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On Tour with Prism Book Tours

The Genesis of Seven

(The Empyrean Trilogy, #1)

By Sara M. Schaller

YA Fantasy, Paranormal

Hardcover, Paperback & ebook, 348 Pages

July 7, 2020 by Designs by Seraphim

Eighteen-year-old Jordan Conway has always wanted to help people, but helping seven archangels to achieve their divine duty was never quite what he had in mind…

When Jordan is entrusted by the head nun of his orphanage to deliver a mysterious backpack to a New York City address, he comes unexpectedly face-to-face with Archangel Gabriel. Their acquaintance fast uncovers a labyrinth of secrets that connect Jordan’s once-normal life to an ancient heavenly prophecy. Now, he must help Gabriel to reunite the archangels before evil forces grow too strong.

Soon, Jordan and Gabriel find themselves on a divine quest across the globe, while deep in the pits of Hell, Satan plots his return to earth. To gain control, however, Satan needs the powerful prophetic objects locked safe inside Jordan’s backpack—and the devil will stop at nothing to get what he wants.

With that notion threatening his only family and the safety of his newfound friends, Jordan must do whatever it takes to protect the ones he loves and help the archangels succeed. If that means sacrificing all he thought he knew to go to war with the devil himself? Bring it on.

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I left the library and approached the front door, glancing through the window in the hallway to get a better glimpse of the person outside. All I could see was the figure of a girl. The angels followed, and when they saw the figure too, they backed off.
I walked into the turret, grabbed the knob, and opened the door.
The girl standing on the other side smiled at me and said, “Hi, I’m Naomi.”
I gazed at her. She was about my age, with light brown skin, dark brown eyes, and curly black hair escaping from a bun at the back of her head. There were freckles all over her cheeks, and her smile was infectious.
“Hi,” I greeted, smiling too. “Who are you?”
“Oh, right. Sorry.” She drew her attention away from my injuries. “I’m your neighbor. I live over there.” She pointed to the left. “Martha told my parents you were home, so my mom baked some muffins for you.” She extended the basket she was holding toward me.
I took it from her. “Wow, thank you. How did you manage to get through the gate?”
“Martha gave my parents a keypad code for emergencies.”
I smiled. “Well, I don’t have any baked goods in the house, so this must be an emergency.”
She laughed. “To my mom, it most definitely is.”
“Well, tell her I said thank you.”
“I will.” She hesitated. “You’re Jordan, right? Jordan Conway?”
I nodded. “Yeah, how did you know?”
She shrugged. “My parents were friends with your parents.”

About the Author

SARA M SCHALLER is a paralibrarian, publishing professional, and young adult author. She lives in Colorado with her mom, dad, brother, and four furry canine siblings. Sara loves the world of pop culture and the performing arts, so when she is not reading or writing, she is either watching movies and shows, attending conventions, or going out to see live performances. She likes to write stories for all ages in the fantasy genre, and her writing usually contains elements of speculative fiction and features a large cast of characters. Sara has a Bachelor’s degree in English, Art History, and Religious Studies from the University of Denver, and a Master’s degree in Publishing from Pace University. For five years, Sara worked as a graphic designer, and her creativity in design carries over into other areas of her life like writing. You can visit her online at www.saramschaller.com.

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Tour Giveaway

One winner will receive the following: a backpack to match the main character's, a necklace to match the main character's, a signed hardcover, a bookmark, a set of pins with a pen, and a passport with a sticker sheet featuring locations in the book.

Open internationally

Ends September 29, 2020

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The Crow King
M. H. Woodscourt
(Wintervale, #1)
Publication date: September 1st 2020
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult

Magic is against the law. He must use it anyway.

The Crow King has outlawed magic. Despite the kingdom’s edict, Gwyn plunges into the ancient and deadly True Wood to find a magical cure for his dying brother. Within the shadowed realm, he must fend off more than violent and fallen fae-like Ilidreth when he learns the king is out to stop him at whatever cost.

On his desperate quest, he is joined by a unicorn, a quirky girl, and the maddest of the fallen fae. Together they must outrun enchanted crows and enemy armies, and face the ghosts of a shattered age, all while racing to save Gwyn’s brother. Meanwhile, war brews between countries, and a secret order of mages hunts Gwyn down.

