Morgan Bailey, Vampire Hunter-Get it while it’s HOT!!!

2 Oct

Happy Release Day! to the uber talented, Shéa MacLeod, whose steamy vampire hunter stories have been ‘revamped’ and rereleased by Amazon’s imprint, Montlake Romance. Click HERE for the Amazon purchase link. Book one, Kissed by Darkness, releases today. Books two and three will release later this year. All issues will have new scenes, so even if you’ve read them before, you’re sure to find the books are even better.

Shéa MacLeod is PROOF that indie authors are achieving success. Go Shéa!!!

 

Kissed by Darkness:

Three years ago, Morgan Bailey narrowly survived a vampire attack that left her with heightened senses, uncanny speed, and a new calling: supernatural bounty hunter. Since that day, sexy, street-smart Morgan hasn’t met a vampire she couldn’t dust or a demon she couldn’t kill—until she’s hired to hunt down a priceless amulet and the sunwalker who stole it. Sunwalkers—powerful vampires immune to sunlight—are notoriously difficult to find, let alone kill. Still, a job’s a job, and Morgan’s never been one to shy away from a challenge. So bring it on…right?

But the sunwalker ends up tracking her down. And not only that, he turns out to be cunning, charming—and undeniably gorgeous. Nevertheless, she can’t ignore the destruction he is capable of: the sunwalker possesses an ancient secret which, if unleashed, could destroy the human world. Captivating and fantastical, Kissed by Darkness introduces a kick-ass new heroine and an addictive new series for fans of urban fantasy.

Introducing the new zombie killing machine!

29 Sep

So hubs thinks that in bringing a gun home (which costs more than my first car, AND my second car) that I will not be angry if he also includes zombie killing bullets. I have to admit, the bullets with little green tips are pretty kick-ass, BUT it’s an awfully pricey gun and he ain’t no Rambo! Tomorrow we are going to go shoot up some zombie targets. Okay, the zombie target practice sounds kick-ass as well, but I am in NO WAY endorsing spending more on a gun than you would on a car. Zombie target pics to follow. Melvin the Dry Cleaning Zombie had better not try to come around MY house.
Speaking of Melvin the Zombie, he also makes a guest appearance in my newest book, Pride and Prejudice and Vampires releasing in October. He’s not actually in THAT story, but included in a bonus selection of short stories in the back. Can’t you just wait?

Pride and Prejudice and Vampires Cover Reveal!!!

27 Sep

What do you think of my new cover? Pretty awesome, right? Poor Jane Austen is rolling over in her grave right now. Slow down, Jane!!! My latest parody will be arriving on your Kindles in October, but the early reviews are already pouring in.  Here’s what readers are saying about Pride, Prejudice and Vampires!

From Jane Austen: This book motivated me to return from beyond the veil of mortality so that I might smack Pj Jones upside the head.

 

From PJ Jones’ neighbor’s dead cat: I can’t believe I wasted one of my nine lives reading this book.

 

From Melvin the zombie: Brains. Books. Brains.

 

From the flasher in the Safeway parking lot: Come a little closer. I’ve got something else for you to read.

 

From the sanitation truck driver in PJ’s neighborhood: I knew there was a strange smell coming from PJ’s house.

Below is an unedited scene from Pride, Prejudice and Vampires:

“Brother.” Caroline Bingley snapped her fan shut and wacked Mr. Bingley over the head. “I told you country society was unrefined. We need to move back to London.”

“I can’t sell my house. I already signed the papers. Besides, I locked in my loan at three percent interest. I’m never going to get another deal like that.”

 

The Haunted Collection has arrived!

26 Sep
Image

Click to purchase.

Get your copy of The Haunted Collection now on Kindle for just .99!

Empty Vessel by M. Edward McNally: Captain Wil has command of his own ship, the respect of his crew, and his wife is expecting their first child. But at sea, the winds always become calm just before the storm breaks.

The Smell of Death by Tara West: Maggie’s unusual powers bring new threats to her already troubled childhood.

Safe by Emma Jameson: In Victorian London, a grave robber makes a nice living off the dead, until he opens the wrong crypt.

Soulfully Sweet by Shéa MacLeod: As if helping the living isn’t enough of a pain in her divine hindquarters, Branwen (former goddess of love and beauty) is stuck helping the dead on All Hallow’s Eve.

May I Go Play? by Heather Marie Adkins: Micah inherits a southern mansion where ancestors long dead relive their violent deaths. And now, they want company…

Blehdward, the Vampire who Couldn’t Sparkle by Pj Jones: Blehdward desperately wants to fit in with the cool vamps. If only he could learn how to sparkle.

