Here's a sneak peek:

Dugo's Concept Art!

It's simple and sweet and reflects the fact that new characters are showing up in Dugo, the next installment of the Bellocaro Saga. The cover art gives a hint as to the nature of one of them, but like many things in life and fiction — looks can be deceiving. An excerpt from the new novel will be posted here soon.

Happy Reading,

P.S. Meraux

About the cover...

As an indie author, I get a lot of writing advice, even more advice about marketing —especially the unsolicited kind from vendors trying to sell  their services. One bit of advice that I’d heard much about is creating/selecting a book cover.

 Readers shop with their eyes — I’ve heard this constantly.

They look for familiarity and yet simultaneously yearn for something different, enjoyable and engaging.  The design styles for different book genres were established long before I was born. The goal of the  cover is to get the reader to take a closer look, evoke interest, and hopefully produce a sale.

YA readers don’t actually like scantily clad figures on the cover, or exposed body parts— after all what if your mom walked in while you were reading it?

Thanks to Twilight, a hand holding an apple sends a clear message of temptation and vampire romance.  The key is to embrace the trend and give the reader a reason to open the book and keep turning pages.  The hand holding an apple trend was embraced by other authors like Michael Grant, Katherine Applegate, and Marissa Meyer — all took a bite of the apple theme for their covers.

Many experts say: ‘if your book reads like (book)... pick a similar cover.’

Let’s face it, Bellocaro’s cover feels familiar and there’s a good bit of logic behind that. While one shouldn’t just a book by its cover, we all do. Readers’ expectations are largely shaped by this cover image. And anyone who reads Bellocaro will see right away that I pay homage to Twilight; a book series I enjoyed, although truth be told, I liked the books more than the movies.

So when it came to selecting and purchasing the artwork for Bellocaro, I chose with care. I chose the familiar because I wanted to set readers' expectations.

For writers who are also YA readers like myself, setting up expectations about your book is viewed as a good marketing move. It shapes the reader's perception before they crack the spine, or read the first page. Once they do, they’ll be hooked on a different kind of life and death story.

Some of the most gratifying feedback I’ve received from readers:

—“Based on the cover, I thought it was going to be like Twilight, and there is a feeling like that, but boy, I  didn’t see that coming!”

Or

— “Wow, I noticed some similarities and thought I knew what was going to happen, I was so surprised and pleased I was wrong!”

Or

— “Holy Crap, (paraphrased for a PG audience) I didn’t see that coming, or that, or that.”

Some of my toughest critics are Twilight fans, who say seeing Bellocaro’s cover made them laugh and gave them a sense of nostalgia, taking them back a decade to when they first discovered the Cullen clan. After reading Bellocaro, they tracked me down on social media to tell me how much they enjoyed my book.

So while I understand some readers  or other authors may not approve of the choice of covers, contrary to what you may think, a great deal of thought did go into selecting it.

Happy reading.  

P.S. Meraux

P.S. Meraux blatantly tempts fans of the vampire love-story genre with a bite of a new apple in her jaw-dropping novel.

 

ATLANTA, GA/  P.S. Meraux launches Bellocaro on Kindle, Nook, Apple, and paperback. She combines her expertise in paranormal romance, young adult care-giver stress and vampire lore to give a unique take on the complex questions surrounding the love lives of immortals.

 ATLANTA, GA / P.S. Meraux finally completed the launch of “Bellocaro” on Kindle, Nook, Apple, and paperback. In this book, P.S. Meraux taps her background in journalism to create a fiction novel that is guaranteed to ignite your interest in exploring the love life of a new teen vampire.

 

After completing her degree in journalism at USC in 1996, P.S. Meraux used her love of writing to land multiple jobs in broadcasting, winning several awards, including a DuPont - Columbia University Award and an Emmy from the Natl. Academy of Television Arts and Sciences for breaking news coverage of the 2004 Asian Tsunami. Rising through the ranks to editor, she claimed a spot at a publishing house before branching out on her own to write novels in 2013 which have won numerous awards, including several Readers’ Favorite accolades.

"Bellocaro" was inspired by P.S. Meraux's investigation of the current subject matter available to readers of the popular teen romance vampire genre and the startling revelation that followed about the lack of quality books with intricate plots to keep readers guessing. In this novel, she explores the concept of how romance might look if the female protagonist knew that her death had been foreseen in a vision by the very vampire-suitor who pursues her.

