Title: The Final Chase (Final Love #2) Author: Jessica Florence Genre: Contemporary Romance Release Date: June 21, 2016 Synopsis I never thought a wallaby, Henley shirts, and a horse’s rectal exam would have anything in common. Turns out they did. Jake Wild. Owner of Wild rescue for exotic animals. He’s everything I’m not, my polar opposite. I’m heels and my salon, He’s dirt and his creatures. But much like the animals he cares for, he’s got that carnal edge He’s the type of man you crawl on your hands and knees for with your ass up in the air. He bites, he's on the hunt, and now I’m his prey A chance meeting and a bet started the undeniable attraction between us. But I’m not giving my heart and soul away that easy, he’s going to have to catch me first. It's the ultimate game of cat and mouse, But will it be the Final Chase? Excerpt I don’t like dirt, and I don’t really have a fondness for animals, either. In my opinion, it was a testimony to my love for my niece, Natalie, that I was sitting at Wild Rescue, surrounded by both. Natalie, who was turning seven, loved animals, and wanted to have a cool birthday party with her friends. In her eyes, the exotic animal rescue center was the best thing ever. I was just waiting for an animal to escape and eat me. I had bad luck like that sometimes. Just a few days ago, I was standing outside my salon when a dog peed on my stilettos. I kid you not. The little thing lifted its little leg and leaked on me, then sashayed off with its bedazzled collar winking in the sun. It was traumatizing, to say the least. “Auntie Cammy! You have to come see this wallaby. You can feed it, too! Come on!” Little Natalie grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the little fuzzy creature. Although, what really caught my eye was the man squatting down next to the fuzz ball. Big, blond, and filled out his jeans and flannel pretty well. My little B-cup boobies perked right up. I could stand to pet him a little. He gave Natalie a handful of some sort of feed and held her hands out to the creature. It didn’t look too bad. Maybe I could give this a shot for her. “Here you go Mrs….?” The man trailed off, as if asking a question. My, my, he was quite flirty already. “No Mrs. here. The name is Cammy.” I squatted down as best as I could in my tea length dress. It was a birthday party, after all; who didn’t want to wear a pretty dress to a birthday party? “Just hold out your hand,” he said, with a hint of a country accent. Ooh, I liked that. My blue eyes connected with his brown. Yeah, I could totally tap that if I wanted to. I held out my hand and he placed some little pellets in my palm. Big hands. I wondered if he was big everywhere. My gaze drifted down to the little kangaroo-looking thing. I was getting a little nervous. It hopped from Natalie’s hand over to mine and sniffed it. I bit my lip, waiting to see if it would be a nice little creature and eat the food then move on, or if it would do something horrible. I felt its little muzzle touch my hand, making me audibly sigh my relief. “Wallabies are sweet creatures; this one here is named Dundee.” The man looked at me, then down at Dundee. Dundee probably wouldn’t be slaying any crocodiles soon, but he wasn’t so bad. Then the pain hit. “HOLY HELL! OW! OH MY GOD THAT HURTS!” That fucker bit me. Bit me hard. I fell back on my ass, bright pink panties on display for all the little kiddies to see. I didn’t care. I might not have a finger on my left hand anymore! I panicked. Somehow while holding my left hand with my right, I managed to get to my feet. “I need a doctor! Call the paramedics!” I screeched at the flannel man while he looked at me like I was crazy. “Let me see your hand please, ma’am.” He held out his to me. I looked at him in disgust. He told me that thing was sweet. Obviously not! “No, thank you. Just point me to where I can find a first aid kit, please.” I calmed my tone. I subtly felt that all my fingers were still attached, but I bet that bite broke some skin. I would fix myself up. I didn’t need some man in flannel who had dirt covering his shoes tending to my wounds. Yeah, I was not in a nice mood right now. Being bit to hell would turn anyone. “Just follow that trail to the lodge. Ask for Jake.” He threw his hands up in surrender and then turned his attention back to the vicious beast. When I turned to follow said trail, I noticed everyone at the party was looking at me. Shit. “I’m good, just going to the lodge. I have to wash my hands and pee.” I avoided the what the hell look coming from my older sister and fled towards the lodge in search of a man named Jake. I passed a tall fence that looked like it went on for a good acre or so. I wondered what lived in there. I got my answer when a pack of wolves ran by. I swear one looked at me like I was a juicy steak, but it could have just been me. I saw a house up ahead with a little sign that said The Lodge. It was a two story ranch-style home. Not really a lodge, but whatever. It supposedly held my salvation. I stepped up the wooden stairs, my heels clicking as I made my way to the bright red door. I knocked, no reply. I knocked again and called out a greeting. Nothing. Peeking in the window next to the door, I saw a table covered with papers but no one in sight. Voices hit my delicate ears, and it sounded like they were coming from around the house. I walked along the wrap-around porch and saw a barn. Those voices started up again, so I stepped down the stairs and walked the ten yards over to the red barn. It was cute. I really needed to get that first aid kit. “All right, let’s see if Ole Gemma here is having a foal. Jake, you can handle the exam. I’ve taught you and this will be good for the future if she is.” An older male voice told Jake. JAKE! I quickened my pace towards the voice, looking over the wooden fence at the men. “OH, HELL NO!” I couldn’t believe what my eyes were seeing. In the first second, time seemed to slow. I saw sexy brown hair, and a trimmed beard running along a chiseled jaw, and perfect lips. Oh, and one of the hottest bods I had ever laid eyes on. He was lean, but had big muscles bulging from his arms. In the next second, that is where everything went wrong. Those bulging muscles in his arms? Well one of those arms was elbow-deep in a horse’s ass. Ass. Yep, a horse’s ass. Eyes of both gentlemen turned towards me. “Why do you have your whole arm up a horse’s ass?” My injury was forgotten. I couldn’t understand what I was seeing. “We are doing a rectal exam to see if the lady is in the family way,” said the older man, who was not fisting a horse. I didn’t speak. I was still in what the hellmode. “We can feel the uterus this way and determine size and hardness to see if she is indeed pregnant.” He tried again. I understood him this time, but still wanted to take a Lysol dip after seeing that. Tearing my eyes away from the horse’s backside, I looked at the men. “I’m looking for Jake. The wallaby bit me and I need a first aid kit.” They stared at me. “Please.” I added for sincerity. The one man pulled his arm out from the horse. Thank God he was wearing a very long glove. But still.Ewww. “I’m Jake. Head into the lodge and I’ll be there in a minute. The back door is open.” Back door jokes flooded my brain after what I had just seen, but I held them back. Didn’t need to make this moment any more awkward than it already was. “Uh, goodluck with that.” I nodded and turned to go back to the lodge. This is what happened when a girl like me went out into the woods. I walked up the stairs and opened the back door. My mind was still reeling from that experience. The inside of the lodge was cozy, but seriously lacked organization. It looked like someone’s home. It was a fairly open floor plan. The dining table, like I had seen earlier, had papers scattered about. The living room had a couple of dog beds on the floor and one sofa. The kitchen was pretty nice, though, with commercial appliances. Someone must spend a ton of time cooking. I was looking around when the back door opened. I turned to see Jake,who had melt-your-panties blue eyes that were looking straight at me. “I didn’t catch your name, Miss?” Oh God, his voice. His voice sounded like rain during a summer storm. Soothing, but powerful. That power ran through my veins, making me shiver. Cue wet panties. I shook my head. “Cammy. Just Cammy. I need a first aid kit.” He took a couple steps toward me. Hello, gorgeous. “Because the wallaby bit you.” He stated. His eyes scanned over me, watching me. It was a little unnerving and arousing. Lord, I needed to get laid. “Yes.” I felt like we were in one of those scenes in a book where the heroine takes steps back while defying the hero, as he stalks towards her, pinning her against the wall. Why? It just seemed intense for such little words. “May I see your hand please, Cammy?” I won’t even dignify the feelings I got from hearing him say my name. I held my hands out to him and slowly unwrapped my right from my left. His larger, tan hands took hold of mine. Tingles shot up my arm and down the rest of me. Oh,my! Then a tinge of pain entered the picture. My middle finger had a bite mark around it. Nothing serious, but it should be cleaned. Maybe I had been a little over dramatic. “Looks okay. I’ll go get you some hand wipes.” He let go of my hand and headed into the kitchen. I took a moment to appreciate the fine specimen of manliness as he walked away. He had a nice ass. His jeans and Henley shirt did not hide what was underneath at all. When he came back, I continued my appraisal. He had nice hair,short and chestnut brown. Not styled. His skin looked pretty good, too. Tan. No freckles. Those eyelashes. Man, I had women in my salon spend tons of money to have eye lashes like that. “Here. I think you’re gonna live,” he teased. Normally I would have found that jab funny, but I was still traumatized from everything that had occurred in the past hour. My natural-born defiance reared its cute red head. “Yeah, well, you should teach your animals not to bite.” There. “They’re wild animals. Animals can bite. Maybe you shouldn’t wear such delicious-smelling hand lotion,” he commented back. His eyebrows rose and his lips grew into a smirk. I scoffed. My pomegranate and vanilla hand lotion was a staple in my life. Wait a second… “Why are you smelling my hands? Are you going to bite them too?” Why I said that was beyond me. Sometimes things just leap out of my mouth and I have no control over it. “I can; I am an animal, you know.” That was kind of hot. I bet this Jake would be an animal in the sack. Wild and carnal. With that thought, I decided he and I were too different. I was sundresses, high heels, and make-up. I didn’t like to get dirty. Jake was clearly about the animals, since he worked here. Probably was covered in dirt all day and wouldn’t know the first thing about a girl like me. “I can see that. Quite the little kitten, aren’t we? Well, I need to get back to the party. Thanks for the wipes, Jake.” I blew him a kiss in true Cammy fashion and strutted out the back door. Back doors were getting quite a lot of action around here, I giggled to myself.About The Author Jessica Florence, Kaleidoscope of Romance Writer of Surviving Valentine. The of The Heart trilogy, Evergreen,Lights of Scotland Series, and The Final Love series. When she's not writing her next invigorating story. You can find her running her own business, and spending time with her husband and daughter in southwest Florida. Jessica loves to interact with her readers, find her on: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Email More In The Series Giveaway
0 Comments
by Sarah Beard Genre: YA Speculative Romance Release Date: June 14th 2016 Sweetwater Books Summary from Goodreads: Kai met Avery only once--in the moment he died saving her life. Now when he's not using his new healing powers to help people, he watches helplessly as Avery's life is unraveled by his death. To help her, he risks everything by breaking the rules, dangerously blurring the barriers between life and death. Book Trailer:
About the Author
Sarah Beard is the author of YA novels PORCELAIN KEYS and BEYOND THE RISING TIDE. She earned a degree in communications from the University of Utah and is currently pursuing an MFA in creative writing from VCFA. When she's not writing, she referees wrestling matches between her three boys and listens to audiobooks while folding self-replicating piles of laundry. She is a breast cancer survivor, a baker of sweets, a seeker of good love stories, a composer of melancholy music, and a traveler who wishes her travel budget was much bigger. She lives with her husband and children in the shadow of the beautiful Wasatch Mountains. You can follow Sarah on twitter at @authorsarahb, or atfacebook.com/authorsarahbeard.