Franscesca by Alan Nayes: Break a promise to a feiticeira and you will live to regret it.

Soul Eaters by R.G. Porter: Kaitlyn never believed in the existence of other worlds. Now she’s in the middle of one where humans aren’t the hunters but the hunted.

The Eclective is a group of authors dedicated to the premise that The Story is The Thing, and classifications of genre are mostly a matter for bookshelves. While the following stories share a “Haunting” theme, they might variously be filed as Horror, Paranormal, Fantasy, YA, etc., or anything else. Our idea is that the story itself is more important than whatever label somebody feels like giving it, and by bringing our work together in collections like this one, we hope readers may find a story they might like. Even if it is not in “their” genre.

Books that Don’t Suck!

19 Jul

Hi, I’ve been busy writing, trying to finish up my latest parody. Please join me at The Eclective for a Books that Don’t Suck post where I review, Milligan and the Samurai Rebels by Simon Alexander Collier, a must read book for enyone who wants a good laugh.

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In the meantime, here’s another scene from Pride, Prejudice and Sparkly Vampires.  

Lydia and her sister Elizabeth stood on the street corner as they hungrily eyed the redcoats who were swarming their village like flies to a corpse. After last night’s fiasco, Lydia was no longer allowed to patrol the town without at least one of her sisters, which totally sucked because neither Jane nor Elizabeth were as slutty as she. Lydia hoped Elizabeth didn’t plan on ruining all of her fun today.

Though Lydia’s stomach was full off the blood of two sick elderly people and a stable boy, her desire was still not sated. She pulled down her tight bodice to expose generous amounts of cleavage, hoping her brass invitation would draw in soldiers. It wasn’t long before Lydia’s plaything, Denny, happened by, along with another fine looking officer.

“Denny,” Lydia squealed, “over here.”

When Denny spotted Lydia and Elizabeth, all the color drained from his face and he looked as if he’d turn and run.

Lydia crossed her arms over her chest and bore down upon him with her, red, demonic gaze. Denny’s shoulders fell and he sulked across the cobblestone road toward the sisters. Much to Lydia’s satisfaction, his sexy friend followed alongside him.

“Oh, hello, Miss Lydia,” Denny said through a shaky voice as he dropped his gaze to Lydia’s feet.

Lydia pointed to the ground and screamed. “On all fours when you address me!”

“Y-yes, Miss Lydia.” Denny immediately fell to the ground.

Lydia leaned over and nudged Elizabeth. “Told you I’ve got him wrapped around my finger.” She kicked Denny once in the chin for good measure. “Who’s your friend?”

“M-miss Lydia and Miss Elizabeth,” Denny cried as he spit out a wad of blood and tooth, “I’d like to introduce you to my friend, George Wickham.”

George Wickham was a fine specimen to behold—hair as black as a raven’s wing, eyes the color of midnight, high chiseled cheekbones and full lips set above a square jawline. But what was most striking about George Wickham was the prodigious bulge beneath the front of his form-fitting breeches, leaving Lydia to wonder if he’d just taken a huge backwards shit, or if he truly was hung like a horse.

He bowed ever so slightly and planted a delicate kiss on each of their hands. “A pleasure to meet you both.” When he righted his posture, Lydia could not mistake the wicked gleam in his eyes.

“Aren’t you a sexy piece of man meat?” she cooed.

“Look, Lydia,” Elizabeth growled into Lydia’s ear, “there’s Mr. Bingley and his douchewad friend.”

Lydia snarled at the two men on horseback riding through the street. They stopped only to tip their hats at Lydia and her sister. But they completely ignored Lydia’s other companions.

“Oh, how rude!” Lydia hissed. She was so angry, she kicked Denny between the legs. He fell to his side and clutched his groin like a dirty dog.

Elizabeth gaped at George Wickham. “Did that dicknozzle just give you the cold shoulder?”

George heaved a resonant sigh as he turned baleful eyes upon Elizabeth and Lydia. “So you noticed. Yes, Mr. Darcy’s animosity for me is quite tragic, really. He’s the reason I was forced to join the regiment.”

“Look.” Lydia held out a silencing palm. “I’m going to be blunt here and tell you that I’m really not interested in your pathetic backstory.”

“Oh, pray tell me what interests you?” George Wickham folded his arms across his massive chest and then he did something remarkable. He licked his eyebrows.

Lydia gaped at George Wickham for a long moment before turning to her sister. “Did you just see that?” She pointed at Wickham’s mouth. “That. That interests me.”

