Heaven Below Cover Reveal!

August 9th, 2014 by Heather Marie Adkins


Book: Heaven Below
Series: Goddess of Ptalonia, Book One
Author: Heather Marie Adkins
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Cover art by Robyn Porter - Aos Si Designs

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Seventeen-year-old Kelli McNeil wishes her only problems were what to wear and who to date. But she also has recurring nightmares about dying.

In every dream she sees Sebastian, and feels a love that echoes across the ages.  As the dreams intensify, Kelli suspects they are not imagination, but memories of past lives. While these memories hint at an ancient prophecy and the fate of an entire race, they reveal a dark danger for her.

In every life, Sebastian is not only her true love – he is her murderer.


Doc wouldn’t embed! Read an excerpt here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1h0O9IMtCQRcBcJ0mot0r4Aizjqunst4ony6X2pt9zMY/pub

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About the Authoramazon3

Heather Marie Adkins loves magick and words, but not necessarily in that order. She can often be found wrangling chickens in her backyard, pulling weeds from her herb garden, and saving field mice from her cats—when she isn’t plotting her eventual move to Ireland. She worships the moon and stars, and loves the feel of grass beneath her bare feet. Heather lives in north-central Kentucky with a house full of animals and the love of her life—all of whom drive her crazy. Learn more about her at her website: heathermarieadkins.com. Follow her on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and Tumblr.

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FREE for 10/5 and 10/6!

October 5th, 2012 by Heather Marie Adkins


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * *

This is the Eclective’s FIFTH collection in just one year!  I can hardly believe it.  I’m so honored to be a member of such a fun, varied, and talented group.

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Breaking into YA & What I’m Publishing This Spring

January 13th, 2012 by Heather Marie Adkins

It’s been SEVERAL months since I released my last book.  Constant State of Disaster was published in September.  Since then, I’ve been featured in three different anthologies, but I’ve yet to publish a new book.  It was just after that last publication that I got into the freelance ebook formatting, and I spent November and December knee-deep in jobs.

Not so, anymore.  I am busting my BUTT this month (and in 2012 in general) to get some work done.  I’m determined to find that sweet spot of balance between formatting and writing so that I can further my career as an author yet continue to do the formatting, which is something I very much enjoy.

What I am MOST excited about in 2012 is my transition into the young adult genre.  The next book I’m publishing is my debut YA, Heaven Below.  While I AM using a pen name to set my YA novels apart from my regular adult novels, I am NOT keeping the names secret and separate.  I will market my YA under my real name, and both names are mentioned in both author bios.


Hate is what drives mankind, but have you ever stopped to consider that one day, love will be our salvation?

When sixteen-year-old Kelli McNeil sets into motion an ancient prophecy from an extinct civilization, memories of past lives return to her. As the dreams intensify, Kelli discovers that she is the answer to the renewal of her lost race and without her, her kind will never rise again.

In every memory and dream is a man: Sebastian, whom she loves…and fears.  When she meets him in the present-day, Kelli can’t help but fall for the man she feels she’s always known. But there is more to it than love and the fate of her people. Because in every incarnation, Bastian isn’t only her true love—he’s also her murderer.

I’m am currently working on incorporating edits for Heaven Below (edited by Sarah Billington) and have set a tentative release date of January 31.

The Heaven Below cover is by Christine DeMaio-Rice of Flip City Covers.

In the same vein, I’m co-writing a book with YA author Julia Crane!  We are both super excited to finish and release this book.  It takes a pretty damn good book for me to say it’s good–and Eternal Youth is AMAZING.

We’re not releasing a blurb or anything yet, but we have the high hope we’ll be releasing the book by Valentine’s Day.  It’s been a blast working with Julia, and I hope this is only the first of many books we can write together.  My favorite author, Jenny Crusie, has co-written several books with the same two authors :)

The cover for Eternal Youth is by my regular cover artist, Stephanie Mooney.


On the regular adult genre front, I have four upcoming books I’d like to see published between now and summer.  I haven’t decided in which order they’ll be published because only the muses have control over that.

