Enchantress Bookish Brilliance: Jacob Z. Flores's "Spell Fall" Blog Tour

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January 17, 2017
Books are love

January 18, 2017
The Silver Dagger Scriptorium

January 19, 2017
Wicked Faerie's Tales and Reviews

January 20, 2017
My Fiction Nook

January 23, 2017
Making it Happen

January 24, 2017
Bayou Book Junkie

January 26, 2017
Love Bytes

January 27, 2017
MM Good Book Reviews

January 30, 2017
V's Reads

February 1, 2017
Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words

Spell Fall

(The Warlock Brothers of Havenbridge Series, #4)

By Jacob Z. Flores

Blurb:

Love and trust made them soul mates, but destiny might have other plans.

Ever since Drake Carpenter fell in love with warlock Mason Blackmoor, his life has been one supernatural battle after another, but Drake doesn’t mind… much. To be with Mason and experience the magical connection they share, Drake would face entire hordes of vampyren, shifters, or fae—and he has. Luckily Drake is immune to magic, though no one can explain his natural ability to negate almost any enchantment. With Drake’s own family gone, Mason is all he has. So why is Drake experiencing disturbing dreams about Mason that terrify him?

A new threat looms on the horizon, and a revelation about Drake’s identity and the true origin of his bond with Mason shatters everything Drake believes. If Drake, Mason, and all of magic are to survive the coming Spell Fall, the most destructive curse in sorcery, Drake must deal with the truth and fight his way back to Mason—because their enemies are gaining strength, and they intend to reach the boy Drake loves first.

Available for purchase at

Release Date:

January 27, 2017

Excerpts

Mason’s low snore pulled me from my thoughts, which was a good thing. I couldn’t dwell in the negativity anymore. No matter how hard it was, I had to do what my papa always said and point my shoes in the direction I wanted to go. Right now that direction was school, which Mason was never in a rush to get to. I slid off the mattress, grabbed the sheets, and yanked them free of the bed.

Mason yelped in surprise, curling into a naked ball. “What the hell? It’s cold!”

He was right. It was cold, but for me, the chill was more internal than external. “We need to get to class.”

Mason groaned and covered his face with a pillow. “Why can’t we take the day off?” His words were strangled, but after a few months of trying to coax Mason out of bed, I’d grown fluent in his muffled-pillow voice. “We could use a mental health day after yesterday.”

That was the God’s honest truth, but staying home meant I’d obsess over Aunt Millie, the stolen crest, and the Spell Fall. Distracting myself with the routine of school would keep me sane. “Because we both have a big test comin’ up over King Lear.”

Mason threw the pillow across the room. “Stupid Shakespeare. Why can’t he just write like a regular person?”

I loved Mason dearly, but his idea of a “regular person” was Dr. Seuss. “I’m gonna hop in the shower. You get ready.”

Mason perked up. “Shower?”

I pointed at him as I approached the bathroom door. “You. Stay.”

“Drake, wait.”

I paused at the doorway and glanced back. “What?”

“It’s probably a stupid question. Well, it is a stupid question, but how are… I mean after what happened….” He cursed and took a deep breath. “I just want to know if you’re doing okay.”

I wasn’t, but I’d get there eventually. I just had to keep focused on the fact that I did what Aunt Millie wanted. If she were here, she’d be shooing me into the bathroom, fussing at me to not let what happened to an old woman stop me from living my life. “I’m hangin’ in there.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

I blew him a kiss. “Just be you.”

“In that case.” He got out of bed. “It’s shower time.”

A succession of loud bangs jolted me awake. I sat up, pulled open the nightstand drawer, and reached inside for the pistol I kept there for times such as these. When my hand didn’t close around the cool silver butt of the gun, I panicked. Where the hell was it?

“Fuuuuck!” Mason groaned in bed next to me. “Leave us alone.”

“Get your lazy asses out of bed. We’ve got shit to do.”

It was Pierce on the other side of the door, not—

Not who?

Mason sat up, flipped off the closed door, and burrowed back under the covers.

Pierce banged on the frame three more times. “I mean it. Get your asses downstairs in fifteen minutes or Dad’ll be the one coming up here to get you.”

Crap. We definitely didn’t want that. Mr. Blackmoor didn’t tolerate tardiness. He’d transform his body into stone and turn the bedroom door into splinters. “We’ll be right down.”

Pierce grunted before his footsteps padded back downstairs.

I nudged Mason with my foot. “Wake up.”

“Can’t. Tired. Need sleep.”

What I needed was answers. There was definitely more to that dream from last night.

“Mason, please. We need to talk.”

A low snore was my only reply.

“Somethin’s wrong.”

He sat up as if he were a jack-in-the-box. Even though his eyes were still half-closed and his black hair resembled a rat’s nest, the hum of his shadow powers filled the room. “Who is it? What is it? Tell me where to shoot.”

I sighed before placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Jeez. Power down before you blast me.” The hateful gaze of the Mason in my dream filled my memory. I shook the image from my mind and took several deep breaths.

“Did you have that dream again?”

“I don’t think it was a dream.”

He scrunched up his lips and glanced sideways at me. “Then what the hell was it?”

That was the million-dollar question.

The Warlock Brothers of Havenbridge Series

Spell Bound

Bk #1

Add To Goodreads

Amazon Paperback │ Kindle │ B&N │ Kobo │ Dreamspinner Press

Blood Tied

Bk #2

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Amazon Paperback │ Kindle │ B&N │ Kobo │ Dreamspinner Press

Soul Struck

Bk #3

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Amazon Paperback │ Kindle │ B&N │ Kobo │ Dreamspinner Press

About The Author

Jacob Z. Flores lives a double life. During the day, he is a respected college English professor and mid-level administrator. At night and during his summer vacation, he loosens the tie and tosses aside the trendy sports coat to write man on man fiction, where the hard ass assessor of freshmen level composition turns his attention to the firm posteriors and other rigid appendages of the characters in his fictional world.

Summers in Provincetown, Massachusetts, provide Jacob with inspiration for his fiction. The abundance of barely clothed man flesh and daily debauchery stimulates his personal muse.

When he isn’t stroking the keyboard, Jacob spends time with his daughter. They both represent a bright blue blip in an otherwise predominantly red swath in south Texas.

You can find Jacob at