Did people in the Middle Ages really believe in vampires? They certainly believed in ghosts, which they called revenants, from the Latin meaning ‘to return’. It was believed that the unquiet dead, particularly those who had died by violence or by reason of a grudge, would return to haunt the living and try to take revenge on them. These revenants might haunt a graveyard or a particular area, known to them in life, and terrorize the living.
They also believed that the dead could be commanded to rise again and spirits or demons compelled to do a wizard’s bidding, through the dark art of necromancy. A surprising number of priests were interested in these dubious practices as a means of gaining power or knowledge. Priests might also seek to exorcise spirits possessing people, by means of prayer or sacred herbs or charms.
Vampires, however, do not really make an appearance until the fourteenth century. Why then?
In 1348 the Black Death struck Europe. Thousands died and thousands of rotting corpses had to be buried, often in mass graves. Sights of these bodies was often grisly and bloody, and so the idea of the vampire, feeding on the blood of the living, came into force.
Recently a body in a medieval Italian mass grave on the Venetian island of Lazzaretto Nuovo was found with a slab of rock slammed between its jaws – a crude anti-vampire measure. The dead woman was suspected by the grave-diggers of being a vampire, possibly because of gruesome sights around her decomposing body when they had re-opened the mass grave to bury more plague victims. So the frightened grave-diggers put a brick in her mouth to stop her chewing through her shroud and escaping the grave to infect others. A very grisly measure!
In my forthcoming medieval historical romance, The Snow Bride (due out Jan 2012), I don’t mention medieval vampires but I do deal with witchcraft and necromancers. My heroine, red-haired Elfrida, is a witch and wise-woman and through the ‘magic’ of love she helps my scarred hero Magnus. Both Elfrida and Magnus must battle against an evil necromancer – a medieval wizard who summoned spirits and demons – and, in a desperate race against time, recover Elfrida’s younger sister. In The Snow Bride I show medieval magic and beliefs, but not medieval vampires. Maybe in another story?
Happy Halloween!
Lindsay Townsend
http://www.lindsaytownsend.net/
http://www.twitter.com/lindsayromantic
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Medieval vampires - dead or alive...
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
The Lighthouse Keeper - paranormal flash fiction by Stephanie Burkhart
Audrina knocked on the wooden door. "Mr. Edwards?"
Nothing. A cool breeze blew in from the Atlantic Ocean and Audrina tugged on the shawl around her shoulders. Where was Mr. Edwards?
She twisted the knob to the lighthouse door. It turned, but stuck. Glancing up, she noticed rust on the hinges. Leaning her shoulder against the door, she pushed it open. Built in the early 1800's, the lighthouse captured the ambience of the past, standing proud against the Maine coastline.
"Mr. Edwards?" Her voice rattled throughout the lighthouse. Audrina tucked a stray tendril of her auburn hair behind her ear, pausing near the entrance. He had to be here. Her aunt's diary related that he rarely ventured from the antiquated lighthouse. Fishermen and cruise liners depended on the light and audible signals from this building – especially when the weather became foggy.
Looking around, she spied a set of metallic steps in the middle of the building which led up to the Frenzel lens and fog signal. Across the entrance, to the right, was another door partially opened.
The autumn wind whipped around the windows, making a high pitched whistle. A wave of uncertainty coursed through her bones. Was Mr. Edwards in that room? What would she find? She crossed the floor, hesitating next to the opening. Oh, she was being ridiculous. What did she expect to find? A ghost?
Audrina eased the door open, revealing a compact room. A single bed rested next to the curved wall. A young man lay clasping a picture frame next to his chest.
She ran to his side. Sweat dripped down his temples. Gently, she removed the frame, putting it on the nightstand, and placed her hand on his forehead. Hot. He had a fever. How long had he been sick?
"Mr. Edwards?" She shook his shoulders.
The young man's lids snapped open, but his eyes were glazed over from fever. "Esther?"
"No, I'm Audrina, Esther's niece. You're sick."
"Esther – where's Esther?"
"She passed away two weeks ago."
"No." The man's voice faded away. Had he lost hope? Her heart went out to him. She squeezed one of his hands between hers, studying him. His hair was thick and curly, framing his ruggedly handsome face. His square jaw and broad shoulders exuded a raw masculinity and vitality, despite his fever. Audrina found him appealing. Despite his illness, his muscles were hard. Stubble grew around his chin. God, there was no denying the attractiveness of his feral looks.
