Today Julie Reece and Month9Books are revealing the cover and first chapter for THE PALADINS, book 2 in THE ARTISANS Series which releases May 3, 2016! Check out the gorgeous cover and enter to be one of the first readers to receive an eGalley and a eBook of THE ARTISANS!!
Hereâs a message from the author. Book covers are tricky things. My respect for cover artists has grown exponentially after entering the world of publishing. I learned the challenge of a good cover artist is to hint at the story beneath using a single image. They must create a picture that suggests to perspective readers what lies within those hundreds of pagesâusing nothing more than specific font and a few square inches of graphic design. It seems impossible, yet most of us agree that art evokes emotion. And when I saw my cover, I was overwhelmed.
The Paladins is dark. And this cover is dark. The story is a Gothic tale, mysterious and eerie. And while parts of this world are beautiful, beauty is often deceptive. Youâre never quite sure if something lurks in the shadows, where the path you tread is leading, or even if what you see is real ⦠until itâs too late. For me, the cover encompasses all those story elements. I hope you like it as much as I do.
On to the reveal!
Title: THE PALADINS (The Artisans #2)
Author: Julie Reece
Pub. Date: May 3, 2016
Publisher: Month9Books
Format: Paperback & eBook
The Artisan curse is broken. Souls trapped in a mysterious otherworld called The Void are finally released. Now, Raven Weathersby, Gideon Maddox, and Cole Wynter can finally move on with their lives...or so they thought. If the ancient magic is truly dead, then why are mystical fires plaguing Gideon at every turn? What accounts for Ravenâs frightening visions of her dead mother? And who is the beautiful, tortured girl haunting Coleâs dreams?
Last year, a group of lonely teens sacrificed secrets, battled the supernatural, and faced their own demons to set one another free. Yet six months later, the heart of evil still beats within The Void. And the trio is forced to face the horrific truth: that their only way out is to go back in.
The Paladins completes this eerie YA Southern Gothic where loyalties are tested, love is challenged, and evil seeks them on the ultimate battlegroundsâin their minds, their souls, and their hearts.
In case you missed it here's the redesigned cover for THE ARTISANS!
Title: THE ARTISANS
Author: Julie Reece
Pub. Date: May 12, 2015
Publisher: Month9Books
Pages: 300
Find it: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Goodreads
They say death can be beautiful. But after the death of her mother, seventeen-year-old Raven Weathersby gives up her dream of becoming a fashion designer, barely surviving life in the South Carolina lowlands.
To make ends meet, Raven works after school as a seamstress creating stunning works of fashion that often rival the great names of the day. Instead of making things easier on the high school senior, her stepdad's drinking leads to a run in with the highly reclusive heir to the Maddox family fortune, Gideon Maddox. But Raven's stepdad's drying out and in no condition to attend the meeting with Maddox. So Raven volunteers to take his place and offers to repay the debt in order to keep the only father she's ever known out of jail, or worse. Gideon Maddox agrees, outlining an outrageous demand: Raven must live in his home for a year while she designs for Maddox Industries' clothing line, signing over her creative rights. Her handsome young captor is arrogant and infuriating to the nth degree, and Raven can't imagine working for him, let alone sharing the same space for more than five minutes. But nothing is ever as it seems. Is Gideon Maddox the monster the world believes him to be? And can he stand to let the young seamstress see him as he really is?
Excerpt
Prologue
The Before Cole Itâs been four years since I planted the fireworks in Gideon Maddoxâs locker that burned a third of his face. Four years since his father took revenge, trapping me with a spell that kept me prisoner in The Void. Three months since the magic found me again. Two months since my parents put me in therapy. One day since my parents left for Paris on a month long business tour. This morning, a mysterious girl no one else can see beckoned again from The Void. Tonight, Iâm standing on the balcony of my parentâs palatial home, buying an airline ticket back to the statesâback to Maddox mansionâthe heart of my nightmares. People say the more things change the more they stay the same. I hate them for being right. I lived with the monsters in my prison until I thought I might go mad. Repentant of my past, I made peace with my fate, my eternity. Until the day I was freed, because a stranger had the courage to help. This time someone needs me. How can I doom a girl to a fate I barely escaped? Thereâs only one answer. I canât. Chapter One Cole A bottle-green fly hums, rubbing his tiny legs together as though heâs plotting something. The insect seems a dirty ornament on the shiny desk nameplate he sits upon. Gold on gold, the engraved letters read Navin Cahvan M.D. This is the third psychiatrist Iâve met in as many weeks. Part of my motherâs plan to fix me. Jumpy nerves, insomnia, nightmares about demons when I finally do fall sleepâthese are her justifications. Everyone tries to shrink me like a cheap T-shirt in the dryer. The tawny-skinned man across the desk folds his knotted fingers over his belly and stares. Dark eyes track my movements beneath two bushy white eyebrows. âMr. Wynter?â Right. He asked a question. The fly hums again, wings fluttering against his hairy back. My head pounds, my clothes scratch, eyes burn, and my ears are raw with the smallest sounds echoing deep inside. When Dr. Cahvan shifts, the leather seat groans in protest. âI can help you. But you must tell me the truth.â All I hear is Jack Nicholson screaming the line from A Few Good Men: âYou canât handle the truth!â âTrust me, Cole. Tell me your secret thoughts.â Trust you? Sure. I tell you what happened and you lock me away forever on meds that keep me drooling, while I play dominoes with people who see giant, pink rabbits. No thanks. He leans forward. His fingers thread together as his hands rest on the desktop. He taps his thumbs together. âI assure you this is a safe place. I call it ⦠the circle of trust.