Yet none of this can prepare Gwyn for the harrowing truth behind the fall of the Ilidreth long, long ago, and what it means for his life and his homeland.

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—

EXCERPT:

Mist curled over the quiet hills of Vinwen. Somewhere a bird trilled, prophesying the coming dawn, and the sun answered with a ring of gold spilling over the horizon as it peeked at the slumbering world. Lazy clouds drifted by, grey, dappled with faint pinks and yellows.

Sitting on the wooden fence, Gwynter ren Terare squinted against the hovering gloom in the valley below, eyes fixed on the road. He strained for any sound beyond the faint chirrup of crickets, the song of birds, the gush of the nearby stream. A crow cawed as it landed on the fence.

There. Just there. A faint neigh. The rattle of a wheel against a stray stone. A cracking whip. Gwyn shoved against the rough wood post, leapt to his feet atop the fence, and wobbled once before he caught his balance. Perched, he soon made out the distant shape of the coming carriage, a single lantern bobbing to pierce the predawn shadows.

Gwyn grinned and jumped from the fence. The crow screamed and flew off. Gwyn loped along the streambank up toward the manor house. His shoulder-length hair flounced in his eyes, but he ignored it as he cut through a protesting gaggle of geese and threw himself against the kitchen door to stumble inside.

“Mercy, child!” cried Mavell, spoon in hand. “You look a sight. What awful trouble could there be so early as this?”

Gwyn shook his head as he gasped for air, leaning forward, hands on his legs. He gulped a few times before he could utter a word. “Lawen’s coming. Almost here. Down the road a bit.” He straightened and headed for a bucket of water on the table, took up a ladle, and helped himself to a long, cool drink.

The cook grabbed the ladle, poured water into a cup, and handed that to Gwyn. “Master Lawen, already? Surely not. He’s not to come until tomorrow, so his letter said.”

Gwyn drained the cup. He held it out to let Mavell ladle him another. “But he’s always early. I had a feeling to watch for him, and here he comes.”

“And how do you know it’s Master Lawen?”

Gwyn smiled. “I always know.”

She pursed her lips but didn’t argue. There seemed no point, they both knew that.

“Well,” the slender woman said, rubbing her hands against her apron. “If it is Master Lawen, oughtn’t you go off and clean yourself up for his arrival? Your mother will have a fit if you greet him looking like a shepherd’s boy.” She swatted Gwyn’s backside with the ladle. “Off with you, go on.”

Gwyn chuckled and trotted out of the kitchen and into a long gallery. His feet echoed against the flagstones. He cast a glance out the windows to find that full dawn had banished grey in favor of a thousand shades of green and brilliant gold. He could hear the geese and chickens griping and dogs barking as the carriage rolled along the private drive leading to the house. Gwyn thought he heard the crunch of gravel and his heart leapt.

Lawen! Home, at last. How long had it been? A year or longer. Mount Vinwen had felt hollow in his absence, though none of the others appeared to notice.

Gwyn reached his room, brushed off his trousers to dislodge any dirt or wood splinters, and changed his coarse shirt for fine woven linen. He slipped on stockings, yanked on a pair of polished boots, then caught his hair in a ponytail. A last inspection in his mirror. Gwyn awarded himself a curt, militaristic nod. He tugged one last time on his long shirt front, wrapped his belt atop it, clicked his heels, and headed downstairs.

In the main vestibule he found the rest of the ren Terares assembled, even Mother, though her lips pressed tight and her eyebrows arched above eyes sharp as needles. She turned toward Gwyn as he reached the bottom of the sweeping staircase and her gaze softened.

“Gwyn, dearheart. Thank you for not looking like a peasant this morning.”

He kissed her cheeks. “Good morning, Mother. I thought this occasion warranted the change.”

She sighed. “Yes, I suppose the master is home today.”

Gwyn brushed off her tone, not willing to let it seep in. He could understand her resentment in a way. Last year Tynveer ren Terare, Gwyn and Lawen’s blood father, had been killed in a skirmish against the savage Ilidreth. Now Lawen was the master of Mount Vinwen, and Mother, Tynveer’s second wife after Lawen’s mother had passed, now suspected her stepson would soon send her and her three children to live at another of his estates, but Gwyn knew better. There was no kinder soul in all Simaerin than his elder half-brother.