Departing the room, she discovered a kitchen, but the food was bad. She needed to make a trip to the grocery store. She also needed to treat the fever. Turning her attention to the sink, she found a washrag and dampened it. Who knew how long he'd been ill. She returned to his bedside and wiped the rag over his face.
"I think I should call for the paramedics."
"No!" His eyes snapped open, fierce and adamant none be spent. His voice was rough with anxiety.
"A paramedic can treat you better than I—"
"No. I don't want doctors. I hate them. None of them can help me."
Audrina crossed her arms. Her expression stilled and grew serious. Mixed feelings surged within her. He had to know that a doctor could help him. Why didn't he want to see one? What was he hiding? Should she be worried?
He opened his eyes, staring at her. She couldn't look away, spellbound by his expression. He possessed such unusual eyes – deep malachite green surrounded by a golden ring hugging his irises.
"No…you're not Esther. You smell different. Perfect," he rasped.
His comment raised her curiosity, but she ignored it for now. "I'm Audrina."
"Esther's dead, you said?"
"Yes. I'm sorry."
"Why did you come?"
"She left me her manor in her will. I arrived a few days ago, but only found her diary today."
He struggled to sit up in the bed, his expression a mix of pain and pleasant surprise. "You're beautiful."
"Mr.—"
"My name is Damian."
"Damian." She squeezed his hand again. "Lie back down. I'll return shortly."
He returned the pressure from her grasp, then collapsed onto the bed. "Please…"
"I promise." Audrina stood.
He nodded and closed his eyes.
Audrina drove her car up the dirt access road and parked next to the lighthouse. Twilight darkened the clouds over the ocean, casting deep orange and red shadows over the horizon. A waxing gibbous moon crested over the stormy waves. She hadn't explored her aunt's manor to the extent she would have liked, and had only partially read her aunt's diary – specifically the last couple of pages which expressed concern for Mr. Edwards – Damian.
Her aunt knew she was dying, she had cancer, but she believed Mr. Edwards would become inconsolable and possibly lose his mind if she revealed the nature of her illness and therefore she hadn't confided in him. Audrina believed her aunt didn't want to break Damian's heart. What Audrina found odd was that Damian was a young man. Her aunt was eighty-two when she passed.
Grabbing her bag with the food and medication, she walked through the brisk New England chill and entered the lighthouse. Quickly, she prepared a bowl of soup and a light meal.
Damian still lay in the bed, clutching the washcloth. God, he looked so vulnerable – and oh, so handsome. Her heart constricted in her chest.
"Damian?"
He mustered a smile. "You returned." His voice ached with longing.
"Take these." She handed him some antibiotics she hadn't used from a recent prescription and a glass of water. He swallowed them and sat up. Audrina spoon fed him the soup. He ate the crackers, never taking his eyes off her.
"Thank you. I was hungry."
"You need to rest."
"I'm cold, then hot, then cold."
"It's the fever. Do you have any extra blankets?"
"No. Can you lay beside me?" His gaze fell to the creamy expanse of her neck.
Audrina bit her lower lip with her teeth. Her heart ached under her breast. His eyes mesmerized her. Something intense flared between them – a spark. Desire? Mutual attraction? Fascination? His eyes drew her to him, despite only having just met him.
She said nothing, but lay down next to him, resting her head against his chest.
He kissed her temple. "Thank you."
Closing her eyes, she drifted off to sleep.
The rain struck the window in a rhythmic fashion, waking Audrina. She left the bed, found a candle on the nightstand, and lit it. The inky shadows faded away and the candle cast a soft light over the bed. The picture frame she'd taken from his hand earlier rested next to the pewter candleholder. Curious, she picked it up and turned it over.
The photo was black and white. Damian appeared the same with a head full of curls. A vibrant grin curved his lips. He stood next to a young woman who possessed long brown hair and a passionate smile. Audrina wrinkled her brow, confused. From the clothes she would date the photo in the late forties or early fifties. Who was the woman? Why did her features look familiar?
"Audrina?"
She clutched the frame to her breast and looked at Damian, uncertainty splayed across her face. Who was he?
