Author Spotlight: B.L. McGrew and Her Butterfly Diary

Today I’m happy to have on my blog a friend of mine that I met this year via BookCon. We connected and I was touched my her genuine soul so that when she told me she was releasing a book I thought why not have her on my blog? I have gotten to know her over time and she had become like my soul book sister. I hope you enjoy your introduction to B.L. Mc  as she makes her debut.






Zoe is a closed off, sarcastic, unhappy, high tempered, seventeen year old girl, who is forced by her therapist to start keeping a diary. She doesn’t see the point in having to communicate her every thought. Whether it be speaking or writing, it wouldn’t change anything.

Plagued with the stress of traumatic experiences in her life and weighed down with a huge secret she is keeping from those closest to her, Zoe is a closed book to the world around her. Avoidance is all she knows.

Though, she may seem like nothing bothers her on the exterior, she knows the demons she is battling and the skeletons she’s trying to keep locked away. Will she ever be able to face all the dark in her life? Will she ever be able to see herself as someone worthy of love, someone worthy of happiness?

Is happiness even meant for everyone?


I was manic and anxiety ridden watching it hold my words, words that I could never get back. Like a crazed person I jumped out of my bed and nearly ran to my desk grabbing the diary. I yanked it open and violently ripped those three pages out that I’d just written. I tore the pages into pieces so tiny that they could have easily been confused as confetti. I threw the pieces of confetti into the trash and then poured my bottle of water over it just to ensure the pieces could never be put back together.

I sat down in my chair nearly out of breath. My shoulders slumped as I stared at my trashcan. Unable to cry for some odd reason; my hands started to tremble. I counted the butterflies on the cover of the diary again and again, slowly and methodically until I was able to calm my unsteady body.

 In that moment I realized that like the wet and ripped pages of confetti, I too would never be put back together.


Author Interview:

What do you do when you are not writing?

When I am not writing, I am usually reading or running/working out. 

When did you first start writing and when did you finish your first book?

I actually started off writing Twilight FanFiction and I had a lot of fans tell me I needed to start writing my own stories. My parents encouraged me as well and in 2010 I started coming up with my own characters. 

How did you choose the genre you write in?

I just feel comfortable with Young Adult/ New Adult/ contemporary. I don’t want to pigeon hole myself, but I write more fluidly in these genres.  

Do you ever experience writer’s block?

Yes! I experience it often. Actually, before I finished Her Butterfly Diary I hadn’t written in three years. I hated that nothing was inspiring me, but one day a flood of ideas hit me for many different kinds of books and now I can’t stop!

Do you work with an outline, or just write?

I just go with the flow. I want to outline, but for me personally it messes with my creativity while writing. I like to go wherever the words take me. My original idea for Her Butterfly Diary was totally different than my finished product. Had I followed an outline of my original idea I don’t think it would be the book it is right now.

Can you tell us about your upcoming book?

It has dark themes and a few difficult parts to read as you learn more about the protagonist, Zoe. I hope people can take away from the book the feeling of knowing we all grow. We all battle demons differently  and that doesn’t make you less of a person.

What project are you working on now?

I’m currently working on multiple projects. My second novels first draft is complete, so now I’m working on my first fantasy trilogy and two other realistic fiction/Young Adult books. Trying to figure out which one will be my third complete project.

Will you have a new book coming out soon?

Yes! Next year my sophomore novel “We Are Immeasurable” will be released. It is a Young Adult novel and I won’t give too much away, but grab your tissues!

Do you have any advice to give to aspiring writers?

WRITE! When you don’t want to, when you think you’re out of words, when you think your idea sucks, WRITE ANYWAY! It will come to you. Writing is like exercising, you have to be consistent. If you’re not you get rusty and you lose momentum! Just don’t think too hard, take it chapter by charter. Word by word, before you know it you will have a first draft!

Is there anything that you would like to say to your readers and fans?

THANK YOU! Your support means the world to me. It’s overwhelming knowing people are rooting for you and want to see you win. I’m living my dream, all I’ve wanted is to become a published author and I can officially say that I am. So thank you for going on this ride with me. There’s more to come and I promise you, I will work hard at getting better and better! 

Author Bio:


Native of North Eastern, Ohio. I have been writing for almost ten years with “Her Butterfly Diary” being my first published work. I am a bibliophile, a vegan, and a runner! Books, writing, and music are all I need in this life. And peanut butter! I was a teacher for seven years, but writing is what I want to do with the rest of my life. I hope you enjoy my debut!

