Character Interview: Smoke and Mirrors: A Vampire Romance by Elise Nelson - PNR, Gothic Romance, Vampire Romance - In the shadows, nothing is ever what it seems
by Elise Nelson
Genres: PNR, Gothic Romance, Vampire Romance
Publisher: Shattered Glass Press
Date of Publication: May 25, 2021
ISBN: 1777632935
ASIN: B08ZT1JTF9
Number of pages: 409 pages
Word Count: 120,857 words
Cover Artist: Covers and Cupcakes
In the shadows, nothing is ever what it seems
Caroline Blake is a young reporter with a past almost as cryptic as her future. She never put much stock into her late aunt’s eerie tales of monsters and demons until she takes an assignment to cover the elusive Ashdown family’s Harvest Festival. As part of her assignment, she must live at the family’s mansion for six weeks and help prepare for the event.
No one has seen the family since the tragedy that occurred at the last festival almost thirty years prior. As the only female reporter on-site, Caroline must hold her own while uncovering why the family closed their doors all those years ago.
Perhaps the most challenging part of her assignment is dealing with her working partner, William Ashdown. The handsome lord of the house seems bent on testing her patience every time they meet. Still, there is something intriguing about him that she can’t ignore.
Caroline is soon swept into a world of generational secrets, unsettling mysteries, and unexpected romance. Amidst all the uncertainty, one thing is sure: in the shadows, nothing is ever what it seems.
Book Trailer:
Vampire Interview
by Elise Nelson
Thanks for joining us today. Tell us a little bit about your story. My name is William, and I haven’t been a vampire all my life. That blessing happened when I was a child. You see, things work differently that humans might think. We don’t just turn into vampires and become everlasting beings in that same form or appearance. I didn’t stay a young boy. I grew up to the age of the one who turned me. That’s how it works, you know? The other rumors aren’t true.
Is there anything you would want changed if the Author asked you?
Is there anything you would want changed if the Author asked you?
I really don’t know. Maybe at the beginning, yes, but in the end, I wouldn’t change my story for anything. I do wish a fateful end hadn’t occurred for some of my loved ones, but other than that, my story is written the way it ought to be.
How would you describe your Author?
How would you describe your Author?
Tricky. She gave me the biggest game changer of my life: Caroline. The only person I’ve ever met who truly understands me. It feels like we were waiting to meet our whole lives, but with me being a vampire, things got a bit . . . complicated.
Do you feel like she portrayed you correctly?
Do you feel like she portrayed you correctly?
I believe so. Sometimes others see us more clearly than we see ourselves.
How about others in the story. Do you feel she did well with them?
How about others in the story. Do you feel she did well with them?
I believe so, though if I could have requested one thing, it would be that a certain two people in the book got a few more punches than what was written.
You might be wondering why I’m wearing a scarf on a hot sunny day. It’s not that I don’t trust you, (Tightens the scarf), or anything. I’m just deathly allergic to vampire venom. You know like some people are with bees? So please don’t bite me.
(Smiles sardonically) Don’t worry, I can control myself better than that.
Okay, now that that’s settled. Who created you in the story?
You might be wondering why I’m wearing a scarf on a hot sunny day. It’s not that I don’t trust you, (Tightens the scarf), or anything. I’m just deathly allergic to vampire venom. You know like some people are with bees? So please don’t bite me.
(Smiles sardonically) Don’t worry, I can control myself better than that.
Okay, now that that’s settled. Who created you in the story?
That’s a mystery only the readers are allowed to find out, I’m afraid.
Are you still connected?
Are you still connected?
Yes, I am.
Was there a reason for your creation?
Was there a reason for your creation?
I used to not think so, but I now understand it was the only way. At the time, I desperately wished to be dead, but now I’m glad I was gifted with being undead. It’s the only way I could have been led to Caroline.
Where are you from initially?
Where are you from initially?
I think that’s a secret too.
Were you happy or angry about the transition from human to bloodsuc--, I mean vampire?
Were you happy or angry about the transition from human to bloodsuc--, I mean vampire?
As I mentioned before, I despised what had happened at first. For a long time, actually. Now, I’m glad. I love Caroline more than my desire to become human again. Which is possible. It might be discussed in more detail in a future book (winks).
What’s your favorite blood type?
What’s your favorite blood type?
(Smiles wickedly) The blood of my enemies.
Good answer, I think.
Good answer, I think.
Where is your favorite place to dine?
Some of us might want to avoid any late night forays there in the future. I would have to say in pretty much any woodland area, but it depends on the time of year.
Have you seen any more stories in the recesses of your Author’s mind?
Have you seen any more stories in the recesses of your Author’s mind?
I have, and it is going to be good (winks).
Do you get to play a part in any of them?
Do you get to play a part in any of them?