He pointed toward the picture. "That's Esther and I years ago. I loved her very much, but…" his voice trailed off.
"But what?"
"She didn't want to be my lover, choosing to remain my friend."
"Lover?" Audrina arched an eyebrow.
Damian stood and held out his hand. "I've lived for over one hundred and fifty years, but Esther's loss almost destroyed me."
The flame flickered, casting stark eerie shadows over his cheekbones, giving him a feral appearance.
"What are you?"
He snared her eyes with his intense gaze. "I am a werewolf. Stay with me."
Attraction tumbled next to apprehension. "Why?"
"Because you feel the attraction between us, like I do." He paused. "I've been waiting lifetimes for you. I thought Esther might be my mate, but she was not."
"I don't understand."
"Esther's scent was close, but you, your scent, it's driving me wild, giving me hope. No one else has ever made me feel like this. You're my soulmate. Please stay."
Audrina couldn't deny the ache that thrummed throughout her body, despite the tension that coursed through her. What should she do? Dare she believe his claim? After several long minutes, she remained in her seat.
Word Count: 1376
FIND ME ON THE WEB AT:
WEBSITE:
http://www.stephanieburkhart.com
TWITTER:
http://twitter.com/StephBurkhart
FACEBOOK:
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Stephanie-Burkhart-Author/149938795021166
GOOD READS:
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4031660.Stephanie_Burkhart
Monday, October 24, 2011
What Pumps Your Blood?
What I love about Halloween are the movies: the slasher, the zombie, the gore. Some channels have thirty-one days of movies, others have fifteen days, and then there's the obscure movie you might find on other channels. How do I choose what to watch? Sometimes it's a real nail-biter. Now that we have Netflix, we check to see which one is not available and that's what we watch.
And yeah, we know most horror films are not the best. Either they have lousy scripts, lousy actors or both. Still we watch. We love the blood pumping feeling, the unexpected, even the expected. I jump and my sons laughs.
So why do so many people gravitate towards what I consider B movies? Why do we? The darkness, the shadows, the chilling screams. Yes, it's part of it.
Mostly, I think it's the music. The video and audio guys are pure genius when it comes to selecting the tone and temple. Music affects a part of us in so many ways, sadness, that ooie-gooey feeling, and the heart pumping expectancy of danger. We're thrill seekers.
A favorite of mine is Halloween, the orignial 1978 version. As many times as I see it, it never gets old, it never fails to draw the fear, the jumps, and get the blood pumping. The music is amazing, considering the composer couldn't read a note.
What are some of your favorite Halloween movies? What creeps you out?
Bekki
http://bekkilynn.net/
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Jenny Twist: 'Take One at Bedtime'
Margaret’s Ghost is just one of a collection of short stories consisting mainly of horror and science fiction, ranging from a classic gothic tale – Jack Trevellyn – to the Wyndhamesque Victim of Fortune, and the modern Waiting for Daddy, with its spine-chilling twist.
There is also the occasional excursion into romance with A Castle in Spain and Jess’s Girl.
But most of these tales take you to a place which is not quite as it seems.
It’s bedtime now. Time to go upstairs. Time to take a look.
Just one look.
WARNING: Do not exceed the stated dose.
Published by Melange Books 23rd April – Editors’ Pick. http://www.melange-books.com/
Available on Amazon and Kindle
http://www.amazon.com/Take-One-at-Bedtime-ebook/dp/B0053CYTA2/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1312020721&sr=8-1
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Take-One-at-Bedtime-ebook/dp/B0053CYTA2/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1306922804&sr=8-1-spell
ISBN: 978-1-61235-064-6
https://sites.google.com/site/jennytwistauthor/
Hi everyone. Here is an excerpt from one of the tales in Take One At Bedtime:
EXCERPT from The Apple Tree:
When I was four years old, my mother took me and my brother and sister to go and live in Yorkshire. It is, I think, my earliest memory.
I remember the enormous station with the great iron trains clanking and snorting clouds of steam. And I remember being frightened by the crowds of people and clutching tight to my mother for fear that I would get lost in that forest of legs. I remember the train leaving London and seeing the open countryside for the first time, marvelling at all that space.
My sister Mary chattered excitedly throughout the journey, but my brother Jim stared morosely out of the window, angry at being made to leave his friends and miss the excitement of the war.
