The
Graveyard Shift
A
Paranormal Romance Anthology
Jamie
K. Schmidt
Genre:
paranormal romance
Date
of Publication: 6/26/16
ISBN:
1534805680
ASIN:
B0177E5Z8S
Number
of pages: 173
Word
Count: 54,000
Cover
Artist: Jamie K. Schmidt
Book
Description:
Erotic,
Sexy and Sweet tales of vampires, ghosts, mages, shifters and
dreamers of dreams.
In
this anthology, you will enter an adult bookstore run by two vampires
and partake in the bloodletting and sex, see a witch accidentally
summon a vampire who gains power through love making, and then go
clubbing with an urban vampire.
But
vampires aren't the only supernatural beings in this compelling
collection of stories. Ghosts jam with their favorite rock bands. A
Grail Maiden helps protect Arthur's cup, and a paralyzed cyber
mercenary finds love inside virtual reality.
Excerpt:
DEIRDRE WAS A
EUROPEAN PRINCESS whose lineage, no one dared question too closely.
She kept close companionship with Viola, a dark Countess of equal
renown and deadly beauty. In a time where the night was feared, they
flourished and fed at all the best parties of the nobility.
The Princess was as
fair and fey as a moonbeam with silver hair and cerulean eyes. She
lived for excess and to play with her new found friends.
The Countess was the
opposite side of the coin. With raven locks and soulless black eyes,
she was a lithe viper who struck quickly and gleaned minions from the
throngs of addled noblemen.
But good times
always end, even for immortal royalty and when the church's
mercenaries, The Prophecy of the Eye, became too interested in the
beautiful thralls encircling the Princess and the Countess, the
parties suddenly stopped.
This cycle continued
for many centuries. Deirdre and Viola graced Czarist Russia,
continued on to Gay Paris and finally to the New World in gin joints
and sleazy jazz dives of the Big Easy.
While America lacked
the polished old world charm and the distinct respect for one's
betters, it also provided more of everything else, from money and
thrills, to gambling and illegal liquor.
Its wide terrain
allowed the Princess and the Countess to move from state to state
until technology caught up with them and they learned the value of
keeping a low profile. They were able to exploit the innocence of
the forties and fifties, but were swept away into a drunken frenzy of
Free Love.
By the late
seventies, they reached a rhythm that was blown away by the "Me"
generation of the eighties and the cynical creep of the 90's that
exposed the world's monsters in vivid detail across television
screens and eventually the Internet.
Now in the new
millennia, there is nowhere to hide and no other frontiers to
explore. They found out the luxuries of the day could be gone in an
instant. Swiss bank accounts could be seized and the Princess and
the Countess could be among the nouveau poor, scraping their living
feeding off homeless and runaways. They have become merchants,
biding their time and hoping for another renaissance of excess.
An ignoble end for
two from the finest Carpathian bloodlines.
Perhaps a fitting
end some may say, for however pretty the monsters are, they are still
creatures of the night— or from hell as the church's mercenaries
proclaim.
The church's
vanguards have also migrated from Europe. And like the Princess and
the Countess, they have morphed and remade themselves to fit the
times. Always hunting, they are similar to the women they chase,
although they would balk to see the comparison. The church
mercenaries seek to destroy magic and any evil that lives outside
their doctrine.
Whether their
victims deserve their fate or not is irrelevant.
It was so much
easier for both during the simple times, where murder was accepted
and random acts of violence and carnage need not be explained for
helicopters with news teams or amateur videographers. They've
learned a new dance for the modern world and it is kept to a very
fine line. Like the sword of Damocles, the truce poises hair thin.
It is not a matter of if that strand will break, but when.
And darkness save
the innocents caught between.
Dream Killer
Flash Fiction By
Jamie K. Schmidt
I
swore I was going to do it. And this time, I meant it. He had finally
gone too far,
pushed
my last button, and said the unforgivable.
“When
I married you my dreams died.”
The
fight ended quickly after that. In the vacuum silence of words that
can’t be taken back, he looked as stunned as I felt. But he put up
his chin with false bravado and waited for my one-two riposte. I
merely left the room.
The
apartment shook when he crashed the door open. He peeled out of the
complex driveway in a puff of smoke and burned rubber. A huge belch
came from the living room and the stench of burning sulphur wafted
into my study. I came out to investigate. My husband’s words had
summoned forth a creature that was too small to be a demon, too
malevolent to be an imp. The creature was straddling the couch. Its
yellow
eyes were narrowed at me. It hissed, showing pointy teeth. I crept
closer and it swiped out at me, its bony arms like broomsticks. His
scissor bladed claws cut the sleeve of my robe. I backed away, threw
a pillow at it. It caught it and shredded it into confetti. What was
warlock born could not be witched away but it also could not harm me.
