Bewitching Book Tours Magazine Issue 22 April 2014 Bewitching Book Tours Magazine is a publication of Bewitching Book Tours and Bewitching Books. Editor: Roxanne Rhoads Design Editor and Layout: Lisa McGeen Contributors include Bewitching Book Tours Authors and Tour Hosts learn more at www.bewitchingbooktours.blogspot.com Ad space rates are: $40 full page ad $20 half page ad $10 quarter page ad You can subscribe to this magazine at http://issuu.com/bewitchingbooktours © Copyright 2014 Stock images from www.123rf.com Contents Wilde Riders Feature 4 Dumah’s Demons Feature 10 The Lost and Broken Realm Feature 24 Suzanne Johnson Feature 28 Syphon’s Song Feature 34 Green Living Tips 37 Renae Mason Feature 38 Monthly Feature: Nightmare Ink 42 Reconquest Feature 56 Lovely, Dark And Deep Feature 62 Rising Shadow Feature 66 Revelation Feature 72 Naughty Nook 74 Stephan Morsk Feature 75 HE Feature 77 Cover Reveal 79 Pinup Files 84 Photography 85 Excerpt When I pull into the parking lot, there’s only one other The drive into New Jersey is exhausting. My only sav- vehicle sitting there. It’s an old beat-up Dodge Ram. ing grace is that most of the traffic is going into the city Nothing like fitting the country bumpkin stereotype like instead of out of the city like I am. You’ve got to love a glove. I have a brief moment of panic and wonder if those bridge and tunnel guys. I wouldn’t date one but I it’s safe to park my BMW in the dirt lot. Then I remind have a little bit of respect for them. The commute into myself where I am. Who is going to mess with it in the Manhattan turns a nine hour work day into an eleven middle of the day? A stray deer from the woods out hour one, if you’re lucky. I can feel my stomach start to back? The only thing I probably have to worry about is knot as I get further away from the city and further it getting dusty. away from civilization. Pretty soon I’ll be in the sticks surrounded by woods and farmland. I can almost I take in a deep breath. I have to be thankful there’s no smell the manure that will no doubt take days to com- manure smell yet. The quicker you do this, I remind pletely rid from my nasal passages. I pray that I don’t myself, the quicker you can get back to the lovely as- run into any animals, especially cows, which are huge, phalt jungle you call home. smelly and completely freak me out. The only live ani- I’m hit with a gust of wind as soon as I get out of my mals I ever care to see have to fit comfortably in a car. How is it possible that Old Town is even windier handbag, like a Chihuahua or Teacup Poodle, for ex- than lower Manhattan? I didn’t think I’d ever find a ample. place windier than Wall Street. Even the Windy City didn’t seem this windy when I had business in Chica- I have an appointment with a man named Jake Wilde. go. He asked me to come early, before the place opens at noon, so he could give me his full attention. I try to im- When I enter the bar, I try to smooth down my thick agine what someone named Jake Wilde would look hair, which I know is probably a complete mess from like and all I can come up with is an old gunslinger like the gust. I’m surprised by the homey feel of the place. Clint Eastwood in Unforgiven. How could someone like me possibly feel at home in a country bar? Even if I was wearing jeans and cowboy As I pull into Old Town the place looks exactly like I boots, if I even owned jeans and cowboy boots, I thought it would. The buildings in the town square are wouldn’t fit in at a place like this. old and I image the place hasn’t changed much in the last hundred years or so. I hear someone clear his throat and I turn to see a guy Haymakers is just past the town square, down the hill about my age, mid-twenties, standing next to me. I from the deli, next to the gas station. Those were the can’t help my surprise when I see he’s wearing khakis exact directions I was given, in those words. I take that and a polo shirt, like he just stepped off of a golf to mean the town only has one gas station and one course. He looks as out of place in this country bar as deli. I feel. “Are you Jake Wilde?” I ask. The guy gives me the faintest hint of a smile but it’s “My brother will be here in a minute or two. He’s just almost as if it pains him to give that much. His deep printing a few documents from the computer. Pur- brown eyes look even more distressed and I can’t chase orders and receipts.” help but wonder what’s behind those sad eyes. I nod and look around the place. From the outside, I He rakes his fingers through his thick dark hair. “A thought it was going to be a dive but the place actu- little windy out, isn’t it?” ally has character. I can tell the wooden bar is old, My hand automatically goes to my hair and I try to and it looks hand carved, as do the barstools. casually flatten it down again. I imagine I must look There’s a large stage area that looks new. That’s like I just stepped out of a wind tunnel. one of the expenses I was charged with investigat- ing. I try to image what the place looks like filled with “Your hair looks fine,” the guy tries to assure me. But patrons watching a local band play on a Friday night. he’s got that hint of a smile on his face again and it makes me wonder if he’s lying just to make me feel “Ms. Smith?” I hear a deeper male voice say. better. I look up to see another guy approaching. He also “I’m Cooper Wilde,” the guy says as he offers a looks around my age, mid-twenties, but he looks hand. more like what I’d expect inside a country bar. He’s wearing a white button down shirt with jeans and I don’t know why I suddenly feel nervous about cowboy boots. His hair is lighter than Cooper’s and shaking it. It’s a business meeting. That’s what peo- his face is rounder, more boyish, but there’s definite- ple do. But the way this guy is looking at me gives ly a family resemblance between these two guys. me the feeling that he might be interested in more They’re both about the same height, around six feet, than just business. with athletic builds, like they play sports. But I’m not, I remind myself. Not only because I’ve “I’m Jake Wilde,” the lighter haired guy says. all but sworn off men, I’m here to do a job. I’ve been working for H & C Bank for two years and this is my I try not to laugh as I look at Jake. He’s young, at- first solo assignment as a lead investigator. If I con- tractive and nothing like Clint Eastwood in Unforgiv- tinue to do well, I’ll be well on my way to becoming a en. So much for my speculation about his name. Vice President before I turn thirty. I don’t need a man to throw me off my career trajectory. And definitely I notice Jake has papers in his hands. “Maybe we not some guy in a country bar in rural New Jersey. should have a seat at one of the tables.” He motions to a table closest to us. I take his hand and give it a quick shake but I can’t bring my-self to look into his smoldering eyes again. “Would you like something to drink?” he asks. Jake “I’m Riley Smith.” has one thing that Cooper doesn’t. An absolutely kill- er smile. It’s the kind of smile that can probably get “I figured that,” Cooper says. any girl into bed in a matter of minutes. Well, any girl except me. I no longer fall for guys with smiles like “Why is that?” that. It hurts too much the next morning when they say they’ll call you, and give you that smile, and you That hint of a smile has returned to his face again. know they’re lying and you’ll never hear from them “We don’t often get women in business suits in the again. bar.” “I’ll take some water,” I reply. I’m not sure why I’m suddenly overcome with the urge to get a real smile out of Cooper Wilde. I don’t Jake actually winks at me before he turns to head know even know the guy but it somehow seems im- towards the bar. The guy knows how to charm peo- portant. I get the feeling he hasn’t really smiled in a ple I’ll give him credit for that. while and it’s long overdue. I notice Cooper now has the papers in his hand.