â Give me a break. You want me to tell you how I was a mean, dangerous kid. Confess that because I tormented a crippled boy, his father used a magic camera to trap me in an alternate universe as punishment. Explain how I lived a half-life in the Maddox mansion for four years until Raven Weathersby rescued me. About how much I miss her and think about going back someday ⦠Maybe I am insane. âLetâs discuss something else.â I find his suggestion amusing since Iâve barely said ten words in the past hour, and our time is almost up. The good doctor shifts again. âInstead of talking about the past, why not speak of the present. How are you adjusting to life at home? I understand your parents had a welcome home party when you first arrived. How did that go?â How do you think? âSwell.â I would have preferred stuffing my hand in a high-speed blender. A hundred people that I hadnât seen since I was fifteenâand couldnât care less to see againâshowed up to shake my hand and recite all theyâd ever read about amnesia, the lie Gideon made up to cover my absence. âI really just need some space.â âAnd you got your wish, did you not? I understand your parents left town yesterday. How does being alone again so soon make you feel?â Incredibly pissed. âTheyâve always been busy people. Iâm used to them traveling.â But I wasnât. I thought with all the time apart, my parents might want to stick around a while. Be a family. Nope. Since appearances mean everything, they threw a party right away to show their friends and colleagues how fine I was. The powerful and highly regarded Mr. and Mrs. Wynter pulled out all the stops to prove their love for their long lost son: fine wine, catered dinner, china, crystal, even a string quartet. Yet, my father couldnât keep the disappointment from his face any more than my mother could drown her misery in vodka. Perhaps to appease their consciences, my folks hooked me up with doctors and provided for my physical needs before bailing. But a new car and an obscenely padded bank account wasnât what I needed. So easily brushed aside again, I couldnât help but wonder if parts of them were relieved when Iâd disappeared four years ago. Dr. Cahvanâs eyes narrow. âSo, you remember your life up until your trip to the States?â âYes.â Iâm lying about my amnesia. I know it. He knows it. So do my parents, but itâs too late to come up with a better story ⦠like being the victim of a cult brainwashing or joining a psychedelic commune. I drank a different brand of Kool-Aid in Sales Hollow, South Carolina, and I can never tell a soul. The fly zings to the window. I flinch as the buzzing is magnified ten times in my head. It takes all my will not to jump up and smash the bug against the glass. The doctor watches me with sharp eyes trained to interpret body language. I hold his gaze, though my skin breaks out in a sweat. A sudden wind rattles the panes, and I startle. Cahvanâs mouth crimps at the corners. âRather breezy today,â he says, glancing out the window at the quiet, blue sky. Who cares about the weather? I have to give the old guy something before I start whining about magic spells, heightened senses, or worse: how my daddy never loved me. I blow out a breath. âLook, some things seem familiar, others are confusing. I donât need a doctor. I need time.â I only meant to throw him a bone so heâd have something to report when my parents call, but my body heats as I talk. Anger, resentment, and fear all claw their way up my throat and charge out of my mouth before I can stop them. âTime I canât get back where I finish school, date hot girls, and grow up like normal kids do. Iâm trying. Doing the best I can, but what I donât need is to sit in rooms with smug strangers who are paid to dissect my brain over things I canât explain, and neither of us will ever understand!â I drag my fingers through my shaggy hair. âThat time is gone. Iâm pissed off, and I guess Iâll be pissed off until Iâm not anymore.â Dr. Cahvan rubs his jaw. âThatâs very interesting, Cole.â My laugh is harsh. Not that any of this is funny. âIs it?â âYes. Thank you for your honesty today.â His bushy eyebrows push together. âThank you for entering the circle of trust and allowing me to help you. Please see my secretary on your way out and make another appointment for next week.â Seriously? I stand and head for the door. Oh, Iâll see your secretary, all right. Iâll nod as I walk right past her. He didnât help me. No one can. There are a lot of things I need. But touchy-feely therapy with Doctor Eyebrows isnât one of them. *** After the awkward âcircle of trustâ episode, I canât decide what to do with myself. I donât want to be around people, but I donât want to go home to an empty house either, so I wind up in the rambling cemetery a couple miles from our house. I like it here and come pretty often just to think. Crumbling grave markers bear witness to Franceâs rich history, even with the chiseled dates worn and fading with time. Moss, ivy, and ancient trees lend beauty and peace to a place that soothes my soul. Iâm not trying to be morbid. I never kept company with the dead. We were the undead, in a non-sparkly kind of way. Iâm not stupid enough to think Iâll discover the meaning of life. Iâm just trying to find meaning in mine. After surviving a half-death, Iâve been given a second chance. Trouble is, I donât know what to do with it. The sun is too hot on my back. No sooner does the thought cross my mind, when a friendly breeze tousles my hair like an old friend. I pull my cell from my pocket and stare at Ravenâs number. She said to call her anytime, and I do. Gideon said to call her if I wanted my arse kicked. Typical. Heâs still that insecure kid deep down. Still trying to prove himself, as he tries to control everyone and everything within his reach, just like his old man taught him. Should have known something was wrong when I first got the invitation to visit Gideon in America all those years ago. My parents were so happy Maddox Senior wasnât pressing charges; they actually thought the gesture was an attempt at friendship. Of course, Mum and Dad sent me packing complete with an olive branch in my mouth. That gesture of goodwill got my picture taken and a trip to The Void with a bunch of vengeful old guys from the early nineteen hundreds and a hot blond with twisted taste in men. We spent our days trying to escape that hell. The labyrinthâs ghouls, the surreal existence of consciousness without a physical body, and the constant pain of regret all earmarked a life that wasnât. Until her. My fingers comb the grass at my sides. I close my eyes and feel the dayâs warmth on my face, the wind threading through my thin tee. I may look like a freak, but I canât stop touching everything around me. While I was gone, I missed the sensation of air in my lungs, the taste of coffee, the sweet sensation of a kiss ⦠My thumb starts dialing Raeâs number. Cole ⦠Shite. Here we go again. Come to me, Cole ⦠I wonder if I sounded this creepy to Raven when I begged for her help. Veins at my temples pulse. Leaves shake and laugh in the breeze, the echo reverberating in my head. âWho are you? What do you want with me?