Social Media:



DRIFTER by Janine Infante Bosco Cover Reveal



by Janine Infante Bosco
Nomad Series #1
Publication Date: November 8, 2016
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Erotic, MC, Romantic Suspense


Cover Designer: JB’s Cover Obsession Design
Model: Matthew Hosea
Photographer: Wander Pedro Aguiar

Pre-order the biker full of dirty promises today on ITunes, Barnes & Amazon!

Synopsis: “Stryker”
I’m a drifter.
A man born to ride through this world alone.
There used to be a time when I thought I was the rescuing type. I enlisted in the Marines and made it my duty—I was going to save lives.
I was going to be a true American hero.
But God had another plan.
Or maybe Satan did.
For everything I touch finds mortality.
I’m no hero.
I’m nothing.
I’m a veteran biker, a former nomad who survived war only to live in hell.
Now I ride with the Satan’s Knights of Brooklyn and I’m drifting into a different kind of chaos.
The kind that revolves around a pretty girl with intoxicating green eyes.
A girl who has the power to turn me inside out.
A girl who doesn’t need anyone to rescue her because she’s her own savior.
Until she’s not.
But a man plagued by war and the devil inside him can never be her hero.

Gina Spinelli

Strong. Independent. Fierce.
They are the three things I strived to be.
But sometimes being successful can be lonely.
Sometimes a girl just wants to be a girl and have someone take care of her.
Maybe even love her.
Sometimes the strong become vulnerable.
Or worse, the victor becomes the victim.
Sometimes we lose control or in my case it’s stripped from you.
Defeated. Broken. Haunted.
They are the three things I have become.
In my darkest hour I admit defeat.
In my darkest hour I need one person.
I need him.

***NOTE: Contains explicit sexual situations, violence, sensitive subjects, offensive language, and mature topics. Recommended for age 18 years and up. ***



Come Meet Author Janine Infante Bosco & Model Matthew Hosea at “Authors In The City” 3.11.17 in Raleigh, NC!







It engulfs me, provides me with a false sense of security the moment I close my eyes and drags my subconscious into the depths of sleep. But, it’s quickly ripped from me by the sound of plagued screams. A woman shouts with a foreign tongue and though I don’t understand the Afghani language I know beyond a shadow of a doubt she’s yelling for her innocent child to run, to seek shelter and for the man with the laser pointed at the child’s head not to shoot.

I am the man with the sniper rifle.

I am the man perched on a roof, with my finger firmly wrapped around the trigger.

And that bitch just sent her fucking child to play in the sand with a bomb strapped to his back.

For a moment, I want to believe she’s not playing me—that her kid isn’t a ploy in some sick terrorist plot. I ignore the sounds of my men commanding me to take my shot, insisting that time is of the essence and if I don’t do it, I’m betraying my country. I loosen my finger around the trigger and open both my eyes and watch the boy lift a handful of sand through the scope attached to my rifle. He opens his palm and spreads his fingers wide letting the grains of sand fall through them before he looks back at his mother.

She shouts more of that foreign bullshit and I wish I could get my hands on her and slice her tongue from her mouth.

It’s the final thought that crosses my mind before I pull the trigger and watch the boy fall back into the sand as my bullet pierces him between his eyes–innocent eyes that were once wide with wonder now are dull and lifeless.

Sweat beads along my brow and I can feel the bile rise up my throat as I wait. Everything around me fades as I stare at the boy in the sand. I lose myself and question my purpose, my mission, my platoon—everything. The bomb doesn’t go off and I swallow the lump lodged in my throat. I frantically peer into the scope, moving it to the right in search for the mother. I picture the Virgin Mary cradling her lifeless son that was pulled from the cross and wait for the woman dressed in black garb to do the same but she’s nowhere in sight.

Before I can divert my eyes back to the boy the blast erupts robbing me the opportunity to look into his eyes one final time because his head has been blown off his body and the fragments of him are now one with the sand he was playing with.

This is war.

And this is hell.

All that’s left is the sound of my own screams vibrating through my body, deafening as it pounds my eardrums and invades my head.

It’s those very screams that pull me from my sleep night after night and why I’ve given up on getting a full night’s rest, using my bed only to fuck and even that didn’t happen too often.

Until her.

