September in California means one thing…
…Hot, hot HOT. The air gets dry. The hills turn from gold to nearly white. The spectre of wildfire is always right around the corner.
Just when everyone in the state is ready to cry “uncle”, the heat breaks, and the Bay Area tumbles into true fall.
For me, the end of September means one thing: it’s witching season! This is the time of year I show a little extra love to Georgia, Darius, and Season Of The Witch (Shades Below, #1.5).
It’s been two years almost to the day since I first published Season, and I’ve never stopped polishing it. It’s gotten a new blurb and several new covers- including, most recently, the current one.
I’m departing from my usual monthly update for a special Witching Season extravaganza. If you’ve already read Season, I hope you enjoy this little trip down memory lane. If you haven’t, I just dropped the price to $0.99, so there’s never been a better time to pick it up! Links are at the end of the post.
Happy witching season!
Song Of The Moment
I Put A Spell On You – Marilyn Manson
You better stop the things that you do
I ain’t lyin’, no, I ain’t lyin’
I just can’t stand it babe
The way you’re always runnin’ ’round
I just can’t stand it, the way you always put me down
I put a spell on you because you’re mine
You better stop the things that you do
I ain’t lyin’, no, I ain’t lyin’
I just can’t stand it babe
The way you’re always runnin’ ’round
I just can’t stand it, the way you always put me down
I put a spell on you because you’re mine
I put a spell on you. I put a spell on you
I Put A Spell On You lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Cover & Blurb
Something wicked this way comes…well, more wicked than usual.
Georgia Clare needs help, and fast. The lone survivor of her coven’s brutal massacre, she’s all too aware of the target on her back. Now the rest of San Francisco’s witching guild believes she’s a killer. Too bad for her the only man she can turn to isn’t interested in working for a witch, innocent or otherwise.
Darius deCompostela has done his best to steer clear of subversive affairs. A private investigator and reluctant medium,the last thing he wants is to advertise his existence to the things that go bump in the night. But then Georgia knocks on his door, and try as he might, he can’t turn her away.
Together, Georgia and Darius must navigate San Francisco’s sometimes-treacherous demimonde in their hunt for a killer. Past sins come due,and both are forced to face their demons…in more ways than one.
The lines between good and evil, personal and professional, become blurred. In the fight that ensues, only the wicked will survive.
Character Interview: Georgia Clare
Answered after Season Of The Witch: Shades Below, #1.5
Originally posted on Total Eclipse Reviews blog (October 29, 2015)
Character Bio: Lena Alan’s best friend. Bookkeeper at Cross Your Teas. Badass Biker Witch and overall occult superhero.
Normally for character interviews, I like to sit my characters down at their favorite restaurant and have a nice, long chat. Sadly, neither my nor Georgia’s schedules could accommodate a meeting like that right now. I did the next best thing, sent her the questions, and let her fill them out at her leisure.
Without further ado, meet Georgia Clare.
Describe yourself: what is your worst and best quality?
Well, I’m a witch. I think that’s pretty f*cking cool. Best quality: I’m persistent (some people would say stubborn, but they’re just haters). Worst quality: I used to have a bit of a death magic addiction.
What is the one thing you wish other people knew about you?
I’m really not so bad, once you get past the whole death magic thing. I’m fun at a party, I have an awesome motorcycle, and I’m as loyal as they come.
What is your biggest secret something no one knows about?
I put on a tough face, but it stings like hell when people ice me out because of my past.
What are you most afraid of?
Karma.
What do you want more than anything?
Acceptance.
What is your relationship status?
Dating. Want more? Read the book. 😉
How would you describe your sense of fashion?
Badass. I like leather and metal and denim and more leather. Oh, and did I mention leather?
How much of a rebel are you?
How much of a rebel is it possible to be?
What do you considered to be your greatest achievement?
I banished a goddess once (long story; again, read the book).
What is your idea of happiness?
Darius deCompostela.
What is your current state of mind?
Groovy, man.
What is your most treasured possession?
