Book Promo Feature–Against Her Gentle Sword by Alan Stroe

YAPC woud like to welcome Alan Stroe to the blog today. He is here to share some info and an excerpt from his book Against Her Gentle Sword. If this looks like a book you would like to read, please go pick up a copy!

Book Description:

Against Her Gentle SwordOn an island ruled by women, young men must duel each other with stun swords to impress young ladies and attract romantic interest.

Dario, a boy yearning for freedom and equality, is selected to duel in front of the girl he loves. He has no desire to fight his friends, and little chance of winning. Will he refuse to duel, suffering punishment and humiliation? Or will he ruin his chances of winning her heart through an embarrassing defeat?

His problems get more complicated when a former ally hijacks his revolutionary plans, turning them into an evil power grab. Real, deadly fighting breaks out on the island for the first time.

Buy Against Her Gentle Sword:



As they approached Maureen, the competition’s referee, Dario looked in Murray’s eyes and he realized without a doubt that his former friend would fight him. But he had given his word, so he still had to ask again. That was very hard for him to do presently, since he was in apparent disadvantage, and he didn’t want it to be mistaken for cowardice.
“Take guard!” the referee ordered. They both took a fighting stance.

“Ready?” she asked. “Fight!”

Just as she shouted ‘fight!’ Dario shouted to Murray in order to be heard over the crowd:

“My offer still stands, Murray! Will you take it?”

Murray hesitated a moment then said:

“That’s how you want this to go down, old sport? Okay, but you tell them.” He lowered his guard.

It was Dario’s turn to hesitate. He hadn’t expected this. As if against his will, he lowered his guard too, and realized he had to switch his mindset to a whole different situation, a whole different battle maybe. He turned towards the referee to explain:

“Miss Maureen…” with the corner of his eye he saw sudden movement—Murray had rushed at him with his sword raised to deliver a downward slash. Out of sheer instinct he moved his upper body backwards and his right hand slashed diagonally to parry Murray’s descending blade. The blades met violently, unleashing a disconcerting shower of sparks until the electrodes disengaged, immediately after. Murray’s sword became a lever with the fulcrum on the edge of Murray’s palm and so it was sent flying spectacularly. Murray’s momentum took him crashing into Dario’s already precariously balanced body, sending the latter into the sand, sprawling.


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Book Promo Feature–Bedmonsters are Cool by Lorain O’Neil and Aaron Majewski

YAPC would like to welcome Lorain O’Neil and Aaron Majewski to the blog today. She is here to share an excerpt and some info about her book Bedmonsters are Cool. If this looks like something you would like to read, please go pick up a copy!

Book Description:

Bedmonsters are CoolHe’s furry. He’s orange. And he’s under her bed.

Discovering she’s a witch by accidentally tearing a hole in Time & Space (never a good thing) Rebecca Westin has a bedmonster to show for it –a bedmonster with attitude not to mention hundreds of hands and two eyes that are oh so mysteriously like hers. Not exactly what she needs now that Mom’s fled rehab to cook chili and the Queen of High School is out to steal Brent, Becca’s gorgeous male friend she’d really like as a whole lot more.

So Becca’s week has pretty much gone down the drain.

’Cause when you rip a hole in Time & Space a bedmonster isn’t the only disgruntled visitor you’re gonna be having!

But that’s what friends are for, right?

Bedmonsters are Cool is a humorous 61,000 word standalone young adult fantasy novel, and will be on a Kindle Countdown reduced price December 8-15, 2014.

Buy Bedmonsters are Cool:



‘Sometimes it all works out –this ain’t gonna be one of those times.’

Bedmonsters are Cool
Chapter One

Hunger mixed with moldy socks and a wielded golf club
do old acquaintances make

He was hungry. He was very hungry. He was so HUNGRY.

