Showing posts with label Crescent Moon Press. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Crescent Moon Press. Show all posts

Sunday, July 7, 2013

Loni Lynne Talks About Her Setting and Inspiration Behind Her Debut Novel Wanted: One Ghost/ And $5 Gift Card Giveaway


There is something beautiful and artistic about cemeteries.  The older the better--as long as they are well kept.  There is one in my town in which I used as inspiration for my debut novel, Wanted: One Ghost. I was delighted that the wonderful cover artist, Taria A. Reed was able to capture the mood and setting for the cover of my book.

Set in a contemporary time frame I had to tie it in with history and intrigue. I live in a historical city in Western Maryland in which both Revolutionary and Civil War history is in great amounts. My main character was pre-Revolutionary War (just barely) in my fictional town of Kings Mill, Maryland I created based on some from my local and surrounding towns like Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.

But what does a local cemetery have to do with this post? It's a ghost story for one. Not only that, my heroine, April Branford is a historian who enjoys doing rubbings of epitaphs and designs on tombstones. She loves the history they represent of people from a different time period.

April does have a bit of me in her. The inspiration hit me for this story on a ghost tour. I loved wondering, "What if a ghost was listening in to his story being told? What would he think or say?" So I started to write the first draft to the story.  But I needed more inspiration, I wanted to share what she felt when she walked the cemetery in the fall and winter.  What would she smell? What would the environment around her be like?

I'm sharing some pictures that I took while doing my research. Envision yourself walking through the crisp-topped snow covered ground, the scent of clean, winter air mixed with wood smoke from nearby homes that have their fireplaces lit for warmth. Enjoy!










Don't forget to leave a comment to be entered in my drawing for a $5 Gift Card (either Amazon or Barnes & Noble--your choosing.)

Also, check out my blog tour later this month with Goddess Fish!



















Wanted: One Ghost and $5 Gift Card Give-A-Way to Lucky Comment Throughout the Day!

I'm celebrating the recent release of my paranormal romance novel, Wanted: One Ghost from Crescent Moon Press.

I'll be doing a wonderful Virtual Blog Tour July 15-26th here at Goddess Fish and hope you join in the fun to receive another great gift card prize.  But until then would love to hear from you. The more you comment today on my posts, the better chances you have to win a $5 Gift Card from Amazon or Barnes & Noble (your choice).

