About Me

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I'm Kristal McKerrington. I have been a published author since 2010. I'm currently signed at Gilbert Literacy Agency. I'm signed with several publishers. I work with ReemVision. Even appeared on TMZ a few times. I'm a nationwide author with Marie's World. I have become a worldwide author with many publishers. 

I live in Scotland, I'm a believer in a free Scotland. I love Viking myths and history. I'm a reader in my spare time. I love to read paranormal and romance novels. I am co-creator of the genre wrestling romance with Joe E Legend. I'm a believer in doing a show on wrestling and romance writing together, showcasing my lifestyle compared to Joe's. 

I've written a comedy novel which comes out in 2015 with Firefly & Wisp Publishing. I'm entering new genres with interest. I love a challenge when it comes to my writing. 

I'm good friends with Mohombi who has supported my novel Marie's World going nationwide in the UK and will be released nationwide in the US. We have had support from Sony Music and other big promoters, celebrities. 

Tuesday, 15 September 2015

Everyone Welcome Mel Massey Editor/Author at Solstice Publishing!

Hello Readers,

We are honored and lucky enough to have a second person wanting to be on the blog. She is the amazing head editor for one of the imprints in Solstice Publishing. She is pretty awesome so welcome the wonderful Mel Massey to the blog.

Title:
SERVANT OF THE BLOOD

By:
Mel Massey

Blurb:
The Servant of the Blood, Allatu, will always come when called and has for generations. She will fulfill wishes - for a price. Set in Tunisia, an ancient creature is called to do her master's bidding but nothing comes without a price.

Release date:
September 15, 2015

Buy link:

Excerpt:
Prologue

            Two covered figures, one bent with age and the other a child, quietly made their way from the main house into the night. The older of the two pulled the smaller one along in the dark by the hand as they walked further and further into the shadows.
            This was the night of the new moon. It was the perfect chance to see the deed done. If what her son, Samir, told her was true, this would be the last chance she would have. She could not let her son and his family fall to ruin. She would not allow it. They thought her an old and feeble woman. True, the years have taken their toll on her body – but not her mind. Her mind was as keen as it ever was.
            She remembered many things. Many lost and forgotten things handed down to her by her own grandmother. For many years, she had forgotten them all. Her marriage, her duties as a wife, and then motherhood whisked those tales away as if a hawk swooped down and carried them off. Only as she lay in her birthing bed, laboring to bring her sons into the world, did pieces of the tales return. They gave her strength. She was a wife, mother, and now a grandmother – but once she was Luja who knew the family’s secrets.
            Now, after so many years had passed, she turned once again to those memories of her grandmother. The new moon was when one did this sort of thing, she remembered. Her granddaughter, Hala, was her ever-present shadow and she meant to share this thing with her. She pulled the sleepy child along in the dark, headed for the farthest corner of the gardens.
            “I’m tired, Grandmother.” Hala whispered.
            “Hush, child. We have things to do, you and I.” She looked once more over her shoulder and pushed on, past the unkempt and dying gardens to the farthest corner beside the stone wall. “I think this will do.”
            She handed Hala a small bundle wrapped in cloth before kneeling on the ground. She felt around until she found a stick big enough to suit her needs.  With more force than she knew she still possessed, the old woman began to dig a hole beneath the olive tree. Her arthritic hands ached, but her spirit soared. She would see this thing done. It had to be done. No one else knew what she did. She would save her family.
            Hala sat heavily on the ground, her head resting in her hands as she watched her grandmother dig. That was good. Let her see each step. Let her understand there are ways beyond those of the modern world to get what one needs. Tonight, she was herself again. She imagined herself the young and beautiful Luja who had a wild spirit and a quick temper.  In the morning, she would be Grandmother again… but not yet.
            Satisfied with the size of the hole, Luja reached for the bundle in Hala’s arms. She snatched it from her and anxiously unwrapped the contents.  The girl’s curiosity roused her from her fatigue. She leaned forward to see the objects of the bundle laid out in the dirt. A precious bowl of honey and two figs sat beside another, longer item.
            Luja carefully began unwrapping linen from around it. It was sacred to her family, her grandmother told her. It was only to be used in the direst of circumstances. How to use it was only taught to the daughters of the family, for men were not permitted to touch such things.
            “What is that, Grandmother?” Hala whispered.
            “Our salvation, sweet girl.” From the folds of aged linen, a statue emerged. It was carefully made. The age, Luja did not know. She knew it was delicate and priceless. It was made from clay but held together by a thin layer of gold. It was the image of a woman, naked but for carvings on the body. She did not know what they meant but she showed Hala the statue reverently. It was as shiny as the day Luja’s own grandmother showed it to her. She remembered her voice shook as she told Luja of the power in the statue and how it worked.  Luja asked her grandmother if she would ever use it. “I would not dare,” she told her. Well, Luja dared.
            “Who is it? Why is she naked?”
            “She is the one who will help our family.” Luja told her.
            “How? Papa says we have no money and soon we’ll be living on the streets.  Are we going to sell this, Grandmother? Sell it to pay the money Papa owes?” Hala’s words drove a knife into her heart. No child should know of the woes of her parents. Samir was foolish and selfish to say such things where the children could hear. But his foolish and selfish ways were the reason they were in such dire straights. He gambled what they had and risked everything on dreams that never came true.
            “No, my child. We will not sell her. She is priceless and too powerful to sell, but she can help us in other ways. Give me your hand,” Luja carefully placed the golden statue in the hole and reached for Hala. “It will only hurt for a moment.” Before the child could understand, Luja pulled a knife from the folds of her dress and made a small cut in the palm of her hand.
            “Ouch, Grandmother!” Hala tried to pull her hand back but Luja kept it firmly grasped over the gold statue.
            “She only requires a little blood, child.  When you come of age, you will bleed every month. Blood is nothing to women. Men like to think they know of blood and pain but we are the ones who truly know.  Now, you know the power of your blood. It is precious because you are a virgin, unspoiled by men. Mine would not do for this. There,” she released her grip on the girl’s hand and watched as the crimson droplets painted the gold surface. “That is enough.”
            “Who is she?” Hala asked, holding her injured hand close to her chest.
            “She is the servant of the blood. She is the giver of desires and the force of the Mother. I do not know her name. She is what she has always been to our family – our salvation and our curse.”
            “What do we do now?”
            “We bury her, Hala. Then leave the offerings. If they are pleasing, if we are pleasing, she will hear them and come to answer our prayers.”
            “Is it right what we are doing, Grandmother? I’m not sure Papa will approve,” Hala said as she stood.
            “Certainly, he wouldn’t. If he did, I should question my actions.”
            “I don’t understand–”
            “Never you mind, my dear. Come, help me cover her and set these offerings to right.”
            “How will we know? How will we know if she will help us or not, Grandmother?” Hala asked as she scooped dirt back into the hole.
            “I am not certain. We women must do what we can to save those we love. Here, hand me that bowl.” Luja placed the bowl of honey directly above the buried statue. “There, we have done what we can. It is out of our hands now.”
            Luja and Hala covered their heads once again and silently made their way back through the garden toward the house. The girl still held her injured hand close to her chest and her grandmother pulled her along in the dark. It had been years since Luja felt so alive. She committed a great sin tonight. This sin was one she would not apologize for. She was a woman and women must do what they can in the shadows to see their families prosper in the light of day.

