Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Shake-Ups (Excerpt + Giveaway)

Better late than never, here's my stop of #IncrdibleTruths' Blog Tour and it features Shakes-Ups, a story by Elea Andrea Almazora. Enjoy! 

Oh! You can also join #AprilBookBash giveaway, see the end of this post. :)


by Various Suthors
Genre: Paranormal/Urban Fantasy

Available on Buqo app!

Links I Goodreads I Buqo I


25-year-old Rosie Rivas worries about a lot of things—her father’s health, her desire to fix everything, and her own social anxiety. The last thing she wanted on a day when the rest of the world is dealing with earthquakes is to deal with strangers claiming to be family. She wanted a grand destiny even less.

The rooftop garden was an oasis--boxes and boxes of earth nurturing a variety of flowers and vegetables forming a labyrinthine space for contemplation. Butterflies and birds occasionally flew about, as if acknowledging the peace-within-peace of the place. Rosie comes up here because other people don’t; to them, the ground floor with the smoker-friendly lobby, gym, and swimming pools were much more interesting.

To Rosie, it’s the only place outside of the condominium unit that made her feel comfortably small.

She practically ran into it, taking huge gulps of air and heading for the nearest rooftop edge. The elevator must have broken down. That’s why the girls were taking the stairwell. She kept her eyes on the purple-gray horizon and willed herself to calm down. The eyes were gone, she told herself. The whispers were all in her head.

She felt Christian’s looming presence to her left; it was curiously similar to the feeling of standing under the shade of a tree. He had a strange smell to him, like wood after a storm. Her hands and legs stopped shaking. Her breathing slowed. She felt part of herself uncoil.

As if sensing her recovery, he moved to a more polite distance and quietly sat on his heels, digging his dull, dark fingers into the soil in one of the boxes; this one had the vibrant ixora growing in it, Rosie noted. “Didn’t realize that you can have such great stuff so high up,” he said, sounding less agitated than he did earlier. “Who’d have thought, huh?”

She felt herself smile. “It takes a lot of work, but it’s worth it.” She cupped one of the ixora blooms in her hands, it made her feel like she held fireworks in her palms. “This rooftop used to be practically empty, you know. Someone started this garden and just gave up. It took a while, but we managed to get this place up to scratch.”

“We?” he asked.

“Mom was a landscape designer,” she explained wistfully. “She used to design gardens for some really important people, but she didn’t always have the budget to sustain her own. Thankfully, the owner of this complex loved her work and asked her to design a green space that he can add to the brochures. This was her garden.” She stepped away from the flowers, stretching her arms high above her head. “And now it’s mine. I’m practically the only one maintaining this, and I get paid for it. Not that the management needs to do that; this is just a hobby. It's not like I want to turn this into a business. I'd need to interact with people in person. Guh.” She shuddered at that last thought.

Christian rested his forearm on the planter and studied her. “You like plants more than people,” he noted bluntly.

“I like everything more than people,” she corrected him, sighing and leaning against a planter. “People are...they make things up about you. If they see how different you look. If they decide that you don’t fit in. If they think they can walk all over you. Plants don’t do that. They feed you, or heal you, or make the world beautiful.” A bird landed next to her, and she petted it absently with a pointer finger. “Animals are like that too. They know where they and other things in the world fit. But people? We never know where we belong and what we’re meant to do. We just keep hurting each other.”

The tall man raised his eyebrows at her. “That bad, huh?”

Rosie found herself smiling wryly. “Well, maybe some people are okay. Like dad and mom. And the owner of this building. Maybe my employers too--I work as a virtual assistant, though, so I don't know how they'd react to..." she motioned towards her sizeable body. "I’m finding you likable enough, though. You’re polite. Aunt Chloe, on the other hand...” she wrinkled her nose. “I don’t trust her. She just barged in. No courtesy whatsoever. I really don’t think we can be related to someone that rude.”

He shrugged. “Few living people take to her, to be honest. It’s because she barges in whether you like it or not.” He flicked his eyes toward the sky. “As for not being related...I’d like to think that everything is related to everything else. Like the mountains to the sky and the sky to the sun.”

She caught him hiding a grin, and she placed her fists on her hips. “You’re not really my cousin, are you?”

Careful to keep his fingers in the soil, he sat on the floor in earnest and inclined his head, letting out a puff of laughter. “I told her this wouldn’t fly. Your sort are always clever, if not wise.”

“My sort?”

He cursed, realizing what he’d just revealed. “Uh...please forget what I said.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Oh, no. You don’t get to weasel out of this. Explain.”

He hesitated. She glared.

“You probably won’t like it, Miss,” he said in defeat.

“I don’t care, and why are you talking like that?” she muttered, deflating a bit. “What in the world is going on? Who are you people? And what the hell am I supposed to be?”

He stood up, pulling his fingers out of the soil regretfully and wiping them off on his pants. “It’s better if Mistress Huk-I mean Chloe explains what you are, who she is, and what’s going on,” he murmured nervously. “The best case is your father telling you himself. As for what I am…”

He cleared his throat. “I’m kapre, Miss. A tree giant. And all I’m allowed to tell you at the moment is that you outrank me.”