Bellocaro follows teenager, Skye Moon, after she is mysteriously transported to a paranormal island. She navigates the pitfalls of teenage boys, new friends, and unexpected danger after she meets a strange and compelling boy, Thatcher Blue. She is targeted by a vengeful vampire for being near Thatcher.  

When reading the book, readers will be sure to challenge their own beliefs about premonitions, and the risks a person is willing to take for love. The book is suited to anyone living in today's digital age and is not limited to the young adult paranormal romance audience.

Bellocaro is P.S. Meraux’s ninth novel. Due to her expertise in both young adult themes and fictional vampire environments, she is uniquely positioned to intertwine such subjects to examine the complex questions surrounding the love lives of immortals.

You can find P.S. Meraux on Twitter at https://twitter.com/psmeraux and her book, Bellocaro, is available in the following formats: Kindle and paperback.

An excerpt from my new novel, Bellocaro:

 Whatever was coming — it was getting closer.

Feeling tense my eyes scoured the dark bushes, trying to discern whatever was in the gloom. Tegwyn’s admonishments rang out in my memory, “Nothing should be able to hurt you here, but don’t push it.” Should? Surely there weren’t wild animals on the island too, right?

There was a flicker of movement, a dark shape barely visible against the blackness of the surrounding forest it traveled through. I narrowed my gaze trying to figure out what it was. The shape slowed. Head dipping to the ground like it was sniffing at something or had caught a scent. A thudding heartbeat later I realized what it smelled was me.

Suddenly the massive bulk of a muzzle shifted through the conifers, jaw dropping to reveal a glistening row of sharp white teeth. The intimidating display of lethal-looking incisors must have been a foot long!

Panting from its run, the creature came to a stop after passing by the last branch of a bald cypress. I used the word creature because it defied common sense. Having quickly caught its breath, the tongue pulled back in the muzzle and the paws began to move.

What I saw was freaking enormous, covered in dark fur. Paws the size of horse’s hooves were steadily coming closer. The monster was unquestionably more lupine than equine.

“Oh my God,” I huffed out a frightened breath, fearing I might hyperventilate. A chill ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the October evening breeze.

Calling it a wolf was an insult to nightmares. While it was shaped like one — it was like a wolf on steroids. The bad kind, that made the user ginormous, stupid, and overly aggressive. I imagined bulging, ugly veins hidden under the thick fur.

The clouds must have drifted past the moon, I didn’t dare take my eyes off the creature to make sure. Moonlight illuminated its fur revealing touches of gray and silver in the mud-splattered hide.

My earlier dark thoughts about stepping off the railing cast aside, now I really did wonder if this was to be my last night on Sceadu.

To the left I heard something else coming through the bushes, fast with more agile footsteps. Was there another one? My hands began to grow clammy against the cold metal.

“Oh crap!” I gulped, terrified.

Unexpectedly, as the noise of whatever followed the massive beast got closer, there was a flash of blue fabric in front of me. Then two things happened so swiftly I couldn’t tell which happened first.

“No chase! No!” A voice hissed in the gloom so softly I could have imagined it.

“What the hell—” the soft voice said a second later, sounding more aggrieved.

Darting through the branches of two mature cedars bounded another monster wolf. It shifted from the cover of the forest into the clearing with such speed that it took a moment to discern that it wasn’t alone; not one but two more giant wolves! Neither as big as the first but now swarming around it. Massive teeth nipped at the grayish creature like they were trying to bite it or halt it.

They seemed to perceive this nocturnal excursion with more intensity than their larger cousin, adamant in the attempt to get the monster wolf’s attention, trampling the weeds and grass in a slapdash manner.

Frightened out of my socks, I forgot that there was nothing but a long drop behind me and lifted one foot off the rail with the intention of running like the wind, abruptly stumbling. I gasped and quickly tried to correct my mistake, wildly groping the metal rail with slick hands. My body vibrated with fear as I stared into the black abyss below.

Without warning, cool fingers gently encircled one wrist, locking it in place with the power of a vice. Another set grabbed the opposite forearm as I struggled to get my feet firmly back on the slippery perch.

