Black Friday/Cyber Monday Sale

The Kindle of my urban fantasy, How the Vortex Changed My Life, joins other great genre ebooks in the Black Friday/Cyber Monday Sale November 23-28 at http://bit.ly/2BkXnAM . Don't forget to check all the great books and scroll down the page to enter the giveaway to WIN an AMAZON gift card! 
Christmas shopping was never this easy, and without driving to a nearby mall to do it.

Winner of the #TherearenoeyedropsinHell Blog Tour

I drew the winner and drum roll............it's Cathleen Marshall! She will be contacted as she left her email on the blog she commented on. Congratulations to her!

Supernatural Friday: Last of #TherearenoeyedropsinHell Blog Tour for How the Vortex Changed My Life

Today, is the last stop for the #TherearenoeyedropsinHell blog tour for my new urban fantasy release, How the Vortex Changed My Life. 

I want to talk about why I felt Richmond and nearby Chesterfield County made a good area for this new fiction novel of mine. It’s a very paranormal loaded spot. Just as all of Virginia is. After writing five nonfiction ghost books, I learned a lot. Where else would a serial killer who dresses in a white bunny costume and brandish a hatchet at a bridge in Fairfax? Forget that man with the hook—Bunnyman is creepy, downright creepy. Ghosts seem to be just wanting to haunt the Commonwealth. Especially in Virginia’s haunted Historic Triangle and Petersburg and its Tri-Cities area.

Richmond has a vampire connected to the train buried under the hill in Churchhill, and his tomb is located in Hollywood Cemetery. Does he wait for his next victim, maybe the last to leave as dusk settles over the tombstones? People talk about seeing a werewolf in Henrico. I wonder if like the old classic Universal monsters, if the werewolf battles the Richmond Vampire?

Most of all, Poe may not have been born here, but he was raised here, went to college in Charlottesville and had his honeymoon in Petersburg, so Virginia must have been dear to his heart (his beating, telltale heart). He is considered Richmond’s native son.

So, where else would Larry and all those demonic beings, plus that vortex, come to, but Richmond? At least, Larry can get eye drops from any drugstore in town.

Leave a comment,  telling me if you agree Richmond is very paranormal or not, leaving your name, to be entered in this short blog tour’s giveaway, where one winner will win a gift certificate of $20.oo from Amazon, where you can buy the paperback copy of , or the Kindle version, plus stuff on Amazon (you might think about one of my books even). Check this blog, http://pamelakkinney.blogspot.com/ this coming, Monday,  October 16, 2017, at Noon, Eastern time, to see if your name is picked. If it is, you will need to leave me a comment with your name and email (don’t worry, I must approve comments and I won’t post it on my blog, just email you, so we can get you your prize).

Pamela K. Kinney

Buy the book:

How the Vortex Changed My Life available on Kindle and in trade paperback

You can visit the past three blogs I stopped at:

    October 8, 2017: I Smell Sheep Reviews: http://www.ismellsheep.com/

    October 9, 2017:  KMN Books: http://kmnbooks.blogspot.com/

    October 10, 2o17: https://www.carolsmithwrites.com/single-post/2017/10/10/This-Week-Pamela-K-Kinney-Is-Guest-Blogging

Cat Viggolone just can’t get a break. She'd gotten married, but that ended when the husband left her for his younger secretary. She'd wanted children. That flew out the window along with the cheating husband. There’s the career, but working a window at the Virginia DMV can’t really be classified as a great career choice. At thirty-three, her life had become positively dull. then the vortex opened.

Sucked up into a corridor just outside of Hell, she meets Connor, a werewolf, and Larry, a demon that looks like a blue-eyed eyeball. They escape back to earth, only to find that the vortex has opened up in downtown Richmond. The town is going to hell, literally. Besides a grayness seeping out and turning all living things into zombies, monsters and demons are invading Cat’s world.

Will Cat and her new friends (including an angel named George) be able to stop the vortex before it claims the entire planet? Cat’s life is definitely no longer humdrum and ordinary.

Connor and I arrived at some stone steps. We clattered up them and into the Richmond Public Library. After we stepped into the foyer and passed the circulation desk we looked around, unsure of where to go. I saw a room to the left of us, pointed at it, and we slipped inside. Rows and rows of books in shelves lined the area like soldiers marching behind each other. A portly man in khaki pants, white shirt, and a blue, flowered tie sat behind a desk. He looked up and smiled.