I hissed back at it and cast a protective spell around my cat, whose
back was arched like the letter A.
Three
days of silence passed. My husband was grumpy and sullen, rattling
the paper and slamming dishes to fill up the emptiness and the quiet.
I moved like the walking wounded. There was a hole in my soul where
happiness once lived. I was numb.
The
creature would appear and disappear. Always watching, never attacking
us. It
played
with itself, picked its nose. But for the most part was content with
existing in the silence of our world. If my husband noticed it, he
gave no sign. I ignored it.
After
a week, things gradually started returning to normal. I still
pretended to be asleep when he came to bed, when I wasn’t in my
office all night staring at the world map and wondering if anyone out
there hurt as much as I did. We didn’t talk, but I found I could
meet my husband’s eyes. I saw no apology in them, but I really
didn’t expect to. The creature faded slightly, became translucent.
But
as I became angrier at the unfairness, the creature fed on my
emotions. As I thought, “Did he think that he was the only one who
sacrificed, compromised?”, it solidified again. Its teeth and claws
elongated and curved into Kris daggers. The creature followed me
around and would preen when I clenched and unclenched my fist.
Back
in our routine, my husband would go to work and come home. I stopped
making supper or cleaning the house. He could do his own laundry and
fend for himself. I made phone calls and robotically did what I had
to do. He would stay in watching television or stay out late in bars.
I didn’t care either way. The creature would curl up on the couch
beside him or swing from the drapes, depending on our moods.
Today,
I heard my husband in the shower and I walked over to the window of
my study and laid my forehead against the window pane. The sensation
was like eating ice cream too fast and I had a giddy recollection of
summer time. The door slammed and jolted me away from tire swings and
seagulls. I sipped my coffee as I watched him get into his car and
drive to work. He never looked up. I wonder if he even thought of me.
The
creature plastered its tongue on the window, making huge streaks.
Shortly after ten, the movers arrived. I sat on my kitchen counter
and watched them professionally pack up my things. The creature,
hidden by my invisibility spell, danced around them and jumped from
box to box.
“No,
that stays.” I said when they started towards the TV set. I
directed them to my office and went back to my perch, slowly stirring
a head ache relief potion.
The
movers were expensive. But if I had to carry box after box into my
car all by myself I never would have left him. It wasn’t the first
time, I sat contemplating leaving. I would grab a handful of clothes
from the closet and got as far as the bed with them. I’d sit and
wonder if I should donate most to the Salvation Army before packing.
Then I would chide myself for giving up. And I would talk myself into
staying. It was harder to leave than in was to stay. We had been
playing at being happy for a long time.
I
received my power from my dreams and prayers. If I had made him
impotent by
marrying
him, then I could rectify that by leaving him. I picked up my cat and
my purse and walked out to the car.
When
my husband came home tonight, I wanted him to see the living room as
it always was. He wouldn’t notice that my books or my knitting
would be gone. Maybe he’d watch TV for a bit. Maybe he would go
into the kitchen to raid the leftovers or to pop a frozen dinner in
the microwave. He wouldn’t notice my coffee mugs were missing or
that my teapot collection had been lovingly removed.
But
he would see the creature, formed out of his belligerence and
sustained by our
negative
emotions. I looked up from the parking lot to see it rubbing its butt
cheeks against the study windows. They would make a good couple.
The
End
About
the Author:
USA
Today bestselling author, Jamie K. Schmidt, writes erotic
contemporary love stories and paranormal romances. Her steamy,
romantic comedy Life’s a Beach reached #65 on USA Today, #2 on
Barnes and Noble and #9 on Amazon. Her Club Inferno series from
Random House’s Loveswept line has hit both the Amazon and Barnes
and Noble top one hundred lists and the first book in the series,
Heat put her on the USA Today bestseller list. Her dragon paranormal
romance series from Entangled Publishing, has been called “fun and
quirky” and “endearing.” Partnered with New York Times
bestselling author and former porn actress, Jenna Jameson, Jamie’s
hardcover debut, SPICE, continues Jenna’s FATE trilogy.
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/jamie.k.schmidt.1
Twitter:
https://twitter.com/Jamiekswriter
Goodreads:
http://www.goodreads.com/jamiekswriter
Website:
http://jamiekschmidt.weebly.com/
Amazon
Page: http://www.amazon.com/Jamie-K.-Schmidt/e/B00B7CKKO6
Pinterest:
http://pinterest.com/jamiekswriter/
Sign
up for newsletter: http://jamiekschmidt.weebly.com/
No comments:
Post a Comment