Special Guest: Elyzabeth M. VaLey

I’m pleased to welcome Elyzabeth M. VaLey back to the blog with her latest release 🙂


A Christmas Realm Tale, 1

Once dead, always dead. 

Christopher Beaufort works in what could easily be the most cheerful place on earth, Santa’s Christmas Realm, but as a vampire, he is nothing more than a shadow among the living. 

Worn out by the demands of his job as Chief Toy Officer, Santa assigns a human woman to help him, Samantha Kraus. Tantalized by the fiery red-head, Christopher makes it his business to seduce her, but as he does, something within him begins to stir. 

Life is a gift in which every moment counts. 

When Samantha Kraus accepted the job of assistant manager at Santa’s, she expected elves, fairies and maybe some shifters, but definitely not vampires. Least of all did she imagine her boss would be one of them or that she’d be attracted to him. 

Though she tries to remain professional, Samantha finds herself falling for Christopher. But, can a vampire’s heart ever beat again?



Available at:

Evernight Publishing



Thank you for having me on your blog today!

I’m excited to share my latest release with you, The Beauty of Forever (A Christmas Realm Tale I). This is the first story in a new paranormal – holiday themed series, which revolves around Santa’s kingdom in the North Pole and the different people who work for him.

Christmas is my favorite holiday and I’ve always enjoyed both reading and writing holiday-themed stories. One day, I was chatting with my sister about some story ideas I had and she mentioned vampires. My muse immediately made the connection.

Vampires + Christmas.

I was a bit baffled. How was I going to make that work? After all, vampires are supposed to be dark, gloomy and Christmas is the opposite. I set the story aside for a good year or so, until, I began toying with the idea again and that’s when Christopher formally introduced himself. I could picture him, a 500 year old vampire standing at a floor to ceiling window, looking down at what was supposed to be the happiest place on Earth and feeling miserable.


Little by little, Christopher opened up to me along with Santa’s empire. I had turned the key to the door of a world in which vampires, elves, fairies, fauns, shifters and more co-inhabited and I greedily immersed myself in it.

Every time I think about Christopher, Samantha and everyone in The Beauty of Forever, my heart soars. I can only hope you feel the same. Enjoy!



“That went well with Jacobs, right?” she blurted, searching for a distraction.

Christopher looked at her. The intensity in his gaze threw her back and her knees weakened.

“Yes,” he replied. “You were fantastic. I can see now why Santa hired you.” His mouth thinned. “Jacobs was practically salivating after you.”

Samantha blinked, surprised by the ferocity in his tone. “I don’t know him as well as you do, but from what he spoke, he seemed devoted to his wife.”

“It’s not what I saw.”

She smiled, trying to ignore the low timber of his voice and the way it curled in her belly, heating her from the inside out.

“Is that why you were glaring at him while we were working?” she joked.

“I wasn’t glaring. I was simply—” Christopher raked his gaze over her. “Watching.”

Samantha shivered. She lifted her chin. “And did you observe anything of interest?”

Christopher slid his arms to the height of her elbows. He didn’t touch her, but the hairs on her body rose. Nerve ends tingled. Christopher leaned in. “Absolutely.”

“Mind sharing?”

What was she asking? She knew full well they weren’t talking about work anymore, but she couldn’t stop herself. Her body had taken over her mind and all it wanted was for Christopher to come closer. She craved to see him bring out his humanity in the most carnal way possible.

“I’m not sure you’re ready.”

“Try me.”

Christopher grinned. His gaze held a warning which she should have heeded because the moment his lips touched hers, she knew she was lost. Burying his hand into her hair, he slanted his head and dove into her mouth. Like a flower urgently seeking sunshine, she opened up to him. His groan reverberated through her and she arched against him. His minty taste swept over her, taking her by surprise. Holding her firmly, he devoured her like a man starved of nourishment. Each stroke of his tongue drew her further away from reality, into a bubble where only they existed. Desperate to find something to hold on to, to keep her grounded, Samantha fisted his shirt.

It didn’t help. The world vanished, leaving only him behind. His essence. His strength. The heat of his passion, which she frantically desired.

