Friday, October 26, 2012

Blood Bound: One book--TWO cover reveals

Typically, I try to not post very much during a blog hop, but this is something I’ve been waiting and waiting and waiting to do. As most of you know, I do quite a few cover reveals on my blog, but today’s reveal is SUPER special to me because it is for my daughter’s debut novel, Blood Bound. So WooHoo And Yay Keshia!
Another reason this reveal is so awesome is we have two covers to show you! That’s right TWO. Spencer Hill Press wants to know which cover YOU like the best so please go here to cast your vote.
If you are here for the hop scroll down or click here .

Now on to the reveal, which one do you like ???


Not only are both of these covers beautiful, but the book is AWESOME! And yes, I would say that even if she wasn't my daughter.  :)   
Blood Bound

Starting college a year early is hard. Starting fae college and learning to protect the world from the Unseelie is harder.
Brielle Reed has always been an over-achiever, but this time she may have bitten off more than she can chew. Between her crash course in fae politics, struggles to control her new mind-reading ability, training sessions with the demanding Dr. Schwartz, and discoveries about the father who is still a mystery to her, Brielle finds herself longing for a chance at a normal life.
But she may not get that chance. Or chance at a life at all, for that matter.
Title: Blood Bound
Author: Keshia Swaim
ISBN: 978-1-937053-45-1
Release Date: September 10, 2013
Formats: Paper, e-book

You can find Keshia on Facebook, Twitter, or her blog.

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Spooktacular Giveaway Hop

Hosted by

Hi blog-hoppers, welcome to Ghost Talk. Let me tell you a little bit about my blog. As the name implies, I love to hear and talk about ghosts so this is definitely my favorite time of the year. If you've had any encounters you'd like to share please use the contact me button.
As the side bar states, I am an author, so in addition to talking about ghosts I sometimes also talk about writing and the road to publication--which by the way, can be WAY scarier than ghosts.
On to the giveaway. On Nov.1 will choose one winner with a U.S. mailing address who will receive their choice of an autographed copy of one of my books. The winner may choose between my YA fiction Angelina's Secret or my Adult nonfiction On Haunted Ground All you have to do to enter is "Haunt" this blog and leave a comment for an additional entry you can follow me on facebook. or twitter

Happy Hopping

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Sunday, October 21, 2012


I've been a little slack in posting pictures of my husband's awesome pumpkin carvings and for that I apologize. Today I want to share my all time favorite (to date anyway) 

Isn't this just too cool? He's supposed to carve another one soon and I'm going to try to snap a few pictures along the way.

Friday, October 19, 2012

True Ghost Story: #3 from Carol Anne Hunt

Today I'm bringing another story from Carol Anne Hunt (I told you she had a lot) 
This is Carol's blog and her examiner link

As a teen, I belonged to a group of youth who all had had paranormal experiences throughout their lives. In fact, my mother, and some of the other mothers were psychics, and some eventually went into readings as a full time business. Two of my friends from that group are also currently practicing psychics of some renown in Ontario.

Every Friday night, this group and I would attend a meditation circle - our mothers would attend as they usually drove us, and would also enjoy assisting the medium/spiritual trainer who lead the group. At this group we would practice readings with cards, or personal objects (psychometry); we would meditate and pick up information for each other (mini readings) and just generally try to hone our clairvoyance skills. It was a lot of fun! Many times unusual things occurred which caused us to be even more convinced of life after death and the spirit world.

One particular night was no exception.

It was a cold and wintery night (cliche i know - but true!) and we were glad to be warmly ensconced in Mary's living room in our cozy circle. Mary, our spiritual trainer, led us through what we thought was a typical meditation - however, as we came out of the meditation, stretching and revitalizing our limbs, we noticed Mary seemed to be deep in trance of some kind.

One of the mothers then went over to "guide" Mary safely through her experience and we watched a drama unfold which pushed even our imaginative boundaries. She started to speak, but it was not her, it was a young man (later we realized a teen) who was visibly upset, and though unable to properly manipulate Mary's body, was very clearly being channeled through her. He was crying, and tears were streaming down Mary's face; he said "What's going on; where am I?"

