Showing posts with label Book Excerpt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Book Excerpt. Show all posts

25 Sept 2017

Gate of Air by Resa Nelson


Gate of Air
Resa Nelson
(Dragon Gods, #1)
Publication date: June 19th 2017
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult
Frayka must find and convince the dragon gods of the Far East to appease the gods of her Northland heritage. If she fails, her own Northlander gods will destroy all the mortals who once promised to worship them.
The Far East is a mysterious place of legend to Northlanders like Frayka. Only an old map can show her how to get there. Once she arrives, all of Frayka’s sensibilities put her in danger. And every dangerous turn delays her from finding the dragon gods whose help she so desperately needs.
Although Frayka looks like a Far Easterner, she is a powerful Northlander warrior who is quick to voice her thoughts. She is trained to fight and won’t hesitate to do so.
But everything about Frayka puts her in deadly peril in the Far East, where the laws are strict and the punishment cruel.
Especially when the one being punished is a woman.
99¢ for a limited time only!

Excerpt
By the time Frayka and Njall sailed the ship close enough to guide it onto the smooth beach, everyone in Blackstone stood there waiting for them, waving and shouting. Like all Northlanders (other than Frayka), men and women alike had long blonde hair, pale skin, and blue eyes.
“They must have seen us coming in,” Njall said, waving back at them. “That’s what I call timely help.”
Frayka spotted her father, mother, and siblings in the crowd. Although happy to see them, her stomach remained in knots.
The men of Blackstone waded into the incoming waves, gripped the ship’s low rail, and dragged the ship onto the pitch-black sand.
Bright green grassy fields stretched beyond the beach. Beyond those fields stood Blackstone, the only settlement in the Land of Ice. Its small houses were made of stone walls and sod roofs growing long grass. Wisps of smoke escaped from the hole in the center of each roof.
Frayka’s father, Thorkel, wore green linen trousers and a bright yellow shirt. Sidling next to the beached ship, he held his arms open and beamed. “Frayka! You be home at last!”
Finally, the knot in Frayka’s stomach loosened. Climbing over the ship’s rail, she relished the feel of the hard, wet sand beneath her feet and welcomed her father’s embrace.
Thorkel sneezed.
Releasing him, Frayka said, “You’re drenched. We should get you home and into dry clothes before you catch cold.”
“I be fine,” Thorkel said while he watched his favorite daughter exchange embraces with her mother and siblings. “But you look worse for the wear. You be all right, girl?”
For the first time since leaving the Land of Ice, Frayka felt keenly aware of the sorry state of her clothing.
Like all Northlander women, Frayka wore an outfit made of layers. Her outerwear, a lightweight red coat gaping open in the front, bore dark stains and a large tear. Underneath, the dress that had once been bright blue now looked dreary and faded. A formerly light beige under-dress peeked above the blue dress’s neckline but now bore the color of mud. The two large silver brooches pinning the red over-dress to the blue dress at each shoulder were dented. And a string of amber and silver beads that once connected the brooches had been yanked free long ago.
The dagger tucked under the leather belt looped around her waist had seen better days.
“I’m fine, Father,” Frayka said. She smiled. “I just don’t look it.”
“Frayka’s a fine warrior,” Njall said, pushing his way through the crowd to join her side.
Following, Rognvald clapped a hand on his son Njall’s shoulder. “We know, boy. We got word.”
“Word?” Njall said, turning to look at Rognvald. “How, Pa?”
Rognvald winked. “Plenty of time to tell that story. More pressing matters at hand.” He grinned.
Entering the settlement of small stone homes, Frayka saw the life she’d left behind. Children ran and played around the houses. Young men and women carried empty pails as they walked toward a path leading to the nearby waterfall. Like Frayka, they all stood tall. Unlike Frayka, they all had long blonde hair, falling to the waists of men and women alike.
Frayka allowed herself to relax, happy to listen to her father babble while they walked arm and arm into Blackstone.
Thorkel sniffed. “I never be so proud and feared at the same time as when those ice dragons stomped the ground and made the land around Blackstone split apart. I figured you must have seen it happen in a portent. You be the only one to go across and fight those dragons before the chasm got too big for the rest of us to cross. Then you be gone missing. And later Njall be gone missing, too.” Thorkel’s voice caught. “Worried something fierce about you and Njall.”
Frayka squeezed his arm. “I’m sorry you worried. I didn’t mean for that to happen. But I did tell you I’d had a portent and that I would be fighting sorcery.”
Rognvald nudged Thorkel. “No sense in getting all sentimental. First things first. Tell them about the marriage house.”
“Marriage house?” Frayka said. “Someone is getting married?”
“This way,” Thorkel said, pulling her by the hand while the rest of their family followed along with Rognvald and Njall. “We got word about you heading home a few weeks ago, just enough time for the building.”
Thorkel led the way into a new stone cottage with a sod roof so fresh that the seams of the sod strips forming the roof had not yet grown together.
Stepping into the one-room home, Frayka paused at the change of bright sunlight to a dim interior. A hearth stood in the center of the room, ready for its first fire to be lit. The opening in the roof allowed a weak stream of light to filter inside. A few water buckets leaned against a stone wall.
Thorkel took Frayka and Njall by the hand and marched them toward a sleeping pallet large enough for two. Their families gathered round.
Exchanging a startled look with Njall, Frayka said, “I don’t understand. Is someone getting married today?”