I used to pound my dick into any willing pussy, never bringing them into my bed, believing I didn’t need that false sense of hope that I’m normal when I’ve got a woman wrapped around me, begging to spend the night in my arms after I’ve thoroughly fucked her—only for her to realize I’m fucked in the head when I wake her up screaming like a little bitch.

Yeah, I didn’t need that shit.

Hell, I didn’t want it.

Until her.

But I’ve learned my lesson and I’ve learned it the hard way. It’s the reason I’m sitting in a chair in the corner of a fucking filthy motel—waiting for the sun to rise as I stare at the battered and bruised woman in my bed, when all I want to do is climb in next to her and pull her into my arms—take away her pain and forget mine. I clench my fists and keep them pinned against the arms of the chair as I take in the dried up blood on her naturally pouty lips—lips that skimmed every inch of my body and I crave every night since.

I tear my eyes from her mouth and zero in on her closed eyes—eyes I know are pale green. Eyes once vibrant with life and mischief are now going to be full of torment and fear—when the swelling goes down and she can fucking open them again.

Her long brown hair is splayed across my pillow, matted with blood and knots from being fisted and pulled, leaving her scalp sore and just as bruised as the rest of her. I let my eyes travel the length of her, knowing the body she’s hiding behind her clothes matches her face in color and shame.

A knock sounds on my door and I tear my eyes away from the restless beauty, squirming between my sheets—wishing its pleasure that has her twisting and not torment.

Torment can’t be erased, it can’t be silenced—that shit sticks with you.

It lives inside you and destroys you, fractures your soul and rips your life to shreds.

I may have rescued her tonight but the woman in my bed is as good as dead. Her soul has been taken, chewed up and spit out by the men who attacked her—when she wakes up all she’ll know is grief.

She’ll mourn the life she had and wish the one she’s left with ends.






Janine Infante Bosco lives in New York City, she has always loved reading and writing. When she was thirteen, she began to write her own stories and her passion for writing took off as the years went on. At eighteen, she even wrote a full screenplay with dreams of one day becoming a member of the Screen Actors Guild.

Janine writes emotionally charged novels with an emphasis on family bonds, strong willed female characters, and alpha male men who will do anything for the women they love. She loves to interact with fans and fellow avid romance readers like herself.

She is proud of her success as an author and the friendships she’s made in the book community but her greatest accomplishment to date would be her two sons Joseph and Paul.






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Beyond The Friend Zone featuring Always Never By: Grace Ravel

The amazing gals (and guy) at the Writing Wenches are coming out with another anthology. This time the theme is friends to lovers–how fun is that? Short stories are sometimes harder to write because of the word count constraint–come up with a story in forty pages or less that has characters people can relate to and a story people will want to read. Sure. Piece of cake. Of course it wasn’t a piece of cake but it was certainly fun.

I love my characters: Bree and Rowan, best friends since they were in kindergarten. A series of notes, and later, text messages reveal stages, milestones, heartaches and joys in a lifetime of friendship between these two beautiful souls. Bree, as typical of female characters I write, is a strong, independent woman who loves deeply and is fiercely loyal. With a serious, introspective personality, Rowan’s lighter, happier disposition provides a balance to Bree’s. I hope you enjoy reading their story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Here’s a teaser, and just below is a sneak peak.

Always Never Teaser

Sneak Peek


Rowan: How do you like the new cellphone?
Bree: Lovely. Another reminder of the inadequacy of my social life.
Rowan: How’s that?
Bree: I have two speed dials. You and my mom. Oh, three. Pizza Hut.
Rowan: You’ve got all the ones that matter. Plus, you’re on the top of my list.
Bree: Well, that’s something. And more evidence why high school’s gonna suck.
Rowan: It’ll be fun.
Bree: Easy for you to say, Mr. Popularity.
Rowan: I can’t help it if your best friend is the shit.
Bree: Gag me.
Rowan: Please. you love me.
Bree: Always. But you better not turn into an asshole jock.
Rowan: As if you’d let me.
Bree: Never.

Abou Grace1

Profile Pic DN
I’m married to a wonderfully patient man who is convinced I have ADD. My short attention span is great for raising four active boys, not so much for doing grown-up things, which also means writing is a challenging process. But I love to write so I force myself to sit longer than five minutes without getting sucked into the internet rabbit hole or impromptu football games. I’m currently working on my first manuscript, and second, and third (see, short attention span). You can find my ramblings at or on social media, Grace Ravel.