ON SALE THIS WEEK ONLY!!!
LET ME
The O'Brien Family Series Book Two
Cecy Robson
Released April 19th, 2016
Once he was broken beyond repair. Now this MMA contender is fighting to be a better manâfor her. RT Book Reviews proclaims that the OâBrien Family series from award-winning author Cecy Robson âhas the hottest brothers ever!â And in Let Me, it is Finnâs turn to discover how love can heal the deepest wounds.
A mixed martial arts star on the rise, Finn OâBrien dismantles his opponents with brutal precision. And yet beneath his fierce persona, Finn is raw from a trauma heâs buried for years . . . until the day his deep-rooted rage erupts and lands him in court-mandated therapy. Finnâs not one to bare his soul, but if talking it out means meeting beautiful women like Sol Marieles, heâll give it a shot.
Sol is working toward her masterâs degree in psychology, and already she feels like sheâs in over her head. With an important internship on the line and a scary family situation demanding her attention, the last thing Sol needs is Finn around to distract her. The man is ripped and seriously sexy yet itâs his troubled side that warns her to keep her distance. But their attraction is intense, and he clearly has the heat to see how far and fast their passion takes them.
Alone, Finn and Sol have been fighting to find happiness in their lives. Together, thereâs no stopping them as they face their greatest challengesânot in the ring, but in their hearts.
ONLY .99 CENTS
Cecy Robson is a new adult and contemporary author of the Shattered Past series, the OâBrien Family novels and upcoming Carolina Beach novels, as well as the award-winning author of the Weird Girls urban fantasy romance series. A 2016 double nominated RITA®finalist for Once Pure and Once Kissed, Cecy is a recovering Jersey girl living in the South who enjoys carbs way too much, and exercise way too little. Gifted and cursed with an overactive imagination, you can typically find her on her laptop silencing the yappy characters in her head by telling their stories.
Looking for more of the O'Brien Family?
Pick up the Two RITA Finalists ONCE PURE & ONCE KISSED Damnation’s Door
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo Are you a reviewer? CHAPTER 1: It was supposed to be simple. I actually thought we would be able to step outside our shelter, get the supplies, and be back before anyone realized we’d been there. This is what happens when my sister’s optimism rubs off on me. But it wasn’t Dro’s fault that we walked into a damn trap. Hell just hated us. That was fine. I hated Hell right back. The cheap metal door was still clanging against the plaster wall of the store I’d just busted into. Max had looked into it when I asked, and told me there would be demons, but he couldn’t tell what kind because his precog was still blurred. I was expecting a couple Reds or ghouls, maybe a Shredder. I was not expecting Possessors. The possessed humans weren’t surprised to see us. Even in their human forms, the Possessors should have been able to sense my sister, because she was the most powerful half-demon known to exist. Since she was still on Hell’s Most Wanted List, we had a serious problem on our hands. The Possessors looked like regular humans, except their irises were solid black. I held back my shiver, knowing just how much pain their souls must be in. Being possessed was one of the worst things a human could experience. I had barely survived it. These Possessors had taken over a group of tall, bulky men in black clothes. Their hair ranged from shoulder-length to bald, and their arms were covered in tattoos. Each had the tattoo of a rose thorn that appeared to be weaving in and out of their skin, blood dripping from the points. I had the same one inked behind my ear. This just keeps getting better and better. Finally, we snapped out of our shock. I went for the hatchet on my hip and grabbed a knife from my inside jacket. Beside me, Warrick took out a handgun. Next to him, Sephiel drew two short swords. Max wisely stepped back, knowing he couldn’t fight half as well as the rest of us. Dro’s shoulders were tense and ready, but I moved in front of her not just to protect her, but to keep her from doing anything that would get all of us killed. I started reconsidering this when all of the Possessors drew enormous handguns. But they didn’t shoot. Why weren’t they shooting? Because someone else was in the room with us. Someone bigger than the Possessors, who stalked out from the shadows into the dim light. My hand tightened on the grip of my weapons, and I expected Warrick to pull the trigger. Drake Talbot smiled when he saw our anger. He was a huge bear of a man, about six foot three and probably two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle. He had on his black duster and dark pants, his hands on his hips to display the guns and the thick, blunt hilts of his knives easily visible next to his clothes. The top of his head and his chin were covered in dark stubble. Two abysmal black eyes stared at me, filled with sadism and malice. Party Town. I supposed Drake would see it that way. I didn’t think a city full of murderers, rapists, and generally wicked people was a place to party, but Drake was the definition of a masochist. He would see a city of death as home, sweet home. Warrick didn’t have a kill shot, and that was the only reason I could imagine for Drake to still be standing. All it would take was one missed shot to set off a chain reaction of bullets and blood. I wanted to see Drake bleeding under my boot just as much as he did, but I wasn’t throwing my knife, either. Something wasn’t right. “What are you doing here, Drake?” I growled. He laughed. It was an awful, rasping noise. His black eyes met mine, the same way they had when he stabbed me twice and left me to die. I blocked out the memory, keeping away the phantom pain of a knife sliding into my stomach and ribs. “Had to pick something up for the boss,” he said mockingly. “You can imagine how fussy he is.” My blood went cold, and I barely heard Dro’s sharp intake of breath. I could picture Sephiel’s face tightening with anger. Drake looked at all of us, relishing the hatred, pain, and fear we radiated. I controlled it as best as I could, knowing answers were more important than revenge right now. “What the fuck did you do?” I asked again. His grin widened, and this time he only looked at me. “It isn’t what I did. It’s what I’m going to do.” He dipped his chin, fixing me with his black gaze. “He’s got plans for you, chica. Serious plans. So much detail has gone into them that even your ex isn’t allowed to intervene. Matt’s pretty pissed about that too.” Not as pissed as he would be if he heard you calling him ‘Matt.’ “See, I found something really, really special.” Drake continued. “It’s the last thing we need. But don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll get introduced to it very, very soon.” My stomach turned. I expected him to say something about wanting Dro. My sister was the real supernatural force in our group. I was human, born and raised. I’d never been anything but. I didn’t want to be. I’d been on the receiving end of their tortures before. I had no intention of going through them again. Though if they wanted me for something, they wouldn’t risk shooting me. They would take me alive. No, they’re not. They’re going to try. And they’re going to fail. I took a risk myself, and threw my silver knife at Drake. I didn’t miss–I hardly ever miss–but I didn’t hit my mark. The thin silver blade slammed into the neck of the Possessor standing beside Drake. The huge bounty hunter had stepped to the side so the blade wouldn’t get anywhere near him. He stepped so far I was a little embarrassed at how off my aim had been. Deep down, I knew better. Drake was fast for someone his size, but it looked like he’d gotten quite a bit from his deal with the Devil. The man lurched, blood gushing from the wound in his neck. He opened his mouth as though to scream, but a spiral of thick black smoke shot out of his mouth. The Possessor’s true form screeched and twisted away in the back room. Then room exploded into action. At first I thought the Possessors were going to shoot us. At their cores, they were still gangsters. Yet as soon as I surged forward, I saw them hesitate. They were here to stall us, not kill us. At least not me, and probably not Dro. Everyone else though… they were fair game. Two shots cracked in rapid succession. None of the bullets hit me, though two of the possessed Blood Thorns dropped from the bullets that crashed into their