Cover Reveal: When Fire Rains Down by Cecelia Earl

June 25, 2018Reads & Reels

Would you just look at this cover! All of the books in this trilogy are absoloutely stunning! The story beneath is even better!

When Fire Rains Down: A Kingdom Come Novel (Book #3) Release Date: July 27, 2018

The little town of Shady Creek is under attack by Lucifer and his demons. To save the people she loves, human-angel Hybrid Julia must rescue their kidnapped Guardian Angels, even when it means defying her father.

Trouble is, he knows only too much about Hell’s perils. When a demon sucks Julia into a cosmic vacuum, the experience leaves an indelible blight she dares not mention for fear of losing her place on the angelic rescue team.

As a growing demon army surrounds Shady Creek, Julia’s feelings for her own Guardian become all too real and dangerous. But the cosmic imbalance fueled by Hybrid Angels, Rogue Guardians and Warriors is already depleting the strength of the Rescue Team. And there’s no room for distraction when the mission is to get into Hell—and out again.

For the sake of the mission, Julia must face the truth of the Hybrids’ existence. Because nobody will be safe unless she can trust the gift of free will—for others and for herself—in this end-of-the-world finale to The Legend of Shady Creek Trilogy.

Stay tuned for another trilogy in the Kingdom Come Series: The Stories of Summersby Corner

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Available for Pre-Order

Amazon (US) | Amazon (CA) | Amazon (UK)

Paperback will be available July 27^th!

Facebook Party!

The author will be hosting a Facebook cover reveal event today (june 25) with giveaways, trivia, excerpts and more, so be sure to check it out!

Excerpt

“Nicholas can teach you to use the demons’ weapons against them. You may become an expert, the best. Cole and I can get you inside. We can provide detailed descriptions of Hell and instruct you on how to find Tobias and the others, but we were there for months, for years, and we are blessed to miraculously be sitting here before you now.

“There’s a slim chance you’ll get in and an even slimmer chance you’ll get out. Especially with all the Guardians. An attack from the inside out is the only way, but some of the Guardians have been there a long, long time. There’s no telling how beat up they are, and I don’t mean bruised bodies, I mean tortured minds.”

His words are met with a hushed silence.

I expect Nicholas to look defeated, but he rises again, and his voice is as strong as ever. “It will not be easy, and none of us can expect it to be. We’ve all fought demons before, and we know as well as anyone how they can manipulate, deceive, and pervert truths. We know how nearness to them for any short or lengthy period of time can affect the strongest of angels.”

He doesn’t look at Cole when he says this, and Cole doesn’t appear to be offended. I suppose they’re too timeworn and wise to mind obvious truths and overlook what humans might take as a slight.

Dad’s looking at his folded hands, clenching his jaw. I feel bad for him. With what he saw and felt, it’s no wonder he doesn’t want me to go. I want to wrap my arms around him now and put my forehead to his like I did when I was a little girl. I want to remove those memories as much as he wants to save me from experiencing them.

“But in knowing this, I hope we will become stronger, more prepared, more resolute. Even though it is dangerous and will be difficult, knowing what being near Hell does to our Guardians, we have all the more reason to rescue them. I am still all in for this mission. My plan to take a small team in order to get in without detection, accomplish our mission, and get out, stands.

“With so many Guardians in captivity, we cannot simply sneak them out. Our breakout will be catastrophic. It will be an upset. We will go in small, like a whisper, but we will come out shouting in victory.” He pounds on the table. It shakes and the sound echoes throughout the cave. Once it’s quiet, he asks, “Who is with me?”

Stunned, we all sit in silence. But after a moment I realize he is waiting for us, for at least one of us, to respond.

I don’t look at my dad before I rise. “I am with you.”

Other Books in this Trilogy

When Ash Rains Down (Book #1)

Shady Creek gets a whole lot scarier after Julia learns she’s part angel, especially since the only person she can trust is an angel who’s as infuriating as he is attractive.

Julia received a necklace containing the songs of the angels from her dad when she was four. When she was eleven, he abandoned her family and the necklace went silent. At seventeen, Julia’s doing everything she can to maintain security for her family, but now her necklace seems to have come to life once again. And that’s not all that’s changing.

When a robber attempts to steal from their diner, the necklace blazes and burns her chest. Pain in her back is nearly unbearable as the thief transforms before her eyes… into something demonic.

Demon after demon threaten Julia’s home, family, and friends, and she realizes there may have been something more behind her dad’s disappearance. And now there may be something–or someone–dangerous after her.

Julia has to accept that she is not quite human. Will her infuriating but attractive Guardian Angel be able to prepare her for the battle to come?

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When Smoke Rains Down (Book #2)

If only humans knew the invisible danger lurking around them…

In the aftermath of an explosion and Homecoming battle, Julia tries to form some semblance of a routine: work, study, and visit her brother who remains hospitalized. Unable to confide in anyone about her double life of being both human and angel, and fearful she’ll bring more death and destruction to those she loves, she pulls away from her family and best friend.