It had been arranged that we would stay the night with my mother’s aunts near Liverpool, before continuing our journey the next day. She referred to them as the ‘maiden aunts’ and I expected them to look like the maidens in my fairytale book, with long frocks and pointy hats. I was rather disappointed, therefore, when I met them, to find they were just two ordinary old ladies.
The house seemed to me to be very big and I was particularly impressed with an enormous fireplace, made out of some kind of white stone and carved with a picture of some dogs and a lady with hardly any clothes on.
And I remember the apple.
As we were leaving the following day, one of the maidens took me into the garden and there was a very tall tree standing by a little gate, laden with red-gold fruit.
“Would you like one, Johnny?” asked the maiden. I nodded and she held me up so I could reach the fruit. I remember cupping it in my hand and feeling the soft, silky texture of its skin.
“It’s all right, Johnny,” said the maiden. “You can eat it.”
I’m not entirely sure that I had realised up to then that it was something to eat. I bit into it and the flavour flooded into my mouth. I was overwhelmed by it. I am sure I had never tasted anything like it before. I suppose that fruit of any kind must have been fairly scarce in wartime London. So it was possible that I had never tasted an apple before. And fruit always tastes best when it is plucked straight from the tree. But even allowing for the novelty and the freshness, I think that apple was something special. I can still remember the flavour now, after all these years - crisp, sharp and sweet all at the same time.
I don’t remember the rest of the journey. I suppose we got another train. But I remember the fuss when we arrived at grandma’s, the kissing and hugging and exclamations about how much we had grown. And then I was sitting on granddad’s knee and he was teaching me how to make a cat’s cradle. I was so fascinated by this, that I did not immediately realise that something was wrong. Then granddad’s fingers stopped moving and he looked up. So did I.
Grandma seemed to be upset. “But you can’t have done,” she shouted. “You can’t have stayed at Celia and Maude’s. They’re dead. They died six weeks ago. I wrote to you.”
My mother flinched, but didn’t say a word.
“I had a letter from the government.” Grandma cried. “The house was bombed. They’re both dead.”
“There must have been a mistake,” said my mother. “They’re all right, Mum. We saw them this morn-”
“Judith!” My grandmother’s voice cut across my mother’s like a knife. “We went to the funeral.” She glanced across at Granddad, who nodded sadly. “We saw the house. There was nothing there. Just rubble.” And Grandma burst into tears.
My mother put her hand to her forehead and sat down suddenly, as if her strings had been cut. But she didn’t say another word. In fact, as far as I know, nobody ever mentioned it again. Not until the day of the funeral.
Enjoy
Jenny Twist
https://sites.google.com/site/jennytwistauthor/
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Shadow Love - A Ghost Hunter Romance
What a fun short story to write!
When I volunteered to write a strange story for an anthology, I had no clue what I was going to do. I sat down and played around with a couple of ideas and Shadow Love evolved from those. And maybe the fact that at the time I was watching Ghost Hunter shows on television, so that probably gave the story a boost in the making.
I still may work one of the initial ideas into something, who knows. I like ghosts and believe in them.
I hope you'll check out the story. If I had to pick a secondary character who deserved honorary mention, Zack would be it. I think he gave the story life.
Blurb:
Carla Kingston claimed to have been accosted by a ghost when she was seventeen years old. In confidence, she told her best friend, who dropped her like hot coals. Ten years later, Bobby Whitten returns with a change of heart, but can he handle watching her enjoy being made love to by a shadow of a person who was murdered more than a hundred years ago?
Small Excerpt:
“Maybe. Zack, I have a strange feel about what's to come.”
“I told you, it’s the two of you together that is stirring them up,” Zack told her.
“You’re being redundant.”
“Stop sucking face and things will quiet.”
“Ha, ha.”
“What?” Bobby asked.
“Zack says they’re jealous and trying to get my attention, so we need to stop sucking face.” His eyes narrowed, and she found it amusing to watch him look around the place. “He can’t see us.” She tapped the headset. “Hearing.”
“Oh,” he said before a grin crept across his face.
“Zack, while the troops feel they need to gather, I’m going in to do some fishing.”
“Not a good idea. Too many.”
“I’ll be fine. They love me, you said so yourself.”
“Right now, it may not be unanimous if you get my drift.”