Flipping Spouses will be my second chick lit release, and it is certainly more chick-litty than Constant State of Disaster (which is a little wilder).  Flipping Spouses is a good ole Southern chick lit.


Beth Ann Jordan’s career as a psychologist hasn’t turned out exactly as she planned.

Instead of an office with a small, discreet clientele, Beth Ann runs “Flipping Spouses”, a spousal rehabilitation program in which she moves in and “flips” the spouse, much like normal people do with houses.  But Beth Ann is the antithesis of normal—her success has made her a nationwide celebrity and her list of clients is growing by the day.  She hasn’t had a vacation in months.

Finnegan O’Malley hasn’t been happy in his marriage for some time.  When a job overseas takes him away for several weeks, he comes to the realization that it’s time to leave his overbearing wife.  When he returns, however, Finnegan finds it isn’t his wife waiting at home, it’s Beth Ann Jordan—and she’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

Beth Ann is going to find this is one spouse she can’t flip…

My cover artist, Stephanie, is currently finishing the cover.  It’s MAGICAL!

Disembodied is my first time treading water in the thriller genre.  I’m pretty proud of not only the concept, but the execution — it’s turning out  to be a really good book.  The main character is a ghost :D

Disembodied is going to be a bittersweet release for two reasons: One — the concept behind the book came from my incessant dreams of my cousin and confidante, Cory, in the year after his death.  And Two — When I started writing this book last spring, I named one of the primary characters Keegan, after my cousin (because I loved his name).  Keegan, who was Cory’s little brother.  Then, 6-yr-old Keegan passed away this past summer.  A lot of my heart and soul has gone into this book.

I don’t have a blurb for it yet, but this amazing cover was done by author and cover artist, Athanasios Galanis who is a reallly cool dude and someone I consider a friend.

My third and most exciting release will be Mother of All, the first book in my Hedgewitch mystery series.  I don’t have a cover or blurb yet, but it is the first in what I hope to be a six book series.  The protagonist is the character from The Darkest Night — my IE holiday collection story.  I spent last Saturday with my photographer, Meagan Logsdon, and my cover model, Libby Eilers, taking some frakking cool pictures for the covers.  I’m stoked to get the pics back and choose my favorites.  As soon as I have the right pic, it’s off to Stephanie for the cover!

I am putting all of my focus on Hedgewitch currently, and hope to release it before Disembodied and Flipping Spouses.

The IE will also be releasing a new anthology in March titled “The Celtic Collection”.

And that’s all she wrote folks.  These books will keep me busy right up til June, I’m sure, at which time I’ll sit down and come up with a plan for the rest of the year.

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I’m A Witch – Affirmations

January 11th, 2012 by Heather Marie Adkins

Me :)

Nope.  Not a title meant to grab the reader’s attention and make them go “ooo”.  I’ve been a practicing witch for many years now – almost ten.  Wow.  It doesn’t feel like it’s been that long.  But that’s not what this post is about.

The fact of the matter is that the witchy side of me isn’t just a SIDE.  When you choose to follow a pagan path, it often becomes the most important aspect of your life.  But – like any normal person – it’s easy to get waylaid by the usual life stressors and lack of free time to devote to one’s spirituality.  I’ve noticed over the years that I’m at my unhappiest when I’ve drifted from my religion, and I can’t imagine I’m the only person with that affliction.

The ancestor of every action is a thought. – Ralph Waldo Emerson

I had a pretty bad autumn, but this post isn’t about that either.  What it IS about is the concept of Affirmations, and the fact that no matter how bad things get, sometimes all we need is a little affirmation in our life.

According to dear ole Wikipedia, an Affirmation is a declaration that something is TRUE.  It isn’t just a magickal concept – you could consider it “positive thinking”.  Many people utilize it in other aspects of life, like the business man who adjusts his tie in the bedroom mirror and tells his reflection,  “I will win this account.”

But when it comes to my life, it is simply…witchy.