â I want to stand, but my limbs weigh a hundred pounds each. My lungs deflate under the crushing pressure, and I struggle to breathe. The scenery of oaks and elms surrounding the cemetery blur into a muddy gray-green wall, and I know whatâs happening. Gravestones push up from the ground like gnashing teeth and recede again until the ground transforms into a smooth, stone floor. The world of pedestrians, car horns, and singing birds around the graveyard fade to a quiet worse than death. My body rejects the idea of gravity. The weightlessness of being sucked back into The Void again invades my person like a virus, spreading into my muscles and bones, my very essence. I will the door of my mind closed to shut out the transformation. I place a mental shield before the magic so it wonât consume me, but magic has a will of its own. It snakes under the imaginary door Iâve erected in my head, enveloping me. I thrash, but itâs useless. My soundless screaming and mind-withering despair only seems to feed The Voidâs strength. When I open my eyes, the cemetery is gone. I shift on a cold, damp floor, taking in my new surroundings. Iâve seen this place before, several times. The space is a circular stone room with two tall, skinny windows allowing diffused light inside. A bed sits across from me. Downy quilts worn and faded with use cover the straw mattress. On the wall, a huge, gilt-framed mirror reflects the room where a pretty blond sits in a hardback chair. Watching me. Iâm familiar with strange, but not with sad, soul-eating eyes like hers. When she rises, I feel like I should thank her, because light from the window shows her curves through an ultra-thin nightdress. The sight chokes my airflow for a whole different reason. ThinkofRaventhinkofRaventhinkofRaven. Iâm so not thinking of Raven. For all my faults, Iâm not the cheating type, but I am a guy, and this girl is seriously fit! I want to touch her in the worst way, but I swallow instead. Attempting to be a gentleman, I lift my gaze and focus on the far wall, yet somehowâbecause Iâm still a guyâI end up watching the way her hair hangs in white blond waves to her thighs. Her rosebud mouth opens slightly. Pleading eyes, more silver than blue, threaten to pull me under and drown me. None of this helps curb my impulse to reach for her. Then I think about how she brought me here against my will, and that helps tamp down the hormones. Cole. What do you want? Canât you guess? I can. I pleaded with Raven for the same help not too long ago. Inside The Void, I thought Iâd met everyone. The ones that Maddox had imprisoned, and the indigenous inhabitants of the labyrinth. I hadnât known there were any others. The drip-drop of a leaky faucet is the only sound as I gather my thoughts. âWho are you? Where are you? I donât understand whatâs happening. Where is this place? Did Gideon put you here?â I rattle off my questions not pausing for a response. She doesnât answer. Maybe she canât. Wind picks up, whooshing through the hollow room, though the windows are shut. The sound grows, as though someone dropped a microphone in a washing machine. I grit my teeth against the noise. My mind squeezes in the pressurized vacuum. Cole ⦠She extends a thin, white hand. I remember Raven. How she fell to her knees on the floor of the mill house when we first met. Pain rips into my psyche, claws at my sanity. The same way Iâm sure it did hers. âIâm sorry. Forgive me, Raven. I didnât know.â ⦠My name is Rosamond ⦠Stone walls smear and fade, the beautiful girl along with them. I canât breathe. Then, the faint outline of tree tops bleed back into view. ⦠Rosamond Bryer ⦠My panting rivals an overheated Saint Bernard. Grass pokes my palms. Rough bark scrapes my spine through my T-shirt. Any trace of the castle turret is erased as the same decrepit cemetery I know solidifies, and the garden is as it was before. Almost ⦠Iâm leaning against an old tree, yet my cell and sunglasses still lie next to the rose bushes where I was sitting, almost twenty feet away. I have no memory of moving. How did I get way over here? Both hands plow through my hair with my exhale. What the bloody hell just happened? Am I imagining this? A nightmare left over from the reality of my imprisonment. Or is the girl real? Trapped like I was and waiting for someone with the courage to free her. Is that someone me? Iâve been a lot of things, but brave isnât one of them. To help her means going back to the mansion. No. I definitely do not need this shite. Iâm starting over, leaving that life behind. Yet, the haunted expression on the girlâs face tugs at me. Something about her seems familiar. Iâm gutted over how she reached for me. Raven doubted, too, but not for long. If the blond is real, then sheâs really in trouble. And if sheâs really in trouble, what, if anything, are you prepared to do about it, Cole Wynter?
As a child, Julieâs summers were about horseback riding and fishing, while winter brought sledding and ice-skating on frozen ponds. Most of life was magical, but not all. She struggled with multiple learning disabilities, and spent much of her time gazing out windows and daydreaming. In the fourth grade (with the help of one very nice teacher) she fought dyslexia for her right to read and won.
Afterward, she invented stories where powerful heroines kicked bad-guy butt to win the hearts charismatic heroes. And then she wrote one downâ¦
Writing ever since, Julie weaves southern gothic, contemporary, fantasy, and young adult
romances. She enjoys sweeping tales of mystery and epic adventure⦠which must include a really hot guy. Her writing is proof a dream and some hard work can overcome any obstacle.