Social Media Links:
@melmmassey

Before you leave the blog please subscribe so that you don't miss out on the great reviews, guest that we have on here. There is a lot of fun so please join the other 36 followers who stop by. Thank you for stopping by today and hope your having a wonderful day/night. 

Kristal McKerrington 


Monday, 14 September 2015

Please Everyone Welcome A.B. Funkhauser

Hello Readers, 

We have an exciting guest for you today. We asked her some tough questions to get to the heart of a great book by an even more awesome author. 

A.B. Funkhauser


Thank you, Kristal, for hosting me today. You must be so excited about YOUR new release. I hope you drop by and visit me very soon!

1. Did you always want to be a writer? If not what did you want to be?
Writing never crossed my mind even though the bulk of my early work years focused on correspondence, press releases and even speech writing. I guess I was prepping for this and didn’t know it. When I was young, I wanted to marry Prince Andrew, command armies or become the Prime Minister of Canada. After graduating school, I took my place behind a reception desk—the first of many.
2. When did you first consider yourself a “writer”?

When I gave my first reading at an open mic nite. It was in a bar and the audience was full of

authors, many already published. When they laughed at the right moments and for the right reasons, that told me that I was on to something. That’s when I felt ‘real.’

3. How long did it take to get your first book published?

Not long. Fate kinda intervened. I had four manuscripts under my belt and that’s when a friend put me on to #pitmad on Twitter. I got hits right away, and through these initial contacts I was compelled to hone my synopsis, elevator pitch and query letter. By the third pitch party, I had over thirty tags and log lines. Solstice Publishing found me soon after.

4. Do you do another job except for writing and can you tell us more about it?
I’m a licensed funeral director which means I arrange and take out funerals. I’m an embalmer as well. Three years ago, with the support of my family, I took a break from full-time work to concentrate on my writing. That really paid off. I maintain my license and am on call.

5. What is the name of your latest book, and if you had to summarize it in less than 20 words what would you say?

HEUER LOST AND FOUND is my debut and is the first in a seven volume series. The elevator pitch is as follows: Dead cooze hound lawyer trapped in a funeral parlor relies on boozy undertaker and wise cracking spirit guide to set him free.

6. Who is your publisher? Or do you self-publish?
I’m with Summer Solstice, a division of Solstice Publishing out of Farmington, Missouri.

7.How long does it usually take you to write a book, from the original idea to finishing writing it?