The mother who was trying to guide Mary asked who he was. He told his name, but it came out garbled as he started to become very agitated, so it was not clear but there were distinct syllables. He kept saying he was cold, so cold, and then he froze in one spot and said, "that's me! on the ground! they are covering me up!"

We quickly guessed he was witnessing his passing somewhere in the world and the guiding mother tried to turn him "toward the light" and accept his moving forward. We sat on the edge of our seats as this drama unfolded, and were extremely fortunate to see the youth did move on, we hope successfully, and Mary came out of her trance with no knowledge of what transpired.

Was this faked? We had absolute faith in our training medium and the other moms, so we couldn't believe they would stoop to that, but it was all so melodramatic and surreal we could not be sure - until the next day, when the headlines screamed about an accident at a local highway death trap called "Precious Corners".

Today, I can't remember the youth's name, but I do remember when we read about this young person's death and his identity, the syllables we had heard "Mary" utter the night before clicked in our heads as the one we listed in the article. It had to be him! The accident had occurred at precisely the time Mary was in trance, and all the details she had related in her cozy living room surrounded by her students and friends were almost exact, as told by a confused, and frightened recently-passed spirit. There is no way she could have known any of this as it happened. I believe to this day, Mary channeled that young man's spirit and helped guide him to his afterlife, and we were willing witnesses.

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

On Haunted Ground is FREE!!!!!!!!!

YAY!!!!!!!!!!! I'm interrupting our ghostly short stories to bring you a long one--book length in fact. In anticipation of Halloween, Amazon is offering the Kindle version of On Haunted Ground for FREE. No strings attached just click here and its yours.

Lisa Rogers sensed that the house she bought with her husband Wes came with a ghost. But nothing prepared them for doors slamming on their own, objects flying, and the nightly appearance of a freaky green orb in their bedroom. Their two children had opposing views on the paranormal activity. While Keshia grew attached to the grandmotherly ghost who taught her not to be afraid of thunderstorms and the Native American spirit that tucked her into bed, her brother Troy wasn’t quick to believe in their unearthly guests.
This amazing true story details two decades of terrifying, funny, and heartwarming paranormal encounters—the mischievous entity that imitated the voice of each family member, the spool that “came to life” to chase the kids, the shocking events that shake Wes and Troy’s skepticism—and the enduring love that keeps the family together through it all.

Monday, October 15, 2012

True Ghost Story: L.M. Graham

Hey guys we only have 15 days left before Halloween and as  most of you know, while we've been counting down I've been posting true ghost stories that readers have sent me. Today's story comes from L.M. Graham who is a full-time journalist and first-time novelist. She lives in rural Oklahoma with her husband and their two ridiculous Great Danes. When she isn't chasing news or working on her novel, she loves road-tripping, gardening, gaming and, of course, reading. Her short story, "The Keeper of the Trees," will be published in "Holiday Magick," Spencer Hill Press's upcoming anthology.
She can be found at or on Tumblr at