Giveaway Details:
1 winner will receive an eBook of THE ARTISANS and an eGalley of THE PALADINS. International.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
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Welcome to the cover reveal for Artifacts by Pete Catalano presented by Tantrum Books! Be sure to enter the giveaway found at the end of the post! Be on the look out for this fun upcoming MG title from Tantrum Books!
Artifacts by Pete Catalano Publication Date: May 17, 2016 Publisher: Tantrum Books
Website | Twitter | Facebook | Pinterest | Goodreads Complete the Rafflecopter below for a chance to win!
Today is the cover reveal for She Laughs in Pink by Jessica Calla. This cover reveal is organized by Lola's Blog Tours.
She Laughs in Pink (Sheridan Hall #1) by Jessica Calla Genre: Contemporary Romance Age category: New Adult Release Date: May 2016 Publisher: BookFish Books Blurb: You can find She Laughs in Pink on Goodreads About the Author: Jessica Calla is a lawyer by day and a romance writer by night. Her favorite time is "bedtime," when she's free to open her laptop, battle with her blinking cursor, and pour out the contents of her heart. Jessica is a member of Romance Writers of America and is involved in the Contemporary, Young Adult, and New Jersey Chapters. She is also a member of the Women’s Fiction Writers Association. She lives in central New Jersey with her husband, two sons, and a dog. Besides reading and writing, she enjoys movies, coffee, and chocolate. She considers herself addicted to Diet Coke and Netflix (in a good way). You can find and contact Jessica here: - Website - Goodreads - Amazon There is a cover reveal wide giveaway for the cover reveal of She Laughs in Pink. One winner will win a 25$ amazon gift card. For a chance to win, enter the rafflecopter below: a Rafflecopter giveaway
Today is the cover reveal for Amanda Lester and the Blue Peacocks’ Secret by Paula Berinstein. This cover reveal is organized by Lola's Blog Tours.
Amanda Lester and the Blue Peacocks’ Secret (Amanda Lester, Detective #4) by Paula Berinstein Genre: Mystery/detective Age category: Young Adult Release Date: March 31, 2016 Blurb: You can find Amanda Lester and the Blue Peacocks’ Secret on Goodreads You can pre-order Amanda Lester and the Blue Peacocks’ Secret here: - Amazon Amanda Lester and the Blue Peacocks’ Secret first Darktower class excerpt: About the Author: Paula Berinstein is nothing like Amanda. For one thing, she’s crazy about Sherlock Holmes. For another, she’s never wanted to be a filmmaker. In addition, compared to Amanda she’s a big chicken! And she wouldn’t mind going to a secret school at all. In fact, she’s hoping that some day she’ll get to build one. You can find and contact Paula here: - Website - Goodreads - Paula's blog on Goodreads - The Writing Show podcasts There is a cover reveal wide giveaway for the cover reveal of Amanda Lester and the Blue Peacocks’ Secret. You can win a 50$ amazon gift card. Open international. For a chance to win, enter the rafflecopter below: a Rafflecopter giveaway
Title: Bad Blood
Series: Wages of Sin #1
By: Laurencia Hoffman & Sophie Smith
Publication Date: April 5, 2016
Genre: Fantasy
Blake is an outlaw loved only by his wife. Melina is a lonely woman abandoned by her sire. While seeking refuge in a cave, Blake is attacked by the female vampire. She abandons him soon after he turns, which leaves him to fend for himself. He develops a wild and rebellious nature and is used to being on his own, but when Melina suddenly reappears in his life, it changes his world yet again. Though it's difficult for them to forgive and forget the past, they try to put their differences aside. They still have a sense of loyalty to one another. They make an effort to repair their relationship, though Melina is unaware of the number of enemies that her fledgling has acquired in her absence. With so many obstacles ahead of them, and Blake's enemies not far behind, they try to survive the danger, as well as each other.
Amazon US - http://goo.gl/q4bT1p
Amazon UK - http://goo.gl/LBKQhN
Amazon CA - http://goo.gl/ulgllf
Laurencia Hoffman is the author of three published books; Casting Stones, Bittersweet and Star Crossed: Worlds Apart (published under her legal name: Jolene Poole). Laurencia lives with her family in Michigan. When she's not writing she also enjoys making her own line of natural products, and watching films.
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Today J. Keller Ford and Month9Books are revealing the cover and first chapter for IN THE SHADOW OF THE DRAGON KING! Book 1 in the Chronicles of Fallhallow Series which releases May 31, 2016! Check out the gorgeous cover and enter to be one of the first readers to receive an eGalley!!
Hereâs a short intro from the author!
Hi there! Iâm so excited to share this cover with you. I love the stunning blue background with the silver accents, and the dragon medallion totally captures the personality of the book. I knew I wanted the cover to be classic, timeless, yet dark and enchanting, and boy, did the designers deliver! I couldnât be more thrilled. Thanks so much for stopping by!
Title: IN THE SHADOW OF THE DRAGON KING (The Chronicles of Fallhallow #1)
Author: J. Keller Ford
Pub. Date: May 31, 2016
Publisher: Month9Books
Format: Paperback & eBook
Seventeen-year-old, Eric, is a kick-butt squire to the most revered knight in Fallhollow. Well he would be if Sir Trogsdill allowed him to do anything even remotely awesome. Determined to prove his worth, Eric sets out to find the mythical paladin summoned to protect the realm from the evil lurking nearby.
Sixteen-year-old, David, spends his days collecting school honors, winning archery tournaments, and trying not to fall in love with his scrappy best friend, Charlotte.
Right when things start to get interesting, he is whisked away to the magical realm of Fallhollow where everyone thinks he's some sort of paladin destined to fulfill a two-hundred-year-old prophecy. He's supposed to help kill a dragon with some sort of magic key. The same key that happens to adorn the neck of an annoying squire who's too wrapped up in proving himself to be much help to anyone.
