Tag Archives: Werewolves

Interview with Robert Herold

Welcome, Robert. Let’s get to the questions.

What are your hobbies away from the computer?

I play sax and flute in a jazz/blues band (currently on hiatus due to COVID-19) and love listening to music particularly jazz and classical (I’m totally into Beethoven right now!). I also love to read and watch films and tv shows (particularly dark detective series from Europe).

I also collect books and records. Lately, I’ve been collecting Mexican Lobby Cards for famous horror movies. I have about a dozen, some of which are autographed by famous writers (Robert Bloch, author of Psycho, and Richard Matheson, author of I Am Legend). Why Mexican? They are much cheaper than their English language counterparts!

Can you share a tip about what you do when you get stuck in creating a story?

Whenever I get the least bit stuck, I ask myself, what is the worst thing that could happen to my characters? It invariably works! 🙂

Describe a normal writing day (or period, if you have other employment obligations).

After losing to my wife at cribbage over breakfast, I retreat into the bowels of my house where my office is located. There I spend the first few hours answering emails and doing promo-related work on social media.

During or after lunch I typically spend writing/editing, which I do until around 5:30 when I watch BBC America on PBS. My whole day is punctuated by walks with my 5 ½ pound chihuahua, Jangles.

What’s your dream vacation destination?

My dream vacation is to visit NYC and binge on theater, ethnic food, museums, and jazz clubs. This was a regular pilgrimage until COVID reared its angry head. ‘Hope to resume this as soon as it’s safe.

In what genre do you read?

I have eclectic tastes and tend to read broadly; however, I most enjoy historical mysteries/adventures/horror. I am currently Mexican Gothic.

Are you a pet person? If so, what do you have?

Yup, pet person. We inherited Jangles, our 5 ½ lb. chihuahua, from my sister when she passed away. He alternates between being incredibly loveable and incredibly annoying. Jangles watches television and barks at any animal or animated figure. He also doesn’t like violence. Given my penchant for the news, period pieces (when using horses were common), spooky movies, and dark detective series, he has plenty of opportunities to bark!

What do you hope readers gain from your stories?

Horror can be a wonderful vehicle for social commentary in a fun and exciting way. My 19th Century characters are dealing with racism, sexism, drug abuse, and many other social ills that still haunt us today.

The Eidola Project travels to Petersburg, Virginia, to investigate a series of murders in the Black community—rumored to be caused by a werewolf. Once there, danger comes from all quarters. Not only do they face threats from the supernatural, the KKK objects to the team’s activities, and the group is falling apart. Can they overcome their human frailties to defeat the evil that surrounds them?

          Moonlight Becomes You earned two first place wins from the Southeastern Writers Association, including Best Novel!

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EXCERPT

Doc Curtis fought for every reserve of strength and managed to quicken his pace. He could hear them shouting behind him and dared not look back, fearing it might slow him just that much more.

He made it through the field and emerged onto a rough access road running between the cultivated land on one side and the woods on the other. The doctor dashed across the dirt road and through the weeds and scrub bordering its opposite side. The trees stood twenty yards ahead. He would make it, find a thick trunk to hide behind, and fire a warning shot. If he could drive them off, it would be best. If not, he would do what needed to be done. Life had reduced itself to its most basic terms: kill or be killed.

Just five yards from the trees, a gigantic black beast bounded from the woods and landed before him. The doctor skittered to a stop, and his feet went out from beneath him. The creature stepped closer, looming. Its eyes glowed red, and the skin around its muzzle drew back, revealing a mouthful of sharp canine teeth.

The Klan had come at him in two directions, the doctor realized.

He raised his pistol and fired into the snarling face above him.

Snippet from 5+ Star Review From N.N. Light Book Heaven:

“Moonlight Becomes You is exceptional in pacing and storytelling. The reader is captivated in myriad ways… (It) was a great read from start to finish.”

The supernatural has always had the allure of forbidden fruit, ever since Robert Herold’s mother refused to allow him, as a boy, to watch creature features on late night TV. She caved-in. (Well, not literally!)

As a child, fresh snow provided him the opportunity to walk out onto neighbor’s lawns halfway and make paw prints with his fingers as far as he could stretch. He would retrace the paw and boot prints, then fetch the neighbor kids and point out that someone turned into a werewolf on their front lawn! (They were skeptical.)

