Do you love SF? Do you love all things Vampires? Are you like me? Just a bit blood thirsty? If so, then you’re going to want to give this author, and what she has to offer a look.
Just who is ROSEMARY A JOHNS? And, What makes her tick?
ROSEMARY A JOHNS is author of the bestselling Blood Dragons and Blood Shackles – the compelling Rebel Vampires series. Blood Renegades is released June 2017.
ROSEMARY A JOHNS is a music fanatic and a lover of the anti-hero. She wrote her first fantasy novel at the age of ten, when she discovered the weird worlds inside her head were more exciting than double swimming. Since then she’s studied history at Oxford University, run a theatre company (her critically acclaimed plays have been described as “uncomfortable, unsettling and uneasily true to life”), and worked with disability charities as well.
When Rosemary’s not falling in love with the rebels fighting their way onto the page, she heads the Oxford writing group Dreaming Spires.
Rosemary A Johns is a Goodreads
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Rosemary A Johns is a Goodreads
Books by, ROSEMARY A JOHNS and What Reviewers think of them.
Bestselling Blood Dragons:
Escape into a supernatural world of love, revenge and redemption.
“In a precarious world where vampires are both predator and prey, Blood Dragons deftly blends elements of paranormal thriller and passionate romance… A character-driven, sizzling-hot saga” – Midwest Book Review
There are three people in this affair…and two of them aren’t human. In a divided paranormal London, Light is the rebel bad boy vampire of the Blood Lifer world, with a photographic memory. And a Triton motorbike. Since Victorian times he’s hidden in the shadows with Ruby – a savage Elizabethan. She burns with destructive love for Light. But he’s keeping a secret from her, which breaks every rule in Blood Life.
5* Highly recommended: ‘For anyone who is just looking for something a bit different, a bit edgy, something that will amuse you, frighten you and take you on one hell of a journey into love, death, humanity, and monsters’ – Underground Book Reviews
1960s London. Kathy is a seductive singer. But she’s also human. When the two worlds collide, it could mean the end. For both species.
When Light discovers his ruthless family’s horrifying experiments, he questions whether he should be slaying or saving the humans he’s always feared. Now he’s trapped in a race against time to save them all. The consequences of failure are unimaginable. Unless Light plays the part of hero, he risks losing everything. Including the two women he loves.
A rebel, a red-haired devil and a Moon Girl battle to save the world – or tear it apart.
“One of the most unique & ingenious vampire books I have ever read …reminded me very much of Anne Rice’s The Vampire Chronicles” Leather and Lace Reviews.
Latest Release Blood Shackles:
When your whole species is enslaved – and it’s the humans who are acting like the monsters – how far would you go to free your family?
5* “When Light is captured, he refuses to lose himself, despite how his captors try to break his spirit. Being sold to Grayse is the ticket he needs out of his cell, even though her father owns the company that enslaves him… Blood Shackles is brutally honest, tragic, triumphant, addictive, and somehow hopeful… Johns succeeded in creating a world, characters, and a story that pulled me in until I had to finish reading it… This is a novel everyone should read, along with Blood Dragons” – Readers’ Favorite
In a divided paranormal London, Light is the bad boy vampire of the Blood Lifer world. Since Victorian times he’s hidden in the shadows. But not now. When he’s bought by his Mistress, Light fights to escape. If he doesn’t, he’ll never solve the conspiracy behind the Blood Club.
5* “Light is back and he’s his usual charming, funny, wry, ballsy self… A story about the triumph of hope and love over evil.” – Margarita Morris, The Good Writer
WELCOME TO THE BLOOD CLUB
Who are these ruthless humans? And who betrayed the secret of the Blood Lifer world?
WHERE THE PREDATORS
London, Primrose Hill. Grayse is the slaver’s daughter. She buys Light, like he’s a pair of designer shoes. So why does Light feel so drawn to her? Especially when his family is still in chains. Will he risk everything – even his new love – to save them?
BECOME THE PREY
A stunning revelation leads Light to an inconceivable truth. If he can face his worst terrors, he can save his family and his whole species from slavery.
Maybe he can even save himself.
5* “…you can’t put the book down…” – Rockchick Addiction Reviews
Want a taste of her writing? Here’s just a drop to wet your blood thirsty appitite
EXCERPT (BLOOD DRAGONS)
MAY 1964 BRIGHTON, ENGLAND
‘By heaven, look at these ruffianly roaring boys. This is it – your tonic – to get back into the fray. The blood and heat of it.’
I’d nicked a bright red Jaguar E-Type (beautiful little number), and we’d tonned it up to the coast for Whitsun Bank Holiday. Yet now we’d found ourselves caught in a war between two gangs.
A Mod in smart Italian suit and fish-tailed Parka sped past us on his Lambretta Li150, only to be blocked by a wall of hard men Rockers, in dirty motorcycle jackets, who were swinging heavy bike chains. The poor git was dragged away by his lapels, like a fancy sacrificial offering to the gods of leather.
‘What do they want?’
Ruby shrugged. ‘What do First Lifers ever want? Question is, what do we want?’
I hesitated, before grinning. ‘The Bedlam. To revel in the madness, like we used to. I want–’
That’s when Ruby kissed me. She hauled me close, as her tongue thrust deep, like she’d only just discovered me again after a long absence: I realised she only just had. When she drew back, we were both smiling. ‘To live in the world again?’
Screams? The shattering of glass? Curling smoke on the night air?
I was bloody alive once more.