“Yeah, I get it.” It would definitely be worth it if her infatuated ghost was jealous enough to take things to a new level.
“I think it’d be interesting to take Bobby in the house with you and see what happens.”
She laughed. “You’re ornery.”
“Well, go have fun. I’ve got your back.”
“Appreciated. Switching to wireless.” She set the headset down and turned it off. “Remember what I said. Don’t interfere,” she reminded Bobby while putting on a wireless headset and attached the battery pack to the back of her jeans.
“What’re you doing?”
“My job. You can watch and listen, but you won’t be able to talk to me. Nor will I be able to hear you.” Flipping on the speaker nestled between the monitors near a receiver, she informed him, “Only Zack will be able to talk to me.” Carla pulled a jacket on, grabbed her kit, put the file of photos in it and turned at the door. “I’ll be back,” she said in the gruffest tone she could manage. He didn’t smile. She walked up to him and kissed him. “Relax.”
Carla left and crossed the street to enter the property. Her heart pounded against her chest cavity. She latched the gate behind her, took out her handheld thermal meter along with the K2 meter, turned them on and went up the walk to the porch steps and up to the front door. She shivered when she entered a cold spot. “I’ve entered coldness, fifty-one degrees.”
“Daybreak temps been steady at fifty-seven.”
“No visuals, but you,” Bobby added.
She pulled the keys from her pocket. “Going in.”
Available at Smashwords and Amazon
I'm hoping by Halloween, the story will be up at other venues.
Bekki
http://bekkilynn.net/
Monday, September 19, 2011
Beautiful Worlds of Realism
While we're all aware of the downsides of the times in which we live, this doesn't mean wonderful things aren't happening. Or that wonderful things can't come from ordinary or seemingly catastrophic events from one's childhood.
I love to reach into a hat so-to-speak and run with whatever idea comes out of it. The wonderful thing about writing is that you can turn any situation into a happily ever after.
When I begin a story, I don't usually think about location or setting. My main focus are the characters. After all, it's their lives which capture us and make us feel their ups and downs as they fight and struggle for what they see as their ultimate goal to happiness. Often they figure out what they thought they wanted isn't at all what they want or only a part of it. It's creative magic.
In most of my stories, if not all, I hope I show those who can relate a happily ever after is possible. I want to encourage them to seek it or be open to it. Isn't that what romance stories are supposed to do?
Not all of my characters have reasons to fear love and commitment caused by past hurts, but they can be hindered by outside sources. Many of us work for a business with 'no fraternizing' policies between management and employees. This can cause stress in employees who feel an attraction, but can't act on it. Stress can be manifested in many ways: anger, immature behavior, arguments, extra work, etc. It also leaves lots of room for misinterpretation. But when the feelings over power them, it can lead to an explosive interlude.How about secondary characters? I've been accused of having too many characters in my books, it's confusing. How so is beyond my comprehension. People have friends, family, and coworkers they interact with every day of their lives, why shouldn't our characters? It makes them three dimensional - complete. If done right, these people add depth and insight to further make our characters real people. And often some of them earn their own story.
Or maybe the work place is the connecting piece to a series as I've done in the Servin' It Up series although the last two books are sitting on my computer. In book one, A Psychic Hitch, we know by the end Cheri will be leaving Rogan's Steakhouse so someone has to replace her. Often the assistant is offered the job, which was Lucas. Who replaced him as assistant? Cole in Last Glass of Wine and when he left, he was replaced with a woman who then became Lucas' love interest in book three, Beth Jarvis. I was able to bring back Cheri and Allen along with Cole and Lana for a cameo appearance in this story thanks to an event Beth put together. That was fun. However, in book four, I went for a twist and left the play up to the staff using an outsider to infiltrate to catch a thief.
I think writing realism is every bit as fun as world builders must have writing worlds we can get caught up in. And now that I've pumped myself up, I need to get back a story itching to get out.
Bekki
http://bekkilynn.net/
Friday, September 16, 2011
Beautiful Worlds - The Magic of Budapest
By: Stephanie Burkhart
I've always been drawn to Europe's castles, it's towering cathedrals, and it's quaint little villages. When I was stationed in Germany in the late 1980's and early 1990's, I loved going on "volksmarches" throughout the countryside and seeing the heart of the nation.
