#SheSeesGhosts #DavidFitzGerald #HFVBTBlogTours

She Sees Ghosts
by David Fitz-Gerald

Publication Date: October 29, 2020
Outskirts Press
Paperback & eBook; 270 Pages

Genre: Historical Fiction

A blazing fire killed her family and devoured her home. A vengeful demon haunted her. Ghosts of the Revolutionary War needed help that only she could provide. A young woman languished, desperate to survive, and teetered on the edge of sanity.

Mehitable grew up in a freshly tamed town, carved from the primeval forest. Family, friends, and working at the mercantile filled her days and warmed her heart. For Mehitable, life was simple and safe, until tragedy struck. When her family perished in their burning home, she retreated into a world of her own making.

As a young girl, she had seen glimmers, glimpses, and flickers of the spirit world. She closed her eyes. She turned her back. She ignored the apparitions that she never spoke of, desperately hoping they would leave her in peace. She was mistaken.

Grief-stricken, Mehitable withdrew from the human world. Ghosts were everywhere. They became bolder. She could no longer turn her back on the spirit world. Her friends feared for her survival. Nobody understood her. She would have to find her own way.

Fans of TV’s Ghost Whisperer and Long Island Medium will especially love She Sees Ghosts. This historical novel features memorable characters and delivers bone-tingling, spine chilling goosebumps. It stands on its own and it is the next installment in the Adirondack Spirit Series by the award-winning author of Wanders Far-An Unlikely Hero’s Journey. David Fitz-Gerald delivers a historical novel with a bittersweet ending that you won’t see coming.

Would she save the spirits’ souls, or would they save her? Only time would tell.

Available on Amazon

Excerpt #3 – From Chapter # 19

August 1812, Copperas Pond, Near Lake Placid, New York

And so, Mehitable’s wandering in the woods continued. Each day she went farther into the wilderness than the day before, adding to her cumulative explorations.

One day her hiking brought her to a large rock at the edge of the woods. She followed the road that ran along the river as she often did. A red squirrel sat on top of the rock. Its big bushy tail followed the curve of its body to its ears which stood at attention. Its tiny brown eyes watched her intently and the squirrel remained prepared to scurry off into the forest at the first sign of danger.

Mehitable admired the beauty of the small animal. Her fear and hatred of mice didn’t extend to squirrels. She admired their industrious nature, and yet, squirrels were also playful. Whenever she saw them, she felt as if she were being reminded to stop and take a moment to do something to feed her soul.

She made a chirping sound as if she hoped to converse with the denizen of the forest. It chattered back and she approached the rock. The squirrel jumped to a branch a short distance away and Mehitable climbed up onto the rock. Then the squirrel darted off to another tree, drawing Mehitable’s eyes deeper into the woods.

She was intrigued. It looked as if a path led into the woods. The boulder seemed to signal that the trail was there and hide it at the same time. She followed the trail and the playful red squirrel down the path. Every once in a while, it would look back to see if she were following.

Eventually, that path led her to the shore of a large pond. She neglected to notice the small wickiup in a little meadow, two hundred yards away. She watched as the squirrel took a quick drink, twittered, and disappeared back into the woods.

Mehitable shed her clothes and walked into the lake. She splashed around like a happy, carefree child rather than a mature woman. She enjoyed the feeling of the cool, refreshing water on her naked body.

The commotion in his pond caught the attention of a young man across the lake. He leaned forward to see more clearly across the water. He rubbed his eyes, then squinted. It had been three years since he had seen another human being. As he watched, she finished her swim, turned her back, and walked away from him until she reached the edge of the lake. She turned, stretched her arms wide and tilted her head back.

The young man’s heart pounded. It wasn’t just a human, it was a woman. And she was naked. She had her arms stretched wide, welcoming him. Without giving thought to whether he should or should not, he began swimming.

About the Author

David Fitz-Gerald writes fiction that is grounded in history and soars with the spirits. If you’re looking for the atheist activist author by the same name, keep looking—this book is definitely not for you! After a chaotic day as a business person, Dave enjoys getting lost in the settings he imagines and spending time with the characters he creates. Writing historical fiction is like making paintings of the past. He loves to weave fact and fiction together, stirring in action, adventure, romance, and a heavy dose of the supernatural with the hope of transporting the reader to another time and place. He is an Adirondack 46-er, which means that he has hiked all of the highest peaks in New York State, so it should not be surprising when Dave attempts to glorify hikers as swashbuckling superheroes in his writing. She Sees Ghosts-A Story of a Woman Who Rescues Lost Souls is the next installment in the Adirondack Spirit Series.