I believe that what we BELIEVE manifests itself in our lives.  That’s the sole purpose of a witch who practices magick in ritual – to manifest the change we want to see.  What many witches tend to forget is that “ritual” doesn’t need to be elaborate and have use of every tool in our arsenal – a simple affirmation is ritual on its own.

“Be the change you want to see in the world.” -Mahatma Ghandi

Above the small table on which I write, I have a purple post-it note.  In black ink, it states: “I am a GREAT WRITER.  I will make it.”  Simple and to the point.  Every time I sit down to write, I see it, I read it, and I repeat it to myself.  In doing so, not only do I push my intention into the world so that it can manifest in my life, I drill the concept into my own head (with the hopes I’ll start to believe it).

An affirmation doesn’t only work for something we hope to achieve, like me and a writing career.  I have another affirmation I created over a year ago and don’t use nearly enough – The goddess dwells within me, as me.  I am her daughter, and she is me.  I am a priestess of my goddess. When I lived at my mother’s home, I had this on a post-it note next to my bed, and I’d repeat it to myself three times every day before I went to sleep.

Example affirmations from vitalaffirmations.com:

  • I prosper wherever I turn and I know that I deserve prosperity of all kinds.
  • Loving myself heals my life. I nourish my mind, body and soul.
  • I rejoice in the Love I encounter everyday.
  • When I believe in myself, so do others
  • I am my own unique self – special, creative and wonderful

One of my goals this year is to get back in touch with my spirituality.  I don’t want it to be a separate part of my life – I want it to BE my life.  I want no end, no clear line where the spirituality and the heather meet.  So, something I am incorporating into my daily routine (beyond my writing goals and blogging goals), is a simple daily affirmation.  To sit at my altar.  Light a candle and some incense.  And repeat affirmations.  “I am a good writer.  I am beautiful.  I will have happiness.  I will be successful in my writing career. I am at peace…

I am a witch.”

“Faith is taking the first step even when you don’t see the whole staircase.”

-Martin Luther King

Posted in Lifely Updates, Witchy Feelings, Witchy Wednesdays | 1 Comment »

The Temple at Pixel of Ink

November 7th, 2011 by Heather Marie Adkins

Pixel of Ink

The Temple is being featured today at Pixel of Ink, one of the largest bargain book blogs. SQUEE!!!

Posted in Ecrire, Lifely Updates, My Books | 3 Comments »

Day 4 of Samhain Blog Tour

October 21st, 2011 by Heather Marie Adkins

Day 4 of my blog tour ended up not happening.  BUT, it was a good day because my first published ebook, a short story “Underneath”, has officially gone free at Amazon!  I’m so excited.  It’s only been 5 months since I first published it…

I could be biased, but I really do think Underneath is a great story — not only that, I think it’s pretty representative of my writing style.  Having it free may well draw people to my work that may never have tried me in the first place.  It went free sometime this evening, approximately after 6 pm because I was on KDP at that time.  Forty minutes ago, I had had 95 downloads.  I just checked again… 136 downloads.

I don’t know whether to run screaming in terror or do a happy dance.  I’ll go for some odd combination of both and hope the neighbors don’t see.

So… FREE!  Go get it!

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Heather’s 2011 Samhain Blog Tour!

October 11th, 2011 by Heather Marie Adkins

Well, my schedule is official!

I’ve been busy busy lately getting posts together for the blog tour.  I’ve also been hired for several freelance formatting job, so that’s kept me busy too.  Plus, trying to fit in my OWN writing time to finish this YA novel that’s kicking my butt.


I present to you, my blog tour schedule.

October 14th - “Writing Into Myth” a guest post at 1000+ Books to Read

October 18th – Interview at Ed McNally’s The Sable City

October 19th – Getting Jack’d with Jack Wallen

October 20th – My Funniest Halloween Memory at Anna’s Book Blog

October 21st – Interview at Cheryl Shireman’s Blog

October 22nd – “The Temple” featured at Guerrilla Wordfare

October 23rd – My Favorite Halloween Memory at Michelle’s Book Briefs

October 24th – Guest Post (untitled as yet) with Julia Crane

October 25 – A Review of “The Temple” at Michelle’s Book Briefs

October 26th – Guest Post on Samhain at Shéa MacLeod’s Everything’s Better with Dragons

October 27th – Book review of “The Temple” at 1000+ Books to Read!