Here is an excerpt from my novel, Wanted: One Ghost

April peered up the small hill to see the stark white obelisk standing very pronounced against the black, moonless sky. At the moment, it seemed to be the focal point in the cemetery. Even from here she could see the intricate designs etched into the old marble. She would love to get a rubbing of it perhaps before they left. Besides, Henry Samuel’s grave was the closest thing to her research she had to go on right now. His reference to a connection with James Addison was all she had—that and she was staying in his historical home.
“Tony,” she spoke up, making her voice sound weak and stuffy. “I think I’m going to head out. My allergies are really kicking my butt, and I’m all congested.”
“Are you sure? We’re just about done, only a few more graves to see.”
“Yes, I’m sure. Thanks for the tour and Happy Halloween everyone.” She began to walk backwards away from the group as they waved good-bye.
She stayed in the shadows and watched the rest of the group move on, until they rounded the bend of the path. Once she was out of their sight, she reached into her large bag, retrieved her small sketchbook, pencil, and mini flashlight. Double checking to make sure the coast was clear, she made her way up the small dirt path to Henry Samuels’s monument.
The roots of the firs were tangled and exposed in areas, moss and lichen grew around the bottom of the obelisk grave marker, a layer of dead branches and fan-like fir needles surrounded the base. She could read the month and year of his death but the date was a bit obscure.
She buried her nose into a fresh tissue as she held back a sneeze so she didn’t alert the rest of the group of her whereabouts.
Wiping her nose she knelt in front of the tombstone and placed the end of the flashlight between her teeth to give her direct light on what she was doing. The soggy ground soaked into the knees of her jeans. She could hear the faint voices of the group from just over the rise, yet she felt a prickling of unease. Glancing around, she didn’t see anything.
She wiped moisture from the front of the headstone with her scarf, revealing the blackened embossing on the aged marble. Angling the paper over part of the intricate design, she fumbled with the pencil in her gloved hand. The cumbersome gloves had to go. Removing the offending obstacles and tossing them to the side, April rubbed her pencil over the markings, steadying herself against the marble with her other hand.
A jolt of heat coursed from her palm to her shoulder and she jerked back. Falling onto her bottom, she dropped the pencil and paper. Nearly choking on the flashlight, she threw the light to the side and fought to catch her breath. Still tingling from the shock, she shook her arm to relieve the pain.
She picked up the flashlight again and slowly approached the gravestone. Her heart thudded in her ears. Reaching out for the paper and pencil she had dropped, she kept her eye on the stone as if waiting for it to move. Cautiously, she leaned forward and touched it. The marble was as cold and even-surfaced as an old tombstone in late October should be.
Confused, she inched away on her knees, backing away from the headstone, a frightening wariness settling over her as she slowly stood up and continued moving cautiously away from the monument.
“Henry Samuel is not worthy of your fascination, Dr. Branford.”
April gasped and whirled, shining the flashlight into the night. There, mere inches in front of her, stood her mysterious tour guide. A moment of relief caused her to catch her breath before the toe of her boot caught on a loose tree root, sending her falling through a chilly mist of air. She landed on her hands and knees.
Quickly, she turned over and stared up at her re-enactor, who stood between her and Henry Samuel’s grave. So close she should have fallen into him. And then the truth of the situation hit her. She crab crawled away from him and the tombstone, her eyes wide with horror.
She couldn’t think. “Oh my God! Oh my God!” Her voice shook with the only words she could say.
He smiled down at her, tilting his tricorne back on his head, revealing those damn hypnotic eyes.
 “I haven’t heard a lady say that to me for some time. Nice to know I haven’t lost my touch,” he preened.
“You’re…not…real,” April gasped, holding her chest as she tried desperately to find her footing. “You’re…a…ghost. You really are a ghost!”
 He shrugged. “I suppose so. No one has told me any differently. But then no one has been able to talk to me in two hundred and thirty-eight years. You’re the first.” With an elegant flourish, he bowed to her.
“Oh my God!” She was shaking so badly she couldn’t move. Her muscles had frozen. The seat of her jeans was wet but she wasn’t sure if she had peed herself or the damp ground had soaked into them.
He extended his hand in a gentlemanly fashion to help her up, but she only stared at the proffered limb. He sighed.
“Of course. It would do me no good to try and help you up since I’m…”
“…not real. You’re not real. This isn’t happening to me.” April closed her eyes and tried to repeat the mantra over and over again, hoping her mental state would finally sort out the situation and thrust her back into reality. She opened her eyes. He was still there, his infuriatingly charming smile, just short of a laugh, etched into one devilishly handsome face.
Scrambling for purchase she grabbed her articles, keeping a close eye on her specter and quickly walked backwards down the knoll until she was on the cobblestone path. She had to get out of here. Where was the damn exit!

Remember to leave a comment. Would love to hear from you!

Don't forget-- Virtual Blog Tour this month for more great posts and give away!






Sunday, June 2, 2013

Another Excerpt from Wanted: One Ghost

My second excerpt from my debut novel, Wanted: One Ghost which is out on Amazon (Kindle version) and will be officially release in paperback and eBook format tomorrow, June 3.  Enjoy!

Excerpt from Wanted: One Ghost


April peered up the small hill to see the stark white obelisk standing very pronounced against the black, moonless sky. At the moment, it seemed to be the focal point in the cemetery. Even from here she could see the intricate designs etched into the old marble. She would love to get a rubbing of it perhaps before they left. Besides, Henry Samuel’s grave was the closest thing to her research she had to go on right now. His reference to a connection with James Addison was all she had—that and she was staying in his historical home.

“Tony,” she spoke up, making her voice sound weak and stuffy. “I think I’m going to head out. My allergies are really kicking my butt, and I’m all congested.”

“Are you sure? We’re just about done, only a few more graves to see.”

“Yes, I’m sure. Thanks for the tour and Happy Halloween everyone.” She began to walk backwards away from the group as they waved good-bye.

She stayed in the shadows and watched the rest of the group move on, until they rounded the bend of the path. Once she was out of their sight, she reached into her large bag, retrieved her small sketchbook, pencil, and mini flashlight. Double checking to make sure the coast was clear, she made her way up the small dirt path to Henry Samuels’s monument.

The roots of the firs were tangled and exposed in areas, moss and lichen grew around the bottom of the obelisk grave marker, a layer of dead branches and fan-like fir needles surrounded the base. She could read the month and year of his death but the date was a bit obscure.

She buried her nose into a fresh tissue as she held back a sneeze so she didn’t alert the rest of the group of her whereabouts.

