Periodically, my blog participates in virtual book tours which allow authors to showcase their books to a broader audience. Today I am hosting fellow author J.L. McFadden whose new novel “Choices” is available on Amazon. The descriptions, interview and biographical information are provided by the author. I hope you enjoy the tour which is sponsored by 4WillsPublishing.wordpress.com.
While still doubled over, picking up a book, Adela said with a sultry voice, “One of these days, I am going to make you deliver on all of those promised ideas, running through your head when you watch me.” There was a playful sound to her voice and a smile that said fulfilling his dreams was not out of the question.
J.L McFadden was born in Pennsylvania and spent his life bouncing around the States until beginning to travel the world. Starting out he was a well-known musician in upstate New York that had a heavy playing schedule. Later he went back to his home state to work in the Lumber mills of the mountains. In California working in sales, management and even directed a small moving company until deciding to see the world. His travels around the world have allotted him to not only join an International Aikikai Aikido Federation, but have trained with Sanseis from Belgium, Ukraine, Russia and other European countries. He accounts his journeys and meeting of new people to his broad character types in his books.
An Exclusive Interview with Adela.
Let me give you a little backstory to this interview – I had just finished reading this book about a vampire named Adela as a gust of wind left the candles flickering upon the dresser – and left the one of the candle sticks wobbling. As soon as I stood up to stop the candle I noticed a folded paper that now lodge under the candle stick; it wasn’t there a moment ago, and even stranger there is an impression of a woman’s lips in a lite shade of red.
I was a bit dumb founded by how this paper had got there and even more intrigued by what was hidden within its perfect folds. It was not your usual piece of paper, but rather a rather expensive piece of stationary – not really of this time – it appeared. As my fingers began to probe the folds of the paper it became more and more apparent that the texture of the paper was not of any I had ever touched. As soon as the tabs came out of its hidden pockets, the page opened in my hand as a flower that had just blossomed. The words upon the page were clearly written by a quill pen with the most eloquent penmanship I had ever seen – and it read:
It is being whispered in the darkest of the alleys of this great city that you have been talking about me. Wondering if such a woman could ever exist; and I ensure you that yes, yes I am as real as the morning dew and the night’s moon. If a meeting is what you wish, light a candle on the fort night of this week upon the witching hour.
Your Mistress of the Night
My palms began to shake with the sheet firmly upon my grip. How is it this fictional character that I have read story after story inviting me to interview her?
I searched my room to see any proof of a foul play by one of my colleges or one of the other tenants of this small apartment complex; everyone had been poking fun of me as I told them the tales of her stories that were written upon the pages. They always thought it was a fun bit to make fun of me, whenever I would say I wish I could find such a woman.
The fort night came and as the twelfth hour came closer, I lit a candle and set it upon the windowpane. The time crept by – all I could hear was the click clock of the clock that hung overhead – time seemed to drag by for a century until about half past twelve I decided it was time to blowout the candle and let this fantasy go. Just as I was about to draw out the breath to lay the flame to rest a gentle rapping came from the door. With anxiety I headed for the door not know what could be awaiting on the other side – a friend ready to laugh at a practical joke that they had just played or the one woman I had dreamed of meeting for the past few nights.
As I approached the door fog began to pure through the cracks; the door knob was cold to the touch with a bit of a bite as though it had been frost covered, but it was not. The door creaked as it slowly opened and in the lightly lit hall way full of fog was a slender woman with fantastic curves waiting with her hand upon or hip. My mouth hung down in disbelief of how could this be? She smile as she looked at me, her eyes had more life than I had ever seen. I was caught right there – she had me in the palm of her hand – with just a flash of a smile. I breathing was deep as she passed by me – I awkwardly moved to the side banging into the wardrobe that was beside the door. Her long black hair waded back and forth, just above her beautiful backside, as her hip rocked back and forth on the way to the chair. She took a seat facing the other wall and raised her hand in the air – snapping her fingers and pointing to the chair that faced her and myself. I took my queue and stumbled on the way to the chair. I fumbled about with my ledger and pen that sat upon the chair. My heart raced as I began to take a seat – not sure how this could be – or if I would get to live to tell the tale.
She had a sweet, but seductive demure about her face as she coyly said with her haunting voice, “I heard you were asking around about me.”
Beads of sweat now rolling down my forehead, “No mam, I… I fought that you were… um ah… I thought you were just a character in a book.”
A soft smile came about her face as she responded, “And I thought you were a reporter.”
With a cracking voice I remarked, “That… that I am.”
“My boy, you do not handle yourself as such.”
“I am just in shock.”
She was playing with her fingers – her long legs were crossed – with a form fitting dress that allowed no guessing of her curves. She glanced up at me as she began to say, “Journalists of my time had more of a spine. They would thunder through wars to get the news, narrowly surviving a near miss of a rocket from overhead or if we go back a bit more, a cannon ball barely gliding by their heads.” She shook her head in disbelief before continuing on, “And you are scared of a mere girl scantily dressed being in your room.”
With a rattled voice I managed to ask, “What would you like to state about yourself?”
She had a look of disappointment upon her face, “Is it not you – the reporter – that is supposed to interview me? I did not come here to make a declaration or a wild speech; I came here to make your dream come true… Now that I am here you seem not to know what to do.”
“How many of you are there?”
“I am one of a kind, my dear.”
“I mean how many vampires are there?”
“More than you want to know; they are all around you places you would never expect.”
“Why does your kind hide from us?”
“Do you let your dinner that you are stalking about? As you do with your livestock, we hide within plain sight?”
“Were you born this way?”
She cracked a smile and rolled her eyes, “As I said, we hide in plain sight; your horror stories are rather those of our own.”
“All the stories?” I choked, because some of the stories were rather morbid, while others were rather lustful. I was beginning to wonder about my fate upon this fair night.
I felt her breath upon my neck without seeing her leave her chair; her nails ran up my torso, as she whispered in my ear, “That is something you will never know.”
Honestly, that is all I remember before waking up here. Doc, Doc I beg you, please let me out of this padded room. All that I say is true, I swear.
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Goodreads Event Page: https://www.goodreads.com/event/show/956279-choices-blog-tour