Then the Berlin Wall fell and opened up a totally new and exhilarating world – the Eastern half of Europe. Having been guarded by an "iron curtain," this side of Europe was exposed to all after 40 years. In 1997, I was deployed to Kaspovar, Hungary and in Oct that year, I went on a USO tour to Budapest. Next to Berlin, Budapest is one of the most beautiful worlds I've ever seen, so it was fitting, when I was crafting a new paranormal series involving witches and werewolves, Budapest seemed like the most natural setting in the world for the series.
There are two sides to Budapest – Buda and Pest. The city is divided by the Danube River and there are three bridges and multiple islands in the river. The Buda side is to the west on a hill overlooking the river and houses the St. Matthias Church, Fisherman's Bastian, and the Castle district, including the royal castle, Buda Castle. The Pest side is to the east of the river, relativity flat and houses the Parliament building, The University of Fine Arts, and the downtown shopping area. Budapest's main train terminal is in Pest. The Széchenyi Bridge is a suspension bridge first built in the 1840's to connect the two cities.
St. Matthias Church is one of the oldest churches in Budapest. It's over 700 years old and is next to Fisherman's Bastian. The Bastian is a series of seven towers overlooking the Danube, representing the seven Magyar tribes that settled the city. It was completed in 1902. Buda Castle was built on the southern tip of Castle Hill, bounded on the north by what is known as the Castle District famous for its Medieval, Baroque and 19th century houses, churches and public buildings.
The Parliament building was completed in 1896 and houses the Hungarian Parliament. The Hungarians have proven themselves to have quite a flair for their architecture. At night, when the lights shine over the city, it comes alive with old world ambience. A reader just might believe the city is full of magic, and with that magic, you just might believe in werewolves.
Book 1, The Hungarian, takes place between England and Hungary in 1901. On the cover is a picture of the Széchenyi Bridge which stands tall and proud, a true testament to Hungarian tenacity and their strong will.
Book 2, The Count's Lair, takes place during the Christmas season of 1901-1902. On the cover is a depiction of a castle, "Ravenwind," Anton's estate, lit up at night time, capturing that old world ambience.
Book 3, Danube in Candlelight, takes place in the summer of 1922. It is due to be released in NOV 2011, and while I don't have the cover, the book addresses the Hungarian peoples' strong will as it struggles to overcome the shadow of World War I.
Book Trailers:
The Hungarian: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MZwaF8hAdow
The Count's Lair: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DaiYNNpETok
Reviews for The Hungarian:
"I enjoyed this book immensely... Katherine doesn’t know exactly what she’s getting into when she falls in love with Matthias but she proves to be a strong heroine that I could really root for. Matthias is dark and troubled, to me an old-fashioned romance hero who needs the love of a strong woman to bring him back from the dark side...This is an excellent book and I think fans of both the paranormal and historical romances will really, really enjoy it."
Happily Ever After Reviews
Rating = 5 Cups of Tea and BUY NOW!
"This book is extremely entertaining. The plot is sensual and romantic. Katherine and Mathias play were together. This is the first book in a new series. I look forward to reading the next entry."
Reader's Favorites - Book Reviews
Rating = 5 Stars
Reviews for: The Count's Lair:
"Want a recipe for a great story? Take an awesome writer like Ms. Burkhart, stir in her intimate knowledge of Hungary, her innate ability to create wonderful characters, a book-full of suspense, mystery and passion and you get a book you can’t put down."
Fennel -- Long and Short Reviews
Rating = 5 Books.
Nominated for BOOK OF THE WEEK!
The Count’s Lair is filled with suspense, mystery, passion, and the paranormal. This story is set in the beautiful city of Budapest; the author brings her knowledge of the area to her plot. She describes the history and culture of Budapest... I was cheering for Anton. However, for me the best scene was the last one when Anton gives Amelia her choice. He held her with an open hand."
Reader's Favorite Book Reviews
Rating = 5 Stars
Find me on the Web at:
WEBSITE:
http://www.stephanieburkhart.com
BLOG:
http://sgcardin.blogspot.com
TWITTER:
http://twitter.com/StephBurkhart
FACEBOOK FAN PAGE:
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Stephanie-Burkhart-Author/149938795021166
GOODREADS:
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4031660.Stephanie_Burkhart
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