Zombie Fiends and Finds

13 Jun

Sorry, readers, I’ve been busy writing, writing and writing some more. Really, there is no excuse for me to be so absent from my blog, but there you go. I’m a baaaddd blogger. In the meantime, I recently joined a site called Zombie Fiend. Have y’all heard of it? It’s actually set up pretty cool, like the old My Space and WordPress combined. They even have a photo slideshow feature. Here’s me, so you can join and be my friend. PLEASE be my friend. I only have about four right now. http://www.zombiefiend.com/profile/PJJones?v=957115578&refresh=1

I even created this cool background image for my site. What do you think? ImageIn the meantime, I’ve got a new cover for Attack of the Fairytale Zombies. I was told my little piggie cover looked too much like the Angry Birds piggies and it also looked juvenile. Believe me, this book is NOT for kids. To emphasize my point, here’s a scene from chapter ten.

“Wizard, what happened?”

Barth carefully climbed off Drag’s back and in through the tower window. Carefully, because he didn’t think he could survive the 200 foot drop. And if he suffered the misfortune of surviving the drop, he’d be eaten alive by zombies.

A whole horde of them was moaning for brains below and pounding on the tower walls. Oversized rabid werewolves, sparkling vampires, crazed pixies and even giant trolls were among the brain-thirsty ghouls. Judging by the pile of rubble that was once the king’s twenty-foot electrified security fence, Barth knew it would only be a matter of time before they brought down the tower as well. Image

“The entire town has been zombiefied,” the wizard cried out while pacing the floor of his darkened chamber, illuminated only by jars of scented candles. “They’ve run out of brains and have stormed the castle.”

The king, who sat huddled in a corner with his few surviving guards, stood on trembling legs. He grinned sheepishly. “I tried to feed them cake but it didn’t work.”

“My tower is the only part of the castle they haven’t been able to penetrate,” the wizard said. “I put an anti-zombie force-field around it which should hold them off for at least a few hours.”

“A force-field?” Barth scratched his head. “That’s a little sci-fi for a fairytale. Are you sure it will work?”

As if on cue, a crazed little zombie pixie flew around Drag’s enormous flapping wings and tried to burst through the tower window. She was zapped on the spot. Her steaming little ashes floated down toward the ground.

The wizard arched a brow while folding his arms across his chest. “You were saying?”

Barth swallowed hard as he leaned his head out the window and watched the pixie’s ashes break apart in the breeze. He quickly pulled back. “So this force-field only works on zombies, right?”

The wizard nodded. “Any zombie who tries to enter the tower will be fried like a mosquito in a bug zapper. But the force-field’s battery level has already dropped to fifty-percent and the zombies knocked out the power, so I can’t recharge it.”

Barth’s jaw fell open as he finally took in his surroundings. He’d initially thought the wizard was having a candle party, but now he realized the wizard’s chamber was so dark because he had no electric lighting. No wonder there were no cookies and punch.

“That sucks,” he said, not just because the electricity was out, but because he’d really been hoping for some refreshments.

The wizard heaved a sigh before turning mournful eyes on Barth. “Yes, especially since our only hope now, Barth,” the wizard groaned, “rests with you and your dragon. Please tell me you were able to recover the potion.”

Barth grimaced. “Almost, and then the penis prince stole your broom and took off with the potion.”

The king gasped. “My son stole the potion? That kid’s grounded for a week.”

“Oh, wow, King,” Drag called dryly through the window. “Such a harsh punishment for dooming an entire kingdom to a flesh-eating zombie curse.”

“You’re right.” The king nodded, looking totally unfazed by Drag’s caustic tone. “He’ll be grounded for a weekend with no television. That ought to teach him.”

Barth grabbed the wizard’s arm. “I need to go after the prince. Wizard, can you use your giant pussy to find out where he went?”

The wizard leveled Barth with a glare. “My giant eye was finally working and then the zombies knocked out my satellite internet.”

Barth snickered. “That’s what you get for not switching to DSL.”

“Barth,” the wizard pleaded, “you have to find the prince and get that potion, either that or slay everyone in fairytale kingdom who have now turned into zombies.”

The king raised a hand. “I vote he slays the zombies.”

“No.” Barth shook his head. “Heather would have wanted me to go after the potion and save the kingdom.” Barth headed out the window before stopping and abruptly turning around. He pulled rat Heather out of his pants pocket and placed her in the wizard’s hand. “Oh, I almost forgot, I need you to cure Heather. Douchebagga turned her into a rat.”

The wizard scowled down at the rat. “So I see.”

Barth struck a prayer pose. “Can you help her wizard?” he begged. “It would really mean a lot to me.”

The wizard gave a half-hearted shrug. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Barth beamed. “Thank you.” He turned back toward the window and snaked one leg through the opening. “Don’t worry, King Dump and Wizard Dilligaf, I will free the kingdom from this zombie curse. You can depend on me.”