The train lurched to a stop and they stumbled, breaking apart. Gasping for air, Samantha stared at Christopher. His eyes had deepened to an indigo blue and he had a wildness to him that spoke of danger and unyielding hunger. For her? She swallowed. She had to stop this now. Before it got too far. It was one thing to flirt with him so he would smile, and another one entirely different to kiss on a train full of people.


People shoved their way out of the wagon, drawing them close again. Christopher wrapped her in his arms. His scent flooded her and for an instant, she shut her eyes and pretended the sound against her ear wasn’t her own heart thrashing, but his, beating.

But it wasn’t. The knowledge chilled her to the bones. Christopher wasn’t really alive. He spoke and he moved but his heart was dead. How did he even exist?

The piercing whistle of the shutting doors signaled the train’s departure. Christopher tilted her chin.

“Are you all right?”

Samantha sucked in her cheeks.

“Christopher, we can’t do this,” she said.

“By this, I imagine you’re talking about the kiss?

She nodded.

“Why not, Samantha?”

He stroked her bottom lip with his thumb, leaving a tingling trail which echoed in other parts of her body. Damn it all if she didn’t want to nip his finger and tease him. She yearned to kiss him again, to feel his unpredictable heat against her.

“I don’t see the problem. We’re both adults and we’re attracted to each other,” he continued.

You’re not alive.

“We need to work together. Things could get complicated,” she said instead.

Christopher cupped her cheek. His eyes narrowed and he set his jaw. “Complicated?”

“We work together,” she repeated.

Wanting you scares me. It’s unnatural.

Christopher raised his eyebrows.

“I see.” He disentangled himself from her. Samantha shivered and fought the urge to wrap her arms around herself. Christopher smirked. He knew.

“I’ll respect your wishes, Samantha. For now. But, just remember, doll, I’m an animal of prey. What I want, I hunt down and get. I’ve lived long enough to know I want you, Samantha, and a night of hot, passionate sex won’t make things, as you put it, complicated.” The train started to slow again. Their stop was next. Christopher leaned in. “Sooner or later, doll, I will have you.”


About Elyzabeth M. VaLey

Elyzabeth M. VaLey is a writer of sizzling, sexy romance who firmly believes in happy ever after.  From paranormal to contemporary, fantasy, or historical, she enjoys exploring her characters’ darker side and writing stories about tortured heroes, strong heroines, and all that comes between them and their love.

When she’s not writing, she can be found walking in the Spanish countryside with her black Lab, exploring castles, or enjoying some tapas with her friends.

Follow her at:

Instagram (@elyzabethm.valey)





Evernight’s Readers’ Choice Awards

I’m pleased to announced that GHOSTS OF MIDSUMMER THEATRE has been nominated in the Contemporary Category for Evernight Publishing’s 5th Annual Readers’ Choice Awards! To vote, click the picture below 🙂

Thank you to those who nominated the book ❤

Tuesday Teaser

Hello 🙂 Here is a very short, romantic teaser from Ghosts of Midsummer Theatre


copyright@Libby Bishop

The alarm went off at eleven o’clock. The sound startled her, but before she could reach over and shut it off, Lucas moved over her and shut it off for her. After a few moments, she sat up, and when she did she was made well aware of the bruised ribs and muscles.

“Ye Gods!” she tiredly exclaimed. “That smarts.”

Lucas sat up, moved closer to her, and kissed her on the cheek. “Which part?”

She laughed softly and moaned against the pain it caused her ribs. “Everything.”

“Need help in the shower?” He waggled his eyebrows.

She winked. “As if I’d say no to a shower with you. Though this won’t exactly be the ‘good morning’ I’d planned on giving you today.”

His gaze heated for a moment, and then he kissed her. “We have plenty of time for that when you’re healed. In the meantime, I’ll make this morning as romantic as I can.”

That turned out to be him tenderly helping her wash up in the shower, followed by brushing her hair and then helping her into a pair of jeans, a tank top, and a cardigan. Then, he made her a quick breakfast of French toast with strawberries and few slices of bacon—her favorite breakfast. She was pretty certain that he made the best French toast on the entire East Coast.

Saturday Snippet: Ghosts of Midsummer Theatre

Happy Saturday! Here is a snippet from Ghosts of Midsummer Theatre 🙂



copyright@Libby Bishop


Once they had what they needed, Arabella led the way back to the stage. Lucas opened the door for her and she passed by him. The chill from the ghost had disappeared, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t around. Waiting, watching.