October 28 – The Scariest Place on Earth… at The Librarian Mouse

October 29th - Guest post with Alan Nayes

October 30th – Guest Post with Talia Jager

October 31st – “The Egg” – Flash Fiction at PJ Jones’ Blog

Posted in Ecrire, Indie Authors, Lifely Updates, My Books | 6 Comments »

#3 for “Best Local Author”

September 22nd, 2011 by Heather Marie Adkins

So, I got 3rd place under Arts and Entertainment for “Best Local Author”.

Best Local Author

1) D.A. Madigan

2) Wendell Berry

3) Heather Adkins


That’s insane.

I’m not even sure how it happened!  Because let me tell you, it’s not like my books are flying off the shelves (metaphorically speaking as they are currently only in E-format – flying off the E-shelves?).  Since I published “The Temple” in June, I’ve yet to even hit 100 ebook sales between it and “Abigail”, my two published books.  At the molasses rate I’m moving this month, I’m not likely to make it to 100 before the 30th.

I’m shocked.  Astonished.  Drooling while wearing a dingy white straightjacket and rocking in the corner.  Honored.  Stunned.

So how does a 26-year-old girl who has sold only 80 e-books make it onto a list with the likes of Wendell Berry and D.A. Madigan??

I don’t know.  But, I’ll take it.  Maybe it bodes well for my future career.  Maybe it was an ego-boost during a bad time and the Powers That Be deemed it necessary to give me some props.

Whatever happened to get my name on that list, I’ll take it :)

Posted in Ecrire, Lifely Updates | 8 Comments »

Chapter 1 of “Abigail”

September 12th, 2011 by Heather Marie Adkins

A New Cover is Coming Soon!!

“Abigail” is my second novel–a fantasy romance that was published in late July.


When Abigail’s supposedly immortal faery mother is found murdered, her human father sells her in to slavery. Bought by a young and wealthy landowner named William, she is whisked away to a Grecian island to play caretaker for his baby sister.

However, the island has a deadly secret connected to Abigail’s past. Her budding romance with William is shattered by Abigail’s intimate, unwanted connection with the island’s faery prince.  Meanwhile the faery king plans revenge upon the family. Abigail must join forces with the very race she’s sought to deny, to save the humans she has learned to love.

* * *

Chapter 1.

My father was selling me into slavery.

No manner of pressure could fix the uncomfortable tick caused by the throbbing behind my closed eyelids. I alternated between digging the palms of my hands into my eyes and seeking solace from the earth.

Sliding my right hand behind me between my back and the wall, I pressed it firmly to the moist stone. With just a little mental push, I sent myself into the ground beyond, feeling the worms crawl and the dirt shift. For a moment, I was able to forget the dank cell and let the Mother’s arms wrap around my shoulders, the earth’s strength seeping into my skin like a much-cherished blanket.

A burst of girlish laughter brought me back to myself, leaving me bereft. My skin was chilled beneath my thin, muslin dress; a stark contrast to the way the earth had brought me warmth. Bringing my hand back around, I pulled the shawl tighter around my shoulders—even though it was riddled with holes—and tucked my bare feet under my knees.

Perching on an old barrel that smelled of stale wine and piss, I surveyed the scene around me feeling oddly detached. It was the kind of dark that made one sluggish and miserable, from where nightmares originated. There was not a single window, or even a crack in the earthen walls to bring us comfort from the outside world; we were lucky to have the pale yellow glow of the oil lantern hanging by the only door.

We swam in the scent of feces, its source a crude hole in the floor where we relieved ourselves. The stench hung in the air like another entity, stagnant and unhealthy. From where I sat, I could feel two women with illness creeping through their bodies.

Fourteen women, some of them but children, in a room barely big enough to house eight.