With egos as big as the dragon they need to destroy, Eric and David must get over themselves, or watch everything they know and love, burn.
Excerpt
âWar is a necessary evil. There is not a day or time when each of us does not battle some sort of enemy either within or around us. The true test of our character lies in the instant when we choose to either ignore or defeat that which seeks to destroy us. It is the same in our kingdom. Hirth has seen its share of battles and this great province has ridden the wings of freedom for many an age; however, there will come a day when an evil so immense will seek to threaten our very existence. It is then the knights of Gyllen Castle will rise to the aid of Hirth and defend all that is dear â our families, our land, and our right to survive. When such a time comes, I will fight with honor and for glory and give my life, if my forfeiture of it will allow Hirth the chance to endure in peace. And while I know that the enemy may prevail and my life be extinguished from this body, my death will not be in vain for what is more honorable than giving oneâs life for love of family, countryâ¦and freedom.â
Sir Trogsdill Domnall. Chapter 1 If Eric had known what the daylight would bring after the nightmares ended, he would have remained in bed, the covers pulled over his head. Instead, he waded through the puddles of the castleâs upper courtyard, each gong from the clock tower further coiling his stomach into knots. Sloshing along beside him, down the aisle of topiaries and statues, was his best friend, a devilish lad with unkempt hair the color of dirt and a cock-eyed grin. âI donât know why youâre in such a hurry,â Sestian said, polishing an apple on his sleeve. âWeapons class began fifteen minutes ago. Master Mafi wonât allow us in.â The apple crunched in his teeth. âYou donât understand, Ses. I have to try.â Eric swatted at the spindly arms of a willow tree. âThis will be the third day in a row I missed. If I donât go, word will get back to Trog and heâll flog me. You know how he gets.â âYou worry too much. Heâd never physically hurt you, however, I do have to admit, he is quite an odd fellow. I saw him make another midnight trek to the fountain last night. He sat there all hunched over like heâd lost his best friend, then he stood, dropped a rose in the water, and left.â Ericâs muscles bunched under his light shirt, his brow pinched. âThat is bizarre, even for him.â âWant to hear something even more bizarre?â Sestian paused, took another bite of the apple and buried the core in a potted plant. âI overheard Trog and my own headache of a master talking this morning. I believe the exact words out of Farnsworthâs mouth were, âFallhollow is under attackâ.â Eric came to a stop, his eyes wide. âAttack? From who?â Sestian shrugged. âDonât know, but members of the Senate and the Mageâs High Council arrived an hour ago, including the Supreme Master himself. Theyâre meeting with the Order as we speak.â âWhat?â Ericâs pulse quickened. âJaredâs here? You saw him?â The grand mage of all magical beings never involved himself in the affairs of men. Ever. âNo, but I plan to change that.â An impish twinkle glistened in Sestianâs eyes. âAre you game?â âWhat? You want toâyou meanâyouâre joking, right?â The puckish grin on Sestianâs face answered his question. Eric shook his head. âOh, no. There is no way youâre going to get me to eavesdrop on a secret council meeting. Iâd rather get hit by lightning than suffer the punishment from anyone sitting in that room.â âAww, come on, Eric. Must you always be so dull? Arenât you the least bit curious?â âThat sort of curiosity will land us in the pillory at best.â Eric pushed past his friend through the carved citadel doors. Sestian darted in front of him and stopped. âYour point?â âMy point is that I value my life.â âAnd what of Fallhollow? Donât you value our home?â âOf course I do, butââ âThen what are you waiting for?â Sestian punched Ericâs arm. âLetâs go.â âSes, no!â Ericâs protest fell on empty ears. His friend was gone. Eric brushed past the lapis columns of the marble vestibule into the Great Hall, a wide-open space topped by a domed ceiling so high its ornate detail was almost lost in the darkness. Nobles and servants milled about, coming and going out of the many rooms, laughter echoing off the walls speckled with massive tapestries and oiled paintings. A flock of girls dressed in aristocratic finery stood upon the majestic staircase, twittering like excited canaries. One of them, Lady Emelia, a startling girl with red hair and striking features, waved at him and winked. Eric rolled his eyes and scurried down the hall past the stairs. The last thing he wanted or needed was a flighty girl choking his freedom. He passed several lavish rooms before spotting his friend at the far end of the music room, leaning on a harp. âWhat took you so long?â Sestian grinned, then pushed aside a wall tapestry and vanished through a secret door. âDrat you, Ses. How do you find these things?â Eric glanced over his shoulder and followed. Inside, Sestian struck a wooden match against the stone wall and lit a torch he plucked from an iron sconce. They climbed a set of narrow steps. The guttering flame of Sestianâs torch cast shadows on the walls. More than once the passageway twisted and turned as they ascended. âAre you sure you know where youâre going?â Eric asked. Sestian laughed. âWeâre in the heart of the castle and youâre going to ask that question now?â They continued upward. After what seemed an eternity, the steps emptied onto the landing of a dark corridor filled with cobwebs. Sestian stopped and thrust the torch at Eric. âHold this.â He spun a wall sconce in a combination of left and right turns until a latch popped, and a hidden door opened inward, exposing a small room filled with wooden crates. âWhat theâ?â Eric stepped inside, his mouth open. Sestian placed his finger to his lips and motioned to a jagged hole the size of a manâs fist in the wall. Curious, Eric squatted and peered through a banner of delicate silk. âDragonâs breath,â he whispered. âThatâs the kingâs arbitration room!â He flicked a sideways glance at Sestian. âHow did you find this?â âI donât sleep much, remember?â âGood heavens, you are crazy.