Voice, tag line, cover, I like everything about this book just like the first in the series.
Hell Raising and Other Pastimes (Grave Concerns 2) by Jayce Carter released yesterday in the Paranormal Erotic Romance genre.
Lots of people have told me to go to hell—I guess they finally got their wish.
I’ve finally accepted the fact I might not be entirely human, so you’d think life could give me a minute. Instead, I find myself sucked into hell at Lucifer’s demand, and I realize death is even more complicated than my life was.
I’m still searching for how to stop the missing spirits before it’s too late, and with no suspects other than Lucifer, I have to survive hell—where everything wants to kill me—so I can confront the devil himself. Not even my love life can be simple, though. Troy is terrified of his werewolf side hurting me, Kase and Grant are lying to me, and Hunter is keeping his own secrets. I know better than to trust anyone, especially the men who have taken over my life.
Get to Lucifer’s Court, find out the truth about the missing spirits, figure out exactly what I am, and try not to die along the way. Oh, and don’t fall in love with the men who will for sure break my heart and possibly get me killed.
Easy enough, right?
Hunter nodded, then tossed pieces of twine onto the table. “Rooms for the night. I’d say it’ll be better than sleeping on the ground, but they often rent these things by the hour.”
“Let’s just be glad they don’t have black lights here,” Grant said.
I nodded at the twine. “What’s with the rope? Does the bondage come complimentary? Come for the rooms, stay for the rope play?”
“You telling me you want me to tie you up, shadow-girl?” Hunter picked one up and reached across the table to catch my wrist. He tied it on me, the feeling of his strong fingers against me enough to make me wonder if the rooms might give us a second, spider-free, shot at sex. “These are enchanted to get us into the rooms. Think of it like a keycard, hell-style. We have four rooms, and the sigil on the bead matches the one on the door of the room.”
I twisted the string on my wrist. “There isn’t a bead on mine.”
“That’s because you’re approved for all the rooms.”
The statement sounded nice until math caught up with me and fucked me like it always did. “That means I’m not getting my own room, doesn’t it?”
Hunter didn’t even try to look sorry. “It isn’t nearly safe enough for you to sleep alone, shadow-girl. You’ll bunk down with someone else.”
“And let me guess—you’re offering?”
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Jayce Carter lives in Southern California with her husband and two spawns. She originally wanted to take over the world but realized that would require wearing pants. This led her to choosing writing, a completely pants-free occupation. She has a fear of heights yet rock climbs for fun and enjoys making up excuses for not going out and socializing.
My Take on Critique Groups
by Jayce Carter
My history as a writer is as long and complicated as most. I had my initial burst of ‘damn, I’m a good writer’ that was fed by well-meaning family and teachers who showered me with undeserved praise. It was like a kid who screams for their parent to watch them do a summersault, falls on their face, but swears up and down it was the best summersault that was ever done.
However, after enough rejections to paper my bedroom, I realized I might not know as much as I thought. This got me to seek out an online critique group well known for harsh critiques and little care for feelings. I ended up spending years in that group, learning and growing as a writer.
I found out about to be verbs, about filter words, about the economy of words and how brevity is beautiful. In short? I learned how to write.
I also lost my love for writing. Instead of feeling passionate about creating something, I was mired in how to say it. Instead of sitting down and being excited to work, I was stuck in how each particular word fit together, in whether my message was important enough, in whether my work mattered at all. I spent years in this place where I knew how to write but didn’t want to anymore, where I doubted that I would ever be good enough to publish what I created, where I wondered if anyone would care what I had to say since it would never be perfect.
Eventually, I found fanfiction, a late arrival to the genre at 32 years old. I started to write for fandoms I loved because the stress went away. I wasn’t trying to create something perfect, something to wow some nameless, faceless scary acquisition editor I’d never met. Instead, I was giving content directly to readers, to people who became fans and taught me that I didn’t need to be perfect to create content they wanted. This gave me both my confidence and my passion back. It let me recognize that while writing is a craft we hone, and while we will forever be learning and growing, that doesn’t invalidate the work we create now.
So, I feel that critique groups are wonderful and dangerous at the same time, and that finding the right one is most important. They need to teach a writer—we don’t grow much from hearing ‘it’s good’ over and over again—but they also need to give the writer room to keep their passion.
I wouldn’t be where I am if not for joining that writing group, but I also wouldn’t be where I am if I didn’t leave it behind when it no longer served me.
This post is part of a tour. The tour dates can be found here:
- $50 Amazon/BN.com