#BookTour with #Giveaway Reborn by D. Fischer

Rise of the Realms: Book 1
by D. Fischer
Genre: Epic Fantasy

This isn’t a place for beating hearts. This is death, and death is endless.” 
Five people. Five crossing fates. One person’s actions change their lives forever. 
Making a deal with the Fee has its price. In Katriane Dupont’s case, it comes with scales and an unlimited amount of power. The consequences of her actions unfold with crippling events, shifting the Realms. Shades cross the Death Realm, and an Angel, determined for answers, clips her wings. 
Can Kat control what’s within her? Or will it consume her?
“It’s nature, to fight to live, even until your very last breath.”


The streets are quiet at this time of night as my sneakers pad against the sidewalk. My apartment isn’t too far from the gym. The walk is a short one—it’s the only thing that keeps me from buying a car. My home may be a pile of shit, but at least it’s in walking distance to everything I need.
Off in the distance, a train wails a warning in crossing. There’s only one train track I know of that still runs and it passes through the forest outside the city, crossing under a bridge before it reaches the edge.
My foster family used to play there and my foster father, Harold Tiller, still drives that train. Mr. and Mrs. Tiller are good people, but they could never love me as much their biological children. That train wails every night I walk home and it’s a constant reminder of the love I’ve never had.
Blankets of clouds crawl across the night sky, brightened by the lights of the city. I smell the oncoming rain and inhale it, calming my sour mood. My eyelids flutter as the aroma passes through my nose and swirls in the pit of my stomach. That one breath—that one inhale—relieves the weight pressing against my chest, and for just a moment, everything feels like it’ll be okay.
A noise reaches my ears, a scuffle. I frown and quicken my pace, my ‘hero’ complex getting the better of me. I stop when I reach a certain area. Recognition hits me like the brick walls I stand next to. My dream . . . This is the place my dreams take me.
Taking pause and hesitation with my next step, my brain works frantically as I remember the swirls of unnatural, cold fog and the embrace of the motherly woman, Jane. My breath hitches when I feel pressure on my shoulder. It’s comforting, warm. The smell of roses mixed with the oncoming rain.
The pressure tightens and I feel each finger as they squeeze. I glance at my sweatshirt-covered shoulder and see nothing. No hand, fingers, or body belonging to the rose-scented woman. I blink, my eyelashes brushing my high cheekbone, and my muscles tense. What the hell? I feel her, I smell her. I know she’s here. But I can’t see her.
Slowly, I shift my head back in front of me and take a careful step forward. My inhales and exhales are exaggerated as my adrenaline pumps, replacing gripping curiosity with taunting slivers of fear.
A muffled cry for help bounces off the brick walls in the nearby alley before spilling into the street. The sound is just around the corner, and I can hear threats of life being muttered with anger by a male voice.
I take another step, the pressure on my shoulder still there as the invisible hand urges me to remain calm.

D. Fischer is a mother of two very busy boys, a wife to a wonderful and supportive husband, and an owner of two hyper sock-loving dogs and an attention seeking fat cat. Together, they live in a quiet little corner in a state that’s located in the middle of the great USA.
D. Fischer is, by no means, an expert in literature, but a book lover at heart. After her kids are tucked in and fast asleep in their dream worlds, she spends most of her evenings buried in Paranormal Science Fiction books, but her dream as been to publish one of her own – not for fame, but for an easy read for all of the other Paranormal Science Fiction lovers out there.
D. Fischer dedicates her books to those exhausted fathers, mothers, and hard-working citizens who just want to come home, sit down, and relax into a world that isn’t their own.
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