Wiping her nose she knelt in front of the tombstone and placed the end of the flashlight between her teeth to give her direct light on what she was doing. The soggy ground soaked into the knees of her jeans. She could hear the faint voices of the group from just over the rise, yet she felt a prickling of unease. Glancing around, she didn’t see anything.

She wiped moisture from the front of the headstone with her scarf, revealing the blackened embossing on the aged marble. Angling the paper over part of the intricate design, she fumbled with the pencil in her gloved hand. The cumbersome gloves had to go. Removing the offending obstacles and tossing them to the side, April rubbed her pencil over the markings, steadying herself against the marble with her other hand.

A jolt of heat coursed from her palm to her shoulder and she jerked back. Falling onto her bottom, she dropped the pencil and paper. Nearly choking on the flashlight, she threw the light to the side and fought to catch her breath. Still tingling from the shock, she shook her arm to relieve the pain.

She picked up the flashlight again and slowly approached the gravestone. Her heart thudded in her ears. Reaching out for the paper and pencil she had dropped, she kept her eye on the stone as if waiting for it to move. Cautiously, she leaned forward and touched it. The marble was as cold and even-surfaced as an old tombstone in late October should be.

Confused, she inched away on her knees, backing away from the headstone, a frightening wariness settling over her as she slowly stood up and continued moving cautiously away from the monument.

“Henry Samuel is not worthy of your fascination, Dr. Branford.”

April gasped and whirled, shining the flashlight into the night. There, mere inches in front of her, stood her mysterious tour guide. A moment of relief caused her to catch her breath before the toe of her boot caught on a loose tree root, sending her falling through a chilly mist of air. She landed on her hands and knees.

Quickly, she turned over and stared up at her re-enactor, who stood between her and Henry Samuel’s grave. So close she should have fallen into him. And then the truth of the situation hit her. She crab crawled away from him and the tombstone, her eyes wide with horror.

She couldn’t think. “Oh my God! Oh my God!” Her voice shook with the only words she could say.

He smiled down at her, tilting his tricorne back on his head, revealing those damn hypnotic eyes.

 “I haven’t heard a lady say that to me for some time. Nice to know I haven’t lost my touch,” he preened.

“You’re…not…real,” April gasped, holding her chest as she tried desperately to find her footing. “You’re…a…ghost. You really are a ghost!”

 He shrugged. “I suppose so. No one has told me any differently. But then no one has been able to talk to me in two hundred and thirty-eight years. You’re the first.” With an elegant flourish, he bowed to her.

“Oh my God!” She was shaking so badly she couldn’t move. Her muscles had frozen. The seat of her jeans was wet but she wasn’t sure if she had peed herself or the damp ground had soaked into them.

He extended his hand in a gentlemanly fashion to help her up, but she only stared at the proffered limb. He sighed.

“Of course. It would do me no good to try and help you up since I’m…”

“…not real. You’re not real. This isn’t happening to me.” April closed her eyes and tried to repeat the mantra over and over again, hoping her mental state would finally sort out the situation and thrust her back into reality. She opened her eyes. He was still there, his infuriatingly charming smile, just short of a laugh, etched into one devilishly handsome face.
Scrambling for purchase she grabbed her articles, keeping a close eye on her specter and quickly walked backwards down the knoll until she was on the cobblestone path. She had to get out of here. Where was the damn exit!


Halloween is one of my favorite holidays. I get to dress up and have fun--even as an adult. Our neighbors do a huge display with fog machine and spooky tombstones in their yard. We sit on our steps and hand out candy together and drink warm cider. Do you have a favorite costume or tradition you follow?


Excerpt from Wanted: One Ghost

Today, I'll be sharing a bit of my debut novel, Wanted: One Ghost from Crescent Moon Press with you during the party. I will have a few excerpts throughout the day.  I hope you enjoy!