â A chair scraped across the wood floor below. Four mages, recognizable by their golden skin, turquoise eyes, and sapphireâblue garments, sat on one side of an immense oval table. Four senators clad in similar garments of purple and gold sat across from them. At one head of the table sat Trog and Farnsworth. At the other, a sojourner shrouded in black with silver rings upon his fingers and tattoos etched upon his hands. And at one of the five arched windows stood the sorceress, Slavandria, her thick lavender hair plaited in a single braid to the floor. âJared,â Eric said under his breath. âYep,â Sestian said. âThatâd be my guess.â Below, Trog leaned forward, his massive hands clasped together, and addressed the cloaked figure opposite him. âWe will heed your warnings, Master Jared, and dispatch a legion to His Majestyâs entourage. I also think it wise to notify our neighbors to the north of the encroaching threat. If this enemyâs intentions are to see Hirth fall, he will attack our allies first to render our kingdom helpless.â âAgreed.â Jaredâs voice resonated deep within the chambers, and into Ericâs core. âMaster Camden, see to it the kingdoms of Trent and Banning are informed of the possible threat. Also, instruct the shime to dispatch regiments and secure the borders of Hirth.â âDo you feel that necessary?â replied the bald man clad in blue. âThere is no proof the kingdom of Hirth or the realm of Fallhollow, for that matter, is under attack. There have only been a few isolated incidents of bloodshed, nothing that could be construed as acts of war.â âMaster Camden,â Jared said, âseveral families of barbegazis, nine unicorns, and over a hundred humans are dead all in the course of four days. This morning, patrols rescued a herd of pixies from a crowâs cage in the Elmwithian Marsh. They were swathed in dragonâs blood. Might I remind you a single act of brutality, especially one steeped in black magic as these incidences are, is one violation too many. Our job is to protect this world, and more so this kingdom, from any dark sorcery that may threaten it. If this directive is in any way unclear, I will be more than happy to personally instruct you in the importance of upholding your defensive role.â A chill crept up Ericâs spine. âOh, come on. Instruct him,â Sestian said, a grin stretched across his face. A palpable silence fell over the room. Master Camden shifted in his seat and wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead. âPersonal instruction is not necessary, Supreme Master.â âI find that to be a wise decision.â Eric exhaled. âYes, so do I.â Jared stood and pulled the hood of his cloak forward. âSince we are in agreement, I believe we can dismiss. Sir Trogsdill, if I may, Iâd like to speak with my daughter alone.â âOf course,â Trog said, standing. âThe rest of you, follow me to the dining hall where you can feast before your journey home.â âI donât believe this, Sestian whispered as Trog ushered the last of the visitors out and closed the door behind him. âShh,â Eric said. Down below, Slavandria, said âWhat is on your mind, Father?â Jared strolled past her, his hands tucked into his voluminous sleeves. âI have given this a great deal of thought and I have reached a decision. Considering all that has happened, I am left with no other choice. As queen of the Southern Forest and protector of this realm, you must summon the paladin.â Her gasp could have ripped leaves from their stems. âFather, no! I canât! The paladin is only to be summoned in the direst of circumstances. While these attacks are horrid, they are far from extreme.â âDaughterââ âFather, please. The ramifications will be devastating to all those involved. Together with the shime, weâll find this enemy and bring him into the light. I beg you. Please do not do this.â âIf that were true, they would have done so by now. As such, your arguing is futile. My decision is made. By sunset within three days, you must fulfill your duties. I will have the document drawn and sealed. Have Mangus deliver it. So it is said?â Slavandriaâs jaw tightened. âYouâre being unreasonable.â âAnd you are bordering the line of punishment.â Eric shuddered at the menacing tone. âDo I have your word?â Jared said. Slavandria straightened her back and steadied her voice. âYes, Father. So it is said. So it shall be done, but donât think for one-minute I wonât improvise when the time presents itself.â âYou have always been my challenge child. I would expect nothing less from you. Now, if you will forgive me, I must go.â âWhere this time?â âHome, to Felindil for a day. Afterwards, I will be in seclusion, communing with the heavens before taking to the sea.â âWhat? And leave me here to set the world right once the paladin arrives?â Jaredâs full-bodied laughter filled the room. âYou sound as if the demon of the underworld will rise, spewing fire and ash.â âAnd how do you know he wonât?â She paused, her fingers steepled to her lips before continuing. âFather, please. All I ask is for once, in your long, stubborn life, you listen to me. The people of this kingdom and all of Fallhollow are innocent. They need our protection. I fear what the paladinâs presence will do. You canât bring such devastation upon Fallhollow and then leave me to salvage whatever is left.â âI bring nothing upon this realm; therefore, I leave you with nothing to clean up. The course of the world is set. Events will unfold as they will. The paladin will not change that which is set in motion.â âYouâre wrong, Father.â Slavandria brushed past him. âDisagree if you must. You always do. For now, go home. Wait for my summoning papers and prepare the traveler. I will come to you in Chalisdawn three days hence.â Jared snapped his fingers. White shards of light crackled and zapped around him, and he was gone. Slavandria shook her head. âYou have no idea what youâve done, Father.â She gathered her cloak from the back of a chair and incanted some strange words. A swift pale-blue mist rose from the floor, swirling, engulfing her in a vortex. The air sizzled and splintered, and she, too, disappeared. âWhoa,â Sestian said. âThis is worse than bad.â âNo kidding,â Eric stood and brushed the dust from his breeches, âand I have a feeling itâs going to get a lot worse.â Sestian withdrew the torch as they left the room and shut the door. âYou do realize weâre going to have to find out who this paladin is, right?â Eric walked down the steps. âWhy is that?