It's an unassuming little house, a nine-hundred-square-foot place surrounded by the older part of town, but lucky enough to have a decent-sized lot that spreads around it. My grandparents bought it in the early 2000's - the very first house they ever owned, and they treated it that way.
My granddad passed away several years ago, leaving my grandma alone in the house. She made offhanded comments about "nighttime visitors" and strange happenings, but she spent her free time glued to true crime novels, so we chalked them up to dreams or her wonderful, overactive imagination. The few times my mom indulged her and asked if she was scared, my grandma would shrug and say, "Well, if they haven't hurt an old bird like me by now, they aren't going to."
Then, a few years ago, my grandma got sick. Sick enough to land her in a nursing home for several months, which left my mom and me in charge of going to the house every day and taking care of her two cats. Mom noticed anything off about the place, but she's a staunch skeptic when it comes to the paranormal, so I doubt she'd have mentioned it if anything had struck her as odd.
Unfortunately, she expected me to be a staunch skeptic too, which meant she had zero problems with sending me out there at nine, ten, or even eleven at night when she'd occasionally forget to run by the house during the day. I smiled and joked with her about how "the ghost in the house" might come after me if I was there after dark, but I never told her about the tension I felt any time I went in there by myself. Like a pair of eyes were watching every move I made, and they just plain couldn't wait for me to leave.
Then one night any doubt I'd had was totally blown away.
It was my fault I was there so late. In high school, my Friday nights were devoted to huddling on the football field's end zone with the rest of the marching band, wrapped in a blanket and trying to remember what it felt like to have full control over my fingers. That night, the game went into overtime, then double overtime, and I realized I'd forgotten to feed the cats.
After the game, I sprinted to my car, still in the polyester nightmare that passed for my marching uniform, and high-tailed it to the house. In the five or so blocks to the house, I managed to unbutton the jacket and pull on a hoodie, but I was still wearing the ugly suspendered pants that looked like I was gearing up for a monsoon. I parked, killed my headlights, fumbled around for the key, and headed up the driveway.
As soon as the key turned in the doorknob, I knew something was off about the place. Not "it's been robbed" off, but off in the sense that I'd interrupted something, and the silence I met when I swung the door open felt artificial and too complete to be real. I whistled for the cats, but they were nowhere to be found.
The blinds were up and the moon was full, so I didn't bother with turning the lights on. Instead, I made my way through the house by moonlight, grumbling to myself about waiting until the middle of the night to feed the cats, and they were so fat one day without food wouldn't kill them, anyway, but grandma would kill me if she found out I'd let her precious babies go a day without sustenance. My steps crunched on the heavy 70's-era shag carpet, and the wood floor beneath.
I rounded the corner to the kitchen, thinking I'd find a shattered plate, or some other crime scene that would explain the cats' disappearance. Maybe I'd even find them face down in their food bowl, trying to devour whatever was left so I'd think the bowl was empty and they were starving.
I didn't find the cats, or any broken dishes.
Instead, I found the ceiling fan, silhouetted against the moonlit windows. It was turned off and perfectly still, except for the chain that controlled the lights.
That chain was swinging. Violently, like someone had smacked it as hard as they could.
At first, it didn't occur to me why that would be odd. Ceiling fans got out of balance, after all, and the chains would swing and clink against the light fixtures or make a soft swooping noise that was almost as annoying as nails on a chalkboard. I shrugged, walked across the kitchen, and grabbed the chain, stopping its movement.
The cats still didn't make an appearance, but their dish was empty, so I refilled it and made sure the litter box in the corner of the room was clean. A couple cars passed by, the loud kind that most likely belonged to the more popular kids who thought their reputation depended on the number of car alarms they could set off with their mufflers. They broke the silence, but as the noise faded into the distance it seemed like the eerie quiet in the house was twice as pronounced as before.
Then, as I straightened back up from re-sifting the cat litter, I heard a clink. I straightened, turned, and looked around.
The light chain was swinging again.
A million things ran through my head. Miniature earthquake, the vibration from the mufflers, the cats somehow swinging across the room like tiny Tarzans when my back was turned. None of them made sense, but watching the chain swing back and forth made me suddenly want to be anywhere, anywhere but there.
I threw the plastic litter bag away and power-walked back through the kitchen, just sure I'd feel a pair of cold, clammy hands on my back any second. The silence was so loud it might as well have been screaming.
The floor shifted from tile to carpet, and I was back in the living room.
Then I saw it.
It was white and formless, like smoke, but brighter, and it stayed in one wispy column as it moved from the dark mouth of the master bedroom to the tiny hallway that led to the bathroom. It didn't make a sound as it moved, but it shifted and shook like it had enough weight to be thrown around. Once it reached the hallway, it vanished, like it had gone into a wall I couldn't see.
But I didn't wait to see any more. I turned toward the door, made an exit that could at best be called undignified, and slammed the door behind me.
Mom said she found the cats under the bed the next day. She just about had to pry them out from beneath the mattress, like something had thoroughly spooked them. And for the next week, if not longer, I wondered if my mind had exaggerated the incident, or if I'd seen a pair of headlights thrown against a wall. Nothing I came up with made sense.
I felt for the cats though.
Something had thoroughly spooked me, too.

Friday, October 12, 2012

True Ghost Story: #2 from Carol Anne Hunt

Hey guys I hope everyone is enjoying all of these wonderful ghost stories, I know I sure am. Today I have Carol Anne Hunt with us again with another remarkable story.
This is Carol's blog and her examiner link

I was living in a very old century home which had been built as a one-room place originally, and eventually, over the years, it became a multi-roomed chaotic but cozy home.

