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Cover Reveal & Giveaway of Grave Endowments

Without further ado, here is the Cover Reveal, as promised, of Grave Endowments by Cynthia D. Witherspoon & T.H. Morris
Jonah Rowe knew he didn't know everything about his life as an 11th Percenter, but he knew enough to not believe in the myths and fairy tales of the Greek Gods. Those stories were for kids. 
Until the Sibyl came along.
Eva McRayne wanted nothing more than to get back to her life after a senseless tragedy derailed it, despite the Greek monsters after her. So when she and her crew go to Rome, North Carolina to film an episode of Grave Messages, she has no idea that she is walking into a trap. 
One that only Jonah Rowe can help her escape from.

Add to your TBR list on Goodreads:
Grave Endowments (CFTOS, Vol. 1)

Pre-Order now on Amazon:
Grave Endowments (CFTOS, Vol. 1) Due Dec. 21

My Review:
The Oracle Series and The 11th Percent Series come together for Grave Endowments (Chronicles From the Other Side, Vol. 1). Eva & Jonah may never be the same.
Fangirling feels photo tumblr_mbcl3pgLlF1qbpcxc.gif
 Uh, yea, that was me when I was asked to read an ARC of Grave Endowments.
Wow!! I just have to say what an amazing job these two authors did on this book. They blended their worlds, so perfectly together, that you can't tell who wrote what. Believe me, I was trying to figure that one out. With the story being told by both Jonah & Eva’s POV in alternating chapters, it was truly a treat!! Did Cindy write Jonah? Did T.H. write Eva? I couldn’t tell. *Round of Applause, Please* Another thing I'd like to say, is that I found their story had a 'realness' to the paranormal genre that their story is. I say thought-provoking. It made me think. Not because of the things that happened but because of the things the characters said. How they think, their thoughts. How they held themselves through adversity. How friendships were made, once the walls fell down. If you’ve read both of the authors’ series, then you know it goes deeper than that for each Jonah & Eva. There’s an underlying tone of maybe they’ll be able to get something out of each other, with the added bonus of a friendship and friendships. It’s ominous, I know. A bit eerie. And that is why you’re going to want to keep reading and reading and reading some more about these universes when they collide.Grave Endowments delves into the world of The 11th Percent, Greek Gods, and the Paranormal, with regular humans, like you & me. Be ready to let reality slip away and see why Grave Endowments (Chronicles From the Other Side, Book 1) is more of an experience than just a story.

Here's a little taste (Preview) of what's to come!! Prologue of Grave Endowments:
Elliot Lancaster
I was filled with darkness. Hate. I felt a cold embrace my heart that matched the smooth marble floor I knelt on. I knew why I was here. I wasn’t stupid. Two days from now, I had to accompany my mistress to some bullshit ceremony in Washington state. A ceremony that honored the one person I thought would love me forever.
The one person who was the first to thrust her knife into my heart the moment she got the opportunity.
The one person who just would not die. First Montana. Then Charleston. The bitch had escaped more traps than Houdini himself.
"Elliot Lancaster," Hera purred in my ear as she rested her head against mine. "Rise."
I did what I was told. How could I not? She was more than my mistress. Hera, Queen of the Heavens, had become my maker as well.
Hera circled me with steps that were nothing short of methodical. She seemed to be exercising caution around me. Me! I was nothing compared to her. I had no power that she did not control. But I was once again mistaken. When she stopped in front of me, I could see no fear on her face. There was a measured calm. An undertone of anger that she barely managed to mask. She hated the idea of this ceremony just as much as I did. But as she regarded me, she modified her expression into one of triumph. The ownership in her eyes was evident. I was her pet. Her plaything.
Nothing more.
"The choice you made was a wise one," She tapped the edge of my nose with a pointed finger. "Tell me the thing you want the most. Tell me the thing that only I can grant you."
"The destruction of Eva McRayne," I spoke without hesitation. I was amazed when my heart didn’t break as I said her name, but such pain had been replaced with hatred so thick, I had sacrificed my very soul to stand before the goddess and make such a request.
Eva would be destroyed. She may not die, but I would be damned if she didn’t suffer for her betrayal against me.
“Poor, poor Elliot. Such trivial labels you use.”
Hera reached out, grabbed a handful of my hair, and yanked my face downward until I was nose to nose with her as she demanded I correct myself.
"The destruction of whom?"
“The Sibyl.” I managed through gritted teeth. The darkness had shifted into anger at her actions, but I did not dare strike out against such a powerful creature. "The destruction of The Sybil."
"Good," Hera purred once more as she released my hair to pat my head. "Do not call her by her name. She is not a person. She is a symbol of betrayal, disloyalty, and insolence. The Sybil is all she is. You shall have your wish, Elliot.”
So I could harm her. I could make Eva suffer. I grinned as I tried to work out my thoughts. But the pleasure gave way to confusion.
“I thank you, my lady. But how can that be? Athena’s Blade has been destroyed. Apollo saw to that. And she’s got Hermes, her ace in the hole. He’s already fixed her once. ”
Hera’s eyes were on sights beyond her window as she spoke. “I am well aware of these things, Elliot. You needn’t remind me of them. But Hermes in longer a factor. His actions greatly displeased the Fates. He now has strictures that he can never defy. Why do you think that he recommended that she receive training amongst Hecate’s charges? Why he recommended that she be named representative of the Council?”
I grimaced. Was it necessary to remind me of that again? That bitch was a study in betrayal and heartache, and was getting everything short of a ticker-tape parade for it?
Hera’s expression wavered again. She hated Eva’s promotion almost as much as she hated Eva herself. I watched her hands tremble as she resumed control of her emotions.
“And the blade is of no consequence,” she went on. “I have discovered alternative means. You may even have the opportunity to fulfill them yourself.”
I felt my eyes narrow at her. “May?”
Hera turned her back to me as she approached the chair which served as her throne here on Earth. Eva had been right when she told me that the gods often spent time on our plane. Hera had settled into a mansion not far from my father’s house in Beverly Hills. It was large. Opulent. Decorated with visages of power and prestige.
It fit my mistress to perfection.
"You are my own now. My family." She lowered herself down in the chair with the grace worthy of her position. When she finished smoothing out her skirt, she continued with her words. "As such, it is my right to be brutally honest. I do not know how worthy you are. You failed me spectacularly in Montana. And the Sibyl was practically gift-wrapped in South Carolina, yet you failed me there as well.”
"That wasn't my fault!" I snapped before I could contain myself. "The Sybil was protected! Cyrus remains closer to her than a shadow. I shoved her out of a four-story window! It is not my fault that the thief was there to bring her back. She was dead, damn it. How can you stand there and blame me for what happened? If anything, I should blame y—!"
Hera snapped her gaze toward me so quick that I remembered my place before her. I was nothing. A pet. A man controlled by the whims of a singular goddess.
It was a role I would not forget again.
"Utter one more syllable," she whispered, "and the retribution will be dire."
I felt the anger rush out of me. It was replaced by disappointment in myself that I had displeased her.
"Forgive me, my lady," I murmured. "The rage inside me. It is toward the Sybil. Sometimes, it gets out of control. Becomes too much. It has stained my soul."
Hera's eyes still blazed, but when she spoke, her tone had softened. "It is an interesting thing that you speak of souls. There is a task that I have which involves those very things."
"Really?" I spoke, grateful that her voice had become sweet once more. "What's that?"
"That impertinent Sybil has come to believe that she is immune to harm due to Apollo’s blessing." Hera began to draw circles against the wood of her chair arm. "She has come to regard her eternal life as her crutch. And now that she has survived Athena’s Blade for a second time, she has been emboldened. Due to Hecate’s tutelage, she feels untouchable. What she is not aware of is that there is more to this life than what she has been taught by the soldier and the witch. More to the soul, or spirit, I should say, than she knows."
I clenched my hands against my sides. Could it be true? I didn’t know what to think after Charleston, but was Hera talking about a foolproof way to destroy Eva? A vulnerability?
"What are you saying, my lady?"
Hera chuckled. "The little Sybil is under the delusion that as long as she has her father Apollo and her immortality, no harm can befall her," she said. "But there are some things that supersede immortality. Supersede Apollo himself."
"There is a way to destroy her?" I took a step forward. "Tell me!"
My words came out more forceful than I realized, which earned me another glare from my mistress. Her mood seemed to change as quickly as the storms she commanded thanks to her husband’s power with the weather.
"Watch your tone," she chided. “Yet, maintain that passion. It is that very passion which prompted me to make the offer that you couldn't refuse. But after Montana and South Carolina, Elliott, I just do not know if you are up to the task. "
I fell upon my knees before her. If there was any chance that I could feel Eva’s blood on my hands, I would take it.
"My lady, I can do it," I insisted. "I swore myself to you, and I will do whatever is necessary. I want the Sybil gone."
"As do I, my pet," said Hera, "as do I."
But there was still doubt in her voice. Still the uncertainty of my ability. But I would prove myself to her in any way possible.
"You said that I was your family." I spoke to the marble tiles with the hope that such humility would play against her vanity. "Isn't giving second chances what family does?"
Hera paused, and I dared not look up at her. I was not exaggerating when I spoke of her volatile nature.
"It is," she conceded. "I am the goddess of family, after all. I know these things. Family does indeed grant additional chances of atonement."
I lifted my head just enough to glance at her as she continued. I didn’t miss the wild fire in her green eyes which I was sure would be mirrored by my own.
"I also deal in vengeance," she added. "Family and vengeance. When modern mortals hear the two words, they immediately think of the Mafia phenomenon which has been sensationalized on television. But those notions are not Mafia. They are Greek. They are me.”
Hera released a labored breath. “It is for this reason that the Sybil must be destroyed.”
I frowned. “There is a reason beyond her insolence and pride? Beyond her ability to absorb the god’s powers?”
Hera’s eyes remained on the grounds. “Two days from now, that abomination will be named the representative of Olympus—”
“With all due respect, my lady, there is no need to mention that again—”
“Interrupt me again, my pet, and I will have you fixed.” Hera’s tone didn’t even change. “Now as I was saying, she will be named the representative of Olympus. This will occur before the Council. But Olympians…we are gods, after all. One cannot expect all to fall in line just simply because a few decide to decree something as law.”
I thought I saw where this was going. But I said nothing. The threat of being “fixed” was an effective one. My mistress continued.
“The Sybil may have those who adore her. But they do not speak for all on Olympus. There are whispers—grumbles, if one is frank. If something is not done, the grumbles will become…shouts.”
I felt my eyes widen slightly. “Civil war? In Olympus? Is that possible?”
“More than that,” answered Hera. “Would you like me to illustrate war on Olympus?”
I didn’t answer.
“The world on fire,” whispered Hera. “Siblings abandoning their palaces and millenia-long spouses abandoning their marriage beds to do battle on consecrated grounds. Thrones becoming rubble and shrines becoming pyres. Gold tiles and immaculate marble stained with ichor, snot, refuse, and all other manner of substance.”
I shook my head. “All because of her.”
“Yes.” My mistress’s eyes flickered with rage. “They view me as heartless, but I am merely honest. I care for my family. I’ll not see them at war because of Apollo’s solipsistic, mixed-breed spawn.”
I smiled. “So to prevent war, the Sybil has to die.”
Hera smiled and straightened. "Elliott, my pet, I absolve you," she announced. "You shall have your second chance."
I returned to my feet. "Thank you, my lady. Your graciousness is unmatched. Now tell me. What would you have me do?”
“Two things.” Hera looked ready for business. “Firstly, when we attend the Sybil’s ceremony, I will orchestrate a challenge. You will fight her.”
The grin that lit my features almost displaced my jaw. “I will gladly destroy her, my lady—”
“I want you to throw the fight.”
I blinked. “Excuse me? You want me to take a dive?”
“But that makes no sense!” I couldn’t believe her orders! After reminding me of my failures, she wanted me to lose voluntarily?”
Hera glared at me for the third time. “It makes perfect sense. You can’t very well massacre the Sybil in front of her admirers, yes? What better way to galvanize her even further than give her a win in front of her new fans?”
My anger diminished somewhat as I caught on to Hera’s train of thought. So she wanted to make Eva think she was stronger than she actually was. In front of an audience who wanted more than anything to believe in her. Nice.
“I see that you understand now,” she said quietly.
“I do, my lady.”
“It will need to be an elaborate show,” she told me. “For both of us. I will not mince my words after your failure.” She made finger quotations when she said failure. “It will have the desired effect. I am certain of this.”
“I understand.” I cracked my knuckles. “But that was the first task. You said two things. What’s the other thing?”
Hera rubbed her hands together. “It is a plan that I conceived after my discovery that the Greek lap dog has been in contact with an old friend of his when the Sybil was still hospitalized. I’ve taken advantage, and have already inserted myself into the mix.”
“Old friend?” I repeated. “Who is this? And what ‘mix’ have you inserted yourself into?”
Hera didn’t answer either question. "I need you to return to Theia Productions to coordinate a trip," she said. “You have had a protracted absence, but we can count on your father’s eternal soft spot for you to inoculate you against questions. Set the trip up for after the Sybil returns from Washington. Cyrus has already received an invitation, but I’ve taken the liberty to— nurse it along somewhat. The numbers must be small. The little Sybil, and by extension the slave keeper. The cameraman, Joey. No one else."
"What about Leyton?"
Hera dismissed his name with a wave of her hand. "Give him the information to pass along to the Sybil, and then occupy him with another matter. Shuffle him to another show under Theia’s imprint. I will deal with Tiresias’ treachery soon enough, yet it must wait. He will play no part in this."
“Shuffle him to another show? But his involvement in Grave Messages is a requirement." I spoke my words as slowly as I could. "He has a contract, after all."
Hera raised an eyebrow. "Such trivialities wouldn't stop a man such as you now, would they?"
I shrugged. "I guess not, my lady. I’ll pull some strings. Get him placed on another project.”
"I have my own reasons for why the numbers must be small." Hera leaned forward in her chair to point in my direction. "It’s a filming location for Grave Messages, named the Covington House. Plus the Sybil will be fresh from her sabbatical, and ready to take on fresh threats."
"Done," I nodded. "The house you told me about? The one with the tombs?"
"Yes. there is something very important about Rome—"
"Rome?" I whistled. "I am sure there is a reason, but I will have to find the location for filming. Nothing gets past Theia’s accounting department heads without explanation. But if it leads to the Sybil's destruction, I'd find a location in Hell itself—"
"No, my pet," said Hera rewarded me with a cold smile. "Not Rome, Italy. Rome, North Carolina."
I frowned as I tried to remember the state. I’d been to South Carolina with Eva, of course. But North Carolina? I’m sure I’d just flown over it.
"There is a Rome, North Carolina?" I finally asked. "It's got to be in the sticks. What makes the place so important?"
Hera returned her gaze to the window, but this time, her gaze was full of inspiration. "I have told you of the various pantheons and belief systems." she said to me. "Yet, it is time for you to learn another lesson from our realm. Allow me tell you of something known as The Eleventh Percent. "


That conversation had been over a week ago. I’d taken my dive; made Eva look like a million bucks in front of the council. Zeus and all of them would bend over backwards for her now.
Just as planned.
Getting the docket to Leyton was easy. Pulling strings and sending him to ScarYous Tales of the Paranormal was easy, too. That Landry guy had been trying to get a piece of the glory from Grave Messages for months now. But that didn’t even matter. Eva could be destroyed. That was what mattered. I grinned as I slipped past the security guard dozing in the lobby of her condo. She and her faithful slaves would head out in the morning, but I couldn’t resist having a little fun. I knew she wouldn’t be alone. I knew that she had moved Joey in with her to protect him from me. But what she didn’t prepare for was the abilities which had come with my transformation as a Skinwalker.
I faded into the shadows of her hall. Past the doors of people who had been my neighbors when we had first come out to Los Angeles. Sure, Eva and I had been close once. We were best friends once.
But you know what they say. The best of friends make the worst of enemies.
I didn’t stop until I was inside her precious condo. I could see Joey sitting on the couch next to the bastard slave who had taken my place. I felt my rage rise up once more as I watched them. Cyrus passed Joey a flask as they laughed. He had taken my place in more than Eva’s heart. He had taken Joey away from me as well.
I smiled despite my anger. My rage was only a small part of this. I understood that now. Hera’s plan was flawless. Eva would be destroyed. Joey shredded to pieces right next to her corpse. And because Eva would be gone, Cyrus would perish, too. I would bide my time. Obey my mistress. Stop any potential war in Olympus from even happening.
And the best part?
My hatred would be fulfilled at the same time.
I didn’t stop until I reached the room Eva had claimed on Day One of our move. I shifted until I reached the side of her bed. She was asleep, her breathing labored as I resisted the urge to grab her heart straight from her chest. Instead, I tried to remember the love I had once had for her.
I couldn’t do it. None of the memories—how I had loved her smile, her laugh, even her smart mouth—could bring back the tenderness I had once felt for her.
I could only think of what she had done. The bitch knew who my mother was. She had known for almost a year that the woman I’d spent my entire life searching for had thrown herself in front of a bus in New York moments after we met her. She knew how I had loved her. Yet, she threw everything away for the damn Greek sitting on my couch this very moment.
I leaned down to press a cold kiss against her lips. Her eyes flew open the moment I made contact, but before she could jerk away, I had her throat in my hand.
“I will see you dead, Evie.” I caressed the side of her throat with my thumb. “There will be no Hermes to bail you out this time, and your beloved Council can’t help you either. Your time has long since come. At last, I have finally found a way to end your existence.”
I laughed when she screamed, shifting myself off her bed and into the shadows seconds before the Greek threw open her bedroom door.
She would die, and stay that way. Her little Greek slave would suffer, and then die too. And my mistress would be a heroine for Olympus.
It was all I could ask for.

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About the Authors:

Hello everyone! I'm T.H. Morris. The "TH" piece of it are the initials of my real name, while the "Morris" honors my late grandmother, whose memory, is the impetus of my series in many ways.\
I was born in 1984 in Colerain, North Carolina, a town so small, that I'm STILL surprised when I see it on the map. I've been an avid reader since I was very small, and always had partiality to tall tales, fairy tales, mythologies, and later on, science fiction and paranormal. 
I suppose that I've always wanted to be a writer. I've always had millions of stories in my head, but I had no earthly idea how to go about making them into books. Plus, I had a lot of "well-meaning" people, who attempted to beat it into my head that I needed to let go of "child-like" dreams and focus on a "real" job.
But in February 2011, my mind had different plans. I had a seven hour, uninterrupted dream that I recounted to my wife the following morning. She told me, "That needs to be a book." I started writing the next day, and The 11th Percent Series was born! I haven't looked back!
The 11th Percent Series follows the life happenings of Jonah Rowe, who goes from a nondescript accountant to the center of an ethereal conflict. There is humor, hardship, fear, name it!
The 11th Percent Series:
The 11th Percent (Book 1): Released 10/31/14
Item and Time (Book 2): Released 5/29/15
Lifeblood (Book 3): Released 11/29/15
The series will eventually be seven books!
It's and honor and a pleasure to connect with you all. I look forward to getting to know you, and having you along for the ride for years to come.

Cynthia D. Witherspoon is an award winning writer of Southern Gothic, Paranormal Romance, and Urban Fantasy. She currently resides in South Carolina, but spent three years in Fayetteville, Arkansas. Always an avid reader, she began writing short stories in college. She graduated with Bachelor's Degree in History from Converse College, and earned a Master's in Forensic Science at Oklahoma State University for Health Sciences.


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