Excerpt from Wanted: One Ghost


“So, did you have a good time?” Victoria Snyder asked
when April walked in from the grand foyer.
“Hello, Aunt Vickie. I didn’t expect to see you awake.”
April hung her purse, coat, hat, and scarf on the coat tree and
joined her aunt in the parlor.
“Just doing a Sudoku puzzle and having a cup of tea before
Leno.” The woman placed her puzzle book on the small
Victorian side table next to her chair. “So, tell me everything!”
A warm fire blazed in the antique hearth, and small bowls
of pumpkin spiced potpourri filled the air with delicious
fragrance, lending an air of coziness to the parlor. She loved
visiting her aunt. Vickie had a way of adding just the right
touch to any atmosphere. Unfortunately, April hadn’t been
able to visit her since she’d moved to Kings Mill because of
her studies and life in Williamsburg. She had missed the long
talks with the woman.
But now she was a bit apprehensive. She could almost
sense what Aunt Vickie wanted to converse about—and it
wasn’t as simple as a ‘ghost tour.’
April shrugged. “It was a ghost tour.” She would keep the
conversation light and simple.
Vickie nodded her head toward the kitchen. “There’s still
some hot water for tea on the stove. Get yourself a cup. I want
to hear all about it.”
April made herself a cup of tea and reluctantly returned to
the front room. No use postponing the inevitable. If she
didn’t tell her aunt about the ghost tour tonight, she’d have to
do so in the morning.
Her relative leaned forward in her chair, anxious as a
school girl to hear juicy details of a friend’s date. “So, did you
see anything?”
Bingo! There it was. The family lecture of ghosts and
metaphysics. Her aunt had insisted on the tour, going so far
as to purchase the ticket when April called to ask if she could
stay with her during her research project. Aunt Vickie
thought a ghost tour would be a good place to start, for more
than practical reasons, April was sure.
“No. I didn’t see anything.” April sighed, knowing it would
be useless to stave off the unavoidable interrogation. She
leaned against the open archway, letting her aunt know she
wasn’t settling in for a long talk. “I wish you and Grams
would give up. Maybe I’m not meant to have the gift of
paranormal sight the rest of the Wilton women possess.
Wouldn’t I have already experienced it by now if I did?
Perhaps I’m more like the Branford side and received the
more ‘logical’ bones.”
Each woman on her mother’s side of the family was
blessed, or cursed, with the ability to intermingle with the
paranormal. Aunt Vickie could sense people’s auras, living or
dead, and foretold futures based on the workings of fate. Her
ability to pick up on psychic energy was pretty amazing,
though she only used her gifts when she thought it was
necessary, which to April was quite often. Her grandmother,
Dorothea, could sense ghosts in various realms, and often see
them, depending on the realm they were in.
Over the years Grandma Dottie and Aunt Vickie had
studied metaphysics. They were well known among their
circle of friends who believed in spirits and hauntings. Ghost
hunters and parapsychologists called upon their talents to
help rid families of ghosts from their homes or give lectures
at workshops.
April didn’t doubt any of their gifts. Parapsychology was a
strong art within her family, and with her natural penchant
for psychometry, she supposed anything could be possible.
She just hadn’t encountered it herself.
“You are a Wilton woman! God is waiting for the right
time. You’ll know when it happens. Or is this more about how
Jason called you a fraud in front of the crew you were
volunteering with at the Jamestown expedition?”
April groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Oh please,
I don’t want to discuss this. Jason and I are history—”
“—and good riddance I say.” She shook her bony finger at
April. “I told you when you introduced him to me that your
auras and bio-rhythms were not compatible.” Victoria Snyder
puffed up her chest proudly. “You need to move away from
his negative energies and accept your gift, learn from it, and
see where it wants to take you. Our gifts and fate guide us to
where we need to be. We Wilton women value the gifts we
have, you should too.”
“Except my mother,” April whispered, looking down at her
hands. Her mother’s gift had caused her parents’ divorce
when she was a young teenager. She didn’t like to bring it up
but this was one of those times. Maybe her mom was right to
be afraid of her gift.
Aunt Vickie let out her breath wearily. “Yes well, your
mother hasn’t found how to work with her gift for
clairaudience. She can’t control the voices of the ghosts who
come to her for help and they frighten her. And what’s worse,
she refuses to even try. That’s why she has those damn
headaches.”
“Can we stop talking about this?” April asked.
“Fine.” Her aunt sat back, apparently giving up badgering
her for now. “Tell me all about the tour. I felt a strong
presence when I went, especially around the old hanging tree.
I believe there is some unresolved, live energy residing there.
But truthfully, I think the tour is mostly historical legend and
entertainment.”
“Ghost tours are just forms of entertainment for tourists
and ghost aficionados,” April agreed. Her thoughts focused
on her tour guide and their brief walk, and her lips molded
into a smile over the rim of her tea cup. “But I did happen to
meet a nice re-enactor. He seemed to know quite a bit about
Kings Mill’s history and James Addison.”
“You met a nice man? Did you ask him out to dinner?”
Aunt Vickie was her champion when it came to her love
life. Yes, she agreed she should have listened to Aunt Vickie
about Jason’s lack of a true aura. It would have saved her a
lot of heartache.
“Of course I didn’t ask him out to dinner!” She sipped her
tea and gave her aunt a cheeky grin. “I did ask him to join me
for a cup of coffee, but he refused.” She shrugged as if it
didn’t matter.
April put down her cup and saucer on the small Victorian
tea table beside her and went for her purse. “He let me take a
picture of him though. I have it here somewhere.” She
grinned, thinking about her personal tour guide and what her
aunt would think of him when she saw him. They both shared
a preference for tall, dark haired men.
“You sly girl, you!” Aunt Vickie beamed proudly. “I’ll make
a Wilton woman out of you yet.”
April’s digital camera came to life and she switched the
setting to playback, scrolling through the photos. She’d taken
a bevy of pictures, ones of the hanging tree, some of the
colonial storefronts and historical houses, the front and back
of the courthouse. She came across the last picture, the one
she’d taken right outside, and then it went back to her older
photos. Everything was there but the picture of her guide. She
gasped and thumbed frantically through the pictures again.
“What’s wrong, April dear?” Her aunt got up from the
chair and came over to her, bringing her cup of tea with her.
“It was here…I mean, the picture is here but he isn’t.” The
photo showed part of the brick cobbled street, a corner of
courthouse, and the lamp post she’d had her guide stand in
front of. There was a bright, fuzzy ball of light obscuring part
of the gaslight. Could it be a possible reflection off the light
and her flash? She’d captured him in the frame, she was
positive!
Her aunt looked over her arm at the frame revealing the
street along with the courthouse. April didn’t like the
knowing smile and twinkle to her aunt’s eye. “Oh, he’s there,”
she said, peering up from over her tea cup.
“What do you mean?” She was almost afraid to ask.
“You’ve managed to capture what we call residual
paranormal energy. See the spot of fuzzy light in the middle
of the picture? You’ve captured an image of a paranormal
orb. Welcome to the family, April. You’ve seen your first
ghost."