skulls, scaring the Possessors out of their vessel’s dying mouths. Warrick had exceptional aim, and shooting demons with blessed silver bullets was good way to keep them from returning to rip us apart. I went for Drake, who was backing away to escape through the storeroom exit. Fucking coward. Two Possessors blocked my path. They tucked their guns away and threw out their fists. I skidded to a stop and stepped back, one of their clenched hands brushing along my temple. Admittedly, I didn’t think this whole plan through. Seeing the man who murdered my mentor, kidnapped my sister, tortured and tried to kill me sparked my already short temper. So it wasn’t long before they got their shots in. The man on my left jabbed his fist into my ribs. I winced, giving the man on the right the chance to loop his arm around my throat. I was pinned to his back, my neck straining painfully as he wrenched it up. I used one hand to claw at the meaty arm on my throat, leaving my front completely exposed to the second man. He grinned, thinking he was going to get some revenge on me for the sake of his employers. Stupid bastard forgot I was still armed. He pulled back his fist to hit me, and even as his fist was flying for my face, I was moving. I kicked him in the knee with one foot, making him stumble. His fist brushed over my shoulder and into the chest of the man choking me. I kicked his stomach with my other foot, making him double over. Then I sliced the blade of my hatchet into his exposed neck. Blood squirted out of his severed carotid artery, painting the dirty floor before he collapsed onto it. The man behind me growled and slammed his fist into my kidneys. I winced at the crushing pain. He was so much stronger now that he was possessed. His grip tightened on my neck, causing black spots to dance in front of my eyes. The Possessor’s free hand shot out to catch my wrist and keep the hatchet away from him. He squeezed until I thought he was going to break my hand. Then he stiffened and released his hold. A warm liquid peppered my neck, filling the air with the coppery smell of blood. I pitched forward, touching my throat and coughing to get back the oxygen I’d missed. Assured that my neck wasn’t broken, I turned around to see what had saved me. My little sister stood over the Possessor, the knife in her hand dripping fresh blood onto the floor. The man crab walked away, blood oozing from his fingers as he tried to put pressure on the wound in his throat. He looked terrified of my sister. At first glance, Dro wasn’t the kind of girl anyone would be afraid of. She was sixteen, and utterly beautiful with the face of a saint. Her skin was flawless and paper pale. Long white hair rested in a braid along her back, ending at the base of her spine. But over the last few weeks, there was a darkness lurking behind her ice blue eyes. A danger that needed to be avoided at all costs. A malevolence that reminded me of her father. “What did Drake steal?” she demanded in a cold voice that didn’t belong to her. “We– we never knew,” the Possessor pleaded. Usually these were the kinds of demons that toyed with their prey. The demon that possessed me had felt Dro’s power, which meant this one must have been sensing it too. I started to understand why he was so afraid. “We were just told to wait here. They knew you’d be looking for him, and we were supposed to keep you from killing him.” I glanced at the back door. It was open, and Max was beside it, keeping Warrick from going through. He was likely trying to explain that the revenge-crazed demon slayer wasn’t going to be able to find his nemesis tonight. Warrick was standing profile to me, though I could only imagine the anger burning in his neon green eyes. “You’re lying.” Dro’s hollow tone made me look at her again. My eyes flicked down when I saw the light coming from her left hand. Blazing white flames were curling around her wrist, clawing their way up her arm. The Possessor’s eyes widened as he stared at the hellfire she was controlling. He’d probably seen what it could do, and I didn’t blame him for being scared. “I’m not!” the Possessor cried, snapping me out of my thoughts. His voice was becoming hoarse from the blood loss. “I’m not, I swear!” I’d been in this situation before. You accused someone of lying, they said they weren’t, and then you started beating the truth out of them. Eventually, you got the answer you wanted. I could tell when someone was putting on a façade, and when they were being honest. This demon didn’t know shit. “Dro,” I croaked. I muted my cough. She still didn’t hear me. The fires continued to rise up her arms. “Dro, that’s enough,” I warned her. She didn’t listen to me, clenching her fist and increasing the light from the flames until I could no longer see the outline of her hand. My adopted sister turned her head slightly at the sound of my voice. Her eyes locked on mine, and I was amazed at all the anger she was holding back. It softened when she saw me, but not nearly as much as I wanted it to. “He doesn’t know anything,” I told her. “We’re done here.” Dro twisted her head back to the dying Possessor, white hair swishing against her back. The hellfire dulled and evaporated from her fist. She looked at the bloody knife in her hand, then went still. This was the first time Dro had ever killed a human on purpose with her bare hands. I walked to my sister. I gently placed my hand on her shoulder. She jumped under my touch, glancing back at me. I saw the terrified, ashamed little girl who would never forgive herself for this. I wasn’t happy with that, but it was better than seeing the look of a cold-blooded murderer. These days, I took what I could get with Dro. “Go outside with the guys. Make sure Drake’s not waiting to trap us, and that Warrick doesn’t chase after him.” Dro’s light eyes held my dark ones. “I don’t need to go outside. I can do that from in here.” I clutched her shoulder just a little harder. “No. You don’t need your powers for this.” “But–” “No.” One look at her narrowed eyes and harsh frown told me that we were going to fight about this later. Probably the moment I saw her again outside. Regardless, Dro put her knife on her belt, glanced at the dying Possessor one last time, and stormed to the front door. Her guardian and ex-angel Sephiel gave me a small nod. He would protect her from anything while I wasn’t there. As he followed my aggravated sister, I watched Max hesitantly show Warrick the front door. He was smart not to touch him. Warrick looked ready to punch the lights out of the first person that crossed him. Once they were gone, I picked up my silver throwing knife and sheathed it in my jacket. The other Possessors had vacated their human vessels, leaving behind their dead bodies. Usually Possessors put up more of fight than this. I couldn’t help but remember that they were fodder for something much more sinister. I stood by the dying Possessor, who was now flat on his back and choking on his own blood. Possessors hated to leave their vessels, but I wasn’t going to exorcise him. I didn’t have the time, and even if I did, he was a dead man. The wound in his throat was too grievous. The Possessor was the only thing keeping him “alive.” I knelt beside his head, dangling the hatchet in front of my knee. When my eyes locked onto his, they weren’t filled with the pain I’d expected them to be. If anything, he seemed proud. Whatever his goal had been, he appeared to have accomplished it. “Tell me something useful, and I’ll end it,” I told him. The Possessor made a noise between a rasp and a gurgle. It took me a moment to realize he was laughing. “Not… long… now,” he choked out. “She’ll be… his… soon…” He grinned, blood staining his teeth. I decided against the mercy killing. I slowly pushed myself up, ignoring the aches and pains in my body. I walked around the shop, looking through the cabinets and drawers to salvage anything I could. I found some packets of dried and canned food, as well as some bottles of lukewarm water. I never once looked back at the dying Possessor, knowing it couldn’t take me over since I had an anti-possession sigil tattooed over my heart. Yet I couldn’t shake the foreboding words the Possessor had given me. As I walked out of the store and back into the dark, bloody streets, I recalled what Drake said. See, I found something really, really special. It’s the last thing we need. But don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll get introduced to it very, very soon. There was only one reason Drake, Mateo, and Lucifer himself would target me. They wanted to capture my sister.
GIVEAWAY!
