Review of Bannerless




Carrie Vaughn

Mariner Books

July 11, 2017

Blurb from GoodreadsA mysterious murder in a dystopian future leads a novice investigator to question what she’s learned about the foundation of her population-controlled society.

Decades after economic and environmental collapse destroys much of civilization in the United States, the Coast Road region isn’t just surviving but thriving by some accounts, building something new on the ruins of what came before. A culture of population control has developed in which people, Continue reading


Tales of Harborsmouth Book Blitz and Giveaway!

Tales from Harborsmouth
E.J. Stevens
(Ivy Granger Psychic Detective, #0.5, #1.5, #2.5, #5.5)
Publication date: July 11th 2017
Genres: Adult, Mystery, Paranormal, Urban Fantasy

In Tales from Harborsmouth, readers get the chance to delve deeper into the award-winning world of Ivy Granger.

Ivy Granger is a psychic detective with ties to Harborsmouth’s paranormal underworld. Too bad those ties tend to ensnare Ivy and her friend Jinx in the Machiavellian schemes of the city’s teeming population of bloodsucking vampires and psychotic faeries.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo


It’s hard to pay the bills when you’re dead, but if you die in a city filled with faerie magic and have Ivy Granger on the case, you sure as Hell can settle your debts.

—Ivy Granger, Frostbite

A detective’s job is to take note of the little things, the small details that can break a case wide open, but having anthropomorphic snot treat you like you smelled worse than a troll fart could give a girl a complex.

—Ivy Granger, Frostbite

There was a serial killer in Harborsmouth with a penchant for murdering faeries. Happy freaking holidays.

—Ivy Granger, Blood and Mistletoe

If a faerie, a vampire, and a demon walk into a bar, you wait for the punch line. At Private Eye, when a faerie, a vampire, and a demon walk through the door, it’s just another day at the office.

—Ivy Granger, Blood and Mistletoe

I blew a stray lock of hair from my eyes while running a damp cloth over the bar. The raven black curl froze at the edge of my vision, ice crystals from my breath coating it like the dust of fractured diamonds. But within seconds the damp chunk of bangs thawed from the perpetual heat of the club. The heat was one of the many things that I despised about bartending at Club Nexus.

—The Ice Faerie Beryl, Club Nexus – Iced

Deviance is nothing if not full of variety and Puck had discovered how to capitalize on each and every one of our desires. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if the imp was purposely late to our meetings to build the suspense, and empty my wallet.

—The Vampire Cyrus, Club Nexus – Dusted

It had been centuries since a human had piqued my interest, longer still since anyone had stirred feelings of lust and longing, but there was something unquestionably magnetic about the woman my eyes now frantically sought.

—Forneus, Club Nexus – Demonized

Of all the nightclubs, in all the cities, in all the world, the freakin’ demon had to walk into Club Nexus.

—Jinx, Club Nexus – Jinxed

I’d seen a lot in my nine lives, but nothing so strange as Ratfink’s Family Fun Palace and its tone-deaf taxidermied talent.

—Torn, Thrill on Joysen Hill


Author Bio:

E.J. Stevens is the bestselling, award-winning author of the IVY GRANGER, PSYCHIC DETECTIVE urban fantasy series, the SPIRIT GUIDE young adult series, the HUNTERS’ GUILD urban fantasy series, and the WHITECHAPEL PARANORMAL SOCIETY Victorian Gothic horror series. She is known for filling pages with quirky characters, bloodsucking vampires, psychotic faeries, and snarky, kick-butt heroines. Her novels are available worldwide in multiple languages.

BTS Red Carpet Award winner for Best Novel, SYAE finalist for Best Paranormal Series, Best Novella, and Best Horror, winner of the PRG Reviewer’s Choice Award for Best Paranormal Fantasy Novel, Best Young Adult Paranormal Series, Best Urban Fantasy Novel, and finalist for Best Young Adult Paranormal Novel and Best Urban Fantasy Series.

When E.J. isn’t at her writing desk, she enjoys dancing along seaside cliffs, singing in graveyards, and sleeping in faerie circles. E.J. currently resides in a magical forest on the coast of Maine where she finds daily inspiration for her writing.