13 Days of Halloween with Bewitching Desires A Savannah Coven Anthology (Day 12)

Today is the 12 Day of my 13 Days of Halloween with Bewitching Desires A Savannah Coven Anthology. I am putting some info and insight into my short from this anthology.

I have never written paranormal anything before. So writing a paranormal romance was a bit tricky for me because it required research and tons of help from my writing group in this project. I knew I wanted my heroine Paige to be African American. My hero Kean was based at least on appearance by a wrestler who gives me the impression he would make a great shifter. Once I got passed the appearance I wanted to make him sexy, but secretive and my story went from there.

I am a big fan of Stephen King and one of my favorite books of his is “Carrie”. In that book Carrie was a girl who possessed telekinetic powers and that was the inspiration for Paige having that power as well.

The name of my story is Magical Shift.

Magical Shift Cover


Paige has always been a loner. After the death of her nana, she takes solace in her job and taking long runs in the woods. Her usual place of solitude is threatened by an unknown presence and a rather handsome mystery man who lands on her doorstep quite literally.
Falling in love with the handsome stranger wasn’t part of the plan, but that is exactly what begins to happen. When old friends and secrets start to unravel, Paige is left with trying to find a balance between what she thought she knew and what her heart says.

An excerpt from Magical Shift

Me? I received my powers a year ago at midnight. At first I thought I’d lost things, my keys and my sunglasses. Then later I’d find them in different places. By the time I arrived at the Halloween coven meeting, I had realized that I was accidentally moving things around. At first it seemed fun, but after a while, I grew frustrated because I didn’t know how to control the telekinesis. I’d find my hairbrush in the fridge and the flour would end up in the linen cupboard. Glasses would be broken on the hall floor. Almost a year and endless practice later I have a greater degree of control. Nana would’ve made sure I learned it all, but I think I did pretty well for someone who had to figure it out on her own. Although when I’m angry or tired, I still tend to do things more unintentionally than not.
My usual route took me around the edge of the woods; a circuit that ended back home. I could take the road on the opposite side, but that led into town. Now that Nana had passed, I had been going further in, not when the run was so peaceful and the forest so close to my house.
I paced myself as I ran past the trees. Pink’s upbeat tunes dazzled my eardrums. I reveled in the sense of freedom running gave me, even if it was only for a moment.
Nana often called me her special little girl. She said there weren’t many of us in the black culture. I came from a long line of witches and I inherited the powers I got. It skipped generations. Many of the other black witches my nana had known in her lifetime learned their occult knowledge from books and spells.
I kept up my pace until the feeling I wasn’t alone in the woods crept up on me. I took one of the headphones out and scanned my surroundings to see if I could spot something. My intuition was usually right. I turned around a few times, seeing nothing, I placed my earphones back in. Lately, I have been feeling like I was being watched. Most times the presence didn’t feel threatening, and other times it did. Maybe Nana was warning me away from the woods from beyond.
The hairs on the back of my neck pricked up and I picked up the pace. I could hear all of Nana’s past warnings in my head, but I needed my daily run like I needed coffee. It was my fix.

things more unintentionally than not.
My usual route took me around the edge of the woods; a circuit that ended back home. I could take the road on the opposite side, but that led into town. Now that Nana had passed, I had been going further in, not when the run was so peaceful and the forest so close to my house.
I paced myself as I ran past the trees. Pink’s upbeat tunes dazzled my eardrums. I reveled in the sense of freedom running gave me, even if it was only for a moment.
Nana often called me her special little girl. She said there weren’t many of us in the black culture. I came from a long line of witches and I inherited the powers I got. It skipped generations. Many of the other black witches my nana had known in her lifetime learned their occult knowledge from books and spells.
I kept up my pace until the feeling I wasn’t alone in the woods crept up on me. I took one of the headphones out and scanned my surroundings to see if I could spot something. My intuition was usually right. I turned around a few times, seeing nothing, I placed my earphones back in. Lately, I have been feeling like I was being watched. Most times the presence didn’t feel threatening, and other times it did. Maybe Nana was warning me away from the woods from beyond.
The hairs on the back of my neck pricked up and I picked up the pace. I could hear all of Nana’s past warnings in my head, but I needed my daily run like I needed coffee. It was my fix.
My senses tingled again. I spun around again this time certain that I wasn’t alone. I didn’t want to deal with the abnormal today.
I was isolated by my abnormality. Okay, yes, I had the coven. The coven, a sacred place with friendly enough witches, but they weren’t my Nana. I had always been an awkward girl.