We're celebrating the audio book release of Songbird by Sydney Logan! I love this contemporary romance and I’m so thrilled to share it with you!! Check out the book and grab your copy today! Songbird Synopsis: One bridesmaid. One groomsman. One classic wedding hookup. But for Callie and Devin, their weekend of passion is anything but typical. Callie Franklin doesn’t do one night stands. Ever. She’s far too responsible and focused on her career to ever let herself give in to temptation. But, on the eve of her best friend’s wedding, she meets that temptation . . . And his name is Devin McAllister. Devin, on the other hand, has no problem with meaningless hookups. The very last thing he needs—or wants—is a relationship. Relationships come with strings. Relationships come with heartbreak. A late-night encounter in the hotel’s piano bar finds the two unable to resist each other. With her angelic voice and bright blue eyes, Devin’s sure he’s never met anyone as beautiful as his Songbird. Six weeks later, when two pink lines confirm Callie’s worst fears, she and Devin have to face the consequences of their wild weekend. And they have to deal with each other—whether they like it or not. With a love story that’s far from traditional, Callie and Devin begin to wonder if their one-night stand could turn into something neither of them anticipated. A happily ever after. Buy Links: Audible | Goodreads Exclusive Excerpt: Traffic’s insane, but I finally make it to Callie’s apartment just after two. I anxiously knock on the door, ridiculously eager to get my hands on her. Maybe she’ll be wearing some flimsy lingerie. Maybe she’ll be naked. My mind’s busy conjuring all the possibilities when she opens the door . . . wearing a sweatshirt and jeans. “Hey,” she says softly, stepping aside to let me in. “Hey. You okay?” She looks pale as a ghost. Is she sick? She looks sick. Maybe I should call an ambulance. Or my dad. “I’m okay.” Callie leads me over to the sofa. “Look, Devin, I know you probably have some plans for us for tonight, but that won’t be happening.” “Oh.” Disappointment floods me, but if the nauseated look on her face is any indication, it’s probably best. Besides, there’s the next night. And the next. “But we need to talk, so I’m glad you’re here. I have something I need to tell you.” She abruptly jumps to her feet and walks toward her kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?” I can’t tell if she’s being a good hostess or simply stalling, but I ask for a beer. It looks like I’m gonna need it. I hadn’t pegged her for the kind of woman who needs to talk about her feelings. When she returns to the living room, Callie hands me a bottle and sits down next to me. I notice she only brought one. “You’re not drinking?” She curls her feet beneath her. “Unfortunately, no. I won’t be drinking for a long time.” I’ve had it with the riddles. “All right, what’s going on? My brother and his girlfriend threatened to murder me if I make you cry. Something’s obviously up with you because you just want to talk.” Her forehead creases. “Don’t you ever just talk to a woman?” “Not if I can help it.” “Why not? The girls you usually date don’t have enough sense to carry on an intelligent conversation?” “I don’t date, Callie.” “I see. You just sleep with them.” “Sometimes. Is there something wrong with that?” “And are you careful?” “Careful?” “Safe,” she says softly. “We didn’t use protection. I just wondered if that’s typical for you.” Oh. It’d be easy to blame the alcohol, but honestly, using protection was the very last thing on my mind that night. “No, that’s not typical. I’m sorry about that.” “So am I.” Callie seems far more relaxed after my apology. Maybe this night won’t be an epic failure after all. I slide closer to her, but she raises her hand in warning. “We’re not finished.” I groan and lean back against the couch. “Devin, I need you to listen. Something happened that weekend. I’m almost positive you won’t want to sleep with me after you hear what I’m about to say.” “I seriously doubt that.” “I don’t.” Callie sits up a little straighter and squares her shoulders. “I want you to know I expect nothing from you. Our weekend together was a mistake, and I’ll deal with the consequences of it. I don’t know exactly what I’m going to do at this point, but I thought you should at least know what’s going on.” “What’s going on?” Her eyes flood with tears. “Devin, I’m pregnant.” Pregnant. Pregnant? I stare at her. She stares at me. I watch her closely, hoping that at any moment she’s going to burst out laughing. But she’s not laughing. She’s crying. I hear Lorie’s voice in my suddenly throbbing head. Don’t make her cry. “Why . . . why are you telling me?” She wipes her eyes. “What do you mean?” “You’re assuming it’s mine?” “Of course it’s yours!” I snort. “Really? How can you be so sure? Maybe it was that bartender in the hotel’s piano bar. Or maybe it was the guy who sat with you at the reception. Or maybe—just maybe—it was the photographer you were with tonight. You two seem pretty close.” Even as the bitter words drip off my tongue, I know better. Her face is just too furious . . . her eyes too heartbroken. Suddenly, Callie stops crying. Her eyes flash with fury just seconds before she slaps me across the face. Despite the ringing in my ears, I can hear my brother’s warning. Don’t be an asshole tonight. Too late. Sydney Logan Bio: Amazon best-selling author Sydney Logan holds a Master's degree in Elementary Education. She is the author of five novels - Lessons Learned, Mountain Charm, Soldier On, Once Upon a December, and Pros & Cons. Sydney has also penned several short stories and is a contributor to Chicken Soup for the Soul. A native of East Tennessee, Sydney enjoys playing piano and relaxing on her porch with her wonderful husband and their very spoiled cat. Visit her website at www.sydneylogan.com. Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Goodreads Enter Sydney’s Giveaway! a Rafflecopter giveaway
Title: Moms On Missions
Series: Mommageddon Series #1
By: Jess Molly Brown
Publication Date: May, 2016
Genre: Contemporary/Humor Women's Fiction
Artist Vince Russo wants to advance his career but his devout mother, Diana, wants grandchildren. Vince lives in Niagara Falls, the Romance Capital of the World, and he doesn’t even date! Diana joins the Moms on Missions (“MOM”), who strive to better the lives of their clients’ kids. MOM installs Vince’s fantasy girl upstairs in the duplex where he lives. Their pick for Vince is sick of dancing to her mother’s tune, so she certainly won’t admit she finds her sensitive, playful neighbour sexy. However, she’d love to make him her pseudo-boyfriend to get MOM off her back. Will these young rebels come together organically, or is there no hope for their moms?
Amazon US - http://amzn.to/1WNiVgv
Amazon UK - https://goo.gl/6xz9hB
Amazon CA - https://goo.gl/lzRNsI
“Fuck you!” Drum Boy slams Mrs. P.'s door in his superintendent’s face. Vince stares open-mouthed at the door in front of him, then turns on the landing to find Paeng at the foot of the stairs, dressed for bed, with no glasses. Steaming, Vince tromps back down the stairs, in time to hear the drumming start again. “What a nerve this guy's got! Little shit.” Now Drum Boy is singing, too. Badly. Vince stops, wondering whether to turn around and march back up there to rattle his teeth. Instead, he stomps back into his unit, Paeng at his back, and calls Damon. “Vince, hey, how’s it hangin’?” Damon asks cheerfully. “Want to hit The Hill for a few beers? I’m dying to get out for a bit.” “No. Do you hear this?” Vince holds up his phone to the ceiling, hoping it picks up the noise. Boom boom chuck budda boom boom chuck budda “I don’t need a frickin’ girlfriend!” Boom boom chuck budda boom boom chuck . . . “My neighbour is an asshole!” “What is that?” Damon asks stupidly. “It's your new tenant,” Vince growls. “He drums twenty-four seven. I have explained this to you, Damon. Twice. The last time Paeng and I had two minutes’ peace was the day before he moved in. I am losing it, man. I’m going to go postal soon. If I do, you are going to have to explain why to our mothers, and you are going to have to comfort them both while I’m getting corn-holed in Kingston Pen for capping the little bastard, capisce?” “Whoa-ho-ho, there Vince! Did you say there's a guy living up there? It was supposed to be Mrs. Maggione’s friend Gloria’s daughter, Mary. She’s gor—” Damon checks himself, and Vince scowls. “Um, I mean uh . . . Trudy?” he calls to his wife. “Get me another beer!” Vince counts to ten. “Did Moms on Missions set this up?” There is silence for a couple beats. From Damon, not Drum Boy. The noise from above is as obnoxious as ever. Damon sighs. “Yeah, you know it. I didn't even meet the Chiclet.” “No, no, it’s a guy! And the name on the mailbox says D. Darren, not M. diGiordano. Why didn’t you come to check out the tenant?” “My mother wouldn't put a crackhead in there, ya know?” “And a drummer makes a better tenant because . . .”
Don’t be fooled by the seeming tranquility, Jess is scheming. There are a lot of characters in her head and all of them are yelling for attention.
She edits for professional authors and is always tutoring somebody. She got her start six years ago, in fan fiction, and is proud of it.
Four great kids, one husband *coughbiggestkidofallcough* and two dogs ensure that the house is always messy. The garden’s overflowing with blooms, but weedy. The grass always needs cutting, provided it’s not buried beneath snow. She lives in Canada, eh? The dogs are walked, the kids get fed, the hubbs hasn’t killed anybody yet, the books Jess reads she reviews, and somehow, the people in her head manage to make it into stories. Occasionally, she embarrasses her kids by doing Zumba in front of their friends. It’s just how she rolls.
Come join her quest for world domination at http://www.jessmollybrownauthor.com
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/jessmollybrownauthor/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jess.molly.3
Twitter: https://twitter.com/jmollyfanfic
by Laura Diamond Genre: YA Contemporary Romance Release Date: April 12th 2016 Swoon Romance Summary from Goodreads:
Bookish Brit Adam Gibson is one wonky heartbeat away from a fatal arrhythmia. He's torn between wanting to live and knowing that someone else must die in order for him to do so. He needs a new heart.
Adam stops talking to his friends, refuses to meet kids at his new school, and shuts his parents out entirely. His days are spent wondering if can cope with having a dead man's heart beating inside his chest, or if he should surrender to the thoughts of suicide swirling around in his head.
And then a donor is found.
Outspoken artist Darby Fox rarely lets anything stand in her way of achieving her goals. She also happens to be the twin sister to a perfect brother with good looks, good grades, manners, and the approval of their parents - something Darby has never had.