If you enjoyed this excerpt you can purchase a Kindle version of Wanted: One Ghost at: http://www.amazon.com/Wanted-One-Ghost-ebook/dp/B00D4FAH42/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1370171223&sr=8-1&keywords=wanted+one+ghost+loni+lynne

Paperback and other Nook/eBook formats will be available June 3 from Crescent Moon Press.

If you had a paranormal gift, what would it be and what would you do with it?


Thanks for visiting!! Stay tuned for more excerpts and fun!

Wanted: One Ghost To Be Released Monday, June 3

What if...you were on a ghost tour and the guy you thought was one of the colonial costumed tour guides was actually a ghost? What would you do?
Releasing from Crescent Moon Press, June 3

Now this isn't Casper or even a creature from an 80's horror flick, this guy is actually the infamous founding father, James Addison, you were sent to research. His charm and good looks that made him such a ladies man in his day are still there. Would you fall prey to it?

When April Branford actually encounters her first ghost, James, her great-aunt is delighted. After all, she's a product of their family line and all of the women in their family have the ability to communicate with ghosts in some fashion. But until now, all April has been gifted with is the ability to touch the past through her talents of psychometry. Her ability has been useful in her work as a historical researcher, but not so much in her social life.

 When she accidentally resurrects James by touching his tombstone, that is where things really happen. What do you do with a 16th century ghost in the 21st century? You take him home to your family to help him solve his untimely death and maybe glean a bit of historical information to help in finding the lost deed to the mill site he owned in which the town of Kings Mill was named for. She's on a deadline and time is running short. But what's even worse is she's falling in love with her subject and not even her great-aunt can tell her if James will remain alive or go on to his ultimate reward when their quest is finished.

Accused of treason against the crown, back in 1774, James was executed immediately without a trial. He must find out why so he can move on. But after two weeks in the company of April Branford, James has found the one woman he was fated to belong with. Now he just has to convince her to 'believe in Fate' in order for them to share a future together.

If you would like to find out more about my book, Wanted: One Ghost, it will be released by Crescent Moon Press on Monday, June 3. It'll be available in both trade paperback and eBook through Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Kobo.

Stop back later in the day for more snippets and news on Wanted: One Ghost.

So what would you do if you encountered a ghost?

Loni Lynne
https://www.lonilynne.com
https://www.crescentmoonpress.com