The sound of crunching gravel outside the front doors ceased as the carriage bounced to a stop. Gwyn’s younger sisters laughed and tumbled forward as the servants pulled the manor doors aside to admit the Master of Vinwen.

Author Bio:

Writer of fantasy, magic weaver, dragon rider! Having spent the past 20 years devotedly writing fantasy, it's safe to say M. H. Woodscourt is now more fae than human.

Her published titles include The Crow King, book one of her YA/High Fantasy Wintervale series, A Liar in Paradise and Key of Paradise of her YA/Portal Fantasy Paradise series, as well as October Cove, an Urban Fantasy novella.

All of her fantasy worlds connect with each other in a broad Universe, forged with love, sadism, and no small measure of blood, sweat, and tears. When she's not writing, she's napping or reading a book with a mug of hot cocoa close at hand.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram

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The fourth book in the fantasy Ascension series that NYT bestselling author Susan Dennard called "perfect for fans of Sarah J Maas." War is on the horizon. All while a new power grows strong, threatening the very balance of good and evil. Desperate to save her homeland, Cyrene goes in search of the dragons that may be the key to ending this battle—and heal her dying friend. Can Cyrene master her magic to save the world?
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Excerpt

There is a power brewing in Emporia, Cyrene. And I can’t shake the feeling, and I cannot pinpoint it. But it is there, and it is growing.”

Cyrene felt the same words that Serafina had echoed in one of her spirit dreams. A dark power had threatened to take Cyrene out of the dream. She had even succeeded in pulling Cyrene to her where she was cloaked in shadow. She’d told Cyrene to come to her and given her a portaling coin to do so. Cyrene still kept the coin with her at all times…even though she’d sworn to Vera and Matilde and Serafina that she would never use it.

“Like what Serafina said.”

“She was what made me test that energy. Her warning prompted me to check into the matter.”

“And?”

Vera shook her head. “It is worrisome, but it is not here. Not yet.” Her face was still pale though, and she looked nervous.

“What does it mean?”

“You know the story of the Creator, yes?”

“Of course,” Cyrene said. “She created all life and brought about the first people. She was the one who blessed the very first Doma with her powers.”

Vera nodded. “That is only half of the story.”

“As with all light, there is always darkness. A push and a pull. A yin and a yang,” Vera explained. She looked sideways, as if expecting Matilde to be there to finish her sentences. “As the story goes, the Creator had a sibling—the Destroyer. Two goddesses who brought life and death, good and evil, creation and destruction.”

“Okay. But it’s just a story.”

“Is it?” Vera whispered. “Aren’t all of your stories true? You believed them all to be myths. Dragons, Braj, Leifs. Just myths. How is this any different?”

“And you believe the energy you are feeling, that Serafina fears, and that found me in my dream was the goddess of destruction?” Cyrene’s eyes widened in abject horror. “Are you saying a god walked into my dream?”

Vera shook her head. “I don’t know. Yes. Maybe.”

“Well, that seems reasonable.”

Vera laughed unabashedly. “Oh, Cyrene, you always surprise me.”

“I mean, I tend to believe that the thing I least expect is probably most likely.”

“There’s no guarantee that this is the case,” Vera said. “I could be imagining it.”

“But you don’t think so.”

“No, I should have seen the signs long ago. Who else could be controlling the Braj, the Indres, and the Nokkin? They are her children after all. Created out of darkness and used as weapons. The Nokkin were the first descendants of the Doma. A family that magic corrupted and turned into horrible creatures that could suck the magic out of people, bent on destruction. There were signs. Just like there were signs the last time. And we did not see them.”

“The last time?” Cyrene asked. “Do you mean…these same things were happening during the War of the Light when Viktor killed Serafina?”

Vera nodded once.

“And did you see this goddess then?”

“No. Just her influence.”

“So, I might be about to fly into a panic for no reason.”

Vera smiled. “Perhaps. We have the gift of foresight, as we know both the prophecy and how this ended in the past. We can stop this, Cyrene. You can stop this. I believe in you. The past does not dictate the future, and you choose your destiny. Nothing is set in stone until it happens.”

“And here I thought, the worst part of my night was letting the man with the red feather slip through my fingers.”

