Twas the Darkest Night
A New Gotham Novel
A Sinister Stiches Spin-off
Genre: Erotic Gothic Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Skeleton Key Publishing
Date of Publication: March 15, 2014
Number of pages: est. 355 pages
Word Count: est. 160, 000
Cover Artist: Elaina, For the Muse Designs
Remember the story about the troll who lived under the bridge—yes, well, that twit didn't have to pay rent.
Owner and operator of Bits and Pieces, and resident expert on charms and glamours, Elsa Karr is a witch with a sour frown and a list of things to do as long as Thor’s hammer. Top of the list is saving her father's shop from ruin. If she isn't trying to claw her way out of debt, she's arguing with her cat, Fenris, or shoveling carts of cake into her gob. She's not interested in romance or the vampire who rents the flat above her shop. All she wants is a little peace and chocolate--fine, all right! All right! The vampire is kind of screw all cute. (Curse him.)
The disgraced son and heir of the Wingates House vampire clan and a mad-man to boot, Marshall Ansley spends most of his time working and dodging his mother's phone calls. Marshall is beyond family. He's beyond everyone, actually. Don’t be daft, he especially doesn't do…Christmas. But behold, the plague brings an original flavor of annoyance this year when his boss tasks him with acquiring the account of a recluse fey and her upcoming Gothic clothing boutique, Sinister Stitches. That is the ONLY reason he's bothering with his shrewish landlord. No, that's it. No…really. Fine, if you insist, the witch might be a tad bit...all right, she's adorable. (Damn her.)
Scrooge meets Scrooge. Dominant meets Dominant. Tempers…spark. In each other, they may unfold a tale that only comes to pass on the darkest of nights.
10 Facts about Sophie Avett the New Gotham Series
Hi, I’m Sophie! And no, I don’t know why I continue to greet people like that. All loud and cheery. It totally sends the wrong signal given that I’m frowning. Usually because I’m don’t know who they are or whether they’re really waving to me at all. Guess who they’re normally not waving to? That’s right, everyone.
But anyways, you came here for facts. Facts about Sophie? Who gives a whit? No, really. The raven says we should talk about what matters—that’s right. Verbatim from the raven: “The craptastic novels will do…” (She’s so sweet.)
In every one of my books…
FACT ONE: There is probably one monster that screams, “CAKE!” in utter, well-founded rage.
FACT TWO: There will be fantastic dresses. As far as I’m concerned, pants are the enemy. As far as my characters are concerned, whoever wears the shiniest leather pants wins.
FACT THREE: There will be sexy. Can’t be helped. Screams do it for me.
FACT FOUR: Remember the sexy? It will probably be lovingly served with cake and a leather paddle. Why? I don’t think everybody reacted to Burton’s Hatter like I did. (No…really.)
FACT FIVE: There will be dead bodies. I kill everything. Everything. The body count at the end of any one of my books will blow some eyebrows off…probably. I don’t know.
FACT SIX: Most of the dead bodies rise again. Not onscreen, of course. But how else would New Gotham be filled with vampires, werewolves, whatever that is, and pixies to boot?
FACT SEVEN: There is a pandemic. Usually, it’s sarcasm.
FACT EIGHT: If there is ever a second pandemic it’s…sarcasm. I’m kidding. It’s profanity.
FACT NINE: The raven doesn’t allow for third pandemics.
FACT TEN: Screw her, the fourth pandemic is…sarcasm. Okay, okay, obviously, I’ve stopped taking this seriously and she’s probably on her way to peck out my eyes. Oh, wait. She’s here. What utter joy.
The first five people to comment on one of Sophie Avett’s Bewitching Book Tour Stops will automatically win a free e-book copy of ‘Twas the Darkest Night. Available formats include: mobi, pdf, epub, and prc.
Interested parties should leave their email address and which format they would prefer at the end of their comment. The ravens will keep tally and submit prizes! (If your e-reader format is not listed, contact the ravens directly via the contact form and the ravens will fashion a book especially for you!) Likewise, any winner of Sophie Avett’s contests will also receive a free e-book copy of ‘Twas the Darkest Night.
Giveaways- Rafflecopter entry
1 Carriage Charm
1 set of Raven earrings
1 Sinister Stitches Dress
Take a trip to New Gotham!
A paid vacation to New Gotham is an expensive affair. So, the ravens have decided to cover the cost of travel and fashion this delightful "Carriage Charm."
"Naked wizards and scheming vampires? Where do I sign?!" all the witches scream and random sparks of black magic crackle across the ceiling.
We're getting to that, dearies...
An Appointment for Tea with Mrs. Potts the Storymaven (aka Fairy Godmother) will require the use of the earrings the pixies have fashioned out of raven skulls, AKA, "Raven Ear-wings."
The baubles should land the winners in New Gotham's clock-tower square. It could be that they do nothing at all. Or you might end up in oblivion. Good luck with that. The crickets will read about it in the papers, no doubt.
“What do I have to do?” everyone screams and waves their good silver stakes in the air. (Good girls.)
How to Win the Vacation of a Lifetime...
You have to fill out information in the Rafflecopter form at the bottom of the tour stops
Win a Dress from Sinister Stitches!
Sophie Avett's ravens have partnered with the Witches-Who-Stitch to offer a special prize. It’s a dress featured in Sophie’s upcoming release, ‘Twas the Darkest Night. The sinister witches made it special for Elsa but after many carts of cake offered to the trinity in sacrifice, they have agreed to stitch an exact replica for one lucky witch.