Darby's always had bad timing. She picks the worst time to argue with her brother Daniel. In a car with bald tires, on an icy road in the freezing cold, the unthinkable happens. In a split-second, everything changes forever.
Buy Links:
Excerpts:
ADAM:
I clutch my well-worn paperback of Mary Shelleyâs Frankenstein close to my heart. The doctor robbed graves, stealing body parts to create his monster. I suppress a shiver. In a way, the transplant surgeon does the same thing by harvesting a donorâs organs when theyâre on the brink of death. If I get prioritized on the list, Iâll be waiting for that poor victim to arrive. Then Iâll steal his or her heart and with it, their life.
Then Iâll be the monster.
DARBY:
Images blur on a merry-go-round from Hell that spins faster with each turn. Sleet pounding the windshield. Daniel fighting with the clutch and brake. The truckâs headlights impaling us. Crunching steel. Danielâs bloody face.
Pain stretches from my head, dragging its dirty talons down my neck and across my shoulders, ending in cold numbness at my chest. Something presses my body down. I canât move. I canât escape it.
About the Author
Laura Diamond is a board certified psychiatrist currently specializing in emergency psychiatry. She is also an author of all things young adultâboth contemporary and paranormal. An avid fan of sci-fi, fantasy, and anything magical, she thrives on quirk, her lucid dreams, and coffee. When sheâs not working or writing, she can be found sniffing books and drinking a latte at the bookstore or at home pondering renovations on her 225 year old fixer upper, all while obeying her feline overlords, of course.
Author Links:
***Readers Giveaway***
Want to review UNDER MY SKIN? The author will send swag (bookmark, etc) to those who review the book. All you have to do is message her via Facebook or send an email to [email protected].
Title: Dream Magic
Series: The Magic Series #2
By: Michelle Mankin
Publication Date: June 7, 2016
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Are you interested in reviewing/joining the blog tour?
Sign Up Here - http://goo.gl/9t5Gq7
Morpheus the Dream Falcon is most at home in that domain. By night, the one of a kind winged immortal soars on those winds, observing and sometimes even entering the slumbering thoughts of another. By day, he is a highly sought after mercenary feared by his immortal kin for both his unmatched ferocity and his wicked obsidian talons. None of his prey escapes him.
Cecilia Ramirez y Aguilera is the one he truly wants. But the striking oracle of the Court of the Light Immortals is closed to the handsome outlaw, even in her dreams. Broken by unimaginable losses, the seer is but a slave, subject to the whims of a master who is mad and without mercy.
Drawn together by fate, their impossible passion ignites. But will that be enough given the dangerous secrets each keeps from the other? Or will mistrust and the desire for revenge threaten to unravel the powerful magic that binds them?
PRE-ORDER NOW!
Amazon US - http://amzn.to/24T5IV1
Amazon UK - https://goo.gl/oZSTIX
Amazon CA - https://goo.gl/yFjMcO
Catch up on the series with Strange Magic
The Magic Series #1
Amazon US - http://amzn.to/1Td8K0y
Amazon UK - http://goo.gl/bQB4Q7
Amazon CA - http://goo.gl/5Lpl5I
Barnes & Noble - http://goo.gl/Vm4XII
Kobo - https://goo.gl/RZcPUm
iTunes - https://goo.gl/WPThGI
Audible - http://amzn.to/1TlwmOd
When you compare the sorrows of real life to the pleasures of the imaginary one, you will never want to live again, only to dream forever. - Alexandre Dumas
Prologue
June 1998 Cecilia “Hey, Mamá.” “Hola, mejita.” My mother turned smiling indulgently at the ever present headphones around my neck and the huge stack of music and fashion magazines I toted into the kitchen with me. “Dinner’s almost ready.” She used a spatula to flip something that sizzled and released a deliciously garlicky aroma into the air. Plátanos. My mouth watered and my empty stomach grumbled. “What’s new in the entertainment world?” “Not much.” I lifted the Rolling Stone magazine to show her the cover and made a face. “Except Star Angel is breaking up with Brad.” “Chica doesn’t stay with any one man long does she?” “I know, right?” I shook my head in disbelief of my favorite diva’s man eating ways. The blunt ends of my straight hair swished against my shoulders. The halter and loose linen shorts I wore weren’t cutting edge fashion like Star preferred and I dreamed about, but it was way too hot in the rainforest for haute couture. “Didn’t those two have a child together?”Mamá asked returning her attention to the stove. “Yeah. That’s the saddest part.” I set aside the magazine. I planned to finish the article later. Being an aspiring singer, I was interested in finding out where Star thought her present heartache would take her professionally. For now I followed my nose across the bamboo floors that were smooth against my bare feet. “Mmm, mofongo.” I smiled widely. Plantains mashed with garlic, chicharrones, and olive oil. My favorite Puerto Rican dish. I snatched a pinch from one of the starchy slices on the paper towel lined plate. “No, Cecilia,” my mother chided, pewter eyes the same unusual moonbeam shade as my own glowing softly. “We’ll eat soon. Your papá should be home any minute.” “Sorry, Mamá.” I blew on my prize to cool it, and returned to the table my father had built using wood from an Ausubo tree prized for its decay and termite resistant properties. I popped the crispy morsel into my mouth and savored the rich flavor for a moment. “What’s the special occasion?” I asked her before licking the salty garlic residue from my fingertips. Making mofongo was time consuming. It wasn’t an everyday treat. Blue marlin filets were laid out alongside the mortar and pestle she would use to mash the fried plantains. “And when did Papá go to the north coast?” Our home in the El Yunque Rainforest was far from the side of the island where that particular fish flourished. “So many questions, mejita.” She flipped off the gas burner and turned to face me blotting perspiration from her forehead with a kitchen towel and lifting her glossy ebony hair away from her neck so the late evening breeze would cool it. “Did you and Millie get the herbs?” “Si, Mamá. They were easy to find once we...after we…” Carajo. Shit “We have all of them. Everything on the list.” I pressed my lips flat, kicking myself for almost admitting how my twin had helped me locate them. Unfortunately for me, my mamá knew me too well to overlook my verbal stumbling. Her grey eyes narrowed. I nervously shifted my weight from one foot to the other. I swore that woman was psychic. At least she had an unsettling ability to read me, even if that wasn’t her gifting. “Cecilia Ramirez y Aguilera. You know better! Your papá and I have told you over and over again. No scrying! I…” She snapped her mouth shut as my papá appeared striding into the kitchen wearing only cutoff shorts. His six foot six inch frame overshadowed Millie who stood a full foot shorter like me. Hips swaying rhythmically, blissfully unaware of the trouble I had gotten us into, she was humming some silly tune I had composed for her when we were kids. “What’s wrong, Panacea, mi preciosa?” My father’s voice had a lilting musical quality similar to my own. Millie had inherited his angelic beauty, not that I was jealous. I doted on my sweet sibling just as everyone else in my family did. My father’s ruby-red gaze hardened as he glanced back and forth between my mamá and me. I gulped around the growing knot in my throat while twisting my hands together. I knew it was only a matter of time before he found out. He wouldn’t be deterred. Millie shot me a questioning look. I gave my head a subtle shake cautioning her not to give anything away. I was always treading into troubled waters. I wanted to avoid dragging her down with me for once. “Raphael. Don’t be mad.” My mamá held his gaze using her most soothing tone. “But I fear the girls were scrying when they went out for herbs earlier today.” “What?” he roared his displeasure in a deliberately measured volume. If he chose to he could reduce a solid structure to rubble with only the power of his utterance. Nevertheless, Mamá’s colorful Fiestaware dishes rattled ominously on the open shelves. He snapped open his wings, fourteen feet of intimidating span, several inches thick yet as transparent as if they had been fashioned from flawless glass. Dazzling when reflecting direct sunlight, they were most mesmerizing on a cloudless night, when they sparkled with the light of the Creator’s stars. An unstable lapis coffee cup tumbled to the floor shattering into jagged pieces in front of me. I took a step back and assumed a protective stance in front of my twin, not because Papá would ever hurt us. He loved us, both of us…only unequally. But he frightened Millie whenever he got angry. Her pretty sea foam green eyes wide Millie pressed closer. She might be his favorite but I didn’t hold that against her. Unlike me, she was easy to love, and she was my twin. We stuck together. No matter what. Mamá said we were sympatico, dos uno, two parts that made up one whole. I took her trembling hand and squeezed to reassure her. I felt our emotions settling the instant we touched. “Have I not expressly forbidden you from using your gifts?” My father’s angry red gaze skewered me. I managed a submissive nod. “I am extremely disappointed in you, my daughter. I don’t make rules to make your life difficult. You know they’re for your safety. I’ve told you countless times how violent our immortal world can be and how critical it is that we maintain our anonymity in it.” The golden skin over his bulging biceps stretched beneath the strain as he crossed his tensed arms across his chest. “Why take such a risk for a handful of herbs, Cecilia?” His gaze narrowed further. “Did you forget? Is that your excuse for disobeying me this time? Or do you think that you know better since you seem so ready to set out on your own?” My mamá frowned as she rose from the floor where she had been scooping up the broken pieces of pottery. Millie’s fingers tightened in mine. “I didn’t forget. I didn’t think…” “That’s the problem. Most of the time you don’t think at all, Cecilia.” His criticism made my stomach cramp, but I tilted up my chin defiantly. “You’re overreacting. It only took us a moment. It’s unlikely anyone was around to notice.” I didn’t have it in me to back down whenever he laid