And that was true for a long time—”
Lela shook her head in protest, not allowing Zion to continue. “Don’t.” A heartbreaking plea. “Don’t say such things. There will never be anyone else for me.”
Zion saw the near panic in her upturned face, her Picasso marble eyes glowing with resolution and despair.
“It’s not the same. It just isn’t.”
It was exactly the same. Yes, what he felt for Iman was different from the love he had for Lela. But it was love all the same. Loving Lela didn’t mean Iman ceased to occupy a special place in his heart and mind. A small, warm piece of her and their life together would always be a part of him. As he would always be a part of Lela, but she couldn’t see it, not now. But someday. Zion didn’t want to think about that and clearly, neither did his wife.
https://js.gleam.io/e.js” target=”_blank”>Tour giveaway: Autographed paperback copy of “Bound Souls” (3 winners, U.S. only)
D. Jones lives in Maryland with her husband and two children. She is the founder of Kuumba Publishing, an art, audiobook, eBook, and paperback company. Kuumba Publishing is a forum for creativity, with a special commitment to promoting and encouraging creative works of authors and artists of African descent.
A desire to see more novels with positive, sexy, and three-dimensional African American characters as soul mates, friends, and lovers, inspired the author to take on the challenge of penning such romantic reads. She is the author of two paranormal romance series: Winged Warriors and Death and Destiny. N.D. likes to read historical and paranormal romance novels, as well as comics and manga.