“Of course!” Thorkel said with a laugh. “It be you and Njall!”
“We’ve been gone for the better part of a year,” Frayka said to her father. “Why do you think we want to get married? Njall always hated me and called me names.”
Rognvald nudged his son with a laugh. “Everyone knows boys tease the girls they like. Njall ain’t hating you. He called you names to show he noticed you.”
Njall considered his father’s words and gave Frayka a sheepish look. “Never thought much about it before, but I can’t argue with that.”
“There has to be more,” Frayka said. “What aren’t you telling us?”
Thorkel’s eyes gleamed with pride, but before he could speak, his own family cut him off.
Frayka’s five younger sisters broke into a fit of nasty giggles, gathered around their mother like chicks around a hen.
The gleam in Thorkel’s eyes faded, and he slumped like a man kicked to the ground by a group of thieves.
Frayka tensed. She remembered a time long ago when her mother beamed at the sight of Thorkel, happy to be married to him. She remembered when her mother had taken joy in the simple tasks of everyday life. But everything changed when her mother took up with a small cluster of gossips in Blackstone and became one of them. Bitterness and judgment replaced her mother’s sense of joy. Before long, all of Frayka’s sisters behaved the same.
“It’s all because of Thorkel’s silly story,” Frayka’s mother said with a poorly disguised smirk. “I told him it was nonsense. I told him you had no interest in marrying Njall.” She paused for effect. “Or any other man, for that matter.”
Frayka’s sisters burst into another round of cruel giggles.
Hands on hips, Frayka stared them down. “What is that supposed to mean?”
One by one, each sister slung her opinion at Frayka.
“You’re no woman.”
“You want to be a man!”
“Acting like you’re too good for woman’s work.”
“Acting like keeping the keys to the home is beneath you.”
“That’s why you’ll never get married!”
Anger bubbled inside Frayka like boiling lava. But before she let that anger loose, she felt the calming touch of her father’s hand on her shoulder.
“Never mind them empty heads, my girl,” Thorkel said. “They got no faith in what we saw. Me and Rognvald.”
Forgetting the female side of her family, Frayka turned toward her father. Although he had the height and pale features of all other Northlanders, Thorkel’s grandmother came from the Far East. More than ever, Frayka felt connected to him in a way that she doubted she would ever feel with her mother or sisters again. Put off by the way she saw her mother treat her father, Frayka gave her family allegiance to Thorkel alone. “What did you see?”
Gazing at his daughter, the gleam returned to Thorkel’s eyes. “We spent all these months worrying over the two of you, me and Rognvald. Wondering where you went to. Fretting we would never set eyes on you again. Then your friends came running to us after going to the waterfall to fetch water. Said they saw something magical in the water that asked to speak to the families of you and him.” Thorkel pointed at Njall.
“Only us believed your friends and what they said they saw in the water,” Rognvald said. Casting a dark look at the others gathered inside the new stone house, he said, “They was right to come to us. Me and Thorkel seen things none of you can ever understand.”
Frayka smiled, taking his meaning to heart. She relished her childhood memories of all the far-fetched stories her father spun. Stories about his days in the Northlands with Rognvald when they were brigands and the bad men who hired them. Stories about a Northlander woman covered with scars from being chewed up and spit out by a dragon, and how she became a blacksmith making swords for dragonslayers. Stories about dragons and ghosts and people who could change how they looked just by thinking about it.
Secretly, Frayka believed every word to be true. And now that she’d travelled and seen far-fetched sights with her own eyes, no one could convince her that anything her father told her was exaggerated or made up.
Catching Njall’s gaze, she saw the same conviction on his face. “What happened next?” she asked Rognvald.
Rognvald draped a conspiratorial arm around Njall’s shoulder and pulled his son close. “Me and Thorkel went to the waterfall and met the sprite.”
“Sprite?” Njall said. “A water sprite?”
Thorkel nodded. “Or some such creature. Pretty little thing. Standing like a woman in front of the waterfall, but made of nothing but water herself. Voice as sweet as morning dew.”
“That’s what you say about every female,” Rognvald scoffed. “Sounded irritating as a bleating sheep to me.” To his son and Frayka, he added, “But she claimed you two was safe.”
“She said you be coming home soon,” Thorkel said. “And we should expect you to marry. She likes you both quite a lot. Spoke fondly of you.”
Again, Frayka caught Njall’s gaze, and the solemn expression on his face convinced her they were thinking the same thing.
Norah. Last year we helped a water goddess. We assumed she’d abandoned us, but she helped us instead.
“Enough of this,” Frayka’s mother said, her voice hostile and coarse. “You spent the past few weeks building a house they’ll never use. Frayka has no intent of marrying Njall or anyone else. I dare say we’ll be stuck with her for life.”
The five sisters glared at Frayka as their mother herded them out the door.
Njall, his family, and Thorkel remained inside the house with Frayka.
“Be that what you want?” Thorkel said to Frayka. “Or be you wanting something else?”
When Njall smiled at Frayka, she remembered her long-ago portent that told her she must marry Njall because he alone had the ability to father children who would carry on Frayka’s ability to foretell the future. She remembered how her fondness for Njall had grown when he proved himself through kindness, loyalty, and respect. And during their return home by ship, they had spent every night becoming as intimate as a husband and wife.
The portents may not always come true exactly as I see them, but they do come true.
Frayka returned Njall’s smile. “I believe today is just as good a day as any to get married.”