She made her way to the center of the stage and then scanned the seating area just to see if anyone was present. Nothing appeared on the screen, so she called out, “Are you seriously going to hide now? After all that icy build-up during the daylight hours, you’re going to let me down?”

A low growl spread through the area, making her hair stand on end.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she said, “but since we are in a theatre, where’s my show?”

“You are crazy sometimes, Arabella Pierce,” Lucas whispered from behind her. His flashlight hovered by their feet.

She smiled but kept her eyes on the thermal screen. To say that she wanted the dark ghost to come out and play was an understatement. If he was going to taunt her, touch her with his cold fingers, the least he could do was introduce himself. She didn’t take kindly to such moves by a spirit.


“I heard that,” Lucas whispered.

Arabella saw a cold ball form on the screen. The ball began to take the shape of a man, and as it did a knot of discomfort twisted in her gut. That was normal reaction for her as a medium when a dark ghost was around. His true presence, with all of its energy, caused unease to course through her.

“Yeah, you’ve already told me that. How about telling me your name?”


The woman’s voice in her mind startled her. Arabella turned around quickly, which made Lucas jump out of the way so she didn’t ram the camera into him.

“Sorry,” she said to him. Then, she addressed the woman who’d spoken. “Katrina, is that you?”

“Yes. He isn’t so frightening—just a show-off.”

The taunt was clear in Katrina’s tone. In response, Kristoff growled again, and the lights flickered on and off for several seconds before the area went dark again.

“See? Throwing a tantrum.”

Arabella understood that Kristoff was a dark ghost, and he had a good deal of power. But with Katrina’s prodding, she realized one other thing—Kristoff was bored. No ghost, especially dark ones, would be so easily egged on unless they’d been trapped somewhere for far too long. She turned around, aiming the camera where she’d last seen his spirit. But he’d moved, and it took her a moment to find him in the right side balcony seats.

“Are you bored, Kristoff? No one here for decades to push, pull, or oppress?” she asked. “What’s keeping you here, then?”

The growl deepened, and the cold figure on the camera stood from his seat.


Every light in the auditorium exploded at the same time. Instinct had Arabella ducking down and covering her head and tucking the camera against her chest. Lucas was suddenly around her, covering her even more.

When the last of the glass fell to the ground, Lucas rose, which allowed her to do so as well. She handed the camera to him, and then used her flashlight to walk to the front of the stage. Lucas stood beside her so she could see the thermal screen.

“I told you that you don’t scare me, Kristoff!”

Her voice echoed in such a large area. As her echo faded, the entire thermal screen began to turn blue, and as that blue grew closer to the stage, goose bumps formed on her arms. A light, cold breeze blew over the stage as the coldness reached them.

Then, the entire room began to shake, and a resounding roar vibrated the air. Wind kicked up, blowing loose strands across her face. Her hands became frigid and she could feel her cheeks getting wind-burned.

“I am no coward!” Kristoff roared. “Get out and play with someone else!”

“You best leave,” Katrina said with irritation. “He’s no good to you like this.”

Moving against the strengthening wind, Arabella began to move toward the door. Lucas grabbed her hand and they used the flashlight to lead them off the stage and back out into the lighted hall.

The moment the door closed, the roar died and the cold eased away.



Release Day: Ghosts of Midsummer Theatre


Today is the release of Ghosts of Midsummer Theatre~ Revenant Investigations, book four! Perfect for Halloween reading 🙂 I will add links as they go live.



In 1956, the Midsummer Theatre—Noble, Maine’s most popular playhouse—closed after the daughter of the owners was murdered. Unfortunately, her killer was never found. The owners did not want the theatre opened again, but when the theatre passed into the hands of their grandson, he decided that it was time to renovate and reopen.

But the ghosts of the past don’t just fade away.

As a two year anniversary present, medium and paranormal investigator Arabella Pierce arranges for a private investigation for her and her love, Lucas Brown. Not only to help the owner get answers about his aunt’s murder, but to help keep interest in the theatre until it reopens. But as the investigation gets underway, Arabella and Lucas quickly learn that the darkness behind the murder still lingers, and if they don’t remove that darkness the theatre can never again open its doors.

They have forty-eight hours to solve the mystery of Midsummer Theatre, and every second will count.