When demons once again start to show up at every turn, seemingly bringing about her brother’s deepening depression, she demands her sword from Nicholas. Ever the stern Guardian Angel, he forbids her from using it. Isolated, she takes protecting her brother into her own hands. But when demons show they have evils hidden within their weapons in addition to their ability to siphon souls from the living, Julia’s not sure she knows the best way to handle saving him any longer. Especially when ash-colored lines begin to appear on humans, lines of demonic poison that travel through their veins toward their hearts and alter their moods.

Thrust into a dark world of conspiring demons, Julia is in more danger than she ever imagined possible. To stop evil from spreading and overtaking those she loves, she’ll have to seek out the one person she mistrusts most–especially when a line appears on her own arm, and her apathy toward doing much of anything, including saving anyone, grows.

Enter a complex world where humans, demons, and angels collide, all battling to rule the Earth.

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About the Author

Cecelia Earl graduated with a degree in education and has been teaching ever since. She’s a wife, a mom of three boys, and an owner of a magical laundry pile that never stops growing. She lives near enough to Green Bay, WI that her refrigerator is always stocked with cheese, and the first colors her children learned were green and gold.

She’s a first grade teacher in a Catholic school by day, a mom always, and a writer in her sleep, but that’s okay because being an author is a dream come true. She writes angel fantasy books for young and youngish adults. If you feel young, she writes for you—whether or not you feel particularly angelic.

Cecelia Earl | Newsletter | Goodreads

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Giveaway!!!

Win a SIGNED paperback copy of book #1 When Ash Rains Down, including the bonus story Before the Ashes!

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Cover Reveal Organized By:

R&R Book Tours

Blog Tour: Go Home, Afton by Brent Jones

June 25, 2018June 25, 2018Reads & Reels

I’m so excited to kick off the tour for the first installment of this unique serial thriller, Go Home, Afton!

Go Home, Afton (Release Date June 25th, 2018)

We all wear masks, and Afton Morrison is no exception.

A small-town librarian with a dark side, Afton, twenty-six, has suppressed violent impulses her entire adult life. Impulses that demand she commit murder.

Blending her urges with reason, Afton stalks a known sexual predator, intending to kill him. But her plan, inspired by true crime and hatched with meticulous care, is interrupted by a mysterious figure from her past. A dangerous man that lurks in the shadows, watching, threatening to turn the huntress into the hunted.

Go Home, Afton is the first of four parts in a new serial thriller by author Brent Jones. Packed with grit and action, The Afton Morrison Series delves into a world of moral ambiguity, delivering audiences an unlikely heroine in the form of a disturbed vigilante murderess.

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My Thoughts…

This is quite the powerhouse for a novella and the perfect hook for a series!

Ahh, the female version of Dexter! A character readers can strangely identify with. After all, she’s a fellow bookworm. A bookworm who lusts for violence but knows what’s right and what’s wrong. So what does she do? She hunts a suspected predator. A monster she knows has committed heinous crimes but hasn’t been convicted. The only problem is that she isn’t the only one hunting.

I’ve been following Brent Jones’ writing for a while now and he has a uniquely gritty style that is perfect for this genre. He’s not afraid to take chances with his characters and that makes for interesting dialogue and fantastic storylines.

I blew through this one in the span of a few hours and I had to read more! I really enjoyed it and if you love serial killer type thrillers, you will love this!

Rating… A+

Excerpt

Parents—stay-at-home moms, mostly—brought in their toddlers once a week so I could read them a story. And I use the word toddlers loosely. Kids as old as six or seven sometimes attended during the summer. And the stories we would read were made up of fewer than fifty words, for the most part. A lot of the mothers in Wakefield were too lazy to read to their own children, I guess.

Oh, and crafts, too. After reading a story together, we’d break out glitter and colored pencils and paste and other nonsense, but that wasn’t the real reason a dozen women turned out with their little monsters each week. Storytime was an excuse for the mothers to gather and gossip. It always took a little while to get the children to settle down, sure. I’d press my finger to my lips and wait. Five or ten seconds at most, although I would have been happy to wait longer. Their mothers, on the other hand, were so much worse. Getting them to shut their fucking traps was a whole separate exercise in endurance.

But as much as I disliked children, there was something magical about them. It was their inability to see gray, I think. Their entire worlds existed in black and white, right and wrong, good and evil. You could see it in their faces as a story unfolded, rife with nervous energy at every inconsequential turn.

“And she just doesn’t know”—I read to the room, pointing to each gigantic word—“should she stay, should she go?”

I caught a boy’s expression, who sat just inches from me. The hippopotamus in our story was faced with a dilemma, and this boy was transfixed. His eyes were wide, his hands were cupped over his mouth, and he was vibrating with anticipation to see what the hippo would do next.

I flipped to the last page. “But yes the hippopotamus.”

The boy relaxed a little, making a deliberate show of letting his shoulders drop. A talented drama queen in the making. He was new to storytime and looked to be about five or six years old. He had dark hair, a tan complexion, and a missing front tooth. He’d attended just once before and he’d sat close that day, as well. I’d never really been big on learning children’s names, to be honest, but I knew his was Neil only because he’d come to the library alone both times. It sounds strange, I’m sure, but having a parent use the library as a free babysitting service happens more often than most people would guess.