“I’ve got you.”

Glancing up I saw a boy standing there. His strong hands kept me from falling to my death. A disgruntled expression traveled across his face, eyes becoming distant for several seconds as though assessing some inner thought and the grimace vanished, well almost. His mouth remained twisted down.

Staring in astonishment — my mind couldn’t function properly. Unable to fathom where he came from, I knew he shouldn’t be there. It wasn’t safe.

Incisors of the monster wolves were snapping and gnashing less than twenty-five feet away. Yet he acted as calmly as if we were alone. Didn’t he see them?

The smaller creatures seemed to be corralling the grayish wolf or altering its course. And the big one didn’t like it.

Rearing back on hind legs the monster wolf growled at the other two, immense jaws scissoring open and shut over their heads as if in warning. A deep snarl that erupted from the large mouth could have been saying, “Cut it out,” if it had a voice.

The wolf with the light brown fur ignored the warning, hurtling a muscular shoulder against the gray one’s exposed midsection. The big wolf made a gagging noise that sounded like a grunt. The second newcomer hoisted dark forepaws against the same area and together they succeeded in knocking the third backward. All three landed in an explosion of yelps, barks and snapping teeth.

I gasped.

“Are you okay?” the strange boy asked in an annoyed tone.

Too stunned by what I saw to speak, I merely nodded.

Clouds hid the moon again. The clearing fell into darkness. I squinted to see where the monster wolves were. I felt rather than saw my would-be rescuer’s head shift.

“Find him,” the boy hissed so quietly I thought I might have imagined that too. Who was he talking to?

The darker wolf growled lightly, head quickly swinging toward us before returning to the downed one, muzzle pushing against the muddy body forcing it to move with some urgency. The monster creatures merged into one shapeless blob in the shadows. Unable to see them but knowing they were out there only heightened my fear.

Order your copy of Bellocaro today on Amazon.com. 

Release date, Nov.10, 2020.     

        Artwork for the new book!

I'm probably going to catch a bit of flack for this, but here it is:

Now that I have your attention. 

You'll find that I'm much nicer to the beautiful vampires who populate this story. I'll be posting an excerpt soon. And here's an important reminder: Bellocaro will be released in November 2020, so the countdown is on!

Exclusive look at best-selling new novel, Without Merit

Sneak peek 

Calling all readers!       

From the award-winning, bestselling author P.S. Meraux with Johnny Green comes an unusual, supernatural, mystery-thriller. 

She has no memory.
No fingerprints.
No parents.
No cellphone.
When this girl gets out of the hospital it’s going to be a helluva week.

Her hands are a wreck, fingers bruised, swollen and bandaged. Her parents are nowhere to be found. What’s a girl without an identity to do? It’s not like she’s Jason Bourne; there’s no clue implanted in her hip.

Even her supernatural gift is a mystery. How does it work? Where does the magic come from? And what’s causing sparks to shoot out of her fingers?

Targeted by a mysterious group of thugs, they want something they think she has. She has no clue what it is or where she may have stashed it.

Before she can solve the mystery of her past, she must get away from them, cross the border -- all without an identity, money or friends. Oh, and magic or not, she doesn’t have any particular skills to make it easier. She’s no blonde assassin. No government in the world would put a gun in the banged-up hands of this girl.

Racing for her life, fleeing capture-- someone calls her “Merit.” Who is she? Adopting the name may kill her. Yet, Without Merit -- she has no clue to follow at all. 

Here's your chance to check out my new novel. It's a thrilling teen paranormal adventure story. Don't take my word for it, read on in this exclusive sneak peek. 

Excerpt from Without Merit:

I felt weightless like my body was rising while drifting with the rushing cold ocean that surrounded and carried me on a dubious trajectory toward safety. Dubious because the threat that the water could swallow the life from me always lingered in the background, hungry and churning -- like a shark circling -- never satisfied that I’d somehow escaped its jaws.

My lungs burned and ached for relief. I kept my lips pressed tightly closed, forcing what meager molecules of air left in my lungs out through my nose to keep the water from coming in. I wanted desperately to breathe the water in, to breathe anything in -- just to stop this suffocating sensation.

Fear gripped me. I didn’t want to die. My heart was hammering with adrenaline.