The gnawing in his hunger-arm was a physical pain and had been for some time, he could no longer remember the last time he’d had a good meal, let alone been full.
The hunger drove him onward, made it impossible to be still. Loud rumbles from his eating-hands filled the air as he padded through the darkness of the Dust Bunny Caverns. The air was heavy and still and reeked of unwashed socks, moldy breadcrumbs (which his sub-species couldn’t digest), decomposing homework, and the acidic taint of Atomic Jazz.

Around him his sound-gathering arms detected the rustles of others of his kind, while his vibration-hairs detected the soft currents of the subworld’s power grid, the magical energy that filled his world and made the impossible probable. His seeing-hands could see nothing now though, because he was too hungry to manipulate light. Relentlessly he pushed on through the darkness on his walking-arms, searching, searching for anything that might sustain him for just a little longer.

His skin-shedder no longer believed in him or anything else that might come through a Door; he’d been unable to gather sustenance in that way for a very long time now and he was reduced to trolling through the dregs of what drifted through Doors opened by others.

As he prowled through the caverns, BedMonster 1137465893 left his own kind behind, far behind, and moved into the unknown in his quest for food. This was a danger, for who knew what lurked within the darkness of the underworld? Who knew what prowled and stalked and waited for prey? But his kind were hunters, snatchers, and he knew no fear, being the greatest of his kind… okay, so no one else might have thought he was the greatest, but heck, what did they know?

BedMonster’s smelling-hands caught a whiff of something different, something that smelled like fear, and he was instantly alert. His prowling turned almost into a gallop as he climbed the cavern wall, running towards a small dark opening high above he wasn’t sure he was really even seeing. Reaching it, he entered into a low tunnel on his stalking-hands and began probing ahead with his snatching-arms outstretched, his long-corded muscles rippling, attesting to the power of his grip, the expert finality of his snatch.

He’d found something like a Gate into the Real, yet it was different. Too hungry to make his own light yet, he nevertheless saw ahead of him a golden glow emanating from a Gate-like disturbance of air. Gates did not normally glow… perhaps he should be worried about that he thought suspiciously.

Too late.

As he approached the Gate-thing, the golden glow suddenly turned dark red, a color that cried danger and the swirling pattern of disturbance became faster, faster, while the fear scent turned to one of triumph!

And then the light turned green.


She’d friggin’ found it! Becca had exactly six and a half minutes left to get dressed, pack her book bag, get to the bus stop, but she’d found it. No way was she going to high school without her cell.

“Get your ass moving!” her father bellowed from downstairs.

Make-up had to be forgotten (damn), clothes (had she worn these yesterday?) thrown on in abandon, algebra book dispensed with (she’d share Carlie’s who’d hate that but toughola) and she flew. Passing her father pulling out of the driveway to take Normie to daycare and himself to work, she raced toward the bus stop.

She missed it.

Shoot, shoot, shoot, she fumed. Rebecca Ann Westin you are such an idiot! What do I do now?

She walked slowly back to the empty house, defeated, entering its silence, weighing alternatives. She could call her Dad (No!) or she could… just stay home? Who would know? That mattered? She caught a glance of herself in the hall mirror and thought no one’ll probably even notice.

She was not pretty she knew, too tall, too gangly, with way too curly boring brown hair that refused to do anything sensible. One consolation, she had gotten rid of those godawful braces last year. Her teeth were white and straight now and she was going to make darn sure they stayed that way. (She loved her dentist. She hated her dentist.) Good teeth or not though, even with her mother’s assurances that her blue eyes were striking (even when she wore her glasses) and she was going to be beautiful, it hadn’t happened in sixteen years and she had her doubts.

I can just spend the day at home she moped in resignation. Alone.

And then Becca heard a noise upstairs.


This is stupid, this is STOO-PID, she chanted through gritted teeth as she pushed open her bedroom door. The room was a mess of course (she being a teenager, Mom being away, and Dad being, well, Dad) and anything could be hiding anywhere. She gripped her mother’s old golf club and slowly entered the room.