13 Days of Halloween with Bewitching Desires A Savannah Coven (Day 11) featuring A.E. Snow

We are on Day 11. Today my feature author from the Bewitching Desires A Savannah Coven Anthology is A.E. Snow.

A.E. writes YA, MG, & Romance.

A.E Snow’s story is titled A Stolen Spell.



Isadora Blackwood is a shy, reserved librarian. She’s passionate about history and preservation and happens to be the keeper of the histories for the witches of Savannah, a job she takes very seriously. Spells, stories, and memoirs lie in her care, and she’s devoted her life to the work. On Halloween, Isadora arrives at the library to find that the history of her own family, the notorious Blackwoods, and an ancient and dangerous spell have been stolen.

To complicate matters, Graham Hart, a visiting professor arrives in town, and Isadora finds herself enamored of him. With his help, Isadora goes on a wild goose chase across Savannah to find the spell and the thief. The hunt leads them to the famous Bonaventure Cemetery, an antebellum mansion, and a wild Halloween masquerade ball.

Will she be too late to save Savannah from evil and from the Blackwoods?

Author Spotlight

Hey A.E., what is one of your favorite things about Halloween?

I love the atmosphere. That spooky feeling in the air? That’s my favorite.

And what’s your favorite Halloween movie?

Hocus Pocus. Of course. 🙂

Have you written paranormal romance before?

I’ve written a little romance and a little paranormal but never the two together. It was more fun that I could have imagined and I can’t wait to do it again!

 So, tell me a little about your heroine Isadora.

My heroine is Isadora and she’s a bit of a nerd. She’s a workaholic and is responsible for the witchy archives (the histories of the witches of Savannah). On Halloween, something happens that thrusts Isadora into a mystery with a time table. And into romance.

 And tell me about your Hero.

Graham Hart is a professor from New Orleans. He’s not unlike Isadora in that he’s very interested in books and history. They are a match made in heaven!

I love books. He sounds like a match for me too. 🙂 Where did you get the idea for your story or what was the inspiration for your story?

I was researching Savannah and I was just so struck by the history there (I might be a bit of a history nerd like Isadora). I really wanted to find a way to play off the rich history there and what better way to do that than a librarian specializing in historical research?

What was the hardest part in writing this short story?

Keeping it short! I so enjoyed writing Isadora and I wanted to keep going and going and going. Maybe there’s more to her story…

Do you see yourself continuing this character(s) into another project?

I have some ideas. 

A.E. are you working on anything new currently?

I’m halfway through a middle grade novel. It’s also full of witches, just a different kind.

Is there anything you want to say to the reader?

Thanks so much for stopping by! I hope you enjoy Bewitching Desires! ❤ 

An Excerpt from A Stolen Spell

Isadora sighed and reached for her tea. She frowned when she saw the empty mug with a dried up tea bag resting at the bottom. She glanced around before concentrating all her attention on the vessel. A fresh tea bag appeared inside and hot water streamed into the mug as though being poured from an invisible teapot.
Once the books were sorted, she returned them to their sections always aware of what her patrons were doing, especially Dr. Hart.
One by one, the other patrons returned their books to the circulation counter and left. Isadora added them to her cart and sorted by subject, something she found immensely satisfying. After a quick glance around the room, she found Dr. Hart in an armchair by the Civil War section, one of the biggest in the research library. She smoothed out her hair and her skirt and pushed her rolling cart into his section.
“Did you find everything alright?” she asked with a flutter of her eyelashes.
“Yes. No problem at all.” Graham smiled and stood. “I have to be going, should I give this to you?” He held out the book he’d been reading.