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Blog Tour Schedule

Monday, December 7
Review at Rajiv’s Reviews
Excerpt at Passages to the Past

Tuesday, December 8
Review at 100 Pages a Day

Wednesday, December 9
Feature at I’m Into Books
Interview at Books & Benches

Thursday, December 10
Review at Historical Fiction Reviews

Friday, December 11
Review at YA, It’s Lit

Monday, December 14
Review at Books and Zebras

Tuesday, December 15
Review at Passages to the Past

Wednesday, December 16
Review at Older & Smarter

Friday, December 18
Excerpt at A Darn Good Read

Saturday, December 19
Review at Reading is My Remedy

Monday, December 21
Review at Novels Alive

Tuesday, December 22
Excerpt at Coffee and Ink

Wednesday, December 23
Interview at Novels Alive
Review at Jessica Belmont


One lucky reader will win the Grand Prize Giveaway which includes a candle, Coffee Mug, chocolates and a signed copy of She Sees Ghosts!

Other Giveaways:

1 Coffee Mug
3 Paperbacks
5 eBooks

The giveaway is open to US residents only and ends on December 26th. You must be 18 or older to enter.

She Sees Ghosts

A Knight and a Spy 1410
by Simon Fairfax

Publication Date: August 25, 2020
Corinium Associates Ltd

Genre: Historical Fiction



January 1410, and King Henry IV is brought down with an unknown illness. Despite his 10 year reign the kingdom is far from secure: he is at odds with his son Prince Hal who vies for a new Council; Owen Glyndower threatens his Welsh border, whilst the Scots are ever in revolt seeking secret alliances with France.

Burgundy and the French King Charles VI plan to take back Calais and re-ignite the 100 years war. England is torn with enemies on each side and within. The court is a swirl of rumours and treachery, with the powerful seeking the ultimate prize: the English crown.

Power is controlled by unlikely forces, the most important of these men is Sir Richard Whittington, merchant, former Lord mayor of London, financier, adviser to the Crown and spy master for the King. Realising the peril of the kingdom, he needs someone who can move inconspicuously abroad and at home. Skilled yet unobtrusive.

Jamie de Grispere: squire in training, son of a merchant, known to Whittington, is tasked to do his bidding and spy for the good of the crown. He holds the future of the realm in his hands. It is a perilous path, from the depths of France to Wales and the Scottish borders. Joining with two comrades he seeks to aid the crown and Sir Richard’s plans for the safety of the realm.

Treachery, the 100 years war, revolts, battles, the wool trade, piracy and pivotal events: all are brought alive in this story of the 15th Century England and the fight for the crown.



Jamie said nothing as the familiar feeling came over him. He was calm and all movement seemed to slow as every sense focused before the battle madness settled upon him. He knew exactly what his move would be without a conscious thought; he had rehearsed it a thousand times in training. The huge, black bearded figure closed the distance, his shield held in perfect defence, his mace arm rising, ready to strike at Jamie’s head. He lumbered forward, awesome in his anger, bitter for revenge.

Jamie allowed the mace to rise and fall, watching the movement by gauging the arm action. Rhys tucked his shield in at the last moment, perfectly timed as the mace arm came flying down, his arm twisting from the shoulder. Jamie timed it to parry the blow mid-flight, deflecting rather than blocking, twisting at the hip and allowing the main force of the strike to continue its arc. A lesser man would have exposed his right side, but Rhys was balanced and spun the shield in time to cover himself, presenting no gap to be exploited. But instead of raising the mace to its full height again, Rhys swung on the pivot of his body, slashing up and across Jamie’s guard in a roundhouse strike aimed at his helmet encased head. Had it landed it would have concussed him at the very the least. With his visor up, Jamie saw the blow coming and ducked, but again found himself facing the covering shield.

Rhys let the strike come around under its own momentum, driving the shield forward as a buffer, ready to bring the mace down again in a powerful overhead blow. But this time Jamie was ready to use the advantage of his longsword. He knew that Rhys would have to swing his shield back and across to allow the planned strike, and at that point it would do what every axe and mace wielder feared – expose the upper arm and armpit. Rhys had mail and cuirass, but wore no revebrace or gardbrace. He was protected only by mail and an arming jacket beneath. Jamie seized the moment, timing it perfectly. As the shield swung to the left and just before the mace struck, he drove his sword point upwards, aiming for and finding the line between the bicep and tricep. Such was the force and keenness of the tip that the sword drove through the mail straight into the upper arm, destroying the muscle and nerve points there. The effect was spectacular and instantaneous.