Connect with E.J. on Twitter @EJStevensAuthor. For more, including a list of her books, freebies, and upcoming events visit

Website / Goodreads / Facebok / Twitter



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Lost And Thinking Of All I’ve Lost

Try as I might, I can’t focus on the doctor’s instructions and since it’s my Great Aunt Shirl who’s come to pick me up, I know she isn’t concentrating either. So I’m very happy for the stapled sheets of papers that they put into the plastic bag imprinted with patient’s belongings.

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I Didn’t Start The Fire!

I have started a category for Annie and Linc in case you’ve missed previous installments. Unfortunately being the highly disorganized individual that I am means they aren’t all there yet. 😦  Soon, me lovelies, soon.


What’s wrong with this picture? Well, first off, I don’t usually wake up with my face pressed against a hardwood floor. This was a first. The pain in my head that felt like a red-bellied woodpecker was pecking from the inside out—that was also new. The bitter smell of smoke that made me feel like an unwilling participant in a barbecue—also new.

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I Should Run Away!



He didn’t kiss me back.

I undraped myself from his body, feeling somewhat miffed, but pragmatic enough to realize that a man in an elected position probably couldn’t be seen kissing in public a woman who was wanted for murdering her husband, who had escaped from jail, and who, if gossip were to be believed, burned down the sheriff’s house.

“Hello to you too,” Linc said. His eyes twinkled. That gave me hope.

“Am I adding ‘molesting the sheriff’ charges to Annie’s file?” Mrs. Eldridge asked.

Linc shook his head. “We’ll skip that one. We have enough on her to put her away for a long time.”

“So funny,” I said. I stood there feeling awkward. “I’m sorry about your house.”

“Thanks for getting Buffy out.”

“We left a good while before the men showed up.”

Linc frowned. “Men? What did they look like?”

He led me to the very familiar interrogation room where Mrs. Eldridge brought me a much needed cup of coffee. I felt immediately better after plugging the caffeine into my system. Praise the gods of coffee beans!

I told Linc about the men. His face became a mask, especially when I mentioned that they didn’t hesitate to shoot at me, not that that was surprising since they didn’t hesitate to torch his house either. I don’t think they hesitated to perform any kind of violence.

“They didn’t seem like the kind of men who would put poison into sugar canisters though. It didn’t seem like their kind of thing.”

He nodded. I took another sip of coffee and stared at him. There was something he wasn’t sharing. I tried that old trick of staying quiet to see if he would fill in the blank space. He didn’t. I, however, couldn’t sit there letting quiet take over everything. There were times I could, but the tension right now just ate at me. I scratched my arms as if I could feel it chewing away.

“What?” I finally said.

He raised an eyebrow. He was very good at this quiet thing, but then he always was. He always won the staring contests when we were kids.

“There’s something else going on and you’re trying to figure out whether you should tell me or not, right?” I said.

“I’m not going to tell you anything so there isn’t any ‘figuring out’ to be done.”

“That doesn’t sound fair.”

“Fair doesn’t enter into it.”

“It should. Quid pro quo.”

“You saw Silence of the Lambs too many times. And you don’t have any information worth trading.”

“I told you about the men.”

He rubbed his fingers across his closed eyes. Crap. I was giving him a hard time and he had just lost pretty much everything except his dog.

“I am really, really sorry about your house,” I said again.

“How did they know you were there?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Did you tell anyone?”

“No. Did you?”

“No. The only person I might have told was the one I was thinking might have put poison in my sugar canister.”

“Clarice?” he asked. “Your mother must have been as hung up on Silence of the Lambs as you are.”

I smiled. My mother had been one of a kind. “Yep.”

“Why would you think Clarice had anything to do with this?”

I explained to him about seeing Clarice and Ry that day when I was having breakfast with Rosie.

“That may not mean anything,” he said.

“I know. Nothing makes much sense. Unless it is me and I have blackouts.”

“That’s at the top of my list,” he said and then grinned.


He got up suddenly, the feet of his chair protesting against the vinyl. “This time stay put,” he said as he placed his hat on his head.

I didn’t say anything. I’d give his suggestion some thought, probably over another cup of coffee. I needed to figure some things out and sitting twiddling my thumbs in the sheriff’s office wouldn’t help. During the past two weeks my life had gone to hell in the proverbial handbasket, whatever that was. Adultery, murder, poisoning, arson—what was left? I shouldn’t tempt fate. And yet, despite these awful things, there was coffee…and Linc.


end 5/6/2017

S. Darlington