The little girl sitting to my right leaned against the wall with her knees pulled up to a face so covered in filth she looked like an animal. I caught her eye, a vivid green shiny with unshed tears but hard with lessons learned much too early. She couldn’t have been nine years old. I tried to give her a comforting smile only to find the muscles in my face weren’t responding.

How do you comfort innocence destroyed?

Matilda, the one person I counted friend in my five weeks locked away, was in a puppy pile of teenagers in the corner, telling stories she shouldn’t. I knew from previous conversation that she had once belonged to an older aristocrat who had raped and mutilated her in ways beyond imagination. How she continued to exist day to day with the memories of such…even more so that she told the tales so easily.

If I know anything now from my own experiences, humans tend to practice selective memory.

I closed my eyes once more, attempting to rein my thoughts. With nothing else to do—no books to read, no garden to plant—my mind tends to run wild.

“You seem very calm today, Abigail.”

Pretty Matilda, finished traumatizing the young ones, was settling beside me on an old wooden crate, tucking her dingy blue dress around her knees. Her chestnut eyes were sparkling with good humor in her pale, simple face. I gazed down at her, and cocked my head in contemplation as I counted her freckles. “To feel anything right now is redundant. What comes will come despite thought or hope.”

She rolled her eyes, leaning back against the wall. “Could you at least try to speak as if you are only twenty?”

Breaking eye contact, I focused on my usual meditation point, a black knot in the wood wall directly across the room. It was nearly invisible in the flickering lamplight. I closed my eyes once again in an attempt to shut out reality. “I’ll try. It’s harder when I’m upset.”

One of the consequences of appearing young when my body is much older than it seems. Sometimes what comes from my lips doesn’t match what others see.

I felt her lean close on the little stool, her wild red curls brushing my bare knee below my dress. I cringed away from her so slightly that she didn’t notice. Five weeks I’d gone without touching her and delving into her mind; I refused to give in. “It’s almost over. We are almost out.”

I straightened imperceptibly, drawing in a deep breath, comfortable in the darkness behind my eyelids. “Yes.”

“We can hope our new masters are good—”

“Matilda,” I cut in sharply, eyes flying open. When she jumped back slightly at the sight, I knew I had lost my glamour. I closed my lids on the lavender fire that glowed there, and steadied myself. Sometimes she made me lose my temper. The downside of keeping human friends, I suppose. I took a few deep breaths before opening my eyes and going on in a lower tone. “False hope will only make the little ones worse in the long run. I wish you would put an end to it.”

“What is life without hope?” Her voice was small and I felt a pang of regret. Good intentions never go without punishment.

“Life is a long, terrible thing,” I whispered, more to myself. I couldn’t meet her eyes.

The door creaked open like a scream in the hushed room, pivoting outward. Every face around me, nondescript and identical to the one beside it, turned to see who was on the other side. The big one with the bushy red beard stood in the doorway, dressed in rags fit for no better than a pirate. His dirty white shirt had short sleeves and barely covered his rotund belly, while his black vest hung open over his loosely draped black pants. Scuffed brown boots tapped on the floor as he gazed around in disdain.

It was time.

“1, 4, 8, 9, and 13,” he said sharply. Thirteen; that was me; it was crudely tattooed on the inside of my right wrist. I slid from the barrel, my heart beating wildly. Matilda followed me, her fingers clutching my shawl and her eyes wide.

The room was silent as we were shackled together. I brought up the rear, stepping lightly and slowly so as not to walk all over the little one in front of me: the green-eyed girl. I could see every bone in her little shoulders. She looked like a beaten dog.

Torches lined the hallway outside our cell, casting evil, wavering shadows on the dirt floor. Mine, as usual, was absent, a by-product of my abnormal heritage. The young man walking somewhat behind and to the left of me, obviously new to the guard, kept glancing from the floor to me as if I might disappear.

Too bad that wasn’t within my range of powers. If that was the case, I’d be harvesting my potato patch instead of walking towards an unknown destiny.