My 2001 Honda Valkyrie. I call her Dolores. She’s a total bitch.
What is your most marked characteristic?
Physically? I have these violet (not purple, VIOLET) lowlights that are pretty awesome. Non-physically? Hell if I know. My sparkling personality, I guess.
What is it that you most dislike?
Judgmental bitches – er, witches.
Which living person do you most despise?
Supreme Overlord Oliva threatened me with a Jersey Shore marathon if I gave away any spoilers. So…read the book!
What is your greatest regret?
I did a lot of things when I was young and stupid that I’m not proud of.
What is the quality you most like in a man?
Loyalty.
What is the quality you most like in a woman?
Strength.
Who is your favorite hero in fiction?
That guy who played Thor. What’s his name? The blond one with the muscles. Delicious.
Which living person do you most admire?
Pope Francis. For a Catholic, he’s all right.
If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?
I wouldn’t mind being taller.
What is your motto?
Ride on.
Season Of The Witch Excerpt
“Back there in the street. I told you to run. You didn’t. What the fuck were you thinking?”
Color rose in her cheeks. Still, she didn’t look at him. “Gosh, I don’t know. Maybe that it would be pretty shitty to just run off and leave you to your death. Silly me.”
Darius’ head swam. He leaned down before he could think better of it. “You could have been killed. You realize that, right?” He could practically feel his ribs rattling, like his heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest.
Georgia squared her shoulders. Her face was maddeningly calm. “What’s your point?”
“What’s my…” Darius gaped. “Are you serious?”
She finally looked at him. “Honestly, I don’t see what you’re so upset about. We’re here, aren’t we?”
Darius seethed. “That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the—”
“YOU COULD HAVE DIED.” The words exploded out of him. In the apartment next door, a dog started to bark.
Georgia’s mouth clapped shut. The color drained from her face.
Darius forced his voice back down. “You heard me. You could have died, Georgia.” Just saying it out loud turned his stomach sour. “Jesus Christ, woman, did that even cross your—”
Georgia stretched up on her tip-toes, and pressed her lips to his.
It was more experiment than kiss. She broke contact almost immediately. Darius forgot to take his next breath. Damn, she tasted sweet. He took in the rapid rise-fall of her breathing, the glazed heat in her eyes. He had the taste of her on his tongue, a flavor he didn’t quite know how to name. He needed more.
His vision tunneled. He leaned forward and kissed her back.
He parted her lips with his, flicked his tongue into the velvet heat of her mouth. It was just like he’d suspected: the leather and metal and denim were all just smokescreens. But unlike he’d suspected, underneath the smoke, Georgia wasn’t soft.
She was fire.
Her hands grazed his hips, but didn’t stay there. They slid up his sides, danced over his chest. His skin pebbled everywhere she touched. Her fingers skated up the line of his jaw, dusted the studs in his ears.
Darius hissed into her mouth. He’d never thought his piercings could be so sensitive—but then, no one had ever thought to play with them before. Each brush sent sensation sizzling down a livewire inside him. He’d never even known it existed.
He certainly hadn’t expected Georgia would be the one to find it.
He gave rein to his curiosity, and fisted a hand in her thick violet curls. They were coarser than he’d imagined. Wilder. The discovery made something deep in his core draw tight. He followed her lead and tracked one finger down the line of her jaw. Then he notched it under her chin.
Her skin heated under his touch. Here, she was soft. Darius tipped her head back and took the kiss deeper. Georgia’s hands returned to his hips, this time soldered there. He rocked into her, pure reflex, and her sweet moan hummed over his tongue. The sensation nearly sent him cross-eyed.
He pulled back just until her face came into focus. The color was high in her cheeks. Her lips were kiss-swollen and bruised, her eyes dilated nearly black. Darius caught his breath. Fuck, she was beautiful.
Fuck, what was he doing?
Wrong. This was wrong. A list of words raced through his head. Apostate, heretic, pagan.
Witch.
L.J.K. OLIVA 