Rhys yelled, dropping his arm and the mace in mid-flight as his nerves failed, causing paralysis of the arm and leaving him writhing and keening on the floor.

Jamie stood dispassionately, knowing exactly what he had done. The battle was won, and the combatants stood watching in awe: three moves and the champion of the Welsh knelt wailing and cursing in agony before Jamie.

“I claim victory. Yield to me,” Jamie commanded. Rhys Ddu looked up with hatred in his eyes, cursing in Welsh. Jamie shrugged. It was just battle to him, and he had played his part saving the kingdom from another tripartite uprising that could have dethroned the king. Yet he was sad to see such a brave warrior go down, and glad that he had refrained from killing him – although he feared that Rhys would face a worse fate at the mercy of his captors.

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About the Author

As a lover of crime thrillers and mystery, I turned what is seen by others as a dull 9 – 5 job into something that is exciting, as close to real life as possible, with Rupert Brett, my international man of mystery whose day job is that of a Chartered Surveyor.

Rupert is an ordinary man thrown into extraordinary circumstances who uses his wit, guile and training to survive.

Each book is written from my own experiences, as close to the truth as possible, set against world events that really happened. I go out and experience all the weapons, visit the places Rupert travels to, speak to the technical experts and ensure that it as realistic, as possible allowing you to delve deep in to the mystery, losing yourself in it for a few hours.

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Blog Tour Schedule

Monday, December 14
Review at Pursuing Stacie

Tuesday, December 15
Excerpt at Bookworlder
Review at Chicks, Rogues, and Scandals

Wednesday, December 16
Interview at The Writing Desk

Thursday, December 17
Excerpt at Historical Fiction with Spirit

Friday, December 18
Guest Post at Novels Alive

Saturday, December 19
Feature at Reading is My Remedy

Sunday, December 20
Review at Passages to the Past

Monday, December 21
Excerpt at Coffee and Ink
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Win a paperback copy of A Knight and a Spy 1410 by Simon Fairfax!

The giveaway is open internationally and ends on December 21st. You must be 18 or older to enter.

A Knight and a Spy 1410

#TheVillainousViscount #LucindaElliot #HFVBTBlogTours

The Villainous Viscount Or The Curse Of The Venns
by Lucinda Elliot

Publication Date: February 24, 2017
Paperback & eBook; 284 Pages
ISBN-13: 978-0992736156

Genre: Fiction/Satire/Gothic/Romance



An appreciative satire of the cliches of traditional Gothic.

When Clarissa Greendale inherits the fortune of disreputable uncle she hardly knows, she does not expect to find herself forced into marriage with an aristocratic fortune hunter and wild, brawling, debauched social outcast. Still, she has always found Harley Venn set off the most unmaidenly tinglings in her; that is one consolation.

Yet neither did Clarinda expect to inherit the legacy of evil from half a century before. For the wicked if beguiling Lord Venn seems to have inherited a family curse, which, having dispatched the main perpetrators of the old crime, now moves on to their heirs, who are just as wild a set of rakes as their elders. There are rumours of violent deaths preceded by appearances from an inexorable hooded spectre, of inexplicable strikes of lightning, and of haunted mirrors.

The light-hearted Harley Venn dismisses all these as conjuring tricks. He even hires a drunken charlatan of a professional magician to prove it.

Clarinda is far from sure that there is any rational explanation. Still, it would take more than an enforced marriage to an incorrigible pugilistic libertine or persecution from malevolent spectres to damage her steely nerves and sense of the ridiculous.

This lively Gothic comedy, written as a good natured satire, gives the reader a kind and courageous heroine, a rascally but beguiling anti-hero and an authentic historical background to the delightfully over-the-top adventures, a cast of wholly believable characters, an engaging love story and many chills on its way to its tumultuous conclusion.


Cold though this summer had been, the roses were in bloom, varying from the deepest red to pure white. The tender scent of buds went unnoticed by Venn and Welch. If their nostrils dilated, it was with a longing to smell bloodshed. They moved as automatons of destruction as in the ring, deaf to the joyous birdsong all about.

They entered the maze. Now all was silent. The walks ending in high hedges hid all but a short view ahead and behind. They stalked as wary and soft footed as panthers, every nerve alert. At each rustle from the small creatures in the hedges they tensed, eyes glinting, yearning for the mystery assassin to show himself.

Venn led the way, springing about each corner, expecting to come on the enemy. As they came to the turn which led to the centre of the labyrinth, Venn touched Welch’s arm.