There had been incidents which caused me to feel the house was haunted, and reports from other people in the town who had also experienced things here.

One night, in bed, I was awakened by the back door opening and closing – and my dog leaving by that door! I sat up in bed, but then heard someone walking around in the living room. I could hear spoons being rattled in the kitchen sink, cups being lifted and put back down, knocking on tables and walls, as if someone was walking through and studying everything.

I was frozen in bed and could not get up – was it an intruder?

No, the dog did not bark. My German shepherd was very protective and had been professionally trained as a guard dog. She simply exited the back door when it was opened for her. There could not be a person in the house.

I crawled down the hall, keeping low on the floor and peered into the living room from where the noises were emanating. Though I could still hear noises, there was no person. And I could not see anything moving.

I realized it was a paranormal event, and became even more frightened, despite the fact that there seemed to be no danger.

I crawled back to bed, and about 4 a.m. (of course I did NOT go back to sleep, just stayed awake listening to the activity) the door opened, my dog came back in, and the activity stopped. 

After a couple of days, I had my brother stay with me overnight. Around 7:30 in the morning, we were up having tea sitting on the living room couch. Directly across the room from us was a small sunroom, I dubbed the “Plant Room” because with the skylights, it was a perfect setting. It was like a miniature greenhouse.

We were quietly chatting, watching my dog lying by the sliding doors in the Plant Room, and suddenly, the floor vent literally flew to the other side of the room.

The dog raised her head and in turn, looked at the hole in the floor where the vent had been, and where the vent now was. My brother and I looked at each other, askance, and I went over to the vent and picked it up.

“How did that happen?” I asked. “Maybe it was loose in the floor and a gust of the furnace popped it up?”

“That far?” my brother countered.

So I tried it. I popped the vent back into its spot. It was tough; it did not go in easily. Then I tried to pop it back out, just as tough, it was not loose in the floor and a gust of furnace air would not have moved it.

Very strange, but then strange things had been happening in this house.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

True Ghost Story: Keshia Swaim

Our next ghost story comes from my awesome daughter, Keshia Swaim. As most of you know, she grew up in a haunted house so she is very familiar with ghosts. When Keshia moved out of our home, her encounters with ghosts didn’t stop and that is what her story is about today, but befor we get to that let me say that Keshia is also an author. She contributed a chapter in On Haunted Ground which is a book detailing our lives living with ghosts. She has also had several short stories published and her debut novel Blood Bound is scheduled to be released September 2013 and I hope to be doing a cover reveal for her book very soon so keep a look out. You can find Keshia on facebook  and this is her blog

            For those of you wondering, yes, I am the daughter mentioned in Lisa’s book, On Haunted Ground. Ghosts, and ghost stories, have been a “normal” part of my entire life. I’ve prided myself on being far less jumpy, harder to startle, and just generally cooler than most of my peers. J 
            When my husband and I bought our first house several years ago, I knew before signing the papers that we were purchasing a haunted house. But since I spent my entire childhood in one, I figured that it would be fun. I was wrong.
            Our dream home was…well…a mess. But we could afford it, so it was still dreamy. At first. Before we could move in, we had to do some major renovations. Aside from the fact that the home had sat empty for years, the previous owner was a heavy smoker, and not overly interested in home maintenance. I thought that some opened windows and a fresh coat of paint would be all we needed to make the house livable.
            But the carpets were stained beyond repair, so we ripped them up, and found…tile. And wood floors, and more carpet. It seemed that the previous homeowner believed in simply layering the new flooring over the old. Now, I’m sure you’ve heard Mom mention that home renovations seem to stir up the resident ghosts like little else can do.