Dry dust swirled around my ankles, the hallway steadily getting warmer as we ascended the steep hill. A sharp corner brought us into blinding sunlight and fresh air. I felt unwelcome tears sting my eyes and choked down a sob of gratitude for the warm rays that caressed my shoulders. I let go of my shawl outside the door, where it trailed from my fingers to the ground without a thought; it had never been mine, anyway. Already I could feel my strength returning, the sun filling my reserves with its loving energy.

We came out of the jail tunnel behind a raised platform crudely constructed of wood and haphazardly sewn burlap sacks. I could hear the noise of the crowd on the other side as we were lined up with our backs to the stage.

The first girl was a teen with shorn brown hair and slumped shoulders, her spirit in tatters on the ground. Her hands were shaking so much I feared she was going into shock. A man with muscular arms and an almost invisible neck unshackled her from the community chain and led her away.

So the waiting began.

The big guard walked by tapping his sword to the side of his beefy leg. His black belt strained with the weight of his belly, a wild patch of red hair sprouting from above the loose ties of his shirt. He leered at me from the center of a head full of dirty, rust colored curls.

“Glad to see you’ve survived, pretty thing,” he murmured, brushing a thumb down my cheek. The offensive finger continued to my neck, and even further to the crest of my breast.

Disgust flooded me. I gave him my best glare and emptied my eyes of emotion. The human color remained, but he was seeing the inhuman inside, the part of me that is connected to the Earth, to the things that bump and crawl in this world.

Confusion darted across his countenance and he inched away.

It was entirely too tempting to do something stupid, like zap him with a single touch. My cover would be broken and the people who knew what exactly I was. They’d slap a steel cuff on my ankle so fast my head would spin…if they didn’t hang me first.

“How is it you see out of those pig-like, squinty eyes?” I retorted with a sneer.

Slap. Colors exploded. One of his hands was the size of my head; the force threw me to the ground where I landed hard in the dirt. I sucked in a couple of deep, centering breaths with my chin tucked to my chest. I kept my eyes and palms to the ground, spitting blood as he walked away laughing.

One by one my companions were unchained and led to the stage I couldn’t see. The sting of my cheek eventually ebbed. Matilda gave me a cautious smile and a lighthearted good-bye wave as she shuffled to the stairs. I watched until she rounded the corner, her ankle chains leaving lines in her wake. It wasn’t clear to me whether I would miss her or be glad to be rid of her.

The young guard, handsome in a childish sort of way, waited until we were alone before coming to me. Lacing my fingers before me, I tried to appear as easy and approachable as possible, despite the chains weighing me down like a criminal.

“Why do you cast no shadow?” If I hadn’t already been prepared for the question, I might not have understood the whoosh of air that escaped him in the form of words.

I regarded the Italian thoughtfully, all dark coloring and confidence. The physical closeness of his body to mine would allow me to read him, and I conceded to the temptation. When my eyes caught his, he froze; prey. I could imagine the hairs rising on the back of his neck as he watched the dark brown of my eyes fade to be replaced by irises so bright purple they could burn. With a decent amount of effort, I focused on not allowing my skin to revert to its natural form; I didn’t want to scare him away. One, two, three…I charged in.

I can’t explain how the thoughts come. A series of pictures, words uttered in my head; also scents, colors, emotions, and sensations. Flashes of insight into the life of the person I choose to read. Physical touch isn’t necessary, just proximity, although with touch sometimes it comes unbidden.

His wife’s name was Theodora and his daughter, Victory. They lived in a one bedroom shack above a butcher’s shop. I could smell the blood. His daughter was sick…tuberculosis. She was going to die; it was in her stars. Mere man can’t fight the fate set forth by the universe. He was a good man, who took care of an elderly mother and gave to the poor…I saw an empty pantry and a deteriorating marriage.

“Why are you here, Marcello?” One might have thought I’d hit him. I saw the questions pass over his face. I placed a hand to his bare arm, my skin like fire next to his human temperature. “You don’t belong with these men.”