She accepted it. “Yes…thank you.” Once again, their fingers touched. This time, white sparks shot into the air. Disarmed, she dropped the book as soon as Graham let go.
They both stooped to pick it up and laughed when they both reached for it. A blush spread over Isadora’s face and neck. She pulled her long hair over her shoulder in an effort to hide some of the red splotches.
Graham cleared his throat. “Shall I meet you at the restaurant? And which restaurant?”
“Stay a Spell?” She held her breath and waited. If he knew of the finest and only strictly paranormal restaurant in Savannah, it would truly confirm what she already knew.
Graham’s brown eyes lit up. “See you at eight.” With a toothy grin, Graham left.
Isadora watched him go with a dreamy smile. She floated back to the desk still holding the book he’d given her and leaving the rolling cart abandoned. She daydreamed about dinner with Graham. In her dream, the perfect date led to dinners at home as husband and wife with their laughter and children filling up a white farmhouse.
“Get a grip Isadora,” she said surprised at herself for fantasizing about marriage and babies, not things she’d ever thought she wanted. She preferred the company of her cat, books, and tea to men most of the time. But there was something different about Graham. From the months of emails, she knew he was interested in the same things she was: paranormal events as documented by humans, cemeteries, and books.
Her gaze swept over the calendar and froze. The smile melted off her face and she groaned. “Shit,” she whispered. Samhain. She had a coven meeting in half an hour. “Shit shit shit.” She remembered a book from the vault that belonged to Rose. Rose needed it back and she’d promised to bring it.
Isadora climbed on a table and looked around for any patrons she might have missed. She was alone. Glancing down at her watch, she realized Susanna would be back any second. Still, she had to get that book. She dashed to the front door and locked it before running back down the length of the hall, the clicking of her heels echoing and filling up the quiet space.

Author Info

AE Snow authorphoto

A.E. Snow is a writer, mother, and pet wrangler. She lives in a tiny mountain town with her husband, two children, three cats, a large dog, and a partridge in a pear tree.





13 Days of Halloween with Bewitching Desires A Savannah Coven Anthology (Day 10) featuring Sonja Fröjdendal


Hey we are at Day 10 of my 13 Days of Halloween with Bewitching Desires A Savannah Coven Anthology.

Today my feature author is Sonja Fröjdendal. Sonja writes Poetry, Contemporary Romance, Paranormal Romance, and Erotica. In the future she wants to try horror, thrillers and Sci-Fi.

The name of her story is Running with Magic.



Sunshine is a witch who can bottle emotions and that’s not her only talent. With a long line of witches behind her, she isn’t scared that she has a hot demon following her.

She does mind that his father has taken a shine to her too, and as ruler of the night demons, has sent an army to capture her as his bride.

Even with her occult powers and a dragon as her ride, Sunshine is finding that loving the right demon is hell.


Author Spotlight

Hey Sonja, so what is your favorite things about Halloween?

My favorite things about Halloween is that the freaks and weirdos come out of hiding. To be serious, I love the celebration of All Hallows Eve, anything that celebrates the dead we have lost is good in my eyes. Here in Sweden we don’t have the same history of celebrating Halloween as America does. It is still kind of a new thing, even if it’s been around for the last 10-15 years. We don’t celebrate it on the same date as America, I think it’s a day or so after the “real” one.

What is your favorite movie?

Favorite Halloween movie, oh my… I need to think on this one, because I’m not sure I have a specific Halloween movie. Pet Semetary, Poltergeist, Sleepy Hollow and Hocus Pocus are my pics. If we talk about the movies named Halloween it’s the ones with Jamie Lee Curtis. I am a horror fanatic, I’ll take a good scare any day, or night.

Have you written paranormal romance before Sonja?

This was my first attempt on paranormal romance, well my first attempt on paranormal period. Rebekah asked in one of my writing groups if anyone was interested on writing paranormal for an anthology. I said yes, I might have said YES!!!!! After it was decided I started to realize that I might had got down in the deep end of the pool without knowing how to swim. Luckily I survived and got to be a better writer. I have a thing for saying yes before really thinking.

Tell about your heroine.

The heroine Sunshine is as fierce and fiery as they get, in more ways than one. She is a witch on her dad’s side and she has power over fire. Very headstrong and eager to show everyone, included herself, that she can manage on her own. What no one, except her family, knows is that she has a secret to keep in the dark.

And your hero?

My hero Teagan is a night demon who is, not so, secretly in love with Sunshine. He is doing his best in keeping Sunshine safe and unharmed, not the easiest thing to do. The chemistry between them isn’t helping much either.

What was the inspiration for your story?

The idea to “Running with Magic” comes from what Sunshine told me to write, she didn’t introduce herself other than she was a witch and that she had a secret, more detailed than this isn’t possible. The wish of blending my beliefs, I’m a witch, with the Nordic mythology got a kick out of talking to Sunshine. I have always found the myths and folklores very interesting and being a writer is giving me the chance to write the books I want to read.

What was the hardest part of writing Running with Magic?

The hardest part of writing this short story was to get so much details in without it feeling like a book of facts. How much is necessary, what is irrelevant, what can I keep for another story.

Do you think you will continue your character(s) in a future story?

