The Butler-Baker Tour Author of the Day: Valjeanne Jeffers

Alabama Phoenix 001

Black faery

Valjeanne Jeffers is a graduate of Spelman College and a member of The Carolina African American Writers’ Collective. She is the author of the SF/fantasy novels: Immortal, Immortal II: The Time of Legend, Immortal III: Stealer of Souls, and the steamfunk novels: Immortal IV: Collision of Worlds and The Switch II: Clockwork (includes books 1 and 2); and the nonfiction volume: The Story of Eve. An inteveiw with Valjeanne also appears in 60 Years of Black Women in Horror Fiction. She was a semi-finalist for the Rita Dove Poetry Award and The Switch (book I) was nominated for best eBook novella by the EFestival of Words.

Valjeanne’s poetry has been published in The Ringing Ear: Black Poets Lean South, Drumvoices Revue, Revelry and Pembroke Magazine. Her fiction has appeared in Steamfunk!, Genesis: An Anthology of Black Science Fiction Volumes I and II, Griots: A Sword and Soul Anthology, LuneWing, PurpleMag, Genesis Science Fiction Magazine, Pembroke Magazine, Possibilities, 31 Days of Steamy Mocha, and Griots II: Sisters of the Spear. An excerpt from The Story of Eve was also published in PurpleMag. She is also co-owner of Q and V Affordable editing.

Her two latest novels: Mona Livelong: Paranormal Detective and Colony: Ascension will be released later this year. Preview or purchase her novels at:
Contact Q & V Affordable Editing at:

Valjeanne blogs regularly at:
She has a podcast as “Crystal Temptress” (with her co-host Quinton Veal as “Loyal Fang”)

Check out her newest release: Voyage of Dreams, A collection of Otherwordly stories featuring her best works– including Mona Livelong (excerpt), Colony (excerpt), Grandmere’s Secret, Outcasts, Mocha Faeryland and more!

Herman Lowe had less than an hour to live. The District Attorney was wearing his best suspenders and
stove pipe pants. His Stetson hat and drink sat on the table before him and his date Marissa, a shapely woman half his
age, snuggled up next to him, his arm about her shoulders.

The Pretender was his getaway. A spot where no one knew him. Even better, it wasn’t a nightclub his wife or
her girlfriends frequented.

He kissed Marissa wetly on the lips and winked, “Be right back, sugar. I gotta pay my water bill,” scooted his
considerable girth out from behind the booth and sauntered to the gentlemen’s room.

Herman pushed the swinging door open into a restroom lit by oil lamps, and walked over to a stall. As he relieved himself, he reflected pleasantly over his last courtroom win. He’d managed to convince a jury that the accused, Sonny Peters, had swindled fifty folks out of their life savings with a bogus gold-mining investment scheme.

It was a difficult case. Over the years Sonny had used a plethora of different names and disguises. But Lowe’s barristers, under his tutelage, had pieced together Sonny’s paper trail and turned it into hard evidence.

Another victory. Ten years and I’ve only lost three cases. Could be Monterrey is ready for a Black mayor. Herman Lowe, Monterrey’s first Black District Attorney, was a man who believed in firsts.

He buttoned his fly, pulled the chain to flush the toilet, and walked across the bathroom to the basin to wash his hands. Lowe poured water from a vase into the washbasin, and picked up one of the towels beside it to dry his hands.

The door swung open. He looked up but saw no one. Herman glanced behind him, shrugged and finished drying his hands.
The temperature in the room dipped from seventy to forty degrees. Lowe suddenly felt a suffocating claustrophobia, as if he were being forced inside a coffin. He clutched the towel, breathing hard, his heart thumping. By now it was so cold he could see his exhaled breath. Footsteps echoed over the bathroom tiles, slow and measured. The stopped just beside him.

A plume of breath floated toward him. With a cry of terror, he bolted for the door.

A shadow blocked his path.


Lowe’s rich ebony skin had faded to a sickly gray. That was the first thought that came to the detective’s mind, as he stared down at the body. Curtis Dubois fingered the toothpick in his mouth. He was a heavy-set man, with skin the color of brown-sugar, close-cut hair, and dark eyes. He sported a mustache over his full lips, and his youthful face belied his thirty-two years. . .

Mona Livelong: Paranormal Detective (excerpt), Voyage of Dreams
Copyright 2014, Valjeanne Jeffers all rights reserved
Cover art and design Quinton Veal

Voyage of Dreams is now available for pre-order at




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