into me. So I just dove deeper into it. “I know you think my rules are too confining.” He shook his head disappointedly. “That our home is a cage to you. That you desperately yearn for your freedom. What you fail to see is that everything I do is done out of love for you and your sister and a desire to protect you. I have years of knowledge and experience that you lack. Your mamá and I pray to the Creator daily that you and your sister will never experience what the worst of our kind have to offer.” I sighed, ducked my head and mumbled, “I’m sorry I disobeyed you.” “Your apology would be of little consolation to your mother and me if you’re both dead, Cecilia. You know as well as I do that even though it only takes a moment for you to scry, that act leaves behind a unique residue that another foresight gifted immortal can trace even days later.” I nodded somberly my guilt increasing as I felt Millie shaking beside me. She had an active imagination, one fueled by her voracious reading habit. It didn’t take more than a suggestion of danger by Papá to set it in motion. “Besides, using your gifts scares the mortals,” he continued. “It’s a delicate enough balance for us living among them and having them accept us as it is.” “You’re right, Papá.” I nodded obediently. His anger seemingly spent, his expression softened. He slowly retracted his massive wings. Though powerful enough to launch him and a passenger into the sky within a single heartbeat, they were completely invisible when tucked into his shoulder blades. My mother set the shards of pottery she had gathered on the counter and tucked her curvy body into her husband’s rock solid side. Throwing his arm around her shapely shoulders, he pulled her closer. They had been married for over a century yet the passion between them remained visibly strong. “You leave me no choice but to punish you, Cecilia,” he declared sternly. “No television. No excursions to town. Not even to assist your mamá with her healings.” “But Papá,” I began. “I have so much to do before I move…” “No.” He shushed me with a sharp gesture. “I’ve been far too lenient with you. You need to learn once and for all to use better judgment.” His eyes flared, glowing red embers within a fire. Familiar with that look, I braced. “You will also sleep tonight in the guestroom without your sister.” A very harsh punishment indeed. I didn’t sleep well when separated from Millie. Tears pricked my eyes, but I curled my fingernails into my palms refusing to cry. I wasn’t going to let on how much his discipline upset me. “Is that really necessary, Raph? You know neither one can sleep when separated from the other.” “I know, my love. That’s why I’m doing it.” He gently tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear as he peered down at her. “The lesson must sink in for both of them. They need to look after each other. One day soon, they will be on their own. I’ve tried my best to prepare them for the world they are so set on experiencing but obviously there are lessons yet to be learned.” His gaze returned to me. “There will be no more talk of you moving out, not until I see proof that you are maturing.” I knew his tone meant his decision was final, but he had been right when he said I was desperate to be out on my own. To be so close and to have that taken away...I couldn’t, I wouldn’t let it go. “Papá, no,” I pleaded feeling my hopes and dreams drifting away. “We are nearly twenty one. You promised.” “Nevertheless.” His expression grew sterner. “Your questionable judgment puts you and your sister at undue risk. You know she is your shadow forever looking to you for direction. I can’t permit it.” I lowered my gaze my eyes stinging with the burn of bitter disappointment. “Papá.” Millie moved forward placing her platinum locks on his shoulder. The light color matched his exactly, so rare for Dark Immortals. “Por favor.” She reached for his hand. “Please, don’t take this away from Cici. She has an apartment already and a waitressing job at the Blue Parrot.” “I’m sorry. It’s no longer open for discussion, little one, maybe in time I will reconsider.” His expression troubled, he shook his head and his crystal clear wings emerged slowly forming sharp peaks over each shoulder. His focus shifted to the open window. His chin tilted toward it and his nostrils flared as if he had scented something unpleasant. He turned to my mother. “I’m going to make a quick pass above the trees to make sure everything is safe.” He placed a kiss on the top of her head and gently squeezed my sister’s shoulder before turning to me. “Set the table for your mamá . I will return shortly.” ***** “¡Ándale!” I hissed low setting the heavy backpack stuffed with my belongings at my feet. “If you’re going to come with me, honey, then come. Otherwise stay and get back in bed with your book. And don’t tell them anything until tomorrow.” Hopefully by then it would be too late for Papá to drag me home. I tapped my flip flops against the spongy mat of decomposed vegetation outside our guest bedroom window, my impatience leaving squishy indentations on the forest floor. I loved my parents but lately I chafed daily under their authority. I refused to stick around the undetermined period of time it would take for Papá to change his mind. If it had been up to me I would have left home right after high school. If I had maybe I would already have saved up enough money working in Old San Juan to hop on a plane to Miami or Los Angeles, somewhere less isolated than the island, somewhere my singing career might actually have a legitimate chance to take off, somewhere full of the excitement and drama I craved. Anywhere but slow-paced and boring here. “Of course I’m coming with you, as if I’d let you leave me behind,” Millie huffed throwing her own backpack out the window a moment before her narrow butt poked through it. “You’re such a pain in my rear, Cici.” She threw one tanned leg over the wooden sill, then the other, shimmying her torso toward the ground. I reached up to help her, placing my hands on her hips. She dropped gracefully onto the rain softened soil beside me and retrieved her pack. Our bungalow style home was higher off the ground than stateside ones, a practicality to keep it above the floodwaters during the rainy season. “Do you always have to wear white?” I complained with just enough volume to be heard over the chorus of nighttime insects and the ‘Couqui’ cries of the tree frogs. I didn’t want to wake our slumbering parents. They had both gone into their room after dinner, but being Dark Immortals whose internal clocks were set by the moon they would arise as soon as it reached its pinnacle. “Would it kill you to choose some color for a change?” The brighter and more contrasting the better in my opinion, something like the fushia top and indigo shorts I had changed into for our escape. Plus, though I often complained about Papá’s constant lessons in self-preservation, they hadn’t been entirely lost on me. White stuck out in the dark. No one gets hurt if they are invisible to their enemies, Cecilia. “It’s a long walk to the falls where Ernesto is meeting us,” I told her. “You’re going to get dirty and you’re going to stand out like a pale faced tourista in the market.” “But white’s my best color.” Flip flops just like mine clicked against the loam on the well-worn hiking trail as she trotted to keep pace with me. Our shoes were the only thing that matched tonight. If we let our mamá have her way she would still be dressing us exactly alike, even though we were way too old for that type of thing. Besides we were fraternal, not identical twins. “Do you think Ernesto asked Jaime to come along?” Her eyes sparkled brightly with excitement. I think she would have bounced on her toes but her pack was too heavy. I bit back a grin. Jaime was a cute boy, sweet and a dreamer like she was. She had been crushing on him for months. Their feelings seemed to be reciprocal though neither had been brave enough to make a first move. Ernesto on the other hand was bold to the point of being aggressive, as different from his brother in personality as I was to Millie. I actually enjoyed the thrill of danger she only liked reading about in her books. Ernesto appealed to my impulsive rebellious nature. Thus this impromptu late night rendezvous at the falls. Mamá wouldn’t approve. She would never allow a boy with a reputation like Ernesto take me into town. I didn’t really like the idea of owing him a favor. But he had a truck and I had no other option for the long drive into Old San Juan. There weren’t many guys willing to defy my father. He was a legendary Dark Immortal, and though mortals like Ernesto didn’t suspect that, they could sense his power. He was an Ancient after all, one of only four who had guarded the four gates of the Great City on the Otherside. Beautiful and brilliant, their curiosity had lured them to the above ground world. Once angelic, they turned vampiric the moment they had risen from the earth to partake of its temptations and pleasures. Papá was completely immune to the sun, unlike the legions of vampires he inadvertently spawned before he learned to regulate his thirst. He was the strongest of the four Ancients, which was why with Papá as his first lieutenant, Apollyon had easily defeated his challengers to establish his throne far beneath the city of New Orleans. Though not really as powerful as our father, Millie and I shared a rare talent, one disconcerting to humans and immortals alike. My family was not the only Dark Immortals who found the isolation of the rainforest to be an excellent refuge, but we were definitely the most feared. Outcasts among outcasts. Our own kind even shied away from us. We were tolerated and sheltered because of my mother. She was a healer. A bruja. A witch doctor. Unparalleled in her craft, loved and revered because of it. The Creator’s magic was stamped into every cell of her marrow, an aftereffect from when her parents had done the unthinkable, partaking of the forbidden water of the Spring of the Afterlife while yet living. Assisting her over the years I had seen her heal grievous wounds of both mortals and immortals. Although our blood was much less potent, that same gift of healing had been passed along to Millie and me. But our chief gifting was the ability to predict the future of a person if we touched someone or something important to them. In some cases we could even catch glimpses into their past. We also had