A soft rustling and quiet thumping came from under the bed, its unmade sheets dangling onto the floor obscuring her view underneath.

Oh crap, she cringed, some rabid, chittering, gibbering (or worse, salivating) thing is gonna shoot right outta there and go straight for my ankles. I should call someone, but… I’m skipping school, they’re not exactly gonna be sympathetic.

From as far away as she could manage, Becca thrust out the club and gingerly lifted the fabric.

Okay, breathe now… get down on one knee and just look.

Nothing was there unless you counted massive dust bunnies and small mounds of discarded pantyhose… oh, so that’s where those went.

And then… at the very back, against the wall, something stirred. A hiss, something uncoiling in the shadows.

“DON’T KILL ME!” Becca shrieked. The hiss and the movement ceased abruptly, leaving her unsure whether she had actually even heard them in the first place.
Then something moved, maybe even… glittered?

There’s definitely something there, she decided grimly, it’s suspended off the floor and it’s swaying in the breeze from the air vent. And you know there’s only one way you’re gonna find out what that something is. I am so dead, I am so dead, I am… stop that, you are a big girl.

Carefully, slowly, Becca slid the golf club toward the glimmering darkness. The club met a soft resistance.


Don’t be a moron.

Becca started swishing the club back and forth and found herself getting angry.
Oh show yourself you—

Instantaneously a sparkle of soft golden light appeared and whirled around Becca’s golf club. A sinewy arm shot out of the faintly glittering light, sporting a purplish-gray six-fingered hand that clamped down on the club and pulled. Becca screamed so loudly that her vocal cords nearly ripped, and as she was yanked under the bed the thought that ricocheted through her horror-struck brain was I’m gonna die FOR CUTTING SCHOOL?

Another followed dimly on its heels: Does this mean I can skip the lecture for not making my bed?


The light enwrapped him, melding against his body like a coating of paint, which was not normal for any usual Gate, certainly nothing like a Door. It seeped along his hair coating his hands, his arms, grasping him firmly, carrying him along. BedMonster sensed fear, knew he approached prey, but that prey seemed oddly angered and confused as well. He couldn’t process what was happening to him. A vague shape appeared in the distance and BedMonster 1137465893 reached out to it, heard a scream, a scream that vibrated throughout the small world that was his Gate-like encompassment. He grasped that dark shape and pulled, felt it drag against the palm of one of his snatching-hands trying to get away, trying to leave him behind. He knew that would lead to his dissolution so immediately he twisted, slowly birthing into a small dark space.

The scream echoed around him and he reached out with all his senses, contacting the prey, bounding towards it eagerly. He was under a bed, his natural striking place, and he knew exactly what to do. He careened into the human, hands snaking around and grasping firmly, finding all those places he liked to strike, and scooped up great globules of his sustenance as the prey screamed and struggled beneath him. He had not fed this well in years.

But something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

It was Day, in the Real.

Bedmonsters didn’t do Day.

BedMonster whimpered and fled.


The overlarge hand seemed vaguely gorilla-like, gray-tinged, with purple embedded deeply in the tissue, and six large fingers almost human but for their immense size and strength. The hand clamped onto the golf club and pulled. Becca’s head and shoulders were yanked under the bed as she screamed.

HELL NO I AM NOT GOING UNDER THERE NO WAY! Slamming back on the club with all her might, Becca experienced a weird tingle surge down the back of her spine, across her shoulders and into her arms. The sensation streamed across her hands leaving a faint trace of heat and a metallic taste in the back of her throat. Something seemed to undulate down her arm, jump to the golf club, travel its shaft and flow into the golden light under the bed. The light changed to green, an emerald color like deep ocean, not a safe, soft green, but a dark, scary green, and a part of Becca’s mind whispered green means go, green means open.