"Can I be of assistance?" His smile faltered as he stared past me.

He's seen Larry. This won't be good.

He stood, his forehead wrinkling. "That's pretty life like. What is it? A balloon? I can't see any string attached to it."

Deciding not to beat around the bush, I blurted, "He's not a balloon. He's an eyeball—actually, he's a demon."

The man said, "Are you trying to say that whatever it is, is alive?"

"Kinda. I guess demons are sort of alive."

The librarian walked over to us and poked at Larry. Larry didn't like it and started that weird bleating noise he could make and bumped against the man. He bumped him so hard, he almost knocked the librarian over. The man managed to stay on his feet, and took a couple of steps back as he wiped the finger on his pants as if Larry had given him cooties.

Connor grabbed the librarian by the same finger and squeezed hard. The man cried out.

Connor let go. "Larry doesn't like people poking at him." He glared. "It's rude. Besides, how would you like it if I poked at you?" Connor proceeded to do just that.

The librarian stumbled back. "Okay, okay. But what is that thing? The lady called it a demon, but demons aren't real. Right?"

Connor snorted. "That thing is a demon like the lady said and if it wasn't for him, I'd been dead within hours after I got trapped in Hell." Larry bumped against Connor and made another noise I never heard before, like a cat's purr. "I find Larry is a lot more 'human' than you humans are."

"Well, you look as human as the rest of us," said the librarian with a snotty attitude, "and that eye beastie definitely doesn't." He narrowed his eyes. "This library is for humans only. I mean, non-human things can't get a library card issued to them." He saw Connor give him a glowering look and inched away. "Well, I'm pretty sure that's the rules."

I spoke up. "We're not here to borrow a book." I snuck a look at the front entrance. "We needed a place to hide in. You see, a monster is after us. A very big monster. And there are others outside like it and Larry here. A vortex opened not far from here and downtown Richmond is turning gray and I don't mean Confederate gray either. Richmond's new address is now a part of the Hell dimension. The whole world is doomed. And I don't think it really matters whether Larry can be issued a library card, or what species can use this library."

The librarian's mouth opened and shut in shock, his eyes bulging and looking like tennis balls. He sputtered, "You're nuts." He cut a glance at Larry who hovered closer to him. "I think you guys are pulling something on me. That thing has got to be fake."

I grabbed him by his ugly tie. "Look, Hell is taking over Richmond, and soon, Virginia, not long after, the U.S., and from there, maybe the world. So, get over it.Larry is not fake. He's a demon, plain and simple, but maybe you can't comprehend it. I know I couldn't at first. That means no more people checking out books, no more Christmas, cute fluffy kittens, no more anything good and right for humankind. Just demons, Hell, and the end of life as we know it."

The librarian ripped his tie out of my hand and looked at me like I'd sprouted horns and a pitchfork myself. I must have been tougher on him than I thought.

A growl reached my ears, along with an awful miasma slamming up my nostrils. I reeled around. With an African American lady librarian clasped in one clawed paw and a patron speared by the claws of the other, the monster that had been chasing us stood by the circulation desk. The patron kept screaming while the librarian hung unconscious and limp like a wet noodle.

I watched with horror as the monster snarled and slurped the patron's head into its mouth, effectively cutting off the screaming. The librarian with us took off, yelling something about monsters not being in his job description.

Second Tour Stop and Third Tour Stop of #TherearenoeyedropinHell Blog Tour for My New Novel

First one is at KMN Books and I talk about the real places in my Richmond/Chesterfield based urban fantasy novel, How the Vortex Change My Life. The third stop is at Carol Smith Writes Blog and I blog about some facts about my new release that readers don’t know about.

Remember to leave a comment at any of the blogs, including mine that is this Friday, October 13th, and check back to my blog Monday the 16th by Noon EST to see if your name was drawn. Directions to get hols of me whill be on the blog post that day.

Today is First Day of the Blog Tour for My New Book, How the Vortex Changed My Life!