an advanced ability to scry for lost people or items like those missing herbs. Millie reached for my hand and held it as we continued down the narrow path to the waterfall. I smiled at her appreciating her ready affection. I wasn’t as confident about leaving tonight as I was pretending to be. But I couldn’t hide anything from Millie, especially my emotions. She knew I wished I could be more sensitive and caring. Easier to love. Like she was. Like Mamá . No surprise that after only one meeting with my mother, our father had insisted upon her release as a final reward for his long and faithful service to Apollyon. Then he had resigned his commission and walked away from all the privileges his dangerous but powerful position had once afforded him. Millie had my father’s looks and my mother’s inner spiritual beauty. Me? I was a compilation of my parents, too, just a confusing, jumbled one. Mamá fussed at me whenever I bemoaned the less than fortunate mixture “Cecilia Ramirez y Aguilera,” she was fond of telling me, “los árboles no están dejando ver el bosque. You can’t see the forest for the trees. You are different si, but muy bonita in your own unique way if only you would realize it. Believe in it and accept yourself the way the Creator intended you to be.” I tucked a strand of my soft as silk but unsettling two toned platinum and ebony hair back beneath the black bandana I usually wore scarf style to conceal it. If only I had a demon’s ability to cloak it or a shape shifter’s talent to take a whole other form. If only I could I would get rid of the patrician nose I had inherited from my father. If only I could make my hair one uniform shade instead of pitch black superficially with underlying layers of platinum that reflected the sun during the day and sparkled with the illumination of the stars at night like my father’s wings. The fact that my silver eyes glowed like the new moon whenever my emotions were heightened added to the freak show of my appearance. I was not surprised that people from our small town in the rainforest kept their distance from me, but it still hurt that they did. If we had been born into a different time, my sister and I would have been honored, like the oracles of old who predicted the future in a time when immortals had walked openly upon the earth and had been worshipped by men as gods. But there was no honor for our talents in a modern society where everything supernatural had to be explained scientifically. These days we had to hide our gifts as carefully as I concealed my hair. Millie and I stepped out from beneath the shadowed shelter of the tropical trees and entered the moonlit rocky clearing surrounding the base of the falls. An icy prickle of awareness made the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I felt like someone was watching us. I darted a quick glance back at the dark forest. I didn’t see anyone. The nighttime sounds remained undisturbed. Chastising myself for being overly paranoid like my papá, I carefully picked my way over the uneven surface with my twin. “Mamacita,” Ernesto greeted, pushing away from the woody trunk of the Banyan tree where he had been leaning. Prowling confidently toward us, his tight jeans hugged his athletic form and the thick rope chain around his neck sparkled in the moonlight. My heartrate kicked up louder in my ears than the roar of the falls as he leisurely scanned me. He looked at me as if I were his dinner, his lips slowly lifting into a cocky grin. “I wasn’t expecting your sister,” he purred stretching out his arm to me. I placed my hand in his, feeling all warm and shivery when his fingers closed tightly around mine. His gaze flicked to Millie his expression darkening with displeasure he didn’t attempt to hide. “I thought you said she wasn’t coming until tomorrow.” “Change of plans.” I shrugged. “Why don’t we pick up your brother and make it a double date?” “He’s working late.” My sister’s face fell. She wore her emotions out in the open for all to see. A calculating glint narrowed Ernesto’s eyes. “But I can call and ask him to meet us at the apartment. By the time we arrive he should be done with his shift.” He slid his cell from the pocket of his pressed jeans. “Thank you,” I mouthed to him as he placed the call. “Anything for you, mi bonita.” He pulled me tighter to his side, his smooth fingertips tracing distracting circles on my skin. I was sure he hoped Jaime would occupy Millie while he got me alone. I knew he wanted to take things to the next level. In theory, I agreed. Almost twenty-one and still a virgin, I took it as proof of my unattractiveness. Not only that, it was a hindrance to writing sexy lyrics when I had no frame of reference. It was just another way Millie and I differed. She was holding out for true love, like Mamá and Papá had found, like characters in the British Classics she preferred to read. Tugging me along, Ernesto guided me along the path to his old truck. His free hand slid to the small of my back the tips of his fingers resting on the swell of my ass. Yeah, he was definitely expecting some action in repayment for his assistance tonight. If Millie noticed where his hand lay, lower than I was comfortable with truth be told, she didn’t say anything. She remained a silent chaperone on the trail beside us. Ernesto opened the passenger side door for me. I tossed my backpack inside, stepped onto the muddy running board and scooted to the middle of the bench seat. Millie followed. The hinge creaked and slammed as Ernesto shut us in. He flashed a suave smile as he rounded the hood. My stomach fluttered with nerves. For some reason I couldn’t summon any anticipation, even as I tried imagining receiving one of his slow kisses. I tensed as he twisted the latch on the driver’s side. Suddenly, a shadow denser than the dark night fell over him. A harsh clanging filled the air. Face lifting, his expression turned into one of terror. My blood chilled as he gasped throwing his body backward against the vehicle so hard it rocked. A moment later clawed feet tore into the skin of his shoulders. Blood welled before he was ripped away up into the air. Panic froze me in its icy grip until Millie shattered it with her scream. I turned and saw the stone face of a gargoyle with saggy eyes and a horn in the center of his forehead peering into the window on her side. My panic morphed into heart slamming full blown fear. We knew from Papá’s lessons that gargoyles were Apollyon’s preferred envoys. “Lock your door!” I shouted, quickly jamming my body into the vacant driver’s seat. I turned the key and started the ignition. Motor roaring to life, I yanked the shift stick into drive and slammed my foot down on the gas pedal. The truck wheels spun in the mud for a terrifying moment before we finally lurched into motion. My teeth rattled as the vehicle bumped in and out of potholes on the way down the mountain. Before I could catch a breath, a heavy form crashed onto the hood. It rocked the truck frame creasing the metal. Blood splashed across the windshield before it rolled off. Millie and I screamed in unison at the sight of what I knew to be Ernesto’s headless body. I flipped on the windshield wipers to clear the glass. I didn’t have time to process. I had to drive. I had to get somewhere safe fast. I had to protect my sister. The steering wheel vibrated in my clammy hands. It was hard to hold onto because of our speed and the jarring surface of the road. I gripped it tighter and rammed the accelerator to the floorboard. Shoulders hunched, I concentrated on the path in front of me, scraping my bandana out of my eyes and peering into the night. Every muscle was tense, anticipating the gargoyles’ return. The old truck engine screamed in protest as I taxed it. My heart beat so hard it made my chest hurt. Millie pressed closer. I could feel her shaking. I opened my mouth to tell her to get back to her side and put on her seat belt but my vision started to cloud. No, no, no…not now. The familiar chill of a premonition flooded my veins like ice water. My racing heart seemed to pause between one beat and the next. Millie’s eyes beamed a radiant crystalline green at me. Mine were a ghostly grey reflection in the shiny surface of hers. The outside world disappeared. The only reality in the black void was the warmth of my twin’s fingers interlaced with mine. Impossibly we were propelled across time and space arriving on the open lawn in front of our cottage. A horrible scream rent the air. My mother. If my spirit form could have gotten any colder it would have turned into solid ice. I tried to move toward the sound of her voice even though I knew from past experience that it would do no good. My body and Millie’s were back in the truck fleeing from danger while our spirits existed here suspended between breaths as silent witnesses to a future we didn’t want to see. Smoking flames licked the walls of our home. Dark arrows zinged through the air released from the bows of the green skinned woodland elves who wielded them. Behind them a line of vampires with glowing red eyes and black dusters that skimmed the ground waited at attention, arms crossed over, claw tipped fingers curled into their biceps, ready to enter the action if necessary. The front door suddenly burst open and flew off its hinges. My papá stepped through the opening, his features fierce and his beautiful wings unfurled. Their brilliant crystal sheen reflected the angry fire that raged behind him. I opened my mouth exhaling a silent scream when I saw all the black arrows that had found their mark within his body. The shafts protruded from his bare chest, from his arms and his legs, all drenched with his blood. Mamá stood at his back, her ivory sleeping gown adorned with disturbing splashes of red. Papá was shielding her, but her face was pale, too pale. Another volley of arrows whizzed through the air. Millie’s mouth opened like mine but no sound came out. My father staggered his body jerking as each new projectile found its mark. My mother sobbed. The sound of her despair shredded my spirit even as more arrows ripped into my papá’s flesh. Red gaze brighter than the flames, my father turned his head away from the elves. His platinum hair was a halo of pure light but his glare was a dark promise of retribution focusing on an auburn headed figure standing off to one side leaning casually on an ebony staff. The expression on his unhandsome face implied boredom, but I knew that it was a