The king slapped his forehead. “We’re all doomed.”

ROMANCE NOVEL is FREE on Kindle today – Download your trashy parody now!

19 May

Will Smella and Deadward find true love, or will Smella’s fish tacos ruin the moment? Is Flabio a real cover model? How many landfills can a vampire fill in an eternity? Find out in ROMANCE NOVEL—the unabridged, unauthorized comedic look at the bestselling vampire series that will leave you wondering who the hell ever believed vampires could “sparkle.” And you’ll laugh…all the way to the bathroom!

Here’s a scene from chapter 11:

Then music from the loudspeakers overhead came to an abrupt end, and the faint echo of Native American pan flutes reverberated throughout the arena.

Smella scanned the crowd for Snake, knowing he must have made his entrance.

The crowd parted like the Red Sea. He was standing at the far end of the arena, a soft breeze ruffling his tall headdress and long dark mane, his bare chest glistening under the glow of the artificial lights overhead.

Slowly, he made his way toward Smella, the breeze picking up slightly, as his hair whipped wildly about his face. The harmony of pan flutes grew louder.

He continued on, the feral gleam in his eyes, making him look like a lone wolf stalking his prey.

Smella gulped, hard, knowing she was the object of Snake Long’s desire.

The current of wind, which was strangely blowing inside the confines of the stadium, strengthened, blowing Snake’s headdress off his head. Shielding his eyes with his hands, Snake trudged on against the gale and onslaught of pan flute music, until finally he’d reached Smella.

The wind and music simultaneously died down as he sat beside her.

Snake took a moment to catch his breath, fanning his face with his hand.

Smella grabbed his large forearm, feeling a jolt of electricity shoot down her spine at the feel of his hot, sweaty skin on hers. “Are you alright?” she asked.

Snake held up a silencing finger. He pulled out an inhaler from the front of his doeskin pants, and breathed in several puffs of medicine.

With a steadying hand on his chest, he finally spoke. “My dad gave me a nickel to tell you to tell Deadward, we’ll be watching you.”

Smella quirked a brow. “A nickel?”

“It’s a tough economy right now, Smella,” he berated her with a condescending tone.

“Alright,” she answered, a puzzled expression in her otherwise vacant eyes.

“Anyway, you should stay away from Deadward.” Snake poked her chest with an accusatory finger. “He’s bad news.”

Smella jerked her head, snickering. “He’s also rich and white.”

“You’ve got a point.” He shrugged. “But just be careful.”

“Oh, Snake,” Smella cried, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face against his lean, hard, sweaty chest. “What would I do without a friend like you?”

Snake pulled her closer, roaming the length of her back with his large hands. Then he cupped her buttocks and squeezed.

Smella moaned against his throat before tracing his collarbone with delicate kisses.

With one swift movement, Snake had pulled her up on his lap.

She straddled his thighs, wrapping two long legs around his back. They groped each other while making out with lots of spit and tongue action.

The room fell hush, but they were heedless of anything else but each other.

With Smella’s assistance, Snake had pulled her shirt over her head, and he was busy struggling with the clasps on her lacy black bra.

After the distinctive sound of Deadward clearing his throat behind her, Smella retracted her tongue and fought against the suction of Snake’s lips.

Wrenching her lips free, Smella came up for air, her body heaving as she panted like a dog in heat.

She wiped a prodigious amount of saliva off her face and angled her head toward the fuming Deadward behind her.

Batting long lashes, she feigned innocence. “Oh, hi, Sweetie. I was just having a chat with Snake.”

“Yeah,” Snake spoke in between gasps. “We were talking about the weather.”

It was then that Smella noticed every cowboy and cowgirl in Pitchforks was standing behind Deadward, eyes as wide as saucers as they glared at her half-naked body.

Smella could feel her face turning ten shades of red. Everyone was staring at her tits, and she was wearing the bargain brand bra she’d gotten from Wal-Mart, not the second skin satin from Victoria’s Secret.

But it was too late to run home and change bras now. So she slid off Snake, retrieving her shirt from behind his broad back, and then quickly dressed.

“I’ll see you later, Smella,” Snake called as he made a hasty retreat through the crowd.

“Yeah, nice talking to you,” Smella called back with feigned disinterest before turning her gaze to Deadward.

He was standing there, blood-stained mouth agape, with a large diet soda in one hand and a popcorn in the other.

“Oh, thanks!” she squealed, taking the snacks from him. “I’m famished.”

Shaking their heads in disgust, the crowd returned to their dancing. Smella could have sworn she heard the women snickering about Wal-Mart lingerie.