Well THAT was unexpected, Rosie thought. She expected him to lie, but didn’t realize he could be so bad at it. Everyone knew that the kapre had died out a long time ago. Every 5-year-old was taught to give respect to old trees, where those guardians once resided. Their loss, teachers of old stressed, had been as terrible as the loss of Sinukuan, the last Maria.

Clearly, that man was joking. Or possibly insane.

All in all, though, she felt she took it rather well. She’d stared at him in incredulity for what seemed to be an appropriate amount of time before turning on her heel and starting on the path back to the stairwell. She didn’t dignify his ridiculous claims, and she could take pride in that.

“Wait!” Christian called out. “I’m telling the truth!”

She turned around to look at him, and suddenly felt lost. She heard herself stutter. “K-kapre are extinct,” she said, not quite feeling as sure as she originally did. “They have been since the Fairy Queens died about two thousand years ago. Everyone knows that!”

“More Fairy Queens are born sooner or later, miss,” the giant said, suddenly looking taller than he had before. “And we kapre never died. We just slept until we found a new Queen to serve.”

Rosie tried to ignore the electric shivers going up and down her spine. “Are you saying that a Fairy Queen is walking around right now? That she’s wandering around waking all you guys up? And what does THAT have to do with you being here?”

“Her Graceful Regent doesn’t have to wander around, Miss,” he responded, placing his hands at the small of his back and standing like a soldier. “She just has to be. The rest of us just respond to her existence. You have to understand, Miss. The Fairy Queen is a force of life, and the world hasn’t been alive since the Sinukuan Queen. As for why I'm here...I guess I was hoping that traveling with Mistress Chloe will let me have a glimpse of what the new Queen might be like.”

She began to back away. “You’re nuts.” She tried to reorient herself, but couldn’t, for the life of her, remember how to get back to the stairwell.

“I’m sorry for doing this, Miss,” Christian said. “I can’t let you leave until Mistress Chloe’s finished talking to your father about...important matters.”

Rosie stopped moving, watched his face, studied his posture. She closed her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. “You’re making me feel lost,” she told him.

“Yes miss.”


Elea Andrea Almazora graduated from UST with a degree in Literature. She currently works in online marketing by day and spends her free time as a poet, geek, fantasist, and armchair editor. 

She tries to post one written piece per week on her blog,  and can be  (@ealmazora) and email reached via Twitter (

Saturday, April 16, 2016

Resto Rescue (Excerpt + Giveaway)

Here's my stop of #StrangeLit: Killer Seasons Blog Tour, featuring an excerpt from Resto Rescuse by Maira Rue. Vengeance: The Awakening by yours truly is also included in Killer Seasons Bundle. Enjoy the excerpt!

BTW, I'm doing #AprilBookBash giveaway, in case you migh want to win a paperback edition of 'Yearrning for the One', it's a poem anthology. Giveaway link below. :) Thanks.


by Various Authors
Genre: Paranormal/Urban Fantasy

Available on Buqo app!

Links I GoodreadsBuqo I


All werewolf Rafe Redmoon really wanted was to cook real food not host reality food shows. Thirteen seasons in Resto Rescue has made him cranky and moody. Resto Rescue is a food reality show where Rafe uses his supernatural skills to ascertain what was wrong with the food and remodel the restaurant as a whole. His boss/alpha/aunt Vivian made him a deal. Make a killer season thirteen ender and she will personally fund the dream restaurant Rafe wanted. Easy, right?


Resto Rescue 
by Maita Rue

I. Season 13

“You turning Vegan on me, werewolf?” The devil asked him.

Rafe Redmoon, werewolf food host extraordinaire, made a face. His aunt Vivian was the said devil incarnate. She was also a werewolf and she was a rare alpha female. His alpha. Werewolves, sharing some genetic similarities with their wolf cousin, need sixty percent of protein in their diet. A vegan or even a vegetarian werewolf was unheard of. But that wasn’t what Rafe Redmoon wanted.

“It is my restaurant concept. It uses a lot of natural and whole ingredients not vegan and not vegetarian. I plan to do a cooking show in it,” he said. Rafe wanted his restaurant to have nothing but clean and healthy food. He didn’t want sponsors mucking it with seasoning and instant processed products.

“What’s wrong with your job now? Your shows are unique. Most people would kill for your job,” she pointed out, presenting her polished red nails at him. It looks like she had blood on her hands all the time. They were in her spacious office in Redmoon Roaring Studios, her private television and internet Production Company. True, he had a killer job. He was heralded as the Yummiest Reality Show Host Alive!

“I’m not most people,” he sniffed. “I’m not even most werewolves.” True. Most werewolves would have been contented to join politics. They spent their pent up energy making trouble for the humans- political trouble that is. Their other option is sports, hardcore sports.