            Even though I could feel the increasingly agitated spirit of what I now believed to be a grumpy old man, I started complaining; loudly. As a carpenter’s daughter, I’d been around my fair share of home projects, and I could tell pure laziness when I saw it. It seemed like every shortcut the previous owner (which I strongly suspected was my current ghost) made caused me even more work.
            I ended up taking several days off work to dedicate to our new home. Since my husband was working, I was alone most of the time. Yet there was an unmistakable, angry presence following me around. Even after I stopped muttering to myself about the house’s condition, I could feel him. Always following, always angry. More than once I had to leave, just to get away from him. The air would get so thick I could hardly breathe, and I’d have to fight down a wave of panic.
            The worst times almost always came when I was working in a small bathroom, just across from the master bedroom. I’d get dizzy, short of breath, and terrified. On more than one occasion, I was convinced there was actually someone in my bathtub, even though I could clearly see it was empty. Finally, while painting the walls, it hit me: someone died in here. In the bathtub. Now, I’ve never experienced a heart attack, but if what I felt that day was even a shadow of the real thing, I hope I never, ever, have one.
            But, I’d lived with ghosts all my life. I could do this.
            With most of the major work done, my husband and I moved in to our new home. Since he wasn’t nearly as comfortable with ghosts, I chose not to mention my experiences to him, hoping it would calm down now that the construction was over. 
            It didn’t.
            Moving our stuff in seemed to enrage our ghost far more than griping about his style and home repair skills. He didn’t like where we put the T.V., our new dining room light, or anything about my things being in his cabinets.
            As I started loading closets and cabinets, I could feel him behind me, seething. But I chose to ignore him, instead singing upbeat songs or planning my next home purchase. And then I saw him.
            The only way I can describe this is that I saw him in my head. He wasn’t physically there, but he was real all the same. He started jumping out at me from around corners, slamming doors on me, hissing, and even creeping around my bed at night. And the most bizarre thing was that he looked very much like Gollum, from the Lord of the Rings movies.
            Now he had my full attention. I tried talking to him, explaining that we were making the home better, that we didn’t mind sharing our space with him, anything I could think of, but it didn’t calm him at all. Then my husband confessed.
            One night before bed, he marched across the hall and slammed the bathroom door. “I can’t take it.” He grumbled. “He won’t quit staring at me.” After talking for a while I realized that he had been picking up on our housemate as well, and that he was thoroughly freaked out. We didn’t know what to do. We’d already poured all of our money in this house, so we couldn’t just leave, but we were scared in our own home.
            Later that night I was jerked awake. “I saw him.” My husband hissed. Instantly, I was up. I hadn’t mentioned my impressions on what this man looked like earlier in the evening. But as I listened, he described exactly what I’d seen. Except he’d seen a physical apparition, glowing in the hall. But instead of scaring us into leaving, our poor ghost just made us mad.
            He couldn’t have picked two worse people to intimidate. I had been around ghosts all my life, and my husband is the most suborn man on the face of the planet, so we just dug our heels in, ignoring the flashing lights, slamming doors, missing belongings, and grotesque face that liked to pop out of nowhere.
            And then something major happened. I found out I was pregnant. About the time my “momma bear” instincts kicked in, our ghost tried to scare me while I was planning the nursery room. So I did the sane, logical, thing. I yelled at him. A lot.
            I informed him that he was dead, and that this was my house. If he didn’t like it, he was more than welcome to leave. Then I told him that the room we were standing in was my baby’s room and that he would not bother either one of us.
            I had no idea what I planned to do to back up those threats, but fortunately, I didn’t need to. I seemed to have found a language he understood, because he hasn’t bothered me since.
            Oh, he’s still here. I’ve seen his real face now. He’s still a skinny, withered, old man, but he’s just a grump, not a terrifying monster. I feel him hanging around, watching my home-improvement projects carefully, waiting for me to take a shortcut, I imagine. And he actually seems to like my son. I’ve caught my little boy babbling and making faces at an empty chair more than once, and one time, late at night, I heard an old man’s voice coming from the nursery, talking about modern baby toys.
            After making sure there was no physical old man in my baby’s room, I decided that we may have finally come to an acceptable living arrangement. My husband, however, still insists that we keep the bathroom door closed at night.  J

Saturday, October 6, 2012

True Ghost Story: Kimberly Ann Miller

Today's true ghost story is from Kimberly Ann Miller. Some of you might remember that a few months ago I did a cover reveal featuring her upcoming book Triangles. This book definitely sounds like a MUST read and it will be released June 2013 by Spencer Hill press. If you missed the reveal, you can see it here 

Kimberly Miller received Bachelor's degrees from Georgian Court University and Rutgers University and a Master's degree from The University of Medicine and Dentistry of New Jersey. She is an avid reader and particularly enjoys true crime and young adult novels. She grew up in New Jersey and currently resides in Monmouth County with her husband and three cats. When she’s not writing, she loves to travel to sunny islands where she snorkels by day and stargazes by night. She always takes her Nook with her.