Pulling hard, Becca struggled backwards and managed to rock herself back onto her haunches. Without warning the golf club was released and Becca found herself launched, flying across the bedroom landing on her rump, hearing the ominous crunch of her cell phone in her jeans pocket. And then the thing was upon her.
It was a ravenous beast, all hands, hot moist breath, powerful arms, and fur, fur everywhere as it pressed itself against her. Atop her. Pressing her down beneath its weight. It was rummaging she realized in stark petrified terror, it was looking for that perfect place to grip and tear.

And then it was gone.

The beast retreated with a soft cry, leaving Becca disheveled, trembling, but (to her bleak amazement) intact. Under the bed something moved and the light faded. Whatever had pounced on her was huddled under the foot of her bed trembling and whimpering. Becca squatted and edged nearer to gawp at the creature.

The thing under Rebecca Ann Westin’s bed was clearly some kind of animal; it had too many limbs (at least eight she could see) and was furred, about the size of a large dog. For one ridiculous moment Becca thought of her father’s Australian Terrier, Melvin, but this is no dog. The beast had orange-brown fur, oversized six-fingered hands ending in blunt fingernails something like a man’s but much bigger, and most certainly much stronger. Becca was sure the creature could have torn her to pieces if something hadn’t caused its hasty retreat back under the bed.

Becca stared directly at the monster’s eyes –it had two– both perfectly round, each rimmed in gold, but with centers the exact same blue as her own set into the palms of two hands!

BedMonster stared right back.

“What are you?” Becca croaked.

“What are you?” came the sneering response. Its voice was small, afraid, somewhat human, but decidedly not.

“You talk!” As the thing had no head, no clear front or back, this astonished Becca.

“Of course I talk! I’m a bedmonster! Now what are you?” it sniffled, its bravado seemed to be wavering, as if it were in pain.

“Bedmonster? As in nightmare-under-the-bed? But those are fairy stories, ghosts and goblins!”

“Bedmonsters are nothing like fairies, and certainly not like any smelly old goblin, and there are no such things as ghosts. Bedmonsters are the great hunters, the stealthy snatchers, we go where others fear to tread!”

Becca wanted to point out that the bedmonster was currently cowering and whimpering under her bed but that seemed somewhat impolite so she said instead, “You speak English.”

“And modern Greek, some provincial backwoods French, and Latin. Fluently. What’s your point?”

Now the thing was petulant.

“But what are you? I’m sorry, but I still don’t know what a bedmonster really is.”

“A bedmonster obviously is the thing you fear in the dark, the thing that creeps under your bed at night, so when you feel that silent shift of air and know there is a malevolence beneath you, you lie still and quiver and hope that my kind do not come for you.”

It sounded like it was quoting something, or someone, else. “Now again, what are you?” the beast demanded.

“I’m… a girl. My name’s Becca.”

The light about BedMonster seemed to flicker just for a moment, almost in excitement, when Becca said her name.

“Yessss,” it hissed. “You are. Well you are a nasty girl, a naughty girl, fearing me under your bed in Day, opening some weird-assed Gateish thing, drawing me here. Don’t you know bedmonsters shrivel up and die in sunlight?” The bedmonster now sounded aggrieved, and blinked its watery blue eyes once.

“Me? I didn’t bring you here.” It was then that Becca noticed BedMonster was slowly creeping toward her, staying well away from the slant of sunlight streaming in from her mullioned window. “What do you eat?” she demanded suspiciously.

“Human flesh. Specifically, when I can get it, yours.”


“Not you, the stuff that sloughs off you. Bedmonsters exist in an asymptomatic-symbiotic relationship with people.”

A whatsit now?

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” a voice demanded from behind Becca who jumped up so fast she actually whirled in midair.

“Aunt Andrea!”

“What were you doing down there?”

Becca was speechless, her eyes darted back to the bed but its sheets were once again dangling onto the floor.