Today is the first day of my #TherearenoeyedropsinHell blog tour for my new urban fantasy book,  How the Vortex Change My Life.  I made my first stop at I Smell Sheep Reviews  Leave a comment to be entered to win a $20 Amazon gift certificate for the complete tour (you can find out at this blog on Monday, October 16th at 12 Noon (Eastern Time Zone who won it). 

My #TherearenoeyedropsinHell Blog Tour for How the Vortex Change My Life

I will be stopping at three other blogs, besides mine next Supernatural Friday, for the #TherearenoeyedropsinHell blog tour for my new urban fantasy novel, How the Vortex Changed My Life.

Leave a comment at any of the blogs to be entered to win a $20 Amazon gift certificate. Then come to my blog on Monday, October 16th at 12 Noon Eastern Time Zone to see if you are the winner. If you are, leave a comment with your name and email, so I can contact you to get you your prize. Having to approve the comments, I promise not to approve the comment. it is only for me.

The blogs I will be at:

October 8, 2017: I Smell Sheep Reviews: http://www. ismellsheep.com/

October 9, 2017:  KMN Books: http://kmnbooks. blogspot.com/

October 10, 2017: Carol Writes: The Write Drive:  https://www. carolsmithwrites.com/blog

October 13, 2017: Fantastic Dreams of Pamela K. Kinney: http://pamelakkinney. blogspot.com/

Monster Fest This Saturday, October 7th

Join me and other authors, filmmakers and vendors at the 14th annual Monster Fest. It will be at the Chesapeake Central Library, from 10:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. The address is 298 Cedar Rd., Chesapeake, Virginia. The event is free and open, family friendly too.

I will have a special giveaway connected to the premiere of my new urban fantasy novel, How the Vortex Changed My Life, where you get to meet Larry, the demonic eyeball in the book. Buy the book and get it signed and enter your name and cell number to contact you if you are not back at 3 p.m. when the name of the winner is drawn, and you are the winner. 

Superstitions About Death: Second Blog Siop of Paranormal Petersburg, Virginia, and the Tri-Cities Area

When I was writing Paranormal Petersburg, Virginia, and the Tri-Cities Area, I learned some interesting superstations about death, thanks to taking a ghost tour at Sutherland Tavern in Dinwiddie, Virginia, and Michelle Olger. In past centuries, before a burial of someone who passed away, wakes were held. A wake is when the body was laid out for two to five days. One day was needed to put out the call about the death, another couple of days for people to gather there, and a couple of more days were needed for viewing the body. Parlors in the past were where people placed their dead when “laid out.” They were called death rooms.  Not in morgues, as at that time, such places were not there yet. When morgues came into being and dead placed there, that is when parlors became living rooms.

Today, people bring flowers to give the families of the deceased. This, too, had to do with the body in the parlor. It began to smell, so placing many flowers in the parlor helped tone down the stench. Also, all clocks in the house were stopped, and any mirrors covered. Clocks were stopped at the hour of the death of the person laid out. Superstition had them believing that if they were not stopped, the living would have bad luck. There were also superstitions regarding mirrors: covering them wherever the dead were laid out was to prevent disembodied spirits from seeing their own reflections and never finding rest. Other reasons stated that mirrors should be covered so the soul of the departed wouldn’t get caught behind the glass and be unable to pass to the other side. There is one final belief that if the living saw their own reflection in a mirror while a body lay in the parlor, they would die soon after. The pallbearers carried the body out the front door feet first, so not to beckon any souls back into the house.

There are other interesting superstitions concerning death that I found and wrote about in the chapter for Sutherland Tavern:

It is bad luck to meet a funeral procession head on. If you see one approaching, turn around. If this is unavoidable, hold on to a button until the funeral cortege passes.

When a clap of thunder is heard following a burial, it is an indication that the soul of the departed has reached heaven.

Do not hold your breath while going by a graveyard, so you will not be buried.

If the deceased has lived a good life, flowers will bloom on his grave; but if he has been evil, only weeds will grow.

The odor of roses when no one is around indicates that someone will die.

Seeing yourself in a dream means that your death will follow.

If a sparrow lands on a piano, someone in the home will die.

A picture falling off a wall means that there will be a death of someone you know.

A single snowdrop growing in the garden foretells death.