Mr. Herold has pursued many interests over the years, but the supernatural always called to him. You could say he was haunted.  Finally, following the siren’s call, he wrote The Eidola Project, based on a germ of an idea he had as a teenager. Moonlight Becomes You fulfills his childhood wish to become a werewolf, at least vicariously.

Ultimately, he hopes his books give you the creeps, and he mean that in the best way possible!

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Guest Interview—Kelley Heckart

What are your hobbies away from the computer?

I love archery. I do it for fun. It’s a great way to get away from the computer and go outside for some fresh air and exercise.

If you use music while writing, name your favorite types.

I listen to Icelandic Metal bands like Nightwish, Serenia, Apocalyptica, and Evanescence. I think it’s the melodies and the mythological lyrics that draw me in. It helps set the mood for my stories which are based on mythology.

Can you share a tip about what you do when you get stuck in creating a story? When I get stuck on a story, I brainstorm with “what if” questions. I wasn’t sure this technique would work, but it really frees up the mind and draws out some great ideas.

What was your biggest surprise in the editing/revision process?

LOL. My alarming amount of repetition surprised and horrified me the most. I always use an editor because I can’t trust myself when it comes to this terrible habit of mine.

Do you use visual aids (storyboards, Pinterest, collages) when plotting or writing?

Yes, I do. I even tried to sketch my hero and some clothing to help me with descriptions. I’m a terrible artist. LOL I had trouble trying to visualize Lycaon, who is half-man half-wolf in my version of the myth. He had to have a beastly appearance, but he also had to be appealing to readers. I couldn’t find a picture of what he should look like on the Internet so I had to try and draw it myself.

Are you a pet person? If so, what do you have?

I have a Chihuahua right now. His name is Loki just like the Norse god. He earned that name because he is a trickster.

TheWolfQueen_cover_smallBLURB

A new twist on Beauty and the Beast and the Greek myth of Lycaon the werewolf. A Bronze Age fantasy, adventure, and romance set in Arcadia, the wild forests of the goddess Artemis… Game of Thrones meets The Iliad

A tormented wolf man… A mysterious girl with a terrible secret…

Alara, a princess from a foreign land, is forced to wed the sorcerer-king Aramon, a power-hungry warlord, who discovers her dark secret and wants to use her to create an invincible army. When she meets Lycaon, she must decide if she should trust the cursed, tormented half-man half-wolf who might be her enemy or her true mate.

Lycaon, once a great king until he was cursed by Zeus to be a werewolf, is drawn to the mysterious princess. He is torn between helping Alara escape and using her to gain power over those who despise him.

Secrets abound and old enemies are reunited to battle Aramon before his terrible plan is unleashed. Time is running out as the dark moon approaches. Soon, Arcadia will be overrun with an unstoppable, vicious army unless Aramon can be defeated. To prevent his victory, the cost is high. As Lycaon’s affection for Alara grows, it becomes more difficult for him to decide which to save: Arcadia or her.

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EXCERPT

Although she had been warned of Lycaon’s band of misfits, seeing them watching her with cold eyes made her skin crawl. “Y-you are a goat man.” She stared in astonishment at the horns, the pointed ears, and goat legs with hooves covered in thick brown hair. Despite being half goat, he was the most handsome man she had ever seen with bright, slanted blue eyes and shoulder-length dark brown hair, some strands knotted into warrior braids. A belted loincloth covered little, revealing a muscular upper body.

He raised a bushy eyebrow. “I prefer satyr.”

The other odd-looking people laughed.

She opened her mouth to speak again, but the circle parted and a man stepped forward. A hood covered his head, so she could only see glimpses of his face—a flash of fang-like teeth, fierce eyes, and lots of dark hair. She shrank back from the man who looked like a mix of human and wolf.

“Who in Tartarus are you, and what are you doing in my lands?” His voice sounded like a vicious snarl.

Transfixed by his appearance, she wondered what the rest of his face looked like beneath the hooded tunic. Towering over her, his muscles strained against the dark brown woolen tunic and deerskin leggings he wore. Masculine power encircled him like a god’s nimbus, in the proud way he carried himself, and in the way he commanded their attention, for even his companions stepped back and looked at him with reverence, even the giant who barely stood taller than what glared at her now.