“What do I have to do?!” everyone screams and fails theirs arms like deranged daisies. (Just go with it.)
How to Win a Dress...
You have to sign up via the Rafflecopter form that will be posted at the bottom of each and every Sinister Stitches Tour Stop
At the end of Sophie Avett’s Bewitching Book Tours campaign (March 17 to March 31 2014) the ravens will announce a winner and gather that witch's measurements via email.
What are you waiting for?
Every girl needs a dress for a wicked fairy tale.
“Pardon the interruption, Ms. Karr, but are you ready for dinner?”She forced her hand to her side and tossed a flat frown over her shoulder. “Indeed, vampire.”Leaning against the door frame, Marshall was the picture of bloody elegance. Black slacks with a matching vest. A deep wine shirt. He’d left the top buttons undone. It was rich simplicity, and he wore it sickeningly well. Damp, disheveled locks drifted over his eyes as he peered at the blue marble on the coffee table with interest. She breathed in deeply, thoroughly appreciating the combination of his sandalwood body wash and amber cologne. His mouth quirked and she swallowed twice before she could speak. “Huldra, I—”“And then be done with it, Elsa.” Ingrid reminded her firmly, but added in her signature sultry burst of frost. “Otherwise, enjoy. For both of us.”Marshall lifted his eyebrows slightly and Elsa flushed and snatched up the speaker. She tapped the orb and it died into a mundane glass marble. “Ignore her. Besides, I’m ready.” She levered herself out of the chair and tossed the ball back in her bag. It clanked and rattled, circling until it dropped deep into the depths of the magical pocket.He reached out for her hand. “Come here.”She draped a black fur stole over her forearm and eyed his palm with suspicion. “Why?”“I mean you no harm,” he promised.Time stilled between them. She searched his expression and found nothing but the steely shrewd regard of a predator. Her feet felt heavy, leavened. She did not come to any man’s beck and call. Never. Never again. She offered her hand, but did not budge an inch. If he wanted her cooperation, he would appeal to her on her terms.Marshall did not hesitate to take the distance between them, coming to stand so close, so quickly she back-stepped and the back of her shins bumped the chair. Snowy blue eyes were almost black in the shadows. His cool slender finger closed around her wrist and he hauled her against the solid wall of his chest, his embrace sealing around her like a coffin.“Stubborn little witch.” He yanked and something popped. She hardly noticed. She was gone. Yearning for the individuals folds of the thin skin stretched across his bottom lip, wondering whether each individual wrinkle was a crevice of flavor. What would he taste like? Her tongue snaked out to tease the line of her mouth and she found it a poor substitute for his.Marshall showed her the writing on the small tag he’d apparently pulled from her dress. “Twirl to activate skirt,” his voice rolled over the words in a deep murmur. It vibrated it in his chest and her naked shoulders tensed as she stifled a shudder. He took a step back and guided her around. Slowly. So very slowly. He studied from hooded eyes. He savored. Without reserve or shame.One time around. Then two. Then a third. Every time their eyes would meet, her skin grew warmer as desire deepened the snowy depths into a profound sapphire blue. Her knees were weak, but as he drew her around faster and faster it didn’t seem to matter. Nothing seemed to matter. He became her only point of focus in a world quickly blurring beyond what she knew. Beyond what she could readily understand.Magic. It crackled to life, sparking across the textile and thread. Energy tickled her naked thighs and the limp silky material puffed and inflated into a billowing bell of smoky black tulle. “What …” Unfamiliar excitement danced in Elsa’s veins and she reveled in the fabric twirling about her. Wispy and light. Akin to smoke and shadows, the bottom hemmed by a ring of gray fog.Marshall finally drew her to a stop and she mopped her hair back out of her face, breathless. He didn’t immediately close the distance between them again, and Elsa couldn’t control her legs as they carried until the hem of her large skirt covered his slick black dress shoes. They stood enthralled in the moonlight. Pale light beating down them like a blessing.“Beautiful,” he whispered and backed away toward the door, drawing her along with him.Tethered to him by their entwined fingers, Elsa couldn’t help but feel like somehow, someway, Marshall had finally caught her.
About the Author:
Sophie Avett is kind of a nerd. Like not even one of the cute, hip ones everyone brags about nowadays. More like the socially awkward hippie who eats way too much bread and dreams about being a dragon from behind towers of mythology books. Um...yeah. Picture old, tattered paperbacks and comic books--mostly Batman and Wonder Woman--dwarfing a tiny desk, with just barely enough room for the troll who writes there and the 70 pound hell-hound that insists on laying it's wet nose on top of her bare foot.
Granted not the most exciting existence, but she tries to make up for it by writing romances populated with her own peculiar ilk of paranormal beasties. Trolls, wyverns, the obscure Nordic brownie--she likes to keep things interesting. And bloody. (And mostly naked--but, we'll keep that bit between us.)
Sophie Avett loves to hear from her readers. (Hi, mom.) So if there's something on your mind, feel free to leave a message after the scream.
(Mom, seriously…you can just call me.)
Post-Its, the Blog: http://sophieavett.weebly.com/post-its-the-blog.html
Brimstone Pub, the Blog: http://thebrimstonepub.com/