 

What other traditions or superstitions do you know about death that I haven’t mentioned? Leave a comment about it, plus your name and email (so if you win, I can contact you after I draw the winner October 6^th) to be entered to win a signed copy of my new book. 

First Stop of My Virtual Book Tour

I begin the virtual book tour of my new nonfiction ghost book release, Paranormal Petersburg, Virginia, and the Tri-Cities Area today by stopping at I Smell Sheep Reviews. Read about haunted or curse objects and leave a comment to be entered to win a signed copy of my book. http://www.ismellsheep.com/2015/09/haunted-or-cursed-objects-paranormal.html

Tomorrow, the second stop will be here. And remember comment by October 6th, as the last stop on the tour will be Monday, October 5th.

My Online Blog Tour September 27-October 5, 2015

Sunday begins the blog tour for my new release, Paranormal Petersburg, and the Tri-Cities Area. The book is nonfiction, with haunted buildings, battlefields, and more in Petersburg and nearby Tri-Cities  and Chester in Virginia.  Leave a comment on any of them (includes mine on Tuesday), with your name and email and one winner will be drawn after August 6, 2015 for a signed copy of the book I will contact the winner then to get the snail mail so can mail it off to that person. 

List of the blogs for the tour: 

September 27 - I Smell Sheep Reviews
September 28 - My own blog (Fantastic Dreams of Pamela K. Kinney)
September 29 - Author Sharon Buchbinder's Blog
September 30 - Southern Spirit Guide
October 1 - Author Michelle Hamilton
October 2 - Lela Markham's Blog
October 5 - Horror Author Armand Rosamilia 

Author Interview for Women in Horror Plus I Have a Giveaway

I have been interviewed by horror author MF Wahl at her blog, and I also did a video to watch. Leave a comment to be entered to win a signed trade paperback copy of my horror/dark fantasy collection of short stories, Spectre Nightmares and Visitations. You have until May 20, 2015 to leave a comment to be entered for the giveaway. http://mfwahl.com/pamela-kinney/

 

Read My Weregoats Deserve Equal Rights Too! (Strangely Funny II Anthology Book Tour) + giveaway at I Smell Sheep Today

My guest blog is up at I Smell Sheep! Leave a comment to be entered to win a $10 gift cert from Amazon. http://www.ismellsheep.com/2014/08/weregoats-deserve-equal-rights-too.html

 

I'm Guest Blogger at I Smell Sheep Reviews Friday, August 29th-Giveaway

I will be guest blogger for I Smell Sheep Reviews Friday, August 29th. Due to the release of my latest short story, "Weregoat" in the anthology, Strangely Funny II. I will be blogging about why weregoats should get equal rights like the rest of the shapeshifter world.  Leave a comment sometime during the day at the blog and be entered to win a $10 Amazon gift cert. The contest goes until midnight tomorrow. http://www.ismellsheep.com/

 

Win One of Three Copies of Strangely Funny II in a Goodreads Giveaway

Three Copies of  the Strangely Funny II anthology (contains my fantasy short story, "Weregoat") in print is now up for Goodreads giveaway. Enter here: Goodreads Giveaway

Invite to Haunted Richmond II Book Release Party September 23rd at Book People in Richmond

Come join me at my book release party for my new nonfiction ghost book release, Haunted Richmond II this upcoming Sunday, September 23--3:00 p.m. to 5:00 p.m. The bookstore hosting the event is Book People, 536 Granite Ave. Richmond, Virginia. 23226. For directions to find this little indie bookstore: 804-288-43456.  I will be doing a giveaway-a basket of goodies and a gift card to you can use at Book People another time. http://www.bookpeoplerichmond.com/

So come, have some ghost cookies and pumpkin spice chocolate candy kisses, and let me signing a copy of my book for you.

Haunted Richmond II is a Goodreads Giveaway

My fourth nonfiction ghost book releases August 2012. I am doing a Goodreads.com giveaway of one signed copy to those in the USA until September 5, 2012. So if on Goodreads, go enter to win it! http://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/27049-haunted-richmond-ii

What Does It Take to Be a Detective?-Guest Blogger Robert Bailey-Giveaway

Welcome mystery author Robert Bailey as he blogs about “What Does It Take to be a Detective?” and celebrates his books going to eBooks! Leave him a comment—with email, too—and one lucky commenter will win an autographed copy of Dying Embers.