Rafe Redmoon was the hottest food show host in the planet. He hosted a wide variety of food documentaries and food reality shows all across the globe. His latest show, Resto Rescue, was at the top of the charts. Resto Rescue was a restaurant rescue show with a supernatural twist. Using his werewolf senses, he’d tweak the recipes better and give the restaurant a full make-over. Sponsors were lined up to do every show. Rafe made it big because he had striking good looks and a grumpy persona. He was tall and had the body to die for.

He knew people watched his show to ogle at him or see the reactions people have in the show. Not many people watch the show for the food advice. Still, his aunt marketed his body like a commodity.

His aunt raised an eyebrow. “Well, I think your mother said your star charts dictated you’d be the most contrary werewolf in the family.”

“Ha-ha. Werewolves don’t believe in astrology. That’s the reason why most of us are either in sports or in politics,” he said. Most werewolves didn’t look at the horoscopes. They didn’t consult palmistry. They don’t even do the Feng Shui thing.

“Why the restaurant thing? I thought you were contented hosting food shows?”

“I am not. I told you my passion was to cook. Hosting is not the same as cooking. I want to cook my own recipes my way. There will be no food stylist or food enhancers from sponsors,” he said. “The whole world is going for organic now,” the errant werewolf pointed out.

Vivian sighed. She didn’t want to get into another argument with her delectable little talent, even if he was her nephew. Happy talents did a better job. Happy talents left her to enjoy her morning latte. She eyed the piece of candy standing before her. She built him from ground zero and she was proud of it. Not because he was her scrumptious little nephew but because he showed promise. Also, he didn’t let fame get to his head… much. “I’ll make a deal with you, Rafe.” That always got him to listen.

Rafe waited. What could his aunt offer him now? He already sold his soul, so to speak.

“Make me a great Season 13 ender and I’ll fund your restaurant. It has to pull the ratings up.”

“The ratings for Resto Rescue are good. They’re up. We are at the top,” he pointed out.

She shook her head. “Gorgon Ramses’ ratings are still high. High enough that he could dominate the charts if you aren’t careful. His show, Kitchen Conundrum and The Chef From Hell are still kicking and screaming. I want him taken down until he’s not even an afterthought. That raging beast is getting old yet he still at top ten. A young buck like you should have toppled him years ago.”

Rafe made a face. Gorgon Ramses was about a hundred years of age as well but he’d been in the industry for seventy years. Rafe started at werewolf puberty, seventy five human years.

“I don’t know who’s temper is worse, yours or his? He always claimed the devil spat him out of hell because he had his famous temper,” Vivian commented.

The young wolf grunted. He was sure he had a different temperament from the gorgon. Rafe was more the aloof kind of wolf but he took no bullshit from anyone. His aunt kept saying she patterned his first few shows after Gorgon Ramses’ shows. It grabbed at the same audience. From there, they expanded their audience by transforming Rafe into his own persons. Still, they loved his fiery temper in the shows.

“Maybe we should shoot in the US not in Asia? Most countries watch Hollywood only. Why’d you have to throw me to Asia anyway?” Five years ago, he was sent to Asia to shoot exotic food documentaries and now food reality shows. He was already making a killing in the States. His aunt insisted that every other season of Resto Rescue be shot in Asia. Why did Vivian have to uproot him and ship him to nowheres-ville?

“Asia is a rising market that I want to corner. It’s not that backward. They are more obsessive there than the States. The population of Asia is bigger than all the US territories,” she said. Also, production cost is lower. “Do we have a deal? Make this how I want it to be. I’ll put your restaurant anywhere in the territories. We’ll shoot Season 14 alongside your new restaurant concept. Sky’s the limit. Satisfied?” Vivian offered.

“Maybe,” he spat.

“You’re not satisfied?” She baited him.

Rafe knew there were always strings attached. “I want it in writing.”

Vivian growled. Not trusting your alpha was like a challenge. “Make me proud, Rafe. Otherwise, I’ll throw you back to your mother’s pack and you’ll be stuck doing sports. Maybe you ought to join your father’s pack in Budapest. They’ll force you into a suit and put you in politics. I heard King David needs a babysitter.”

Rafe roared in protest. Yup, his stars were right. He was contrary to the norm. When his mother chose to rejoin her original pack, he didn’t. He didn’t join his father’s pack either. Instead, he broke convention and joined a whole new pack, Vivian’s. In pack dynamics, you worked for your alpha. Vivian was in television. She owned forty TV stations, four cable channels and twenty two internet channels in most territories.

Vivian snarled back, showing him who was alpha and who was too young. “Get to work, pup! Or I might decide to cook you myself!”

When your alpha commanded you, you pretty much had to do it. Breaking an alpha’s command was like a challenge. Rafe couldn’t challenge her, not yet. He was only a hundred years of age, much too young. Vivian was already two hundred fifty. She was also too strong to challenge. Other pack tried to challenge her only to be handed their asses on a silver platter and recorded for her viewing pleasure. Yeah, she put it on live TV and made money out of it. She knew how to play and she played rough.


Meet Maita Rue, author and designer. She loves romance and happy endings. Her love of words has pushed her to write and publish her books. She's a single mother of four dogs and an aunt of one grumpy cat.