Author Bio:
Resa Nelson is the author of the 4-book Dragonslayer series: The Dragonslayer’s Sword (nominated for the Nebula Award, finalist for the EPPIE Award), The Iron Maiden , The Stone of Darkness , and The Dragon's Egg . Her 4-book Dragonfly series takes place after the Dragonslayer series.
Her standalone novels include the mystery/thrillers All Of Us Were Sophie and Our Lady of the Absolute .
Resa has been selling short stories professionally since 1988. She is a longtime member of SFWA (Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America), and she is a graduate of the Clarion SF Workshop. Resa was the TV/Movie Columnist for Realms of Fantasy magazine for 13 years as well as a regular contributor to SCI FI magazine. She has sold over 200 articles to magazines in the United States and the United Kingdom.

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11 Sept 2017

Burning Cold by Lisa Lieberman


Burning Cold
Lisa Lieberman
(Cara Walden Mystery, #2)
Publication date: September 12th 2017
Genres: Adult, Historical, Mystery
Budapest: 1956. Newlywed Cara Walden’s brother Zoltán has disappeared in the middle of the Hungarian revolution, harboring a deadly wartime secret. Will Cara or the Soviets find him first?
Cutting short her honeymoon in Paris to rescue a sibling she’s never met was not Cara’s idea, but her husband Jakub has a reckless streak, and she is too much in love to question his judgment. Together with her older brother Gray, they venture behind the Iron Curtain, seeking clues to Zoltán’s whereabouts among his circle of fellow dissidents, all victims of the recently overthrown Communist regime. One of them betrayed him, and Cara realizes that the investigation has put every person they’ve met at risk. Inadvertently, they’ve also unmasked a Russian spy, who is now tailing them in the hope that they will lead him to Zoltán.
The noir film of Graham Greene’s The Third Man inspires Lisa Lieberman’s historical thriller. Burning Cold features a compelling female protagonist who comes to know her own strength in the course of her adventures.

Excerpt
Jakub had a reckless streak. During the war he’d been a courier in the French underground, passing messages practically under the nose of the Gestapo. One night he was apprehended near the Sorbonne while disguised as a priest. Some priest! With his dark eyes and that sensuous mouth of his, I can imagine his female parishioners swooning at the communion rail, women lining up ten deep outside the confessional, awaiting their turn to whisper fantasies in the darkness, fabricating sins and revealing their secret desires, all of them vying to be the one who enticed the young cleric to break his vows.
At least I didn’t have to invent steamy scenes out of thin air. If I closed my eyes, we were back in our atelier in Paris, undressing one another when we’d scarcely gotten inside the door. Jakub played jazz violin in a trio that also featured a bass player and a pianist. I’d joined them as their vocalist right after our marriage at the end of September, and my renditions of American standards went over pretty well in the touristy Saint-Germain-des-Prés nightclubs that were the trio’s bread-and-butter. I wore black, of course, and rimmed my eyes with kohl, fully inhabiting the role, and something of the sultry chanteuse I impersonated onstage carried over into our lovemaking.
We couldn’t get enough of one another. After our last set, the trio and I would head off to a café in Montparnasse, Chez Lázár, to jam with the house musicians. The sessions were purely instrumental, but I was content to sit off at a side table by myself, smoking and nursing a cognac while I watched Jakub play. The room might be crowded, but I felt as if he were performing just for me, seducing me with the sounds he coaxed from his violin. The soulful vibrato, the virtuosic riffs, bow sliding along the strings, tension mounting steadily, inexorably, to resolve at last in a sensuous purr. He seemed utterly absorbed in the music, but I found ways of distracting him; it was part of the game.
When he finished a solo, I’d toast him with my glass, holding his eyes as I brought the snifter to my lips and drank. The first sip was harsh, but its sweetness would soon spread across my palate, warming and emboldening me. I imagined kissing him, the peppery taste of his tongue in my mouth, the heat of his body as we drew close. Just the thought made me yearn for him, a longing I conveyed through my gaze alone, appraising him from head to toe as I drew languorously on my cigarette. Flustered, Jakub would somehow manage to tear his eyes away from mine and return to his playing, but the awareness that we would soon be in bed together lent his performance an exquisite edge. Soon I’d catch him sneaking glances at me, missing cues, pausing to tune his instrument with trembling fingers. Then we’d be hurrying upstairs to our studio, Jakub’s mouth on mine, his hand sliding up beneath my dress before we’d reached the attic landing. This was also part of the game, the risqué part, because our landlord, Lázár himself, lived on the floor below.
“Let’s not make it too easy for him,” I’d say, attempting to pull away. Or half-attempting. Half of me wanted to be a proper young lady, but the other half didn’t care if we made an exhibition of ourselves in the hallway, Lázár be damned.