I  would really like to go back and give more flesh to the bones of this story. As I was writing it I knew I would see them all again. Don’t know when but someday.

Are you working on anything new?

As much as I enjoy the release of “Bewitching Desires” I’m knee deep in writing on two erotic novels, in Swedish which feels weird after writing so much in English.

Sonja, is there anything you will like to tell the reader?

Don’t be scared of letting me know what you think of my babies, we authors love to interact, as long as you’re not just plain mean. Please leave a review, write a blog post or just spread the word if you like my stories. I hope you enjoy the entire Anthology, not just my story, I have been privileged to work with such talented authors and I will do it again if they ask me to join in new adventures. See you on the next page honey.

Excerpt from Running with Magic

A hand on Sunshine’s shoulder made her jump and spill her drink. It felt like she had her heart in her throat when she turned her head to face the owner. Seeing Hamish standing behind her heighten her senses and even quickened her pulse more. A cold stream ran down her spine, freezing her stiff.

“Sunshine my dear, how nice to find you here. Is everything okay? You don’t return my calls. One might think you don’t want to talk to me.” Hamish lifted one eyebrow, cocking his head.

“If that’s what you think, then why do you keep calling?” Sunshine took a deep breath.

“Because I know that you are busy and probably don’t have time to return calls. So, knowing you would be in town for the coven meeting, I decided to pay you a visit. I figured it was the only option to get you to talk to me.”

“I have no problem talking to you. It’s the other thing I have a problem with.” Deep breathing didn’t calm her down as much as she hoped for. She couldn’t focus enough to get her powers to work, somehow she needed Hamish to let go of her shoulder.

“I can’t see why that is a problem. It’s an honor, I assure you.”

“I bet it is but I don’t aspire to that honor. I have no feelings for you so it wouldn’t be right. Take someone who really appreciate and want the privilege, someone who can make you proud.” Sunshine stood up and took one step to the side, getting him to loosen his grip.

“Going somewhere?”

“Only to the ladies room. Is that a problem?”

“Oh, no. Go ahead dear. I’ll wait here for you.”

“We don’t have anything to talk about. You got my answer and I’m not changing my mind. I’m not following you anywhere. Give up and leave me alone.” Sunshine took another deep breath. Her voice started to give away her nervousness and that would be a bad thing.

“Let’s say it like this. I’ll leave you for now and let you finish your business in town. When the coven meeting is over, I’ll send someone to pick you up for a visit to my home. If you still feel the same, you don’t have to. How does that sound?” His tone of voice made her feel patronized, like she was a small child.

“Good, let me do my thing in peace.” Sunshine made sure she didn’t make a promise she couldn’t keep.

After kissing her hand, Hamish left Stay a Spell. She was off the hook for now. She had used the ladies room as an excuse but she went in there to cool her wrists. It usually helped her calm down. Staying focused was a necessity if the solution to get him to stop ever ought to show its face.

Author Info


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Goodreads: Sonja Fröjdendal

13 Days of Halloween with Bewitching Desires A Savannah Coven (Day 9) featuring Andra Shine

Today I am featuring author Andra Shine, who has been a big help for me while I wrote my short for Bewitching Desires.

Andra’s story is called The Heart of a Hunter.



With all her power, most things in Ashley’s life come easy, but when her aged aunts cast a true love spell on her, the spoilt young witch must learn to think of someone other than herself. When she rescues a hunted man, she doesn’t know if she will end up at the hands of her enemy, or in the arms of her true love.

Ashley must choose between lust and love, self and others, hunted and hunter. It should be like taking Halloween candy from a baby; after all, it’s only her heart at stake.

Author Spotlight

What is your favorite thing about Halloween?

I love dressing up on Halloween. I love that everyone decorates and all the things spooky are allowable and desirable.

What is your favorite Halloween movie?

My favorite Halloween movies the The Nightmare Before Christmas. I love Jack and the creepy and naughty.

Have you written paranormal romance before?

I’ve not written paranormal romance before, but I have written horror, science fiction and love poems. Humans are strange and unusual creatures, so it didn’t seem much of a leap for me.

Andra, tell me about your heroine Ashley.

My heroine is sad and spoiled. She is lonely, bossy and kind. She wants to help and to heal people, but she also likes attention and getting her own way. As she says, she’s a work in progress and is trying to learn to be a better person.

Tell me a little about your Hero.

