Author: Shyla Colt
Genre: Romance/Science Fiction/Fantasy
Dates: 21st – 25th of May
Hosted by: Ultimate Fantasy Book Tours
Blurb: With two coronations to attend, you’d think the universe would stop piling catastrophes on top of Louella Eschete, but you’d be dead wrong. As she prepares to ascend two thrones, one as Lady of the Cortez Vampire Court and the other as Matriarch of the Eschete Witches, she must face a new evil.
Just when Lou is ready to stab a seamstress with a hat pin, murder and strange occurrences begin to happen around her city. Stolen corpses in the cemetery, decapitated astronomers, and hearts taken from nursing homes is odd, even for Louisiana. There is no rhyme or reason to the carnage, but the sigil left behind at a scene points to something ancient.
It’s a race against the clock for humanity. There’ll be nothing to rule if everyone’s dead.
Shyla Colt is the sassy international bestseller of the popular series Kings of Chaos and Dueling Devils M.C. These genre-hopping stories feature three of her favorite things: strong females, pop culture, and alternate routes to happy ever after. Listening to her Romani soul, she pens from the heart, allowing the dynamic characters, eccentric interests, and travels as a former flight attendant to take her down untraveled roads.
Born and raised in Cincinnati, Ohio, this mid-west girl is proud of her roots. She used her hometown and the surrounding areas as a backdrop for a number of books. So, if you’re a Buckeye, keep an eye out for familiar places.
As a full-time writer, stay at home mother, and wife, there's never a dull moment in her household. She weaves her tales in spare moments and the evenings with a cup of coffee or tea at her side and the characters in her head for company.
To find out more about Shyla Colt you can visit her at:
I nudge the crumbling dirt around the exterior of the grave with the toe of my black combat boot and peer down into the gaping hole recently filled in. The freshly turned soil is still loose and damp. It emits an earthy aroma that reminds me of gardening. A four-foot angel lay on it’s back, a mockery of the being it resembles. Its marble wings lay in pieces. Cracks run through the base of the tombstone, obscuring the messages chosen by loved ones for Imelda Agustin. The blatant disregard and disrespect for a final resting spot is cringeworthy. Chaos in a spot meant for eternal peace sickens me.
The black coffin at the bottom of the six-foot descent looks like a bomb has gone off inside of it. Splintered wood juts out at jagged angles. Scarlet drops, rapidly turning a rusty red as they oxygenate, stand out against the white satin lining. There’s no blood in a body post-mortem unless we’re talking the undead.
“I think you might’ve downplayed it when you said you had a problem,” I say dryly.
I glance over at Donald Woodman. Clad in a pair of gray overalls, the lesser earth Faerie looks completely human thanks to magic. His warm ivory skin tone, dirty blond hair, and slight frame wouldn’t turn heads at a glance until you looked closer. An angular face, upturned nose, and thick lashes framing gemstone-like sea-green eyes make him beautiful. Only, not inhumanly so. Over time, the Fae have learned how to blend in.
Like many of his kind, he chooses to pass his time in the human realm, performing a job that keeps him close to the element he has an infinity for. As a witch, I see him as he’s meant to be. From the tips of his curved and pointed-tipped ears, to the unblemished porcelain skin, cupid’s bow lips, and ash-blond wavy locks, he’s perfection.
“Any clue what happened here?” I scan the area he’s roped off for signs of who or what could’ve done this. Other than a few shoe impressions, there’s nothing obvious, which tells me this is purely a supernatural problem.
“No. My crew and I finished burying the body last night around seven o’clock. We packed everything up and went home for the evening as usual. When I came in today and did a walk of the grounds, I found this.” He gestures toward the body less grave with his hands.
“Has anything like this ever happened before?”
“Nothing remotely close. We’ve gotten the occasional grave robber in, but they’re looking for jewelry, not bodies.” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his dark blue jumpsuit and shrugs his shoulders.
That makes sense. Grave robbing is an outdated and obselete practice. “I’m going to take some samples for testing. You’ll have to keep this part of the cemetery sealed off. Tell them you’re having an issue with drainage. Reroute. Postpone. Do whatever you need to, including using
your gift of persuasion. We can’t have rumors about the dead reanimating and walking around.” Even if it is true.
“You know we’re not supposed to tamper with humans,” Donny says quietly. Relations between humans and Fae have always been tentative at best. The deals brokered to afford peaceful cohabitation are stringent.
“Louella Esçhete is giving you the sanction. There will be no backlash. You’re doing the community a favor.” Some perks come along with the complications of belonging to a powerful magical family.