“Had some trouble with my passport,” her Aunt said not waiting for Becca’s answer, “in Guatemala, had to fly back, thought I’d drop in for a visit, it has been eight years you know and I must say you’re starting to fill out nicely.” Aunt Andrea said this all very fast and clipped, but Becca could still hear the tentative note of apology, the plaintive entreaty for Becca’s forgiveness.

Dad called her to come while Mom’s drying out in the clinic, Becca thought sourly.
Aunt Andrea was the great enigma of Becca’s family, a woman with an indefinable aura of power, sensuality, and absolute self-confidence; she was a stunning beauty with auburn hair and vivid green eyes that somehow managed to appear almost black whenever they rested on something, unwavering. At the moment, they were jet. About her throat hung a small blue stone secured in silver worked to look like the vines of a plant.

“Did I hear you scream?”

“I fell… landed on my cell,” Becca said extracting the pieces of her phone from her back pocket, “I missed the bus—”

“I have a rental,” her aunt said crisply, “let’s go.”

Somehow Becca didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell her aunt she had a bedmonster behind her sheets.

About the Author: Lorain O’Neil is the author of Coquina Hard [Historical Fiction Standalone], Alien Advantage Lorain O'Neil[Humorous Adventure Standalone], The Dangerous Path of Loving Jaesha [Very Dark Erotic Humorous Standalone Thriller], Angelique Rising [Humorous Standalone Dark Thriller], A Kiss From Moët [Humorous Paranormal Standalone Romance], The Liar Charms [Humorous Standalone Thriller], and co-author of Bedmonsters are Cool [Humorous Standalone Fantasy], all available on Amazon.

Connect with Lorain:

Amazon Author Page

Book Promo Feature–True Calling by Siobhan Davis

True Calling

YAPC would like to welcome Siobhan Davis to the blog today. She is here to share some information and an excerpt from her book True Calling. If this looks like something you would enjoy reading, please go pick up a copy! Book Description: Planet … [Continue reading]

Interview with Andrea Domaski Author of Crossfire


YAPC would like to welcome Andrea Domanski to the blog today. She is here to answer some of our questions as well as share some information about her book Crossfire. If this looks like a book you would enjoy reading, please go pick up a … [Continue reading]

Book Promo Feature–For the Win (Playing for Keeps #1) by Amber Garza

For the Win

YAPC would like to welcome Amber Garza to the blog today. She is here to share some info and an excerpt for her book For the Win. If this looks like something you would enjoy, please go grab a copy!   Book Description: London Miller has one … [Continue reading]

Book Promo Feature–I, James by Mike Hartner

I James

YAPC would like to welcome back Mike Hartner to the blog today. He is here to share some info and an excerpt of his newest release I, James. If you think you would be interesting in reading, please go pick up a copy! Book Description: James … [Continue reading]

Book Promo Feature–Ghosts of Manitowish Waters by G.M. Moore

Ghosts of Manitowish Waters

YAPC would like to welcome G.M. Moore to the blog today. She is here to share some info and an excerpt from her book Ghosts of Manitowish Waters. If this looks like a book you would enjoy reading, please go pick up a copy! Book … [Continue reading]

Interview with Norma Jean Lutz–Author of Flower in the Hills

Flower in the Hills

YAPC would like to welcome Norma Jean Lutz to the blog today. She is here to answer some of our questions and tell us about herself and her book Flower in the Hills. If this books looks like something you would like to read please use the links to … [Continue reading]

Book Promo Feature–Waiting for the Voo by Dean Ammerman

Waiting for the Voo

YAPC would like to welcome Dean Ammerman to the blog today. He is here to share some info about his book Waiting for the Voo. If this looks like something you would enjoy, please go pick up a copy or two! Book Description: “Waiting for the Voo” is … [Continue reading]

Book Promo Feature–Who We Were by Christy Sloat

Who We Were

YAPC would like to welcome Christy Sloat to the blog today. She is here to share some info about her book Who We Were. Today is release day! So, if you think this is something you would like to read, go pick up a copy! Content Warning: Due to … [Continue reading]