Somewhere in the back of my mind an errant thought was jumping up and down like an irate toddler throwing a tantrum, trying to catch my attention; urging me to remember HOW I got here. A more aggressive, combative thought demanded that I survive first. My survival instinct was boss.

I saw it again.

The glimmer was above me, distorted by the water that twisted the image as it moved. Yet a beacon it remained. Calling me to; Swim! Kick your feet. Reach! Reach! Reach! It seemed to encourage.

Was it a lighted buoy? Logically it made sense. What else would be floating in the ocean with me?

It was certainly lighter up there than here below. Just a few more feet and salvation awaited. I stretched out my hand knowing my fingers would break the surface before my face and felt marginally better imagining that if the fingertips felt air -- that would somehow sustain me in the final seconds until my nose was up there as well. Up there there’s air; oxygen means life.

The air was cold on my fingertips. It hurt. Air shouldn’t hurt.

I curled my fingers protectively into a fist and vaguely recalled that something was wrong. At that moment I didn’t fret about it much, I had more pressing worries. My lungs were ready to burst -- I needed to breathe.

My head broke the surface, I felt a rush of wind on my forehead and more pain. One ear was stinging. I gasped as the awful sensation sent chills down my spine and opened my mouth too soon, nearly choking on the sea water I gulped. It took several heartbeats until I managed to spit enough out to breathe freely.

On the joyous briny scent! I gasped again, filling my lungs, knowing that I was alive. Grateful. My alarm began to subside.

The howl of the wind over the waves was a comfort after the oppressive silence of the deep. Wisps of drenched hair began curling around my ears. The wet locks helped numb the pain. Other blowing tendrils tickled the back of my neck and I shivered. Caught up in my own thankfulness all I could think was; Lordy this is what I nee--

And I was under again. Water crashed over my head pushing me down. The cold was a shock as it enveloped me a second time. It hit hard on the back of my head. My skull throbbed. That meant something, something important, I just couldn’t remember what.

I twisted my body, flapping my arms and legs in wildly uncoordinated movements trying to rise to the surface. There was a brief sensation of something gently passing across my skin more solid than water. Unexpectedly my friendship bracelet detached from my wrist -- then it was gone. I didn’t see where it went amid the flurry of flailing arms.

The knot on the delicate embroidery floss was no match against the powerful ocean. I felt a pang of sadness knowing that I couldn’t spare time looking for it.

My lungs weren’t burning this instant, but I didn’t know how long that would last. I had to get my head to the surface. All my frantic fluttering created was more agitation in the water and a distressing feeling of disorientation. I didn’t know which way was up.

‘Watch where the bubbles go,’ a helpful corner of my brain advised.

In the absence of any other sage benefactor, I did.

The bubbles went the wrong way. They headed past my chin. I bent my head, eyes following them as they bobbed hurriedly past by chest, stomach, hips -- obviously heading toward my shoes.

Wait, they shouldn’t be going that way. Bubbles equal oxygen. They should be heading up to the surface.

I took another look at my shoes as the burning began in my lungs again. My alarm growing with it.

‘Bubbles go up. Follow the bubbles,’ that rational corner of my mind chimed in again.

Bending forward, I began kicking with all my strength, forcing my legs in the opposite direction and pumping my arms through the seemingly insurmountable fortress of water. Somewhere in the back of my mind a ludicrous thought danced about, unimportant to my current circumstances as a hair-bow to a bald man but there nonetheless.

I’d been upside down in the water like a misguided mermaid standing on her head. Somehow that pleased me a little. I had never in my life been able to do a handstand, much less stand on my head. My body lacked the coordination.

Breaking the surface again, I gasped and gasped, sucking in as much air as I could. My fingers were stinging and tender in the cold air, so was my ear. That meant something. At the moment I couldn’t remember what.

With both feet busily kicking-- keeping my head above the swirling surf -- my brain was less confused. The right and left hemispheres were getting oxygen. I could see more now.

It wasn’t a buoy that had beckoned but the first faint glow of sunrise. The timid rays were glittering across the waves, illuminating a rather desolate seascape. Another wave was coming, huge and smooth like the back of some giant leviathan rising from the deep.