“I need the money,” he stuttered. Even unsure, he didn’t shake me off. I let his dark eyes study me, his other hand coming up to cover mine on his arm. “My daughter—”

“The butcher needs help,” I told him watching the elderly man in that sacred place of my mind. His wife was passing away as we spoke, her hold on life threadbare. The timing was impeccable; how grand the Universe is when it demands intervention. “You will make much more money. The old man has no child, and his only will to live is leaving soon. He will leave you the shop if you take a job with him. You have a choice to make. Your current path will end your marriage and result in suicide.”

The poor man was shaking, his skin ice beneath my hand. His brown eyes resembled that of a doe, flashing around in panic beneath the archer’s gaze. I could feel his indecision on my skin.

“Number 13, your turn.” The brute was back, abruptly ending my connection to the sweet, naïve Italian. My hands twitched to wrap themselves around the big man’s neck.

I’ve killed before. I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.

* * *

Praise for “Abigail”:

“Abigail” is a story of slavery and freedom and of lessons learned much to young – some of which should never have to be learned at all. You will suffer with Abigail as her father sells her into slavery and joy in her newfound hope. Heather brings the world of faery alive and (if you are like me) you will wonder if she is giving herself to the wrong man. Her descriptions of the locales will have you there. Is is an enchanting tale – well-told and will have you waiting for the author’s next treat.

From Amazon-

Kathy B. Green

Find “Abigail” online, only 2.99:



Barnes & Noble

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The Halloween Collection by The Indie Eclective

September 7th, 2011 by Heather Marie Adkins


It’s here!  The best damn group of indie writers this side of, um, Jupiter!  (What?  I couldn’t think of anything better.)


The Indie Eclective: What is it, who are they, and why can they spell neither “eclectic” nor “collective” correctly? The Indie Eclective is an ensemble of authors operating under the assumption that Readers like Good Books. The Halloween Collection showcases spooky reads from nine very different authors. Whether you enjoy light or dark paranormal, YA or adult-themed genres, there’s bound to be a story to suit your tastes. Thanks for reading!

In the Collection…

Rhyn Trilogy: Origins, by Lizzy Ford: Gabriel’s fate as an assassin seems set until he meets a courageous half-demon child named Rhyn, whose plight rekindles the humanity he thought he’d lost.

Ralphie the Special Werewolf by P.J. Jones: Ralphie doesn’t want to get snipped, but his pack is tired of watching him defile the sofa cushions. Now, he’s got to find a mate by Halloween night—or else.

Sunwalker’s Kiss by Shéa MacLeod: While searching for a magical bloodline, Sunwalker Jackson Keel discovers magic of a different kind.

The Village of Those Who Touch The Dead by M. Edward McNally: “All obligations will be paid. There are no exceptions.”’

Haunting in OR 13, by Alan Nayes: Halloween never frightened Sara McCaffe, until she stepped into Operating Room 13!

To Taste of Shimmering Revenge by Jack Wallen: A vampire is awakened after four hundred years only to find his kind embarrassed and shamed by the rash of shimmery, hunky vampires on the big screen. His revenge will be sweet and tasty.

Magickal Vendetta by Heather Adkins - Revenge is a dish best served up in a pink saucepan for accident-prone blood witch, Gretchen.  By harnessing the power of Halloween, she hopes to break the bond with the soulmate who did her wrong.

From the Keegan’s Chronicles series:  Haunted House by Julia Crane - Keegan, Lauren, and Anna find much more than they bargained for during an innocent trip to a commercial haunted house.  Someone long dead awaits them on the second floor…

From the Gifted Teens series: Mind-Blower by Talia Jager - Kassia and Daxton’s romantic picnic is interrupted by the arrival of creatures bent on her destruction.  Will her powers fail her when she needs them most?

It’s FREE.  It’s full of talent, whimsy, and maybe just a little bit of gore…pick it up now at Smashwords!

Coming soon to Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

Posted in Ecrire, Indie Authors, Stuff I Write | 1 Comment »

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I am ALWAYS willing to give away ebook copies of my novels to anyone willing to read and review, so please don't hesitate to email me and request a book(s) at heather@heathermarieadkins.com

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