Author Bio:
Lisa Lieberman is the author of the Cara Walden series of historical mysteries featuring blacklisted Hollywood people in exotic European locales. All the Wrong Places and Burning Cold are available from Passport Press in print and e-book.
Trained as a modern European cultural and intellectual historian, Lieberman abandoned a perfectly respectable academic career for the life of a vicarious adventurer through dangerous times and places. She has written extensively on postwar Europe and is the founder of the classic movie blog Deathless Prose. She now directs a nonprofit foundation dedicated to redressing racial and economic inequity in public elementary and secondary schools. She is a member of Sisters in Crime and Mystery Writers of America.
After dragging their three children all over Europe while they were growing up, Lisa and her husband are happily settled in Amherst, Massachusetts.

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16 Jun 2017

Phoebe Pope #1 & 2 by Nya Jade


The Year of Four
Nya Jade
(Phoebe Pope, #1)
Publication date: October 28th 2012
Genres: Paranormal, Young Adult
The students of Green Lane Academy roam their halls unaware that below their manicured campus exists a prestigious school of an entirely different kind . . .
Sixteen-year-old Phoebe Pope has enrolled at the Campus Below: a spy academy for shape-shifters hidden deep beneath the grounds of a boarding school whose humans unknowingly protect it. There, thanks to a carefully planned schedule, she leads a double life: spy trainee Below and normal teenager Above.
As if two course loads, concealing a secret power she alone wields, and coping with her father’s recent death weren’t enough, Phoebe finds herself developing major feelings for actor and teen heartthrob Colten Chase, who attends the Campus Above and appears to be majoring in winning Phoebe’s heart. But when officials learn that Phoebe may be at the center of a startling prophecy, she becomes the target of shape-shifting assassins who will stop at nothing to suppress the truth.
Now Phoebe’s lessons about Shaper’s enemies and spycraft take on great importance as a menace stalks the campus, with Phoebe as its target. Meanwhile, what began as an unlikely relationship with Colten, quickly morphs into heartache when she suspects that something sinister lurks beneath this movie star’s glitter and fame. Suddenly, Phoebe’s caught in a mesh of lies, betrayals, and danger where she doesn’t know who to trust, and needs to rely on herself—and her secret power—to get to the truth and to stay alive.
--

The Blood of Kings
Nya Jade
(Phoebe Pope, #2)
Publication date: April 2017
Genres: Paranormal, Young Adult
According to the press, Phoebe Pope and teen movie star Colten Chase are no longer an item—which is just how the happy new couple like it. And yet there’s trouble in paradise . . .
Phoebe is haunted by dreams that show her things she can’t possibly know about—including a pact between Colten and a wanted assassin. In the daylight, she struggles to keep a newly emerging power hidden, even as her hands itch to wield it.
Meanwhile, in the wake of their escape from a Vigo crèche, Phoebe and her fellow Hyphas study under lock and key at the Campus Below. As the foursome wait to see who among them will fulfill the prophecy, someone dear to Phoebe is kidnapped by a powerful Vigo determined to use her to spy on the Shaper royalty. When the Hyphas are called to the Royal Court, Phoebe refuses to heed warnings of imminent danger for she will do whatever it takes to rescue her loved one.
But once at court, nothing is as it first appears. A sinister force controls some royals, while others whisper behind closed doors about forbidden alliances. And as Phoebe draws on her courage to complete the task set by her enemy, she makes a startling discovery—one that upends her father’s memory.
With dangerous conspiracies surfacing, Phoebe must uncover what the Royal Shapers really want from her, and decide whether there’s room for Colten in her unraveling life.
Excerpt from:
THE YEAR OF FOUR 
A PHOEBE POPE NOVEL (Book 1) 
by NYA JADE 

Later, as the rest of the campus slept, Phoebe lay heartsick in the small grassy courtyard behind her dorm. Under a clear sky, she gazed at the brittle-looking moon, willing her body not to succumb to fatigue. If she did not sleep, the nightmare would not come. But Phoebe knew that, whether or not her eyes closed, the memory would still find a way in. Always.
She remembered rain hammering on the roof of the car as her father sped down a road lined by a wall of forest on either side. Behind them, the choral growl of the Vigos rose.
“Seat belt!” her father had shouted. His eyes were focused ahead, his jaw hard. Drawing the belt across her body, Phoebe stared in the side view mirror, seeing the moving shadows growing larger in the distance. Her panic soared.
“It’s going to be okay.” Her father stole a quick glance at her. “They can’t chase us all night. I promise you.”
Phoebe glanced at the speedometer and swallowed; the needle had pushed up past ninety. They turned a tight corner, and then, as her father had promised, the Vigos fell back, their growls receding into the drone of the rain. Phoebe saw triumph flash in her father’s eyes mere seconds before the car hydroplaned, turning and turning as though it would never stop.
Even now, as she lay curled in on herself, her arms wrapped around her body, Phoebe could hear the explosion of the car smashing into the tree. She could taste the gagging heat of blood dripping down her throat as she crawled her way out of the tangled mass of glass, metal, and branches.
“Dad,” Phoebe cried, stumbling over to the broken shape of her father lying nearby.
His eyes flickered up at her. “Honey,” he said, his voice hoarse and urgent. “They heard the crash.” He coughed raggedly, and blood ran from the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got to go.” What her father was asking her to do rattled around in Phoebe’s brain, failing to fully register even as her legs gave way underneath her. Her knees hit soggy earth, and, frantically eyeballing his injuries, she touched his face.
“You’ve already started heal—”
“I can’t heal enough before they get here.” His eyes slid to the darkness behind her, in the direction from which they’d come. Phoebe could hear them coming and the ground beneath her trembled with the vibrations of their advancing feet—Vigos drunk with the scent of a Shaper down.

Books in the Phoebe Pope Series:
The Year of Four (Book 1) | The Blood of Kings (Book 2)




Nya Jade has enjoyed a fun career as a singer-songwriter. Her music videos have aired on the Vh1, BET and MTV networks and she’s opened for some of the biggest names in music. Nya’s music has also received recognition in major publications, including USA Today and the LA Times. She took a break from writing and performing music to write The Year of Four, her first YA novel. When she isn’t writing, Nya can be found hanging out with family and friends, reading or bargain hunting for her next pair of funky shoes. Nya lives with her family in California.

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12 Jun 2017

Grunt by Kailee Reese Samuels


Grunt
Kailee Reese Samuels
(The SOS #3)
Publication date: May 30th 2017
Genres: Erotica, Romance
Six days.
No one thought I could last
Here in the cell—I now call home
They didn’t know I grew up in the prison of my crime family’s dream.
Six weeks.
No one thought I could withstand
The loss, the drugs, the torture
They didn’t know how much I would enjoy their game.
Six months.
No one thought I could survive
Their puppet and prey—but I like to play—Hard.
And I don’t lose.
They picked the wrong guy. Their so-called ‘grunt’ would fight to get home and take revenge. I vowed to come back—for her—for Kaci. But everything changed.
My maniacal mind wrapped with a pretty mug, I am an unforgiving opponent, tough—tougher than they ever imagined.
And I will never – ever – break. 

Excerpt

“Kink and terror manifest in much the same way.”
- Kaci Hope


The flight took forever.
Hearing the voices of men talking in a foreign tongue, Sal couldn’t understand a single syllable. Uproarious and loud, almost jovial, he listened as his future played out like a record skipping repeatedly. The scratching hummed between each revolution until the drub became the only audible sound.
When the plane landed, the man corralled Sal for the same routine in reverse. He tread Sal down the stairs, guiding him to another vehicle. Only this time, he stepped upwards into some sort of SUV. The man hurled the door as he said, “Good luck.”
The long, bumpy ride passed over winding and curving roads, hurting his aching body. His senses on fire, stinging from no use, he needed unbound. They could do with him what they wanted, but bondage had never been his forte. With no idea where they were or who they were, he tried in vain to close his eyes, seeking a rest that would not come.
The one thing Sal knew—he needed to piss like a race horse. He heard a phone ring and the man with an accent said, “Ten minutes.” Between the skips in the record, the drum beat with his words–ten minutes.
Ten minutes to figure out what the fuck to do.
Ten minutes to decide how to play this hand.
Ten minutes to remember who he was.
The heralded golden boy highly anticipated to serve as a Master. The moment Sal set foot in Texas, everyone knew that boy – that submissive – would grow into a Dominant to behold. The kind to wield his emotions through intellect and treat his partner as a princess. With a heavy hand and a ruthless ability, Sal would shine because they trained him, raising him to be no less than the best regardless of the role. He was the pride and promise of Juliet.
Trying to calm his mind, Sal went back through every moment he could remember. Anything to provide a clue as to what the Juliet council planned, or where this journey ended. He had been initiated and that was rare. But now, he had been taken captive…like a hostage. He didn’t recall any members ever engaging in such a brutal and unnerving scene.
The vehicle stopped, lurching his body forward. Suddenly, they moved again, but this time slower until the car turned off. The driver got out, opened his door, and gripped him on the shoulder. The burly voice requested, “Come on, Raniero. You got people waiting.”
Again, not anyone he knew. Judging by how the man handled him, he wasn’t into gentle either. His mind fraught with the possibilities as to what he was about to endure, but he agreed to this.
He wanted this.
He begged for this.
“Push me further, I can do more. Don’t go easy on me.”
He would succeed in this scene for no other reason than he feared disappointing Serene or Jack or Anna. Too many people invested time and money in his development and training for him to wuss out now.
He heard a jingle of keys and a door opened. Guided over the threshold and through a series of hallways, the man led him down two flights of stairs. Again, another long hallway emerged.
Inhaling the stench of his retch, Sal mumbled beneath the hood, “This place feels like a prison.”
The man said nothing as the keys clattered. Hands shoved at his shoulders, pushing him down on his knees, and the door slammed with a thunderous echoing roar.
His worst fears just came true.
© Kailee Reese Samuels 2017 Grunt



Embracing diversity. Coffee addict. Mango lover. Blueberry fetishist. Sweet peach tea crazy. Red wine devout. Whiskey deviant. Tattooed & pierced. Loves shoes. Collects rosaries. Fanatical organizer/cleaner/list-maker. Never sleeps. Hermit and recluse.
Storyteller.
KAILEE REESE SAMUELS has been spinning tales since she can remember. Her books are contemporary fiction with a no-holds-barred attitude. She adores listening to her characters ramble and putting them into situations that push the boundaries.
Creativity is the way to change.

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15 Feb 2017

336 Hours by Rachel Cathan

Genre: ‘Based on the author’s true life experiences, 336 Hours is a humorous and poignant diary about one woman’s quest to be a mother.’
Release Date: 13th February 2017
Publisher: SilverWood Books
The next 336 hours will be tough. No, the next 336 hours will be really tough…
I feel like an Olympian, waiting to see whether the years of hard work, sacrifice and dedication are finally going to pay off, or whether my body is about to fail me at the last hurdle and make me wonder why I ever hoped I could win.
My best friend is pregnant, my single friends are planning their pregnancies and, after five long years of tests and investigations, I’m coming to the end of my third – and supposedly final – IVF treatment. There are 336 hours to survive before I’ll know if I get to join the motherhood club. That’s 224 waking hours of pure psychological torture. 112 sleeping hours to stare at the ceiling and wonder, what the hell am I going to do with my life if it turns out I can’t have kids?
Based on the author’s true life experiences, 336 Hours is a humorous and poignant diary about one woman’s quest to be a mother.

Extract
I can’t pretend to have a clue what she means, of course. I don’t know what it’s like to have little people shouting, ‘Mummy! Mummy! MUUMMEEE!’ all day long, to never be able to go for a wee on your own, to make spaghetti bolognese and then watch your dinner dates tip it straight over their heads, to stay up all night comforting a teething toddler, to spend hours coercing and pleading with very small people to put shoes and coats on so you can at last leave the fucking house.
But I want to know this life. Because that stuff gives you stories, first-hand experiences, and the right to exchange knowing smiles of solidarity with other frazzled parents as you all manoeuvre your wayward shopping trolleys around the aisles of Tesco.
And it comes with other stuff, too: the good stuff.
AMAZON UK
AMAZON US
Silverwood Books

About Rachel Cathan
Rachel Cathan is a writer from Bedfordshire. In 2001, a mutual friend introduced her to a part-time pub DJ in Southend-on-Sea. A month later, they had moved in together, around seven years later they tied the knot, and a little while after that – just like so many couples before them – they made the exciting and terrifying decision to start a family. And then, like a growing number of couples today, well...not a lot happened.
Throughout the subsequent years of fertility investigations and failed treatments, Rachel kept a diary of her experiences, and it’s from these first- hand encounters in the world of infertility and IVF that her first book, 336 Hours has been adapted.
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20 Sept 2016

Something I Need by Lena Lowe


Something I Need
Lena Lowe
(xoxo Nashville, #1)
Publication date: September 14th 2016
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance
Jonte Williamson has a dream: become Nashville’s next big star. Finding herself unexpectedly homeless hot off the plane wasn’t part of her grand plan.
Cash Bellini is a simple man: he loves his twin sister, Dolly, hates country music, and stays far away from anything more complicated than that.
When Jonte stumbles into Cash’s bar, helping out the homeless country music wannabe is the last thing on his agenda. Pity someone forgot to send the memo to his too-big heart and meddling twin. Throw in a pair of baby blue cowboy boots, a pool table and a splash of tequila, and these two are set to ignite in a hot sexy mess! Will either of their hearts survive the tug-o-war between what they want and what they need?
Something I Need will be on sale for 99c for the rest of September!!

Excerpt

It took Cash’s brain a good twenty seconds to reconcile the fact that the woman walking towards him right now was his sister’s apparent new best friend, Jonte.
Holy. Shit.
There was no denying she was already a gorgeous girl, so natural and vivacious. But as she made her way up to the bar now, he knew he was in a shit ton of trouble, just like Tanner had warned yesterday.
The most obvious difference was definitely her hair. The bleach-blonde, just-stepped-off-the-beach look she had been rocking had morphed into something that was simultaneously sexy and sophisticated; a much darker shade, a shiny mahogany, and the waves had been replaced by well-defined curls. Gone were the flip-flops and tank top, and in was a black and white polka-dot dress and – were they blue suede cowboy boots? Cash did a double take and shook his head in disbelief. Only she could sashay in here wearing a pair of baby-blue colored boots!
“Nice boots.” He leaned against the bar as she slid onto a stool.
“Thanks.” Her smile was all cute and coy, and she flushed a pretty shade of pink.
“Dolly take you to that vintage country place she loves so much?”
“Yep.”
“I like your hair. It suits you.”
Yeah, he liked her hair much more than he should. He’d always preferred brunettes. And checking her out now, he couldn’t figure out why she’d bothered with the blonde hair. He busied himself by pouring her a pint so that he would have an excuse to look away.
“Thanks. Dolly suggested I go back to my roots.” Jonte tousled her curls.
Cash sat the pint down on a coaster in front of her. “So you’re naturally darker?”
She nodded and took a sip of her beer. “Thanks for this, by the way.” Jonte lightly tapped her fingers across the bar top. “Things got a little out of hand yesterday. You know, the whole apartment hunting theatrics. I was tired and frazzled, and realize you were just trying to help.”
“Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t exactly my finest hour either.”
“That’s nice of you to say. So, yesterday you said I could help out around here until I find something more permanent. Was that a genuine offer?”
Of course it had been a genuine offer. He really did want to help her. He just wished he could help her without actually having to be near her, especially this post-Dolly makeover version of her. New hair, clothes, and makeup – what else had Dolly done? He quashed his curiosity – well, tried to.
“Sure,” he replied, with what he hoped was a casual I-wasn’t-just-thinking-about-you-naked shrug.
“Don’t sound so enthusiastic. I’m not that bad to work with.”
“No, it’s fine, really. I could use an extra pair of hands to help out over the weekends.”
“Are you sure? You’re not just saying that to be nice?”
Christ. He needed to get away from her. There were a million thoughts racing through his mind right now and none of them were nice.

About the author



Lena lives in Melbourne, Australia with her husband and three daughters. She completed a MA in Writing in 2013 and has been working on a New Adult series based in Nashville. The first book in the series, Something I Need, was a 2014 RWA Contemporary Romance Stiletto finalist in the New Adult category.
In early 2015, Lena and her family spent 5 weeks road tripping across the US. It was an amazing once in a lifetime family holiday and research for her debut series all rolled into one!
Lena is an avid reader, especially in the New Adult genre. She is a mad Colleen Hoover, Samantha Young and KA Tucker fan, and is more than a little bit in love with Becca and Krista Richie’s Addicted series, Jay Crownover’s Marked Men series and Kylie Scott’s Stage Dive series.

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13 Sept 2016

The Tokyo Cover Girls by Jackie Amsden


The Tokyo Cover Girls
Jackie Amsden
(The Tokyo Cover Girls , #1)
Publication date: April 28th 2016
Genres: Mystery, Young Adult
New York has Jacobs, Paris has Chanel, Milan has Versace and Tokyo has . . . Hello Kitty toilet plungers? With its cute-obsessed catalogue and magazine market, anyone who is anyone knows that modeling in Japan means being at the bottom of the fashion industry. Blake, Jess, and Hailey are doing their best to survive yet another casting where pigtails and toddler-impressions are a must when they stumble upon the opportunity of a lifetime. The prestigious Satsujin company has selected them to compete for a campaign that will transform the winner from commercial nobody to haute couture superstar faster than you can say Vogue Italia.
Of course, nothing is ever what it seems in the fashion world. Just ask all those dead girls . .