Arabella Pierce—medium and paranormal investigator—nearly choked as she fought to keep the laughter at bay. That was made quite difficult by the shock and awe expression on her boyfriend’s face. With his mouth agape and his gaze slightly wide, not to mention his stillness, she half expected him to faint.

Her control finally broke when he slowly lowered himself onto the couch. “Lucas, are you all right?” she asked with a chuckle.

He blinked once. “Are you saying that you’ve arranged for us to investigate Midsummer Theatre? Just the two of us? On our second anniversary?”

Smiling, she sat down beside him. “Yes, that’s what I’m saying.”

The shock began to ease away and excitement began to creep in, but the awe was still in his gaze as he met hers. “How did you manage that, Arabella? I’ve been trying for two years!”

Leaning back against the couch and crossing her legs, she replied, “Folger helped me get a meeting with the owner down in Portland. Since he’s in the process of restoring it now, we convinced him that allowing you and me inside for two nights would be beneficial when it came time to reopen. Investigation starts tomorrow morning.”

About three weeks after Lucas had moved permanently to town, he began to hear about the local legends of hauntings. Noble, Maine had its fair share of ghosts, and for a skeptic reporter like Lucas, he was immediately interested in finding more information. He wasn’t skeptic about ghosts—they’d been known to exist for thousands of years, as had people with gifts to help with them. But he was skeptic of claims of hauntings, and especially of people who claimed to have a gift but didn’t have the testing to prove it. That had actually been how they’d met.

Two years ago, her boss, Folger Dade, had allowed Lucas to join the team on a case. Lucas was especially interested in her gift since mediums didn’t have a test that came with official State or Federal paperwork as empaths or conjurers had. Empaths could feel the emotions of the dead, while conjurers could call the dead to them. Lucas was skeptical that she actually had a gift, but he had behaved as a professional, and his article on the Revenant Investigations team had bolstered their cases.

The increase in cases had Folger seriously considering hiring on a few more gifted and non-gifted investigators.

The Kingston Cottage case was also when she’d begun to fall hard for Lucas. “Don’t push him into the bay,” had been Folger’s words to her the day he’d told her about Lucas. Two years later, she was happy she hadn’t done so on their first meeting.

“How did you tell him our investigation would help?”

“Folger wisely used the fact that the theatre was a Noble landmark, and that allowing us to investigate would only help get people interested in following the restoration,” she said. “The theatre was quite popular before it was closed.”

Lucas chuckled. “My article could draw more attention for a better opening?”

“Something like that, yes. And every Noble resident who knows the history of the place wants to know about the ghosts.”

Lucas grabbed her unexpectedly and pulled her onto his lap. He kissed her soundly, causing heat to curl in her belly.

“I couldn’t have asked for a better anniversary gift,” he said when he broke the kiss. “Well, I could, but this is a damn close second.”

Before she could ask what would be a better gift, he stood, with her still in his arms. She wrapped herself around him quickly and let out a laugh. “Where are we going?”

“To the bedroom to celebrate!”


Go forth, and enjoy the book and have a great Halloween!

Special Guest: Aletta Thorne

I’m pleased to welcome Aletta Thorne to the blog with her new release 🙂



Autumn, 1982. MTV is new, poodle perms are the rage, and life just might be getting better for Alma Kobel.  Her ugly divorce is final at last. Her new job as chef at Bright Day School’s gorgeous old estate is actually fun.  But the place is haunted—and so is Alma’s apartment. Bartholomew Addison Jenkins’ ghost has been invisibly watching her for months.  When he materializes one night, Alma discovers Bart—as he likes to be called—has talents she couldn’t have imagined…and a horrifying past. What happens if you have a one-nighter with a ghost?  And what happens if one night is all you want—and you end up ghosting him?  Some spirits don’t like taking “no” for an answer.


A Word From the Author

The Story Behind The Story



So my husband and I bought a house that was built in 1740.  Not fiction: fact.  And we spent three years renovating it, found the old wide-plank floors, and will never ever believe that those HGTV shows where they reno a home in a couple of weeks are for real.

Especially because they don’t mention ghosts.  Or almost never do.  Ken and I became aware of the fact that we were not alone the first night we slept in our new (but very old) place.  It wasn’t a bad feeling, honestly.  Maybe, we thought, we were just sensing the history of the place.  Maybe we were just a bit suggestible.  We laughed, and like the song says, let it go.