The first book took thirty years. That is to say it’s the sum total of life experience and a ton of observations. The writing, learning, editing, honing took five years and is ongoing. For the subsequent three manuscripts, it took about a year for each of them to get to a cogent first draft. I really have my groove on, you might say.

8. What can we expect from you in the future?  ie More books of the same genre? Books of a different genre?
My tastes range from campy to philosophical to romantic to paranormal. I also have a taste for classic cars so it’s not unusual to find a car character or two in my work, and it’s amazing how technical jargon can be adapted to comedy. My next three years will be devoted to readying the following three manuscripts in the series: SCOOTER NATION, THE HEUER EFFECT, and POOR UNDERTAKER. Each on its own is meritoriously direct in conveying a number of my favorite themes all within the framework of the funeral parlor, which changes hands as the decades pass and in one instance, actually becomes a Euro style resto bar and grille. The cool thing for me as the writer is that there’s some overlapping which I really love. A character that dies at the end of book three is born on page two of book four. For that, I have Quentin Tarantino to thank: PULP FICTION taught me that I don’t have to stay linear.

9. What genre would you place your books into?
I describe them as adult, paranormal, contemporary fiction with a hint of gonzo. Amazon has placed HEUER under Occult, Horror and Humorous Fiction which also works.
10. What made you decide to write that genre of book?
I like to blame it on the characters, but in truth, I think the comedic elements were a response to a need to give the reader a break from some of the tougher scenes. The protagonists coming to grips with their life situations, I’m told, could be quite visceral and I must have felt that while I was writing it. Death and mourning are serious subjects, but I didn’t want the story to weigh the reader down with every chapter. There had to be a lightness to it to let the reader know that something was going to give.

11. Do you have a favorite character from your books? And why are they your favorite?
I love them all, but my villains seem to demand the bulk of my attention. One, for example, got her own book because the beta readers insisted on it. Why is she this way? What happened to her to make her such? It was amazing the through this exploration, she went from a cartoon to a flesh and blood human being capable of commanding sympathy and understanding.



How long have you been writing?, and who or what inspired you to write?
I’ve been writing fiction for a little over five years now and I have to give the credit for inspiration to trial and error and having the courage to put a foot out the door every day. I’ve failed at many things, but I’ve had a few successes too. The best way to make sense of it was to put it into words and have those words spoken through the mouths of fictional characters. I’m grateful to them for that!


Find all of AB Funkhauser's links below:
 
 
 
 

Thank you for stopping by A.B. Funkhauser  it was a pleasure to have you on my blog! Before you all leave then please remember to subscribe to the blog for more features and reviews! 

Kristal McKerrington

Tuesday, 8 September 2015

Guest Post

Hello Readers,

I'm finally home after an awesome vocation in LA. I can't wait to share my thoughts and opinions with you. However first we have a guest who waited until my return for me to do a post for her. So please welcome Sheri Velarde. Enjoy!

Introducing "Summer Interrupted by Sheri Velarde"



Blurb:
Joy and Dot plan on having a summer to remember. A cabin on the beach, hot men from Harvard down the way, one last hurrah before true adulthood set in. Everything is perfect. They did not plan on their summer being interrupted by Joy’s sudden collapse in a strange room in their house, nor the mystery that surrounded it. As they look into their rental, horrifying details from the house’s past, mixed in with pirate lore of old, come to light. As more details emerge, they realize that more than their fun is at stake, that souls may hang in the balance. How can two sisters battle an evil that has haunted coastal Maine for hundreds of years?

Excerpt:
Taking a deep breath, just like the first time, she entered the room and realized immediately something was wrong. Joy closed her eyes and stepped in. At first, the room seemed perfectly normal. No blood, no ghosts, nothing scary, just a light on by the nightstand in the middle of the two twin beds. The room was actually quite cute. She could imagine her and Dot being in here when they were younger. Then she remembered the two sisters who had shared this room and what happened to them. That’s when the scene before her began to change.
The room dimmed and shifted subtly. A strong sulfur smell permeated the room. She didn’t know how, but Joy felt certain that she was seeing the past somehow, witnessing a memory. “But that’s not possible. This isn’t possible. I’m dreaming. This is just some sort of terrible dream,” Joy said to herself, determined to snap herself out of this nightmare. She pinched herself, slapped herself, and screamed hoping to wake up. Nothing worked. She tried a different approach. Maybe if she left the room in her dream, she would wake up. Turning to leave, she found herself face to face with two girls, sisters by the looks of them, the two who had been murdered here, she knew it.
Joy froze, staring at the girls who didn’t seemed to notice her at all. They were arguing with each other, but Joy found it difficult to make out the words. They sounded as if they were talking through a very static filled radio. The older of the girls grabbed something from the younger sister, and that’s when she saw him. No rational thoughts formed. Joy screamed, unheard by those in her vision, though she was sure he stared right at her. That was the last thing she remembered, piercing red eyes that chilled her soul.

Buy Links: