The Reaper’s Sacrifice book release and giveaway!


Well, hello there, handsome. 


The Reaper’s Sacrifice, Deathmark 2 is out in the world today! You know what that means? A giveaway, of course! 

Enter to win a $20 Amazon gift card and a signed,

print copy of The Reaper’s Kiss, Deathmark 1. Click here.


And then go here to get your copy (ebook or paperback) of The Reaper’s Sacrifice!


Here’s a little something-something from The Reaper’s Sacrifice to get you in the mood:


“I liked that dress on you. Sorry it’s ruined,” Brent said as I tossed the hippie frock aside and slipped into a pair of jeans.

The numbing elation of sex had faded. My body hurt like a bus had slammed it.

“As dresses go, I liked it, too.” I reached for the only clean shirt I had left: a black tank top. Just as I was about to pull it on, Brent moved with fast-as-light speed and tossed an arm around my waist. He laid his fingers over the scar from Gabriel’s attack.

I melted into his closeness, wishing he’d never let me leave the cage of his arms. “Gabriel attacked me. You would’ve been proud though. I still ran a half a mile before I realized what had happened.”

Brent’s attention was locked on the scar. It matched the scar on my rib cage where Nicholas Baird had attacked me two years ago. I was beginning to look like a pied animal.

Was it white with pink spots or pink with white spots? One of these days, I would own this evolving look. For now, I felt a little self-conscious.

“I should’ve been here to protect you from them,” he said.

“Doesn’t matter.” I put my hands to his bare chest, the muscle beneath unyielding to my touch. “Errol said something strange last night about Marin. It scares me.”

His hand traveled down the scar and cupped my breast as I breathed with relief. A gentle squeeze reignited feelings in me that would take a lifetime to satisfy. Everything was so fresh that even his hand on my skin forced my knees to buckle. Thank Hades his clutch on my waist was so tenacious.

His lips covered mine before I could tell Brent that Errol, and now I, too, were worried that Marin was actually a Scrivener. Brent didn’t care about what he didn’t know, as his tongue passed over the bridge of my teeth and then between them just as ardently it had as moments ago. This time, I put my arms around his neck to maintain stability.

“We should get downstairs,” I said between kisses.

He backed me into the vanity table and twirled me around to face it. Bent forward, I balanced on my hands as I watched Brent in the mirror, just as naked as before, the muscles of his abdomen flexed. His erection pressed against my jeans.

“I’m not done with you yet, darlin’.”


Happy Reading!


Florence + the Machine and Goodreads Giveaway

My friend’s birthday is today. She is terrified of mice even though mice tend to find her anywhere she goes and leave little presents next to her computer and phone. This woman will knock over feeble, old ladies to get away from a mouse. A month ago, she followed me into my office in the morning as we caught up on life. My office was still dark as offices tend to be in the early morning. I stepped on something soft and brown. I paused, glanced down, and made a sound that sent my friend into instant panic. She has a spidey-sense for small, furry creatures (bunnies, squirrels, mice). She screamed and threw herself out of my office. She didn’t just run as I would’ve. Nope. The nimble woman catapulted her body through the door and into the hallway. The furry thing was not, in fact, a mouse, but my brown glove that I had unknowingly dropped.

I love my friend, btw. She makes my life a lot better. So, that’s why I’m starting off this post by saying:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, M!!! Thank you for being you! xo

Onto business.

I am the first person to admit that I am not good about keeping up with my author blog and newsletter or posting regularly to Twitter.  Although if you follow me on Facebook you’ll notice a lot of animal posts. I’m an introvert and although social media is a great way for introverts to connect with folks and readers or just share videos/pictures of animals, I still don’t regularly engage. The way I see it: I spend enough time glued to the computer for work and writing that spending MORE time on social media is too much.

So thank you if you’re here reading this. You must really like me.

I have two more things to say today.

  1. Anyone who knows me, knows I do NOT like music concerts. There. I said it. I just don’t find most concerts worth my time or money. And let’s face it, music concerts aren’t cheap. But I got a free ticket to see Florence + the Machine last night and let me tell you: FLO ROCKED MY SOCKS OFF!!!!!

  1. My next book in my paranormal series, THE REAPER’S SACRIFICE comes out June 27th. That’s next month. OMG! So, I’m offering two giveaways on Goodreads – 1 signed, first edition, paperback of The Reaper’s Kiss, Book 1, and 1 signed, first edition, paperback of The Reaper’s Sacrifice. You should probably sign up…I mean, if you want to win free books or something.

Goodreads Book Giveaway

The Reaper's Kiss by Abigail Baker

The Reaper’s Kiss

by Abigail Baker

Giveaway ends June 12, 2016.

See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.

Enter Giveaway

Goodreads Book Giveaway

The Reaper's Sacrifice by Abigail Baker

The Reaper’s Sacrifice

by Abigail Baker

Giveaway ends June 19, 2016.
See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.

Enter Giveaway

2015 Get Wicked with Entangled Blog Hop!


Happy Halloween, Humans!

Here’s a little something-something as a Halloween treat from the world of Styx…


After raiding Lethe, the underground lair of the Head Reaper, Brent and I convened around a piping hot radiator in my livingroom. The temptation to sit on it and warm my buns was there, but I resisted. What was impossible to resist was standing side by side with Brent without touching. And the more we sought warmth, the closer we became. Too soon we were all but hugging in effort to regain our body heat.

Had he suggested removing our clothes, I would not have partaken. I would have liked to know what the rebel Brent Hume was like in the bedroom, but not right before Lethe, in Lethe, or after Lethe, and certainly not standing over a radiator, shivering ourselves silly.

My clicking teeth slowed as the radiator, and Brent’s body heat, melted a layer of ice on my clothing. “Did you… you get the Reaper’s name?”

He pulled down the collar of his shirt to expose a white notecard inside a plastic bag—the prize from Lethe. A name was scribbled on it, but from what I could see the writing had bled. Brent noticed a second after me.

“Mother fucker,” he groused. “The ink got wet.”

“Of course it did.” It was too much energy to roll my eyes. For now, I needed heat. Lots and lots of heat.

He held the baggie up to the overhead light. “I see a name. Baird.”

“Is that a last name or first? Is it a male or female? Who is it?” My shivering worsened my panic, which in turn worsened my shivering. “We did this all for nothing, didn’t we? Didn’t we?”

“Good Hades, calm down, Scrivener.” He turned from me when I tried to get a peek at the name through the soggy baggie. Not one to take such an obvious cue to give him space, I went for it, using my own shivering to launch into the air. Quick as he was, he underestimated my determination. The baggie was in my hands before my feet touched the floor. Being short and swift was a fine offense against tall and slow.

“Hey!” he barked.

“It says Baird. It’s a last name.” I ducked when he reach around my shoulders, thwarting his effort to retrieve the baggy. “But I can’t read the first name. No knowing if it is a guy or gal.”

“Give it back.” Brent refused to continue reaching for the prize, as if little ol’ Olivia outplaying him was a front to his ego.

“I don’t know a Baird,” I said.

“Neither do I. This means I can’t just look the Reaper up and distract him or her like I had planned.”

“So I was right?” I dropped my arms to my sides as we faced each other, Brent looking as bewildered and broken as I felt.

“Seems so.”

I sighed to keep from breaking into tears. My shoulders and head felt heavy. The couch seemed a great place to throw myself down and let my emotions pour out. I would’ve found out, if Brent did rush at me and grab the baggie. There was only a small glimpse of his wicked smile before we found ourselves entangled, both vying for the prize. A moment after, I found out what it would be like to collapse onto the couch, only with the Eidolon, too, falling over top of me. The springs of the IKEA beast cringed from our weight.

Thoughts of Eve and the name Baird flitted away in exchange for one very real thing hovering above me.

I grew tense but hopeful when his eyes turned to my lips. I knew what that meant. Every woman did. However selfish and grossly out of place it was, I was okay with one kiss, more curious than frightened to discover what it is like to kiss an Eidolon who could drain my life. Perhaps my motivation was to ridicule Fate by kissing the lips of Death himself. Or maybe I was cold, tired, and downright horny.

Peace out.


The Reaper’s Kiss Book Release TODAY! :)

THE REAPER’S KISS, A Deathmark Novel is finally out! You can snag your copy here with one little click:

I am lucky. Seeing The Reaper’s Kiss in print has been a long road. So, I wish to thank everyone involved in the process. But most of all, I wish to thank my readers. A writer is nothing without her readers.Throughout this looong journey, people have asked about my writing process. So, for today, release day, I’m going to defer to a friend and let her tell you:


Bonjour! This is Ollie, the protagonist from Abigail’s debut paranormal romance, The Reaper’s Kiss. Abigail—or Abby as I prefer to call her—was asked to write a post on her writing process. Seeing as her writing process is dictated by Yours Truly, I thought it would be more interesting to tell you how I get her motivated to put her fingers to the keyboard. Abby doesn’t mind, of course. Or if she does, she didn’t put up a protest.  She knows better.

First of all, I chose Abby to write my story because she was the first to pick up on my super-sonic brainwaves. Poor thing.

Once I got her attention, I screamed in her ear every second of every day. Easy-peasy, right?