“Everybody wants to be a detective, carry a big shiny gun, and be all the rage at cocktail parties.”   People tell me that the cocktail party is as dead as a dodo.    Don’t know if that is true, but I am quite sure that lots of people still want to be a detective.  

Most folks may be satisfied to read the tales of Dashiell Hammett, Raymond Chandler, and Mickey Spillane (at least they knew how to navigate a cocktail party). Other folks want to get right into the action, as I found out when I ran my own detective agency.  In hiring employees, I have interviewed not only homemakers and groundskeepers, but a long list of other occupations, including architects, firemen, and airline pilots.

Folks I did hire needed to have a plain appearance and be able to blend into a crowd.  They needed a good memory for faces and automobiles.   Applicants who could show me they had the right change for a bus always got a second interview.

They needed to be able to make up a cover story on the run, one that they could remember, and that other people would believe.    Their safety and the success of the case depended on avoiding the squad car and the ambulance.

There is one fib universal to all detectives when they are interviewed by a reporter. “A detective’s job is boring. Most of my time is spent digging through old records!”  I was never bored; I also did the surveillance and often wrapped up with the case on film.  Big fib: “I rarely, if ever, carried a gun.”   Never went to work without one.  

Guns!  Here’s a little story that was kind of a hoot.  My phone rang and an attorney asked me to meet him at a small restaurant out of town.   He promised work, but needed an armed guard.

 I told him, “Great.  Two hours for seventy bucks.  Give me your bar card number and I’ll call you back.”

“But I’m paying for lunch,” he said.    “Besides, seventy dollars is too much just to meet me.”

“Come to my office,” I said.  “Free, and you get coffee.  The Danish is getting a little dented.”

“Can we discuss the cost, my client is really pressed.”

 “I’ll meet you,” I said.  “If you have work for me, we can talk about it.” 

His bar card was good—I don’t meet strangers.   He sat in a booth with his back to the door--late thirties or so, wearing a thousand dollar suit.  I took a stool at the counter.  I watched him--pretty sure he was alone, and mostly interested in his five hundred dollar watch.  I finally took a seat with him at the booth. 

“What are you doing sitting over there?” he said.

“I didn’t know you were here yet,” I said.  He didn’t believe it, but he let it slide.  “So what’s our business?”

“My client is getting a divorce. Her husband has assaulted her on several occasions. He’s going to pick up his clothes tonight. I don’t think there will be trouble as long as there is someone else present. “

“Call the police,” I said.

“He is the police.”

“Have her go to a show,” I said.  “Maybe spend a couple of days at a motel.”

“She can’t,” he said.  “She has a plastic tether on her leg.”

“Seventy dollars an hour for four hours,” I said.

“That’s ridiculous,” he said.

I wrapped my Colt in a paper napkin and set it on his plate.   “Do it yourself,” I said.  “It’ll be free.”  He looked like he wanted to head for the door.

He wrote me the check.  

Like I said, I never got bored.  Whether the most important attribute of a good detective is guts or stupidity, I leave to you.

Robert Bailey

Official Website   Facebook

Dying Embers Blurb:

Art Hardin, retired military intelligence officer turned private investigator, is content with his regular caseload involving insurance fraud and employee theft. So when a wealthy industrialist approaches Art to find an old flame, he's wary of taking on the case. Only when pressed by his wife, Wendy, does Art agree to help, but only if the decision to make contact is left to the missing person.

The former lover, a reclusive but prominent artist who has changed her name, turns up dead shortly after Art locates her. His client charged with murder and his detective's license revoked, an angry Hardin finds himself the subject of "professional" surveillance, his office ransacked, and his life up for grabs as a shoot-out erupts on the street.

The FBI, long on requests and short on information, approaches Art for his help . . . to act as bait. Seemingly out of options, Art agrees, but with an ace up his sleeve. Aided by an outlaw motorcycle gang, Art decides that, this time, the bait is going to bite back.

Dying Embers Excerpt:

People can be trusted to lie.  They lie in the bedroom, the boardroom, and the courtroom.  The biggest lies are told the loudest.  The worst lies are the ones they whisper to themselves.