The monster swell must have been twenty feet high. Grimacing and doing my best to ignore the searing pain in my fingers I paddled hard, getting at the base of it, moving with the wave.

Kick! Kick! Kick! I silently commanded my tired legs. Fear was being edged out of my thoughts by fatigue. I had to keep trying -- fug it! If I could keep up a steady pace I might get out of this. There was a strip of land over there in the distance. It wasn’t that far, maybe the length of a football field or two?

An impressive array of seabirds darted into the waves near the distant shore, looking for fish no doubt. Squawking and soaring, they eased their hunger while I wrestled with my own.

I headed in that direction. Was it west? It felt like it was west. The orange-yellow orb was somewhere behind me, not yet high enough in the sky to provide much in the way of warmth. The wondrous light it provided was most appreciated. At least now I had the makings of a plan; razor-thin to be sure but it was better than nothing.

A small part of me felt a smidgen of guilt for not taking more time to admire the color it emitted. Wait! That felt wrong. What drowning girl would stop and dwell on the beauty of the burgeoning sunrise? Maybe after I got out of the water, I mused. Was the pain in my head impacting my reasoning?

Unsettled by the thought, I kept swimming. Hoping the insistent, shrieking wind would blow such foolish distractions away from my frazzled mind, I kept trying to focus.

Kicking and paddling I pushed forward, cursing under my breath. Fingers stinging each time I lifted them out of the water. That meant something. I couldn’t remember what.

Suddenly the sun was in front of me. No, not the sun. An explosion of some kind. Was it lightning?

The blast of yellow and white erupted with such force -- extending glaring tentacles in several directions. I shut my eyes in reflex as it impacted near me. The afterimage was uncomfortably etched on the inside of my eyelids.

That hit too close. My head jerked back with a new pain worse than the previous ache.

The panic returned.

I nosedived-- not by choice. Down, down, down, I sank into the darkness under the waves. Opening my eyes didn’t help much, I was surrounded by nothing but water, cold and murky. It cushioned and protected me. But it was too late. Something from the explosion had hit my skull. My thinking was getting muddled and my vision clouded with spots.

Engulfed in turmoil, my lungs began to burn again. It was torture. After the first dunking, I felt like the threshold for holding my breath had somehow lowered.

I couldn’t die -- not like this, I thought feebly. I was too young to die, barely sixteen, too young for such a watery death. There should be some minimum age requirement before a soul was lost to Davy Jones’ locker, I fumed in indignant horror.

My fingers were stinging. Why where they stinging? All ten digits like the rest of me were underwater. They shouldn’t hurt down here, I grimaced. A lock of hair swept by my ear, tugging across it and reminding me of its tenderness.

The searing pain increased. I wanted to open my mouth and scream in anguish. I almost did. Only the knowledge that that would kill me quicker, halted my actions.

A bubble escaped from my lips, bounced against my nose and swiftly rolled passed my eyelashes directing me to a lifeline. I started kicking again, albeit slowly.

If I could just get back up there. Maybe I could make it, I thought with waning strength. Succeeding seemed of little consequence -- except there was something I was forgetting. Something important.

Reaching my stinging fingers forward, I saw an inexplicable flash of bright light that made me squint against the harshness. A hard object impacted sickeningly with my head and a new bolt of pain shot through my skull.

A feeling of lethargy settled over me -- more peaceful than frightening. Gradually my aches and pains turned numb. Once my eyes closed I seemed to lose focus and drifted into the labyrinth of senselessness.

Want more?

Grab a copy from Amazon.com: Without Merit by P.S. Meraux with Johnny Green

A special promotion begins tomorrow. Be one of the first 500 readers to click on the Amazon.com link and you could get a free Kindle edition.

Want Easter Eggs?

'Merit' loses how many items during the course of her adventure? Clever readers will see what happens to her when the items begin to return.

Happy Reading!

P.S. Meraux

Grab your free copy of Luminary while this offer lasts.

Right now Luminary is the book of the month on Goodreads YAces Indie Book Club Group. In honor of this group read, I'm making the book available in several markets (America, Canada, Australia, Japan, Mexico and India) for free  this month. So head on over to Amazon.com in your next of the woods and download your free Kindle version today.

Happy Reading All.

For those readers in America the link is here: