Thursday, December 15, 2016

Dark Legends Boxed Set Author Spotlight: Midnight Moss by Carissa Ann Lynch @carissaannlynch ~ This is the day Dorothea Landry dreamed of... #ASMSG #PNR #horror #thriller #mystery #paranormal #darkwomen'sfiction


by 
Rebecca Hamilton, 
T.F. Walsh, Monica Corwin, J.L. Weil, Laxmi Hariharan, JA Culican, Muffy Wilson, 
GK DeRosa, Marilyn Peake, Kevin McLaughlin, Carissa Ann Lynch, 
Vivienne Savage, Anna Hub, HJLawson, Emma Nichols,Shelley Munro, J.A.Armitage, Leilani Love, 
Demelza Carlton, Xyla Turner, D.S. Murphy, J.T. Williams


This Collection is packed with more than 20 full-length Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance reads from New York Times, USA Today, and International Bestselling Authors! 

Don’t miss this collection of more than twenty unique twists in paranormal romance and urban fantasy, providing over one million words of supernatural suspense that will transport you to new worlds with smoking hot action and heart-throttling adventure!

The DARK LEGENDS boxed set includes: Mermaids, Sirens, Shifters, Vampires, Dragons, Sorcerers, Warriors, Angels, Faeries, Demons, Witches, Psychics, Ghosts, Mythology, Folk Tales, Legends, Dark Magic, Time Travel, and More!


Rebecca Hamilton 
T.F. Walsh with Demon's Mark
Monica Corwin with Soulless
J.L. Weil with White Raven
Laxmi Hariharan with Redemption
JA Culican with The Keeper of Dragons, The Prince Returns
Muffy Wilson and The Para-Portage of Emily
GK DeRosa with Wilder: The Guardian Series
Marilyn Peake with Shade
Kevin McLaughlin with By Darkness Revealed
Carissa Ann Lynch with Midnight Moss
Vivienne Savage with Making Waves
Anna Hub with Beyond the Shadows
HJ Lawson with New Order
Emma Nichols with Blood Moon
Shelley Munro with Claimed & Seduced
J.A.Armitage with Two of Clubs
Leilani Love with Violca's Dragon
Demelza Carlton with Ocean's Gift
Xyla Turner with Broken Treaty
D.S. Murphy with Scarlet Thread
J.T. Williams with Winemaker of the North




Amazon     iBooks     Kobo     Nook





Midnight Moss
by
Carissa Ann Lynch 
@carissaannlynch
Award-Winning
and
Int'l Bestselling Author 


This is the day Dorothea Landry dreamed of...

Fresh out of high school and stalling on college, all she wants is a little freedom. 

So when she’s offered the opportunity to move into her grandmother’s old house in Black Cat Springs, she simply can’t refuse the deal. Cheap rent and distance from her parents is exactly what she’s always wanted…and a handsome new neighbor seals the deal.

But as soon as she moves to Black Cat Springs, she’s immediately drawn to a mysterious fence in the woods, and despite her better judgement and the dark legends surrounding it, she sneaks inside, learning that some things from her past are better left contained...

A twisted town with a mind boggling past is about to become Dorothea’s future. And whatever she does, one thing is certain—she cannot trust her instincts.


My dream from last night floated through my mind, the details becoming foggier…
At the bottom of the hill, I was surprised to see someone in the cemetery. Until now, I hadn’t paid much attention to the old graves, assuming most of its residents had died hundreds of years ago, based on how crumbled and weathered the tombstones were.
The mysterious woman was kneeling on the soft dying grass, facing one of the small headstones. Her back to me, she looked stoic, almost like a part of the graveyard itself.
I slowed my pace, determined not to interrupt her as I passed. Off to the right, I spotted the same old farm road from the other day, and I picked up speed, enjoying the hot wet vibrations of the wind passing by. As I turned sharply, I took one last look back toward the cemetery. Expecting to see the stone-like woman, I was surprised to see her gone already. 
She must live close by, I wondered, focusing back ahead. Like I did a couple of days ago, I veered off the beaten path and slipped through the gap in the trees that led to the fence line. 
My eyes traveled the length of its wires as I jogged in place, noting that the fence was twisted and bent in spots. Instead of running in the direction of town like I did the other day, I took a new route, going the opposite direction. 
I’ll just follow the fence until it ends so I can see where it goes, I decided resolutely. It was silly and childish, but I suddenly felt this insatiable need to satisfy the curiosity burning inside me…and as I ran, I could feel the same high from last night returning. The touch and smell of Adam still clung to my skin…
Moving along the fence line, I tried to catch a glimpse of something behind the foliage, or the lake I thought I’d seen the other day, but after jogging nearly a mile, it was more of the same. 
I was in the middle of nowhere now. Peering up through the clearing, I could see a dirt road with no houses on it.
Suddenly anxious, I stopped and listened. Would I hear that dog beyond the fence again? I’d almost forgotten about the barking…
But I couldn’t hear anything besides the rustling of wind in the trees and the slight clinking sounds of the fence rattling.
A shockingly cold gust of wind blew right through my sweat-soaked hair, causing me to shiver. What had started out as a bright sunny day, was suddenly getting colder…and darker. The fence seemed to stretch for miles, and I was suddenly hit with a strange sense akin to walking in the desert. Is that the end of the fence line I see? Or is this some sort of twisted mirage?
But as I moved against the dank and chilly air, I saw what did in fact look like the end of the fence line. The fence itself curled around, moving in another direction. One spot in the fence looked open. It was shaking in the wind, the culprit of the clinking sounds I’d heard only moments earlier…
All of a sudden, I was running, eager to see. As I reached the corner where the fence turned, I realized it was loose. There was a tiny gap at the end, a jagged opening that looked to have been created by someone. 
A hole in the elusive fence. How can I resist going through it?
The adult in me was sounding alarm bells, but the kid in me couldn’t resist…
The gap in the fence was more like a tear, and before I could change my mind, I did a quick look around to make sure I was alone, and then I tried to squeeze through the gap. The metal wires were jagged in spots, and even sucking in my small belly, I barely made it through. 
The wires tore at my arms and torso, and once through, I stopped to observe my wounds, catching my breath. They were superficial, but bleeding. Thoughts of tetanus drifted through my mind, but I quickly tried to dispel them, using my shirt itself to wipe blood away from the tiny scratches. 
On this side of the fence there was thick vegetation. Impulsively, I pushed through it, trying to stay as quiet as possible. I don’t see any ‘No Trespassing’ signs, but the fence made it very clear…I’m not supposed to be back here. 
Sharp pointy sticks and roots clustered the dry earthy ground, so I took my time, pushing through the trees and prickly bushes. There was no sound; no birds, no nothing, as I entered the dense forest. 
Even the fence had stopped rattling behind me.
Hesitantly, I looked back in the direction of the fence, but couldn’t see it now through the murky wall of trees behind me I’d just passed through.
Darting forward through trees and overturned logs, I prayedthat I wouldn’t get lost. 
I felt compelled to keep going, to see what lie ahead that was so important it had to be fenced in and kept secret like Fort Knox…
My heart nearly burst with relief as I saw the trees widening. I was approaching something…but what that something was, I couldn’t be certain.
But that’s when I heard it—soft babbling sounds of a creek or water source. Was this the water I spotted through the trees the other day? 
Off to my right, the sound of water quickened, and I followed it like a beacon. A few yards later, I nearly stepped right up to the edge of the lake as it seemed to appear out of nowhere. 
Abruptly remembering my dream from last night, I recognized the same bright white blue water. Mist hovered like a blanket above it. 
Standing at the water’s edge, I could see clear across to the other side of the lake. There were triangular shaped hills in the distance and a thick white fog hovering around them. 
I followed along the edge, my eyes immediately drawn to smooth white marble and stone, a building or monument of some sort standing in the distance. 
For a brief moment, I considered turning back…but I’d come this far. I had to see what else there was back here…
Nervously, I moved toward the stone building, and as I grew closer, I realized it had crumbling steps leading up to a flat empty square of space.
Stealing up nearly three dozen stone steps, I went to the center of it, turning around in circles on the flat stone surface.
There were no picnic tables or statues, just an open gazebo-like platform.
I didn’t shout, but I know if I did, my voice would have echoed for miles…
“Neat,” I said, feeling like I’d found my own treasure. I went back to the steps, plopping down on the top stair. From here, I could see the brilliant blue lake below, and although I was still not as high as the trees, I could see farther across the expanse of land on the other side of the lake.
A massive gnarly twisted tree stood out from all the rest. Even from this far away, I could see that it dwarfed every other tree and plant around it. 
It looked wicked cool, with massive long branches pointing in every direction. 
Nobody lives here. There are no houses. But someone must own this property. I wonder why they let it go…
“Miss?” The voice out here was so abrupt and shocking, that I screamed and jumped up, nearly tumbling down the high stony stairway. 
I looked behind me toward the sound of the voice, surprised to see a boy standing on the flat square surface above. 
His head tilted to the side, taking in all of my features, as though he was trying to figure me out. 
“I-I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I didn’t know anyone was back h-here. You frightened me.”
“I didn’t know you were here either,” he said, his voice as a low as a whisper. His skin was white as milk, his hair and eyes nearly matching the shocking bright blue of the lake. If it wasn’t for the hollowed out cheeks and deep purplish marks beneath his eyes, he would have looked exquisite. 
“I’m leaving. I just…needed to see what was back here.”
I stumbled a few steps forward, looking back at the boy.
“And now that you have, what do you think? Is it all that you expected?” His voice was so strange, as was his question, and I found myself getting scared. I was suddenly aware of how alone I was.
He walked toward me, his feet silent. I realized he wasn’t wearing any shoes.  
His clothes were odd as well, faded dark cloth pants and a matching black shirt that looked homemade. 
“Again, I’m sorry,” I muttered, jogging back down the steps, eager to leave.
“Wait,” said the man, who really was just a boy, my age or slightly younger. When I glanced back, his expression was sad now, as though I’d disappointed him.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” Even though he was standing no more than ten feet away, his words vibrated against my skin. The question reminded me of Adam’s question the other day, and I felt my insides constrict.
“No. We’ve never met, I’m sure of that.” I’d never been so sure of anything…
“But that isn’t so.” He was smiling now, a secret curling up the edges of his lips, his words melodic. 
Still moving down the steps, I was eager to get away from this stranger. A stranger who claims to know you, I reminded myself. 
“N-no, I just moved here…I don’t know you…”
He was standing at the very top of the stone platform, his bare feet lined up with the edge. From here, he looked eight feet tall…and intimidating.
“I know you, Dorothea Landry. I always have.” 
And with that, I was running, suddenly scared of the boy. I raced down the steps and back along the water’s edge, careful not to slip in, and when I found a decent-sized gap in the trees, I darted through. How did he know my name? That question pierced through my mind over and over as I ran. 
Fearful I wouldn’t find my way back to the fence, you can imagine my relief a few moments later, when I saw the glint of metal up ahead. 
“Oh, thank God,” I cried, pressing my face and hands to the twisted metal. Keeping my hand on the fence, I followed it east, until I found the same jagged hole I came in through. 
I wiggled through hole, faster this time, and screeched as the metal tore straight through my shirt, slicing a deep cut in my belly.

But as soon as I was out, I kept running, looking back over my shoulder a few times for the boy. But he wasn’t there, and for that, I was grateful…


Carissa Ann Lynch

Featured Book: Midnight Moss

Hi, guys! I’m Carissa Ann Lynch, author of the Flocksdale Files trilogy, Horror High series, 13: An Anthology of Horror and Dark Fiction, Grayson’s Ridge, and This Is Not About Love. I like to write what I like to read—which is a little bit of everything!

How long have you been a writer and how did you come to writing? 
I’ve always been obsessed with books, but I didn’t write my first complete novel until about five years ago. I couldn’t find a book to read, so I got this crazy idea—why not try to write my own story? It was harder than I thought, but I fell in love with the idea of being able to control the outcome of a story. It felt like reading, only I got to decide what happened next. I never expected to get a publishing contract, but once I did, there was no going back. I was hooked!

How did you come up with this storyline for Midnight Moss?  
This story combines several ideas that have been rolling around in my head for a while. As a child, there was this section of our neighborhood that was mysteriously fenced off, so that’s where the “mysterious fence” comes into play. I also love the idea of old houses and magic keys, so I was able to use that in the story as well. I usually write horror and dark fiction, but I have a serious love for fantasy and paranormal stories, so this book was so much fun to write.

What are the best and the worst aspects of writing? 
The best thing about writing is it’s like a drug for me. When I do it, I feel better. And as soon as I’m finished with one book, I’m ready to go looking for my next story idea, or “fix”. I can see that as being a good and bad thing. I get obsessed with a story while I’m writing, and I work on it compulsively. So, it can be a pretty exhausting process for me.
What inspires you to write? Everything! Most writers will tell you that everything we see/hear/feel gets stored away in our memory banks to use later for our books. I like to write about serious social issues, but I also enjoy the escape of a magical story and light fun.

What would your friends say is your best quality? 
I commit to things and do them all the way. I’m also loyal and I have a good memory, so I usually remember birthdays and old stories LOL.

Are reader reviews important to you? 
I love when someone tells me that one of my books affected them, or made their day a little brighter. But I try not to get upset over bad reviews, and I don’t change my stories based on what readers want. I just write what I want to write, and hope that people will like it. But if not, that’s their choice. As a book lover myself, I know that some books everyone claims to love aren’t my favorite. I know I can’t be everyone’s favorite all of the time, and I’m okay with that.

What do you do when you don’t write? 
I read A LOT. I prefer paperbacks and I always—ALWAYS—have a book with me everywhere I go. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t fall asleep with a book on my chest.
Tell us about your other books? The Flocksdale Files is a dark trilogy about a twisted town filled with the worst kind of monsters—the humankind. The Horror High series is a three-book series about a creepy school nicknamed “Horror High” where the cheerleaders are constantly being taunted by an unknown “sociopath.” My other books are women’s fiction, mystery, and paranormal.

If you could share one thing about yourself that you would like readers to know what would it be? 
I would just tell them thank you. The fact that they took the time to read my book makes my heart soar, and means more to me than I could put into words.

That’s it for me, guys! I sincerely hope that you enjoy Midnight Moss as much as I enjoyed writing it!



Carissa Ann Lynch is the bestselling and award winning author of the Flocksdale Files trilogy, Horror High series, 13: An Anthology of Horror and Dark Fiction, Grayson's Ridge, and This Is Not About Love. She writes horror, thriller, mystery, paranormal and dark women's fiction. She lives in Floyds Knobs, Indiana.





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