Alara eyed his large feet covered in laced up leather boots, afraid he might kick her, his anger at her quite apparent by the claw-like hands, partially covered in fingerless leather gloves, fisted at his sides. All she could see were his eyes, framed by heavy, dark, forbidding eyebrows, fixated on her from within the hood. Ice blue and emerald green rings. Fiery golden flecks. Intense and feral. She would never forget them. He held back his anger, but for how long? “I-I came…” His fierce stare made her forget her speech.

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5 stars! “A read any paranormal reader could love and one I highly recommend.” Sorrel at LASR

5 stars! “This was an amazing story full of twist and turns. Kelley Heckart is an incredible author and I found myself lost in the story from the start.” Amazon review

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kelleyheckartMulti-published author Kelley Heckart lives in Arizona with her musician husband, dog and a number of backyard “pets,” including Godzilla the desert iguana. Her stories reflect her passion for ancient and medieval time periods, storytelling and the supernatural. Inspired by the ancient Celts, her tales are filled with fierce warriors, bold women, otherworldly creatures, magic, and romance. When not writing, she works as a freelance editor and practices target archery. She can be found online at http://www.kelleyheckart.com/

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Guest Promotion-Night Of The Blue Moon by Lynn Crain

NightOfTheBlueMoon_LoRes

BLURB

All his life he felt he hadn’t belonged but it wasn’t until Clarity Langford appeared did he know the truth of it. Once that truth was revealed there was no going back for Connor Angus, only forward. He discovers he is the long thought dead son of pack Elite leader, Charles Langford. And with that knowledge comes a family full of sisters, mystery and longing for things he’s not sure he has any right to obtain and one of those things is Cordelia Sinclair.

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EXCERPT

“Good morning,” came a quiet rumble behind her.

Without thinking, she turned and punched, dropping her coffee cup in the process, the hot liquid spilling everywhere. She saw the man was blond and powerful but beyond those attributes she couldn’t tell because he held his hand to his face.

“What the hell?” His question came out on a low growl.

“Who are you?” Her tone harsh and edgy.

“Maybe I’m the one who should be asking the questions.” He reached out, grabbed her by the upper arms and slammed her on the table giving her little time to respond. Taking a good whiff, his smile was almost feral.

Cordelia struggled against his grip. “Let me go.”

“Not until you tell me who you are.”

He pressed the full length of his body against her. And what a form it was if what was pressed against her stomach held true. Still, she heaved in frustration as her instinct to get away kicked in. Once she was near him, he smelled more like a spring meadow and the Elites than the Betas. She didn’t care his sexy cock grew by the second. She didn’t care he took his time trying to analyze her smell. Suddenly she was all wet and hot and bothered. All she cared about was this crazy man caught her off guard, threw her on the table and tried to immobilize her. The mere action pissed her off. She lifted her leg hard and chuckled inside when he fell away. Men always left something exposed.

“You fight dirty.” He bent over, one hand to his crotch and the other on his knee breathing deeply.

His voice was a rich, deep timber like honey when the nights started to get cold in the autumn. There would be no way she’d let her guard down with this man if his voice did things to her insides that made her feel like a schoolgirl.

“I do what I have to do.” Her voice was a breathless whisper.

“And you had to hit me?” Slowly, he rose to his full height, towering over her. “I don’t know what you’re doing here but I’m beginning to wonder if you are even supposed to be here.”

His comment pissed her off even more. She drew back her hand and punched him in the face again. “I’ll show you who’s supposed to be here.”

“What the hell did I ever do to you?” The man stood there, a stunned expression on his face.

“Come on. You don’t like to fight women?” His eyes grew wider at her comment.

“You want to fight me?” His question held a hint of surprise and lots of disbelief. “Woman, you don’t know what you’re asking for.” He took a step nearer.

She broadened her stance and prepared for the worst. He outweighed her by probably eighty pounds and was a full head taller than her. His body was lean with lots of muscle. She’d barely gotten rid of the baby fat and the baby had been born four years ago. Still, this was simply going to be a battle of wits at least in her mind. She saw him slowly raise his hand and splay his palm toward her. Suddenly on her ass, a thought flashed through her mind. Damn, he’s a psychic.

“Now who’s not playing fair?” She growled at him. This was going to be harder than planned. She reached up to the table and pulled herself up, her hand grazed the place settings just waiting for guests.

Lynn Crain

Award winning author Lynn Crain has done it all in her life. She loves writing full time weaving contemporary, fantasy, futuristic and paranormal tales, tame to erotic, for various publishers. Her home is in the desert though currently she lives in Austria as her husband works his dream job.

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