My hero is driven. He doesn’t want to be involved in the paranormal work, but he is motivated by his need to protect his sister. He feels guilty and sad too and will do anything to remove the curse from her, even if it means risking his own life.


Where did you get the idea for your story or what was the inspiration for your story?

Once, I wrote the aunts, who cast a love spell on the heroine, the story started writing itself. It’s these magic moments as a writer when the characters are speaking to you ad launching themselves into the situation you’ve written for them that I love. Ashley got her own way at every turn, and letting her have free reign, running after her for all I was worth and writing what she did was really all I could do.

What was the hardest part in writing this short story?

The hardest part was keeping the word count down. Ashley really likes to express herself and she’s got a comeback for every occasion. Half the time I had to tell her, she just didn’t have the words for that speech. She had to be quiet and kiss the hero already.

Do you see yourself continuing this character(s) into another project?

I would love another project with Ashley and her aunts. I could see myself writing her backstory for a start. I also like the idea of what happens after the happily ever after, because that’s the real trick when it comes to love. How to keep the romance alive when the dishes are done. (Though Ashley may just use magic to clean them, she doesn’t have time for such mundane chores.)

Are you working on anything new currently?

I’m working on a nonfiction book about a relationship full of domestic violence. I think it’s an important book to write and to help women in this situation. My co-author is amazing, to have lived through that time and survived, but it’s not exactly a happily ever after.

Is there anything you want to say to the reader?

To the reader I say thank you. Thank you for your heart, your optimism, your idealism and your passion. People who read romances are usually beautiful people who believe in both love and magic. You are the people who clap to save Tinkerbell and wish upon the star and know that love at first sight is real. So thank you for being who you are. Without you, I’m all alone, but knowing that you’re there, making sure love and magic exists. All those hours making up characters and worlds, and hoping you will read my words and get me, well you make it all worthwhile. Thank you.


Excerpt from The Heart of a Hunter

The aunts sat on the bed like a pair of sweetly smiling bookends.

“I know that look you two. You’re up to something.”

They exchanged blank looks, a perfect picture of innocence, albeit a rather wrinkled one. As if the picture had been scrunched up and shoved into a pocket.

Ashley watched them with suspicion; she pointed an accusing finger.

“Don’t. I don’t know what you’re going to do, but whatever it is, just don’t.” She didn’t trust them not to meddle in her life in extreme and embarrassing ways. Ashley backed slowly out of the door a suspicious eyebrow raised at them

To their credit, the aunts waited until she was well out of earshot before they burst out laughing again.


“I’ve a good mind to put a spell on that one, show her the trouble with throwing your sex magic around,” Esmeralda declared.

“Go on, then.” Agatha’s mischievous eyes lit up. “I dare you. But do it right. Make her fall in love. That’ll put a cat amongst the pigeons.”

“You know I can’t resist a good dare.” A wicked smile broke out over Esmeralda’s crinkly face, and for a moment she was more wrinkle than witch. She stood unsteadily, waved her hands in the air, more for balance than spell work. Then she turned around a few times, shouted a few garbled incantations then fell on the bed and started again. She rounded off the bizarre process with a chant, “Anusin, anusin, atetin, atetin, atelin.”

Esmeralda beamed at her sister. Agatha’s expression stole her certainty and the smile faded.

“What? Wasn’t that right?” Esmeralda asked.

“Well, not the first bit obviously, that was ridiculous. But the end was disastrous.”

“I thought the end was good.”

“You said atelin!”

“Surely not,” Esmeralda said, she frowned and studied the ceiling as if she would find her memory hidden in the chandelier.

“I heard it, atelin. Right at the end, like you meant it.”

Esmeralda sucked her breath through her teeth. “Well, true love then.”


“Definitely overcooked it.”

“No doubt about that.”

“Not just any old love spell.”


“Your actual true love spell.”


“Not much I can do about that.”


“You think she’ll be cross?”

“What? That she’s got around six hundred years on this earth and you’ve gone and called her true love to her when she’s only 23?”

“Yeah, that.”

Author Bio

andra avi


Andra became a writer after a failed career as a pirate. She lives with her two children and their ninja father on the edge of the forest path to grandma’s house. She has been published under the name Andra Jenkin, in television, radio, film, cd, newspapers, theatre reviews and comics, and has travelled as a performance poet.

Words are her passion and she writes eclectically in fiction and non-fiction genres. She is published in The Douglas Adams Liff trilogy, Afterliff, Three Words, and various online literary journals. This is her first short story available to the public.