â âCome on. Are you that daft? How else are we going to prove to Trog and Farnsworth that weâre deserving of becoming knights? Right now they think weâre nothing but a pair of imbeciles worthy of nothing more than polishing armor and performing duties of a valet.â âWeâre squires, Ses. Thatâs what we do.â âAnd itâs all weâll ever do if we donât prove ourselves. Donât you get it? When was the last time Gyllen Castle or Hirth saw battle, hmm?â âYou sound as if you want war.â âNo, but I havenât trained all my life to become a knight only to end up as a fat, lazy, well-paid manservant.â Eric turned a corner and continued downward, his voice hollow in the muted dark. âI donât think youâll ever be fat or lazy.â âEric, come on. Why must you be so difficult? Without a skirmish or two, acts of heroism for us are limited to rescuing girls from over-zealous drunkards and protecting the royal dinner from the palace dogs. I want more than that. When I die, I donât want to be remembered for how well I polished a sword, but for something grand and heroic. Donât you want the same?â âOf course I do, but I donât sit around thinking about what legacy I want to leave behind when I die.â âLiar. All you ever talk about is how much you want to be a knight like Trog.â Sestian shoved past Eric and blocked his descent. âThink about it. You know as well as I weâll be relegated to the stables to saddle horses and pack rations and bedrolls if there is the slightest hint of a conflict. They wonât let us anywhere near a battlefield, especially you. Itâs like youâre some kind of poster boy for squire school.â âI know, butââ âNo, there are no buts. Donât you see? Now is our chance to show our mettle. If we team up with this paladin, we have a chance to prove ourselves. Trog and Farnsworth will have to take notice.â âYeah, after they flog, tar and feather us. Besides, what makes you think this paladin will want us, huh? Heâs probably some powerful sorcerer like Jared.â âNo one is as powerful as Jared, but Iâll bet you a rooster against a duck this savior dabbles not only in white, but black magic, too. Thatâs why Jared needs him.â âWhich is all the more reason for us to keep our distance.â âNo! Itâs all the more reason for us to find him. Heâll need guides to help him maneuver through our lands. Weâll be heroes for saving Fallhollow from a murderous foe. King Gildore will praise us. Songs will be written about us.â Eric rolled his eyes. Sestian snorted. âDonât think I canât hear your eyes flipping around in their sockets. You know Iâm right. We know every crack in the earth Fallhollow possesses. Weâve been trained by the very best knights in the world. On top of that, I have a knack for getting us in and out of places unseen. Youâre extraordinary with a blade. Together, weâre dangerous. We can be his eyes and ears. And when we defeat whatever is out there, Trog and Farnsworth will have no choice but to admit our accomplishments and recommend us for knighthood.â Sestianâs stance and the set of his eyes conveyed an intensity Eric admired and feared. He sighed aloud. âAll right. You win, but we say nothing. If Trog and Farnsworth found out, theyâd roll us in dragon dung and set us on fire.â Sestian punched Eric playfully on the arm and smiled, wide. âHa! I knew I could break you.â They hurried from the music room and fell in with other students leaving classrooms. In the sunlit courtyard, Eric stopped short. Sestian plowed into him from behind. âWhatâs wrong?â Eric gritted his teeth. âDo you not see who is standing in front of us?â Sestian turned his gaze to their masters leaning against the balustrade, their arms folded to their chests, waiting. âGreat. Let me handle this.â Trog stood upright and adjusted the sword on his hip, flexing the intersecting scars on his armsâreminders of dozens of battles fought. He took a step forward, and a gust of wind blew his dark hair back from his weathered, sun-darkened face, exposing a high forehead, square jaw, and intense peridot eyes. Eric gulped as a childhood tale about a sly mouse captured by a blind owl scampered through his brain. âYouâre late,â Trog said, tossing Eric a suede satchel weighed down with sheathed knives. âWhere have you been?â He spoke softly, but his voice reverberated through the crisp morning air. âListening to Magister Timanâs lecture on ceremonial magic,â Sestian replied. âDid you know there are magical portals that allow us to travel between realms?â âDid you know I have a magical foot that can disappear up your backside if you donât get down to the stables right now?â Farnsworth asked. His brow furrowed beneath a curtain of wavy straw-colored hair. He walked toward Sestian, the seams of his green tunic strained over his wide shoulders, his eyes as brown and penetrating as a wolfâs. âSo Iâve heard. Several times.â Sestian grinned and tapped Eric on the arm. âWeâll get together later and go over what we learned today, eh?â Eric nodded and shuffled his feet under the weight of Trogâs stare. He waited for Sestian and Farnsworth to get far enough away before lifting his head and meeting Trogâs gaze. The knight lifted a brow. âAre you going to tell me where you really were, or are you going to hold to your story that you were listening to a lecture that ended this time yesterday?â âWhich one will get me in the least amount of trouble?â Trog placed his hand on Ericâs back and edged him down the stone steps to the lower courtyard. âThe truth, Eric. Always the truth.â âWhat if I promised not to tell?â âSecrets are grave burdens to bear.â âI canât betray his confidence, sir. I promised.â Trog nodded. âThen youâll sleep in the stables tonight as punishment.â âWhat? How is that fair?â âYou know the rules as my squire, and you still choose to withhold the truth. Therefore, you shall be punished accordingly.â âBut the rules of knighthood require I not reveal confidences or secrets under any circumstance to anyone at any time, even under pain of death.â âNice try, lad, but the last time I looked, you have not been captured nor are you under pain of death.â Trog placed a heavy hand on Ericâs shoulder. âIâm going to give you one more chance. What will it be?â Eric clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides. âWith all due respect, sir, I cannot and will not betray my friend.