deception. After all, he was the Father of Lies. “Raph,” my mother wheezed. “Drink.” She lifted her arm up offering him her wrist, and he took it, incisors elongating as he bent his head piercing her delicate flesh. His broken body pulled straighter with each deep pull that he took. “Enough.” The auburn headed man made a slicing motion in the air with his staff. It morphed into a wickedly sharp scythe. “Step aside, Raphael. I have indulged you long enough this night. I have need of Panacea. She is too valuable as a healer. I have changed my mind about letting you have her. I am here to reclaim what is rightfully mine.” Even within the spirit realm I swayed beneath the authority of his persuasive voice. Not an Offspring. Not just any Progeny. One of the Favored. “Over my dead body, Apollyon.” My father’s eyes blazed. No! I shouted my protest without any sound. Don’t antagonize him, Papá, please. This was the Destroyer. The ruler of the In Between. The one he had continually warned us about. I tried to move again but failed. “That is assured already, Raphael. It will be my pleasure to send you back to the Otherside. Only this time you’ll pay the toll and cross the Styx the way everyone else does… as a shade.” The demon laughed and seemed to grow in size. “I implore you to desist from exsanguinating from the lovely Panacea as those arrows are obsidian tipped. Even if you drain every drop of blood from her desirable body, you are only delaying the inevitable.” “No,” my mother gasped. For an immortal obsidian meant permanent injury and death if the wound was severe enough. And my poor papá’s injuries were severe. He looked like a pincushion. Tears leaked from my mother’s eyes. She and my father exchanged a longing look. Mamá slid her hand along my papá’s stubble darkened cheek and he covered it with his own. The love between them, the depth of their pain, the resignation to their fate, witnessing all of that broke something inside of me. For there was something Apollyon did not know. My father’s impending death ensured hers as well. My mother inhaled sharply as my father, the legendary Raphael, crumpled. His majestic wings seemed to shrivel. He dropped to his knees. Behind him the walls of the house he had built collapsed inward on themselves as if already mourning his loss. My mamá slid down beside him offering him her wrist again but he refused it. “Go, preciosa,” he pleaded, his voice still strong but the cost of saying those words to the woman who was his other half was plain to see. The ravaged lines of his face deepened. “Never.” Ebony hair skimming the blood splotched skin of her slim shoulders, she shook her head in refusal. “Leave,” he whispered. “You must. There may be some way to reverse the damage to you.” “No.” She moved in front of him, hands stroking his cheeks tenderly as she did every day, as if no one else existed but the two of them, as if they had all the time in the world to express their affection. Even among Apollyon’s minions I heard murmured misgivings. She lifted his pierced and bleeding hands to her lips and rained kisses across them. “Where you go, I go. Always.” Seeming to use the last of his remaining strength my father caught her as she suddenly slumped forward. Slowly he lifted his head and stared at the spot where Millie and I observed. Though it wasn’t possible, it seemed to me that he saw us. A tear spilled from his eye. A single tear. A crimson tear. One of regret? Or one of condemnation toward me? Had Apollyon discovered our location because of the scrying Millie and I had done? Despair superseded guilt as I watched my father wrap his arms tightly around my mother as if to absorb her into himself. Then he closed his eyes, never again to reopen them. “What is this?” Apollyon roared only just then beginning to realize the truth. That my parents were a Fated couple. When one died, so did the other. Forever together. Never apart. Flames flickered behind my parent’s forms. Bright sparks lifted into the stars of the black night. Our cottage became their funeral pyre. Blackness suddenly descended over my eyes. I blinked trying to clear it. I wanted to see my parents one last time but it was not to be. I had no control over when the visions came or went. My spirit slamming back inside my body, I glanced in the truck’s rearview mirror, noticing the plume of smoke billowing above the forest tree line. I knew with dreaded certainty that it was from our burning home. The shadowy branches of the tree line along the road seemed to reach for our vehicle as we barreled by them. Droplets of Ernesto’s blood trickled across the windshield reminiscent of my father’s last tear. “No, no, no,” my sister chanted. She knew as well as I did that our vision had been a glimpse into a very near and certain future. I whipped the wheel around without letting off on the gas. My elbow hit the door. Millie slid into me. We had to go back. Back to the cottage. Back to save our parents. The fire had started, but maybe if we hurried we could alter what we had foreseen. But there would be no awakening from this horrible dream. The dark night became darker still as one of the gargoyles landed hard on the hood of the truck, the weight of his stone form indenting a deeper wedge in the metal than where Ernesto had fallen. Severely damaged, the engine abruptly locked. The vehicle rocked back and forth from the force of impact as momentum carried us forward. I screamed. My chin smashed into the steering wheel. I bit through my tongue. My body collided with Millie as we tumbled around inside the hard unforgiving confines of the cabin. I blacked out briefly. When I regained awareness the vehicle was deadly still and Millie was slumped in a ball on the floorboard beside me. Before I could reach for her the crumpled doors of the vehicle were ripped from their hinges. Bloodless concrete hands snatched me from my perch. I kicked and squirmed trying to break loose but to no avail. “Be still, little girl.” Malevolent statue grey eyes flickering with a fluorescent hue beamed down at me before he snapped his head to the left. The nostrils at the end of his snout flared. “The Master will arrive shortly.” He dropped me to my feet on the ground in front of him. My bandana was lost. My hair was in my eyes. My mouth tasted like copper. Every muscle in my body was sore. And my heart was completely broken. The saggy eyed horned gargoyle stomped toward us with Millie in his arms. Her breathing sounded shallow. Her eyes were closed. I tried to dislodge the gargoyles’ cold grip from my shoulders but couldn’t. His claws only dug deeper into my flesh. “Millie, wake up,” I pleaded but she didn’t reply. Precious minutes passed while I was forced to stand alone alternating my tear blurred gaze from Millie to the smoke above the trees knowing what was unfolding only a few miles away but helpless to do anything to change it. Just when I felt like I was about to collapse, headlights from an approaching vehicle illuminated the wreckage of the truck first, then the horned gargoyle who held my sister cradled in his massive stone arms. Keep breathing, Amelia. Don’t die on me. “Kneel.” Marble hands dug unforgivingly into my shoulders. “Eyes to the ground prisoner and the Master may let you live,” the gargoyle hissed though his voice wavered. I did as he ordered but my heart thumped with dread knowing that his Master was Apollyon, one so feared he made even a creature of impenetrable stone tremble.
The New York Times bestselling author of the Black Cat Records series of novels.
Romance with subtext.
Reimagining classic stories with sexy rock stars and thought provoking issues.
Love Evolution, Love Revolution, and Love Resolution are a BRUTAL STRENGTH centered trilogy, combining the plot underpinnings of Shakespeare with the drama, excitement, and indisputable sexiness of the rock 'n roll industry. Things take a bit of an edgier, once upon a time turn with the TEMPEST series. These pierced, tatted, and troubled Seattle rockers are young and on the cusp of making it big, but with serious obstacles to overcome that may prevent them from ever getting there. Rock stars, myths, and legends collide with paranormal romance in a totally mesmerizing way in the MAGIC series. When Michelle is not prowling the streets of her Texas town listening to her rock music much too loud, she is putting her daydreams down on paper or traveling the world with her family and friends, sometimes for real, and sometimes just for pretend as she takes the children to school and back.
Social Media Links Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/pages/Author-Michelle-Mankin/233503403414065 Twitter - @MichelleMankin Website - http://www.michellemankin.com/ Goodreads - https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5835506.Michelle_Mankin Instagram - #MichelleMankin
Curse
EXCERPT: Dr. Waxford wound his way along the road, climbing higher into the Great Smoky Mountains.
GIVEAWAY!: Chased
Goodreads / Amazon (Chased 1) / Amazon (Chased 2) EXCERPT: “What’s this?” Chase asks when I hand him one of the coffee cups. “Peace offering. Careful, it’s hot. I wasn’t sure what you wanted in it, so I left it…” My voice trails off as he takes both cups and tips them over the sink. I snatch my cup back but it’s too late. “There are three sips in here! Just because you don’t like coffee doesn’t mean you have to be a…a…total degenerate!” “For the record, I like it as much as the next guy but too much tanks your performance.” He grins like he’s enjoying this. “Are you going to take three quarters of my donut too?” I pull it from the bag and wave it in front of him. I try to jerk it away when Chase grabs for it, but he’s faster. “Nope.” He drops the pastry in the trash before I can blink. My mouth falls open in disbelief. For a second I stand there, stunned by his audacity. “What is this, communist Russia?” Chase hands me a banana from the counter. “I’m Irish.” I stand over the garbage. The donut is drenched in whatever green substance occupied the bag first, rendering my beloved breakfast unsalvageable. “I thought you wanted this, Hastings.” His eyes gleam wickedly. “Chase Owens,” I whisper, my voice nearly shaking, “you are the devil.” “Fuck, I love it when you talk dirty. Now less lip, more running, princess.” He shoves me toward the door.
GIVEAWAY! |
About MeI'm a Texas gal with a wonderful husband, an amazing six year old son, and an adorable newborn baby boy! ArchivesCategoriesProud Tour Host For: |