“Let me worry for you. Creator knows I already do it enough,” Vera said. “Focus on the task at hand. We cannot fight an enemy we cannot see…and if we are unprepared, we will lose.”

Cyrene sighed heavily and flopped back on her bed. No pressure.

K.A. Linde grew up as a military brat and created fantastical stories based off of her love for Disney movies, fairy tales, and Star Wars. In her spare time, she is an avid traveler, loves reading young adult novels, and dancing. Additionally, K.A. has written more than a dozen adult novels and is a USA Today bestselling author. She lives in Lubbock, TX with her husband and two super adorable puppies. K.A. Linde loves to hear from her readers! You can contact her through email or visit her online at one of the following: Website | Facebook | Twitter

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Today Jadie Jones, The Parliament House, and Rockstar Book Tours are revealing the cover and an exclusive content for WITHER & WAYWARD, the prequel and book 3 of her Young Adult Time Travel Fantasy Romance which both release in 2019! Check out the awesome covers and enter the giveaway!

On to the reveals!

The Hightower Trilogy 0.5 | Pub. Date: 2019 | Publisher: The Parliament House | Formats: Paperback, eBook
For nearly a thousand years, Lucas, an immortal shapeshifter, has waited for Spera, his murdered human lover, to reincarnate. He has no way of knowing when or where she will return, or if she will even look the same in her new life. He must rely on his ability to recognize the actions of her fiery soul and her knack for attracting a killer king’s attention. After his search leads him to a quiet Norwegian harbor town, a surreal encounter with his own kind leads to devastating consequences, causing Lucas to question his belief in himself and his quest. With his will and options quickly fading, Lucas is offered help from an old enemy who claims to have knowledge of Spera’s return. But it comes at a price: the assassination of the immortal king who took Spera’s life. With an army raised and a strategy in place, Lucas is ready to attack, until the sudden appearance of a ghost from his past appears, forcing Lucas to take an even bigger risk than attempting to kill a malicious king…letting him live.
Find it: Goodreads

WITHER – Prequel to the Hightower Trilogy

Spera’s amber eyes appear first, burning two holes in the dark of my sleeping mind. She’s inches from my face, but she doesn’t see me. No matter how many times this happens, the utter lack of recognition is a knife in my chest.

“Spera,” I hear my voice rasp, her name echoing in my skull as she turns away, her black hair blending into the night that surrounds her.

Another dream. Always the same. Chasing this dead woman through the dark.

I know how it will end: I’ll wake up calling for her, begging her to stop, to turn around, to give me any sign she knows I’m there. She won’t. She never does. But I have to follow her. The ache in my chest grows deeper the farther she goes from me. So, I follow after her, Spera navigating shadows like a ship through still water. I follow in her wake, always trailing, always two steps behind.

She startles me by breaking into a run. She’s never run before. Her bare foot touches the ground, and the black surface turns white. In an instant, snow is falling, blanketing the ground at an incredible rate and speckling her hair with tiny white dots. Another step, and the world around us pulses as the snow gives way to the greens and browns of a forest, trees thick as houses. Another step and the shadows return. The side of her face appears. Her lips part and air rushes out. Her elbows pump as she strides faster, harder.

“Wait!” I bolt after her. My conscious wrestles with the dream, threatening to roust me from this place. My focus clings to the outline of her bare shoulders, to the glint of light from sources unknown playing off her dancing hair. I want to stay where I can see her.

Before my eyes, the color of her hair shifts from black to brown, and then to red. The length shortens, and then spills long down her back again, now changing to blonde.

“Spera! It’s me! It’s Lucas! What’s happening to you? What does this mean? Let me help you!” I cry out.

She veers hard to the left and a ray of light pierces the dark, illuminating her side. She runs toward it. Her image is reduced to an outline as she eclipses the glow. I scramble to keep up. We turn again and the light fades, revealing an inky blue backdrop. The ground turns cool and damp on my bare feet. A roar grows overhead. The scent of salt fills my nose. The sensations are so vivid I have to remind myself I’m asleep.

I force my gaze away from her for a moment and look up at the blue walls, which quiver with instability. Water. We’re standing between two bodies of water that stretch so high I can’t discern where the water ends and the sky begins. A single bead of ocean water trickles down the left side to the black sand at my feet and my heart begins to pound.