I continued on, reading the final words of the story. “But not the armadillo.”

Neil was stressed all over again, and his tiny hand shot up. “Miss Afton?”

“Yes, ah, Neil? What is it, little man?”

“How come not the arma-darma?”

“Armadillo.” A woman in baggy gray sweatpants corrected him from the back of the room. She was a few years older than me, had bleach-blonde hair in a ponytail, and her voice resembled a seagull getting crushed by a car.

I shut the book and set it on my lap. “That’s a good question, Neil.” I bit my lower lip, deciding how much to share. “Well, let’s see. Ah, no one likes armadillos, for starters. They’re bullet-proof, if you can believe it, and ugly as sin. They carry leprosy, too, but they don’t bite children too often.”

The woman at the back of the room—Sweatpants, let’s call her—looked horrified. Her stained teeth chattered and she blinked in rapid succession. She placed her palms over her daughter’s ears, a girl around three or four in age.

Neil scratched his head. “What’s a lepra-she?”

“It’s—”

Sweatpants raised her hand to silence me—not that I minded—and looked to a few of the other mothers in the room for support, most of whom were checked out or occupied with their phones. She looked back at me again, then at her daughter. “It’s when good little boys and girls get ice cream.” That wasn’t how I might have defined the word, however. “You want to stop for ice cream on the way home, Jessi?”

It was hard enough getting these little turds to sit still for all fourteen pages of But Not the Hippopotamus. Why on earth would this woman want to stuff her daughter’s face with sugar before lunch? But the girl jumped up and squealed at the mention of sweets, and soon, other kids joined in, as did their mothers.

I peeked down at Neil to see him cradling his head in his hands, masking a look of disappointment by staring at the floor. It appeared he had forgotten all about armadillos and leprosy and storytime, and now sulked, wishing he had a parent present to take him for ice cream like the other children.

The mothers talked amongst themselves, and their toddlers fed on the elevated energy levels. The room was alive with discourse, and I wondered if the local Dairy Queen might consider paying me a small commission. “Well, that’s it for storytime, boys and girls. Thanks for coming.”

Sweatpants spoke up at the back of the room, the self-elected leader of Wakefield’s fattest and frumpiest. “But it’s only quarter past, Afton. Isn’t storytime supposed to be a full hour?”

“Just figured you were all on your way to get a double-scoop of leprosy.”

“Very funny.”

I raised my hands in a gesture of mock uncertainty. “We’ve got crafts we can do.” I pointed to three short tables covered in plastic, adorned with supplies that Kim had set up for us. “Should we get to it?”

“That won’t take long. Couldn’t you read them another story first?”

Couldn’t I read them another story? It’d been her idea to squeeze out one of these little nightmares. Why was I being punished for it? “Not this week, I’m afraid. Sorry.”

But she just wouldn’t give up. “Afton, do you know where Jessi’s daddy is right now?”

My first thought was that her husband was probably fucking her sister at some roadside motel with hourly rates, bed bugs, and a one-star rating on Trip Advisor. I couldn’t say that out loud, of course, and so I fought like hell to keep a smirk off my face. It helped to keep my sights trained on Jessi, who had sat back down, cross-legged in a checkered dress. She was drawing on the floor with one small finger.

Sweatpants answered her own question. “He’s at work, Afton. And he works hard, by the way, and we pay more than our share of taxes in this town. Taxes that pay your salary.”

Oh, the salary card. How I loved it when disgruntled parents brought up my salary, as if any one of them wanted to trade places with me. Yes, her taxes paid me a small fortune. That’s why I rented a one-bedroom apartment in a triplex. And it’s the same reason I drove a seven-year-old Corolla. I was so grateful—indebted, even—to Sweatpants and her husband that I just couldn’t wait to read another story.

“Sure thing.” I grabbed a second book off the pile next to me. “One more story, coming right up.”

Sweatpants smiled. It was a flat, fake smile, of course, the kind where the mouth curls tight but the eyes are dormant. It was about the best I could have hoped for, and it seemed to have a calming effect on the other mothers. They quieted down, eager to return to their various text message conversations.

I pointed my finger to more jumbo text on a colorful page. A story about an overweight and diabetic caterpillar with impulse control issues, who was always so very very fucking hungry. “In the light of the moon, a little egg lay on a leaf . . .”

And I couldn’t help but lose myself in thought. I was that little egg on a leaf, glimmering in the moonlight, and about to hatch. Soon after, the morning would come. And my hunger would be satiated at last, because Kenneth Pritchard would be dead.

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About the Author

From bad checks to bathroom graffiti, Brent Jones has always been drawn to writing. He won a national creative writing competition at the age of fourteen, although he can’t recall what the story was about. Seventeen years later, he gave up his career to pursue creative writing full-time.

Jones writes from his home in Fort Erie, Canada. He’s happily married, a bearded cyclist, a mediocre guitarist, and the proud owner of two dogs with a God complex.

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