 Taking the turning, they came on the lawn and the shallow steps leading into the sunken rose garden, where the great fountain formed a centrepiece. The tiered basins where Toby Venn had once sported with opera girls in the heat of summer noon were now dry and still. Instead, the shrouded figure loomed.

It showed no surprise at their sudden entrance. It raised its head to look at them. Its face was too shadowed by the hood for the features to be visible, though they had the impression of the skull-like head inside. Even in the second that they stared at each other, it seemed to grow in height. Venn was six feet, and now it topped him by many inches. It pointed one claw-like hand at them.

Its voice came hollow and echoing. “Filthy whoremongers. Disgusting progeny of diseased linage.”

 The Earl of Aylesbury would have drawn himself up in outrage at being included along with Toby Venn and Welch’s own father, run through in a drunken fight when his son was still an infant.

Venn said, “Come and fight, then, filthy skeleton! Leave off your damned conjuring tricks: I’m no old fellow to scare into an apoplectic fit.”

“So you face me at last,” the creature’s voice echoed in their heads, and they sensed they did not hear it with their ears.

Venn sneered, “You turned tail, cowardly assassin as you are. Come and fight me alone: throw off your conjuring outfit: I’ll rip you in pieces. Stand back, Welch.”

 Instead, Welch moved to his side, his metal crow raised. The being made a grating sound which might have been a laugh.

“This is not your curse, wretch, worthless as you are. Your sorry weapon cannot touch me. Venn, a couple of blows from cudgels soon knocked the pride and fight out of your miserable carcase. Unlucky your latest female victim was fool enough to save ‘Mr Harley’s’ worthless life to ruin more trusting innocents. Come and let me tear off your filthy member before you add more to your list.”

 “Damned liar!” Venn made a rush towards the steps leading down. Welch seized his arm with his left, dragging him back.  “No, Venn: it is demonic!”

“I’ll see the life fade from your eyes,” the being’s cracked voice shrieked in their heads, “You’ll gasp for air as did that old lecher Toby Venn, his dirty heart stopped through fear alone, eyes pleading, fingers clutching at mine as I shook him as one of your terriers shakes a rat.”

“You rave.” Venn struggled to free himself from his friend’s grasp.  “Leave go, curse you, Welch.”

 “Get back to hell!” Welch shouted wildly at the being, holding on. But now, Venn wrenched free, leapt down the shallow steps, and rushed it. Welch followed. As Venn snatched at the figure, his fingers plunged through as if it were made of a glutinous mist. He staggered.

The thing a shrieked: “I will break you, dirty libertine: you cannot damage me.”

Venn made a snatch at the being’s hood, beneath which only the eyes, glowing holes alight with fury, were visible, and seemingly alive. Maddeningly, as he struggled to make good his threat of tearing it apart, he felt himself punch and rend at a jelly-like cloud.

 A flash of lightning and a roar of thunder ripped the air. The thing was gone. They swore, ears ringing, eyes dazzled.

 “They say I look like my bulldog, but you acted like one, you bloody fool.” Welch gazed about. “Did you think to last a round with a demon?”

Venn’s breath came fast. “It was that taunt about trusting innocents that made me see red, as much as it’s sneering about how it did away with poor old Toby. I’ve never ruined a confiding girl, whatever else I’ve done. Yet, it must be a conjuring trick, Welch. I can’t believe in demons, or in hooded spectres straight out of Rinaldo Rinaldini. ”

Welch shook his head dubiously. “Venn, I’ve never said this before in my life, but that thing had me in a funk.”

 “We’d better hide behind my betrothed’s skirts next time it comes, then,” said Venn. “I never saw anyone as unmoved as was little Miss Greendale, that time it appeared outside her window.”

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Barnes & Noble

About the Author

Lucinda Elliot loves writing Gothic style stories, which isn’t surprising because she was brought up in a series of big old isolated houses which her parents were refurbishing (it wasn’t so fashionable back then). After that, she lived, studied and worked in London for many years and now lives in Mid Wales with her family.

She loves writing about strong women to complement gung-ho males.

Her interests do include weight training and body shaping,and she was once a champion Sportsfighter, but apart from that her interests are quite geeky. Reading classic novels, conservation, gardening, and even names and their meanings (bring on the carrot juice). She loves a laugh above anything.

For more information, please visit Lucinda’s website. You can also find her on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads.

Blog Tour Schedule

Monday, December 7
Review at Probably at the Library

Tuesday, December 8
Guest Post at Novels Alive

Wednesday, December 9
Review at Robin Loves Reading

Thursday, December 10
Review at Jessica Belmont
Feature at I’m Into Books

Friday, December 11
Interview at Books & Benches

Monday, December 14
Review at Novels Alive

Tuesday, December 15
Review at Rajiv’s Reviews

Wednesday, December 16
Review at Bookworlder
Excerpt at Coffee and Ink
Review at A Darn Good Read


Enter to win a $10 Amazon Gift Card!

The giveaway is open to the US only and ends on December 16th. You must be 18 or older to enter.

Villainous Viscount

Shadow of the Witch by Samantha Grosser


When a young tailor’s daughter learns she has witchblood in her veins, she must harness the power of the Shadow to put an end to her family’s curse. A dark story of witchcraft, mystery, and secrets.

Author:                  Samantha Grosser
Series:                    Web of Witches (Book Three)
Release Date:       15 Dec 2020

Print ISBN:            978-0-6489635-1-6

Social Media Links:

 Facebook: facebook.com/samgrosserbooks

Instagram: instagram.com/samgrosserbooks

Website:  https://samgrosserbooks.com

The future lies in discovering the past …Midwinter 1648. Young Kate Winter thinks she comes from a very ordinary family of tailors, but when a fortune teller reveals there is witchblood in her veins, she realises there is more to her parents than she knows.

Travelling to London on the promise of learning the truth, Kate soon suspects the fortune teller of keeping secrets of her own. Then she reaches out to connect with the spirits of those who have gone before, and her own latent powers begin to emerge. As the mysteries of her family history come slowly to light, she discovers the Winters are anything but ordinary.

Caught up in a battle that began in her grandfather’s time, Kate must harness her fledgling knowledge to defeat a powerful force. Will her connection to the past be enough to save her? Or will she die a witch’s death on the gallows?


 The faint light that reflected from the city through the two great windows gave the room an eerie glow and lit the shapes of the desk and cupboards, the bookshelves and fireplace. She had spent most of the day here with Isabella, starting to learn the secrets a man’s palm could reveal but now, in the dark, she was wary of the shadows that lurked at the edges of the room – something unknown, something evil.

Crossing to the desk, she held up the candle to see. Wax figures, smaller than a woman’s hand, half made. One with a belt around its waist that was woven from human hair. Kate let her fingers run across its surface, wondering what poor woman it might be and what ill wish was planned for it. Then she wondered if Isabella’s husband knew of all she did. In spite of her assurances to Nathan, surely he must – the attic was hardly a secret, and nothing was hidden away: all was out and on display.

Kate moved behind the desk to examine a shelf of jars of all shapes and sizes and colours, and the candle flame flickered in the glass. Running her fingers across the cold smooth surfaces with pleasure, she remembered her mother’s collection of herbs and tinctures that was kept in the cool of the pantry, and her own small knowledge of their contents. She should have paid more heed when Mary had tried to teach her what she knew.

Her hand stopped of its own accord at a jar of red glass no taller than her thumb that glimmered like wine in the candlelight. She brought the flame closer and peered at it, trying to make out the label. Henbane, she read, in tiny scrawled letters, barely legible. To ease pain, she recalled, and to cool inflammation. But she remembered too that their cook had objected to its presence in his kitchen. Witchs ointment, he had called it, seed of the Devil. At the time she had laughed at his superstitious foolishness, but now she wrapped her fingers around it and without another thought she slid it from its place, taking a moment to adjust the jars around it to hide the gap it had left. Then, slipping the little vial inside her bodice, she walked to the window and gazed out at the sky above the rooftops, surprised again by such windows in so mean a house. Perhaps an artist had lived here once, she thought, who had needed the light to paint. Her eyes roamed the heavens though there was nothing to see beyond the dim reflected gloaming of the earthly realm below them.

Are you there, Hecate? Can you hear me?

Closing her eyes, she went inwards, seeking to renew the connection she had felt when she had known herself to be one with the earth and the sky, a power beyond her imagining. But all the certainties of that night had faded, and she was simply Kate the tailor’s daughter, friendless and a long way from home.

Book Links:

Universal Book Link:           books2read.com/u/31YYav

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08NPVG5BQ

Series Page US: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07THDSMPM

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B08NPVG5BQ

Series Page UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B07VJJCDM7

Author Bio

 Samantha Grosser is a very British author who doesn’t function without tea. Having spent many years teaching English in Asia and Australia, she has now made her home on the sunny beaches of Sydney, Australia, where she lives with her husband, teenaged son, and a very small dog called Livvy.

She is the author of Another Time and Place, The Officer’s Affair, The King James Men, and the historical fantasy series Web of Witches. When she isn’t writing or reading, (which isn’t often) you can find her either doing yoga, going for long walks, or watching old movies.