Tracy Ayers was tall, tan, thin, and blond.  She had porcelain skin, and a pouty little mouth, ripe with lies.  Folks like Tracy lie to me a lot.  I never take it personally.  I'm a detective—when people quit lying, I'll be out of business.

Tracy breezed into the office of Howard Butler, dressed for success, wearing a string of pearls and a navy blue shirtwaist dress with white piping and a pleated skirt.  She sported perky and unfettered breasts that swayed in unison like a pair of fat puppies doing a vaudeville soft-shoe with their noses pressed into the curtain. 

Howard Butler owned Butler's Prestige Import Automobiles.  I sat enthroned on Howard's custom recliner chair behind two acres of leather-topped mahogany.  I stood as Tracy sashayed from the door to the desk, across an oriental rug that protected the parquet floor.  My suit pants had crept up my backside.  I resisted the temptation to give a discreet tug on the seat of my trousers.

"Hi, my name is Art Hardin," I said.  "This is my associate, Lorna Kemp."

Lorna sat to my right in an office chair we'd wheeled in for that purpose.  These days it doesn't do for a male investigator to interview a lady without a female chaperon.

Lorna wore a charcoal business suit over a white silk blouse with a collar that made a ruffle around her neck, a costume I believe she considered camp.  She was twenty-two—eight years younger than Tracy—and also tall, tan, thin, and blond.  Unlike Tracy, who was a thief, Lorna had a degree in law enforcement and a job with the DEA that started in the fall.

"Mr. Butler said I should come and talk to you," said Tracy.  She spoke to me first and then nodded to Lorna.

The desk was too wide to reach across and offer her my hand.  I said, "Please have a seat," and motioned to the straight-back chair I'd placed across the desk from me.  Tracy made a swish and flounce of her skirt as she sat, filling the room with the scent of jasmine.

"I think it would be best if we kept this private," I said.  "Do you mind if we close the door?"

Tracy shook her head.  "What's this about?"

Lorna stood and stepped over to the door.  She wore flat-heeled shoes that revealed a lithe and athletic gait.

"I'll try to be brief," I said, and opened the manila file folder in front of me.  Tracy's work application was the first item in the fat file, which also contained her bond application, a background investigation, and a list of her financial assets—including those she shared with her husband, Ken.  Under the top sheets I had enclosed case notes and added a wad of miscellaneous crap to give the file an ominous bulk.  Tracy leaned forward and twisted her head to look at the file.  I closed the folder.  Lorna returned to her seat.

"Just so there's an accurate record for all of us I'd like to record our interview," I said.  "Is that all right with you, Tracy?"

"Sure," she said, all smiles.

I took the recorder out of the top right hand drawer—where I'd stashed it after the previous interview—set it on the desk, and pushed the play/record button.  After a quick glance at my watch I said, "It is nine fifty-two A.M.  The date is May thirty-first.  Present are Tracy Ayers, Lorna Kemp, and myself, Art Hardin.  Tracy, do we have your permission to record this meeting?"

Tracy leaned toward the recorder and spoke.  "Yes," she said in a smoldering alto.  Lorna rolled her eyes.

"Please state your name."

"Tracy Ayers."

"Thank you," I said.  "You're a cashier.  Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"It's your job to handle the work orders, add up the charges, and take payment from the customers?"

"Basically," she said.  "I also answer the telephone, direct the calls, and take messages."

"A man brought his car back for warranty work on a repair.  The service manager had no record of the sale.  The customer had an attitude and a canceled check.  Do you have any idea how that could have happened?"

Tracy shrugged.  "I just take the money," she said.

I studied her silently.  She was good—not a fidget, not a flutter, just the truth that was a lie with a fresh coat of paint—and all innocence incarnate.

Author bio:

Robert E. Bailey spent five years as a corporate security director in the city of Detroit and twenty years as a licensed private investigator. His first novel, PRIVATE HEAT, an action-packed private-eye thriller, won the Josiah W. Bancroft Award at the Florida First Coast Writer's Festival in 1998 and was nominated for the 2003 Shamus Award, given by the Private Eye Writers of America. In January 2007, MYSTERY SCENE magazine named Hardin one of its top 100 private eyes.

Robert Bailey's Books