â Trog removed his hand. âI commend you on your loyalty, son, but you have made your choice. Therefore, you will suffer the consequences of it. Now go on and get busy with your chores. I want each of those blades in your hand sharpened and polished by morningââ âBut, sirââ âAnd for protesting when you should not, you will also sharpen and polish Sir Farnsworthâs blades. Iâll see to it they are dropped off.â Eric opened his mouth to speak, but changed his mind when Trog dipped his brow in warning. âWould you like me to add Sir Gowranâs and Sir Crohnâs weapons to your load?â Eric bit back the irritation boiling below the surface. âNo, sir.â âVery well. Bring the blades to the farrierâs stall in the morning around eight. It will be a dual-fold meeting as you can visit your father at the same time.â Trog paused for a moment, his expression thoughtful, then turned and strolled across the courtyard. He hoisted a young page from a game of marbles and lectured him on the pitfalls of wasting time. Eric snorted at the boyâs bewildered expression and the speed at which he ran once set down upon his feet. Been there, boy. He cursed beneath his breath. What am I talking about? Iâm still there. Ericâs boots clicked on the cobblestones as he plodded toward Crafterâs Row. He passed beneath the archway connecting the cathedral to the knightsâ quarters and turned left down the tree-shaded lane toward the royal stables. After informing the stablemaster of his upcoming sleeping arrangements, Eric returned the way he came. At the crossroad, he turned and made his way toward the smithy. Horses clomped and wagons rattled over the pavers while thick clouds gathered overhead, suffocating the sun. A light drizzle set in as he entered a stone building marked by a metal plate engraved with a hammer and anvil. The blacksmith wiped the sweat from his brow and motioned Eric to a table set with vials of oils, and various whetstones. Eric sighed. Lovely. He settled into the monotonous task of sharpening and polishing, taking on Farnsworthâs load a few hours later. He finished his arduous task just after dusk. Cursing his sore muscles, he packed up the satchels and shuffled to the stables where a plate of bread, cheese and a pint of goatâs milk waited for him. Great. Is he trying to starve me, too? He ate what was given and settled into the hayloft, his stomach a knot of protests. He sighed. Who was this paladin, and from who or what was he destined to save the realm? There was only one way to find out. Tomorrow he and Sestian would devise a plan, and it would be worthy of a knightâs tale. When all was said and done, Trog would have no other choice than to see him as a worthy knight instead of an incompetent fool. An image of Trog groveling for forgiveness appeared in his mind. Eric snuggled into a bed of hay and fell into a blissful dream, a wide grin on his face.
About J. Keller Ford:
J. (Jenny) Keller Ford grew up as an Army brat, traveling the world and wandering the halls of some of Germanyâs most extraordinary castles. From the time she was old enough to hold a crayon, she wove fantasy tales of dragons, warriors, and princesses. A former paralegal, sheâs the author of several short stories including The Amulet of Ormisez, Dragon Flight, and The Passing of Millie Hudson. When not at her keyboard breathing new life into fantasy worlds, Jenny spends time overloading on coffee, collecting seashells, bowling, swimming, riding roller coasters and talking plotlines with anyone who will listen. She lives on the west coast of Florida with her husband, two sons, two dogs, and a pretentious orange cat. Her two daughters and grand-daughter make their homes in Seattle, WA.
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Moorigad: Complete Age of the Hybrid Series
by Debra Kristi
Genre: Paranormal/Romance/Fantasy
Pages 476
Summary:
When Kyra, the Moorigad dragon-shifter, unwittingly finds herself at Mysticâs Carnival, a supernatural world between realms, she believes her runaway days are finished. Amidst the carnies and never-ending magic, she finds a home of the heart â friends and belonging among a gathering of paranormal beings. However, living an uncomplicated life was never one of Kyraâs strengths.
Sheâs falling for her all-too-secretive best friend, Sebastian. And as she delves deeper into his mysteries, her goodwill sabotages their future and her very existence.
What did Kyra do?
Can Kyra and Sebastian find their happily-ever-after?
In this action-packed, fantasy romance about two coming-of-age would-be lovers, Kyra and Sebastianâs union and strength of character will be put to the ultimate test. The stakes? Everything and everyone that ever mattered to them
About the Author
Live in reality. Play on the other side. Debra Kristi is a paranormal and fantasy writer. She lives in Southern California with her husband, two children and and three schizophrenic cats. Sheâs a full-time kid chaser, video game maker's wife, and muse prompted writer. Unlike the characters she often writes, she is not immortal and her only super power is letting the dishes and laundry pile up. When not writing, Debra is hanging out creating priceless memories with her family, geeking out to science fiction and fantasy television, and tossing around movie quotes. âShe writes because the dead girl told her to.â
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Enchanted: The Fairy Revels Collection Box Set
One spellbound night, nine award-winning and Amazon best-selling authors joined together to bring you an enchanting collection of tales featuring our favorite otherworldly creatures, fairies. Enchanted: The Fairy Revels Collection will seduce you into the wondrous world of the fae with magic, romance, fantasy, adventure, fairy tales, and folklore. Get ready to be beguiled by a unique boxed set with fractured fairy tales, contemporary romance, paranormal romance, sci-fi adventure, and more. A captivating collection certain to please anyone who loves fairy stories.
Each book in Enchanted: The Fairy Revels Collection is a newly released work.
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I Do Believe in Faeries by Erin Hayes
The Bee Charmer by Poppy Lawless
Woe for a Faerie by B. Brumley
Flightless by Margo Bond Collins
Rose Petal Graves by Olivia Wildenstein
Fairly Normal by Carrie L. Wells
Fae Came on the Plane by Elizabeth Watasin
The Fae and the Farmgirl by Pauline Creeden
The Fairy Bargain by Blaire Edens
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