Well, it wasn’t. According to her boyfriend, Abby is stubborn and known to dawdle. So, I went for a more aggressive approach like dancing on her bed in the middle of the night.

I’m paranormal. I can dance for days. Non-stop.

The good news is that Abby came around and agreed to write my story. Our professional relationship was bliss from here on out. Well, maybe not for her. But for me, I had accomplished a major feat, so I made sure to celebrate with cool flair.

But once Abby started writing my story, it didn’t flow out of her in one week of manic typing. She went through several rewrites after she got notes from her beta readers, her agent, and her editor. I was worried that some of the best parts of my story would get cut. I made sure to tell her this concern at every possible moment. When that didn’t work, I used force.

Ultimately, The Reaper’s Kiss tells my story precisely as I told it to her, with a few minor embellishments. I mean, I do have striking green eyes and a fearless nature, but I am really not that bad at the game of Checkers and I don’t cheat at board games.

So that’s how I got Abigail Baker to tell my story for the world to read. It was a campaign of relentless willpower. And I won. I always win.

Au Revoir,
xOllie Dormier

Be sure to post #deathmarkseries on your Twitter and Facebook feeds. I’d love to get #deathmarkseries trending. And of course, I’d love to get book one of #deathmarkseries trending on bestselling lists too.Peace out!

RUDCon Scavenger Hunt?

Are you here for the Reading Until Dawn Scavenger Hunt?

If so, click on the image below:


Happy Hunting!

Trip Report: South Africa, Part 1


One of the many school visits in Qwaqwa.

Back in December of 2014 when I was presented with the opportunity to visit South Africa for a month this summer, I knew straightaway that my life would change. I did not return the same person as when I left. Something about me is…different. Before I left, I promised everyone that I’d talk about my time there via my blog and/or newsletter. I promised I’d share pictures and stories.

I’ve been home more than two weeks  and I’m struggling to put this life-changing experience into words. My emotions are too strong, I suppose. Perhaps I should preface with I’ve had my lion’s share of life-changing events in the past years. I got a divorce. I moved halfway across the country. I climbed to 14,000ft above sea level and actually enjoyed it. I got a book deal. I started graduate school…again. I quit graduate school…again. And I’m about to be published. Yep, me, published.


Davida, one of our interpreters. I’ll never forget the day we said goodbye, one full of tears and laughs.

Led by three faculty, CSU graduate and undergraduate students visited Harrismith and Qwaqwa, South Africa for a month. We primarily spent our time with the South Sotho, people who grab onto your soul with two firm hands and give it a sincere, loving hug. I’m still warm with happiness from their big hearts. And I ache to be near them again. I’ve never met a group of total strangers who welcomed me into their lives with such excitement and genuine affection. How could anyone not wish to immerse themselves in that for life?

The South Sotho were victims of Apartheid. For those who aren’t up on South African history, I’ll give you an abbreviated version. The Afrikaans, Dutch folk who migrated to South Africa long ago, enforced Apartheid (which literally means “being apart”) from 1948-1994. What it meant was that the Afrikaaner minority forced blacks and other “non-whites” to live in designated areas of the country. Apartheid was segregation in the worst form—no interracial marriage, no interracial schools, no interracial sports, no voting for non-whites, etc., etc., etc. If this sounds familiar it is because the United States lived in a similar “segregated” world up until the Civil Rights Movement. And if Apartheid sounds awful, it was. From it, however, Nelson Mandela rose from the ashes of his imprisonment and was voted President of South Africa in 1994. So, yeah, positive change came to the country eventually.


Get the camera out and the kids go krrrrrazy!

Shortly before leaving for our trip, we were told that racism still runs rampant in South Africa. We were told to beware. We were warned. I expected to witness racism. I did, of course. So, it’s no surprise that I expected the South Sotho to be distant. They could have seen us white Westerners in a very different light. They could’ve shunned us. Instead, they showed an outpouring of friendship that I have never quite experienced in the United States. Even now, I’m brought to tears thinking back on it, wishing that I could bring a piece of that scarred part of the world back home to Colorado for everyone to see and love too. Somehow I feel that if people could spend just a little time engaging with others from all over the world, forging bonds instead of separating each other by our differences, we’d cross physical, emotional, and historical barriers.

I will share more of my thoughts on the trip as the weeks progress. There’s too much to tell in one blog post. But before you go, listen and smile like I did when we were invited to a birthday party of a Zulu friend:

[youtube video_id=”MtWaRV8F2sk” width=”100%” height=”auto” player_id=”player1″]

Peace and light.


I spent some time getting this little one to open up and smile. After that, we were besties. <3

I spent some time getting this little one to open up and smile. After that, we were besties. <3













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