The Hightower Trilogy #3 | Pub. Date: 2019 | Publisher: The Parliament House | Formats: Paperback, eBook
Tanzy’s journey races toward an explosive end in Wayward, the third book of the Hightower Trilogy. Tanzy Hightower has crossed the veil between the Seen and Unseen worlds. She is now the only mortal in a land teeming with creatures who want her dead. To stay alive long enough to stop Asher and seal the door between worlds, she is forced to accept his marriage proposal and seek refuge inside his fortress. Tanzy is certain she can withstand any offers he makes to tempt her into opening the door, but he possesses a bargaining chip she could never have imagined. On the Seen side of the veil, Tanzy’s allies are fragmented, lost, and leaderless. They must learn to work together as they gather more candidates and begin training to defend their world against unfathomable predators poised to strike should the veil holding them at bay dissolve. While Tanzy has accepted her own inevitable death in fulfilling her destiny, her closest friends refuse to stop searching for the impossible: a way to save Tanzy’s life. A choice will be made. The veil will change. The worlds as Tanzy knows them will never be the same.
Find it: Goodreads

WAYWARD – Book 3 in the Hightower Trilogy

(Told from Tanzy’s point of view)

Asher’s realm stretches in front of me: a diamond tundra, the air a series of rainbows as light is refracted from the prismatic ground and reflected a million times over. The sight is impossible, glorious, breathtaking…

But my mind, my focus, my every nerve ending is centered on what—on who—is behind me; the king of this realm—Asher. His breath warms the base of my neck, and the heat from his body is near enough to send shivers up my spine. He baited me into a third kill by sending a phony candidate to attack Jayce. Jayce—who fought for me, and fought like hell for the truth—always the truth. Jayce, who might be dead, whose blood covered Reese’s shirt when she was forced through the veil with me after I killed Genesis.

In this moment, I have two truths: One—I must kill Asher, even though I have no idea how. Two—if I lose ground to Asher, I will not regain it.

My body explodes into motion. My heel aims for the dip between his thigh and his knee. Asher is faster, dropping his leg back. My momentum carries me too far forward. I stumble sideways and brace for the blow I’ve left myself open to receive.

It doesn’t come.

I fight the urge to back away. I can’t run from him—there’s no point, and I swore I would never again back down in his presence. A stupid oath, in hindsight, but it sounded good at the time, and I am roughly ninety-five percent certain he won’t kill me here and now. I also vowed to live long enough to seal the veil between our two worlds. In this moment, with that five percent feeling bigger by the second, I’m not sure I can keep both promises.

In white linen pants and a fitted t-shirt, Asher doesn’t look dressed for a fight. He puts his hands in his pockets and saunters closer, a smile on his white lips, sunlight gleaming in his black hair. “We both know you can’t kill me on my side of the veil, Tanzy. And if I wanted you dead, I’d simply leave you for the Taigo,” he says. “Any of them would be very eager to collect the bounty their leader has placed on your head.”

“I’m an Unseen now. No one can kill me here but you,” I retort, clenching my hands so he won’t see them tremble. I wonder if they’re still stained with Genesis’s blood.

Asher’s brow lifts in amusement at my misinformation. “You’re not Unseen. You are very capable of dying.”

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Grab book 2 WINDSWEPT!

About Jadie:

Young-adult author. Equine professional. Southern gal. Pacific Northwest Transplant. Especially fond of family, sunlight, and cookie dough.

I wrote my first book in seventh grade, filling one hundred and four pages of a black and white Mead notebook. Back then I lived for two things: horses and R.L. Stine books. Fast forward nearly twenty years, and I still work with horses, and hoard books like most women my age collect shoes. It's amazing how much changes... and how much stays the same.

The dream of publishing a novel has hitch-hiked with me down every other path I've taken (and there have been many.) Waitress, farm manager, road manager, bank teller, speech writer, retail, and more. But that need to bring pen to paper refused to quiet. Finally, in 2009, I sat down, pulled out a brand new notebook, and once again let the pictures in my head become words on paper.

As a child, my grandfather would sit me in his lap and weave tales about the Cherokee nation, and a girl who belonged with horses. His words painted a whole new world, and my mind would take flight. My hope - my dream - is that Tanzy's journey does the same for you.

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