Oh yes, definitely.
You’re no stranger to darkness. What is your Author’s darkest secret?
You’re no stranger to darkness. What is your Author’s darkest secret?
I’m afraid I don’t know, though I assume it has something to do with writing our background stories.
If they make you mad, you could just bite them when they’re sleeping, you know.
(chuckles) Don’t think I haven’t thought of that before.
(Stands) Thank you for joining us today. Have a great evening.
You too. Thank you for having me.
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If they make you mad, you could just bite them when they’re sleeping, you know.
(chuckles) Don’t think I haven’t thought of that before.
(Stands) Thank you for joining us today. Have a great evening.
You too. Thank you for having me.
Excerpt
I could never forget that day. There was an eerie stillness in the air as we stood there, waiting. Chills dimpled deep into my skin, and I swore it was watching me. It was watching all of us. A thing too far away for us to see but close enough to feel the slimy chill of its gaping stare. Like the unnerving lick of a wild animal. Or being scratched in that spot of your back that you can’t quite reach.
I could never forget how it all felt. The stale air clasping my skin, as if paralyzing me in place. The blind panic coursing through me. The sound of muffled breaths and stifled cries suffocating the air around us while we did our best not to make a sound.
None of us really knew what we were waiting for, and somehow that made it worse. Maybe we wouldn’t have been so utterly petrified if we’d known what we were up against. But we didn’t. We just stood there in the dark, the dewy mist of twilight teasing our tired eyes, and tried not to scream.
My aunt always told me to beware of the monsters in the closet. Of demons and shadows. Mythical beings she read stories about at bedtime. Creatures from the corners of our eyes and the echoes in our footsteps. She sang me eerie lullabies of cautionary tales, sinking in stories rich with disaster and fear so I would recognize any such creature if I ever saw one. When she’d speak these rehearsed sermons of the undead, her hands would tremble, and her eyes would go wide and far away—the shocking blue around her pupils turned into stagnant crystals ready to drop and shatter at any moment. It was as if she had left this world altogether and I had to wait for her to return.
I always wondered where these stories came from and why Maggie recited them to me every night before I went to bed. As a teenager, I thought she was simply out of touch with reality— that there was something about her that wasn’t quite right. I heard it when she spoke and saw it in those wide crystal eyes. Her lyrics never made their way into my mind, at least not until I was much older. They just swirled inside the little head that she cradled and brushed before bedtime.
I was a very protected child in a small home, in a small town, hidden deep within Western Europe.
When she died, I left the only place I’d ever known. I had no one else in Fairbrooke worth staying for.
So I moved to Brakerton Heights.
I could never forget how it all felt. The stale air clasping my skin, as if paralyzing me in place. The blind panic coursing through me. The sound of muffled breaths and stifled cries suffocating the air around us while we did our best not to make a sound.
None of us really knew what we were waiting for, and somehow that made it worse. Maybe we wouldn’t have been so utterly petrified if we’d known what we were up against. But we didn’t. We just stood there in the dark, the dewy mist of twilight teasing our tired eyes, and tried not to scream.
My aunt always told me to beware of the monsters in the closet. Of demons and shadows. Mythical beings she read stories about at bedtime. Creatures from the corners of our eyes and the echoes in our footsteps. She sang me eerie lullabies of cautionary tales, sinking in stories rich with disaster and fear so I would recognize any such creature if I ever saw one. When she’d speak these rehearsed sermons of the undead, her hands would tremble, and her eyes would go wide and far away—the shocking blue around her pupils turned into stagnant crystals ready to drop and shatter at any moment. It was as if she had left this world altogether and I had to wait for her to return.
I always wondered where these stories came from and why Maggie recited them to me every night before I went to bed. As a teenager, I thought she was simply out of touch with reality— that there was something about her that wasn’t quite right. I heard it when she spoke and saw it in those wide crystal eyes. Her lyrics never made their way into my mind, at least not until I was much older. They just swirled inside the little head that she cradled and brushed before bedtime.
I was a very protected child in a small home, in a small town, hidden deep within Western Europe.
When she died, I left the only place I’d ever known. I had no one else in Fairbrooke worth staying for.
So I moved to Brakerton Heights.
About the Author:
Elise Nelson is a writer of fiction, non-fiction, poetry, comics, and articles.
She has published under a few different pen names since she was nineteen and
has been published in literary periodicals, including The Nassau Review and
Essig Magazine. She has also worked as an editorial intern for Christopher
Matthews Publishing as well as a writer and editor for many other companies,
magazines, and websites. She has a Bachelor of Arts degree from Boise State
University, where she studied English literature, creative writing, and multimedia
storytelling. She is currently a writer and editor for Jotaku.net and enjoys
writing Star Wars fan fiction in her spare time.
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