But then our house painter saw an old man standing on a road leading back into the woods near our place—the road that wasn’t really there anymore.  Fellow had a cane, wore a beret—and looked, when our painter described him to us, an awful lot like pictures of the glass artist who had owned our home before we did.  And the old man vanished as our painter stared.

We put a candle chandelier in the dining room.  It’s pretty—but it swings back and forth when we have dinner parties, even when no one is walking around upstairs.  And then there was the day we came back from making music at a funeral and someone or something knocked over the heavy brass floor lamp in the room behind my study as I sat at my computer.  The thing went over so hard it took a nearby radiator cover with it—but the glass bulb in the lamp was not broken.

Linda Zimmerman, a local ghost investigator, found two spirits sharing our place with us.  The night of her investigation, I’ll admit I slept with the light on.  But since then, I haven’t been bothered by my spectral house mates.  I find it cozy living in a house with ghosts.  And when I set about writing my first romance for adults, I knew it had to be a ghost story.

It’s a long way from the spirit who tossed our floor lamp to Bartholomew Addison Jenkins.  But writing the book was tremendous, sexy fun—and I hope you think so, too.  “Write what you know,” goes the old piece of advice to novelists, and I think it’s pretty sound.   But then there’s the imagination, and does it ever take off like a sky rocket!

So—what would happen if you had…say…a one night stand with a ghost?


“You’ll turn over the record. Oh, because you…”

“I do like to keep up. Who poured you wine from the … refrigerator? Although, I don’t understand why people of your age prefer it so icy.”

Alma followed Bart into the living room, still wondering why things didn’t seem odder than they were. She remembered the Casper the Friendly Ghost cartoons she’d seen as a little girl. This ghost was acting—well, perhaps a bit more flirty than friendly. He only glowed a bit as they walked through the dim hallway that connected her rooms. You can hardly even tell he’s translucent. What had he seen of her, though? She was glad her frustrating night with Sid had been at his place.

As Bart bent over the turntable and flipped the record, the reading lamp by her couch highlighted the silver buttons of his coat. She curled up on the couch and put her wine glass on the glass-covered orange crate she’d turned into a coffee table.

Bart sat beside her, suspiciously close. He put an arm over the back of the couch, and Alma shook her head again. That’s the old sneaky-arm trick—like a high school kid. It’s kind of cute. She pulled her legs up under herself, and they quietly listened to the music.

“You’re right,” she said after a few minutes. “‘Fountains’ is really good, too. I almost never listen to that side.”

Bart made a quiet harrumphing noise.

Do ghosts clear their throats? Apparently so.

“Dear lady,” he said. “Although I do try not to snoop, as you would say, I have indeed observed your solitude. Let me assure you, your life will soon be happier.” He slid even closer to her.

Okay. Now the ghost is absolutely coming on to me. This is really happening. Oh, hell—why not? He’s not bad—for a dead guy.

“Um, Bart?” she said. His eyes really were a startling color—almost bronze… “You can’t actually be…”

Bart set his fingertips on her cheeks, looked into her eyes, and sighed. Then he smiled. “You think this is a ridiculous situation. It’s not ridiculous,” he said. “Not at all. Allow me to demonstrate … with your permission, m’lady.”

Somehow, that was funny, and Alma giggled. “Granted.”

Bart’s hands were impossibly soft and gentle—and his touch had some of the same fire-and-ice buzz that she’d felt before in the kitchen when he’d tried to get her attention. He guided her lips to his, and gave her what would have been a tiny peck—from anyone else. It shot a bolt of fire straight through her.

Oh,” she said. It took a minute to get her breath.


Buy Links:

Evernight Publishing




Author Bio:

Aletta Thorne believes in ghosts.  In her non-writing life, she is a choral singer, a poet, a sometimes DJ, and a writer about things non-supernatural.  But she’s happiest in front of a glowing screen, giving voice to whoever it is that got her two cats all riled up at three AM.  Yes, her house is the oldest one on her street.  And of course, it’s quite seriously haunted (scared the ghost investigator who came to check it out).  She is named after a little girl in her family who died in the late nineteenth century, at the age of two.


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