Ruby and I swaggered through the shadowed streets, towards the promenade and Palace Pier – her in crimson silk, me in military Great Coat – two creatures from another world and time, unnoticed by these petty First Lifers because we weren’t painted in the colours of their tribe. We twirled each other round, dancing in the carnage and the flames.
Mods fleeing, with gashes on their foreheads, their coats flapping behind them. Couples sprawled under the stars, on a beach where the pebbles met the sea, as turned on by the violence and danger as any Blood Lifer, pretending to be oblivious to a ring of Mods, who were kicking a curled foetus of a Rocker bloody with their sharp winklepickers. Deckchairs smouldering in orange bonfires, which lit a town prowled by leather clad kids on Triton motorbikes.
Flick-knives, coshes, knuckle-dusters…
Here’s the thing, the deadliest weapon of all? It was this type of wild confusion, which was like a force of nature. The quick change from predator to prey and back again, in the turn of a corner.
It was glorious to watch: it fizzed. We laughed at the brutality. It was a cosmic bloody joke. But I know you won’t get the irony. First Lifers never sodding do.
It was powerful – the smell of all that free flowing blood, which surged with adrenaline.
Remember what I told you about Grace’s blood? Well take that and amplify it tenfold, hundred fold, sod it, a thousand fold. Bugger me, was it mind blowing.
It had this added masculine, tooled up excitement; don’t tell me those blokes weren’t getting off on it because they were and without the excuse of blood drugging their veins. They were high on the fear and the fight and it was delicious – to them and to me.
That’s what awakened me to the world again. Ruby had been right: all I’d needed had been a right good barney.
As we flitted towards the onion-domed Palace Pier, however, the night was quietening, as the pigs rounded up the oiks and battered them. Those who were left, had broken down into aimless wandering. All right then, so there was a hard-core, still battling it out in the blackest corners, slashing and carving or giving some bleeder a hiding. But do you know what I saw? Amidst a night of folk devils?
Some hulking Rocker, with skull and crossbones on the back of his grungy leathers, jumped off his motorbike to help an old biddy safely up the steps of her Regency terrace.
Ruby and me exchanged a disgusted glance.
Bored, Ruby slipped her hand down towards my todger, but I caught it.
Swearing. Loud scuffles coming from the Palace Pier. Ruby and I both turned to listen.
The pier was spooky in the evening light (and yeah, I can still find things spooky because we’re not the only things that go bump in the night). The lights were blazing down the pier’s ornate length, even though it was closed up. The funfair was shut too, which was a shame because I could’ve done with a game or two.
Ruby nodded. Then we swooped towards the pier, hands entwined.
A Mod – not a scratch on him and dead smart in a reversible jacket and polo shirt buttoned up to his pale neck – was scrapping with a Rocker, who was twice his size (and twice his age as well). Strange thing was, there were bands of Mods and Rockers slouched around watching, smoking and bantering, as if they were at a bloody football match.
This wasn’t the white hot rush of Bedlam: it was the cool truce of Christmas day in wartime.
Then I saw him – this wanker of a photographer – snapping away at his staged fight, like a god.
And I knew I was going to taste him, just to hear him pose for me, whilst he screamed.
‘They came for a real fight, did they not?’ Ruby’s mouth curved into a smile.
I hunched my shoulders, as I pulled Ruby closer to me by her waist; I wanted to feel every inch of her. ‘Then how about we give them one?’
We threw ourselves down the pier as one, towards the make-believe. We, however, were real – we were too bloody real and with fist and boot, like the Blue Fairy, we made them into real little boys too, Mod and Rocker alike: bleeding little boys.
EXCERPT (BLOOD SHACKLES)
‘London’s not yours.’
I stiffened. ‘The Lost have walked these streets as long as you humans,’ I whispered, low and intense, ‘which makes them ours, as much as yours.’
I might as well have clouted you. You drew back, with a shiver. ‘You hunt here – parasitically. But England? The world? It belongs to us. You’re just…’
‘Parasites?’ I offered. You didn’t even have the decency to look away.
‘These are my streets,’ you tapped the sticky table for emphasis, in a boozer, street, postcode you’d never have ventured into, if it hadn’t been for me.
I took a drag on my e-cig. ‘Over hundred and fifty years says different, sweetheart.’
You wore that narked expression, which I’d hoped we’d left behind for the night. ‘My home. Not yours.’
‘Any reason it can’t be both?’
‘On account of you’re…’ You stopped yourself, pushing your Guinness away with a jerky shove. Your shoulders slumped. You finished softly, ‘…not human.’
‘Right. Because I’d missed that.’ I took a mouthful of nuts, munching thoughtfully. You’d withdrawn hermit-crab like, your hair falling in two curtains over your mug. ‘There were humans once, who thought like you, the last time a Blood Lifer had the courage to reveal himself to a First Lifer. It was one of my ancestors. A man of reason, in an age of superstition. He reckoned our two species could live out in the open – side by side – so I was told. These First Lifers? They thought he was the devil.’ You’d raised your nut. I could see your peepers – dark grey now – through the veil of your hair.
‘They burnt him.’
Now that you’ve read all about this fascinating author who lives with one foot in reality and the other in a world of SF like nothing you’ve ever read before, and had a taste of her writing…would you like to meet her, and the characters from the world within she sometimes resides? If so I’ve got a treat for you…
What? The Ides of March…
When? Why, on March 15th of course…
Brought to you by the one! The only!
Web Site: http://tomfallwell.com