Twitter: @KimberlyAnnNJ:!/KimberlyAnnNJ
Email: KAMillerWrites (at) aol (dot) com

My first experience with ghosts happened one night when my sister and I were riding bikes as children. I was about eleven or twelve years old at the time, and my sister was two years older. Our younger brother ran down the sidewalk in front of us, and we both saw something strange. Running next to him was an apparition of a kid about the same age but wearing clothes from the 1800's. He had on white stockings and black buckle shoes and a loose shirt. He ran next to our brother like they were in a race. My sister called my brother’s name in a panic. He stopped running and turned around; the“boy” did the same thing, and then disappeared. I can still see it like it happened yesterday.



Friday, October 5, 2012

Cover Reveal: Timothy Miller

Even though we've just started the true ghost stories I am interupting it to bring you another awesome cover reveal from Spencer Hill Press. There will be a new ghost story posted on Monday.

Fourteen-year-old Michael Stevens has never been ordinary; no orphan who hears music coming from rocks considers himself a typical teenager. But life gets a lot more complicated when two-foot-tall, albino, doll-like men sneak into his room one night, transforming the harmless music into a frightening ability he cannot control.
Soon, strangers in black suits begin to ask unsettling questions while unnatural animals with mismatched eyes haunt the streets. They are hunting, and not just Michael: anyone he cares about is in danger.
With the help of a mysterious drifter, an annoying girl he's accidentally mutated, and one of those creepy doll men, Michael finds himself in the middle of a war that could forever change the world he knows - reconstructing the very definition of humanity.

Title: Awoken
Author: Timothy Miller
Publisher: Spencer Hill Press ( Please feel free to use any images, text, links, etc. from our website.
ISBN: 978-1-937053-53-6
Release Date: August 13, 2013
Formats: Paper, e-book

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Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Halloween Kickoff

Carol Anne Hunt will be kicking off our Halloween count down with one of her (she has many) true ghost stories. Carol is a freelance writer and I first met her when she contacted me about doing an interview involving my book, On Haunted Ground. Not only is she super nice, but she is an extremely interesting person. Like me, Carol is drawn to the unusual and as a result she writes fascinating articles. You can find them here and this is her blog

One morning, with daylight shining into the front room, I was trotting down the stairs from the bedrooms, not really paying attention to where I was stepping. It’s a path I traversed multiple times a day, both up and down.

My mother was in the living room doing some cleaning, and as I reached the last 3 steps, I glanced up and there was a woman standing at the very base of the stairs, but kind of cut off around the knees, like her legs went through the floor somehow.

She was wearing what we would call “pioneer dress”, long full skirt, pinched waist, high neckline and a shawl, and her hair was in a bun on top of her head. There was no colour to her, she just appeared a golden figure, like she was partly transparent and there was light shining through her, but clear enough that I could actually see the folds of her skirt.

I exclaimed “Oh!” as I reached the third step and in shock, I jumped the last 3 steps, I guess trying to avoid colliding with her, but in fact, I ended up jumping right through her.

I stopped when I landed, and turned to my mother, who said to me,

“You just ran through a woman!”

I was shocked she had seen what I had at exactly the same time, and with no prior communication!

Of course, at this point, we both got goose bumps.


Monday, October 1, 2012


There are many reasons I LOVE October. One of them is I get to watch my husband carve these Awesome Pumpkins. He did this one last year with a pocketknife! He is already eyeballing the pumpkins for this years masterpiece and I can't wait to see what he comes up with.
As part of my Halloween countdown I will be sharing more pictures of  his pumpkins and of course I will be sharing the true ghost stories that YOU guys submit. I've already had a few submissions, but I have room for more--so please keep them coming! I hope to have the first one up in a couple of days.
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