Excerpt


Jess’s flip-flops thumped like two flat tires as she walked across Visage’s coral-tiled flooring. A marble reception counter stood in front of her, surrounded by several rows of framed magazine covers. Each one featured a girl with sparkling eyes, smooth hair, and porcelain white skin surrounded by pink bubble letters. Jess glanced at the faded Food Not Bombs tee and frizzy ponytail reflected in one of the cover’s glass frames and smiled. She was definitely not going to impress any lingerie clients dressed like this. Luckily, she didn’t have to. She approached the counter.
Jess had asked Yuki to email her a copy of the contract two days ago and she still hadn’t received it. How hard was it to attach a document? She figured it would be faster if she just dropped by the agency and grabbed a paper copy. Plus, it would be a good opportunity to tell Yuki she wanted to be sent on castings again. Winning the competition would of course ensure she met her summer target and beyond. But what if she didn’t? She needed a backup plan. However, Jess hadn’t figured on how many subway transfers it would take to get to Visage’s office. The trip had taken half an hour longer than she’d anticipated. At this rate, she would have to hurry if she wanted to meet Taro at that restaurant on time.
“Hai, hai,” said the receptionist, staring at the shiny white laptop on her desk. She wore a silver headset and was nodding with a delicate, staccato rhythm that reminded Jess of a budgie.
“Uh, excuse me,” said Jess. The woman waved a hand toward her, eyes still glued to the screen. Jess glanced at the line of offices stretching out in the corridor beyond the desk. She hadn’t told Yuki she was coming. She sure hoped her booker was in and she hadn’t come all this way for nothing—though at least she’d had lots to think about during the ride.
Jess grinned, remembering how Taro’s bangs had kept falling into his eyes when he was going off about genetically modified foods. She’d never met anyone so interested and informed about environmentalism. Even the place Taro had suggested they eat at tonight sounded cool—a vegan sushi house that served fair-trade teas. She couldn’t wait to check it out.

About the author



Jackie Amsden worked as a fashion model in China, Japan, and Taiwan before retiring at the age of eighteen after one too many agent threats, nude photo shoot requests, and self-loathing-induced Pocky binges. If you’d like to learn more about her decent into the darker side of Asia’s candy-coated modeling industry sign up for free installments of her upcoming memoir and get updates about the sequel to The Tokyo Cover Girls at www.jackieamsden.com.

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5 Sept 2016

The Dream Protocol: Descent by Adara Flynn Quick / GIVEAWAY


The Dream Protocol: Descent
Adara Flynn Quick
Publication date: April 20th 2016
Genres: Dystopian, Young Adult
WHATEVER YOU DO, DON’T GET OLD. In fiery young Deirdre Callaghan’s home of Skellig City, no one has dreamt their own dream in over a thousand years. Dreams are produced by the Dream Makers and sold by the Ministry, the tyrannical rulers of the city. In Skellig City, years of life are awarded equally and the ruined are cast away beneath the city on their 35th birthday.
Unbeknownst to the Ministry, Deirdre’s handsome friend Flynn Brennan is afflicted with a terrible disease – a disease that accelerates the aging process. Knowing his fate if the Ministry should ever discover his illness, Flynn has lived his whole life hiding from their watchful eyes. When Flynn’s secret is finally discovered, Deirdre is determined to free him from the Ministry’s grasp. But to save him, she will have to reveal herself to a shadowy enemy…one that none of them even knew existed.


Excerpt

It was a rare moment on Skellig Michael. The mist-drenched rocks of the isle were illuminated by a ray of sudden sunlight. Pools of water caught in the rock crevices reflected the light skyward. For an instant, the island glistened like a thousand gems cut from the earth. For a moment, it was something beautiful: a lighthouse promising safety through the dark. And then, above the island, the clouds rushed back in. The island returned to its true form, a black shape jagged against the horizon. There was no safety to be found on Skellig Michael, where deep down in the dark and the damp it was custom to take a life before its natural end. Below the waterline of the island, thousands of feet under rock and concrete, Maeve O’Brian watched a timer tick away the last minutes of her life.
A thousand years ago, a great hole had been dug through the center of the island known as Skellig Michael. Into the hole was poured steel and concrete and the sweat of thousands to build Skellig City. When they finished their great work, the top was sealed again for the city dwellers had no need for the birds in the sky or fresh air upon their faces. The peace of their wild, natural land was denied to them. With the passing of time, the old country was lost. Anything they desired was provided in sleep by the Dream Protocol. Through the rooms and halls of the great concrete city, the dreams floated on invisible networks to the dreamers. As the decades rolled by, many more things were stolen from them. One of these was the number of years that could be lived.
On the lowest level of their underground home, the citizens had gathered to witness the Ritual of Descent for Maeve O’Brian. The rite began as it had for generations, in a room filled with the smell of bodies crushed against bodies. Too many people were forced into the small space, a reminder of limited resources in their underground home. The clothing of the crowd was another marker of their dwelling, a sign of the order that ruled the place. At the top were the Minister and his Dream Drone soldiers, all dressed in crisp red uniforms. The spider was the insignia of the corporate state, and the eight-legged creature was stitched in gold thread on the left side of each jacket. Next in the power structure were the Dream Makers, clothed in orange hooded robes with wide, flowing sleeves. Their mark was the Maker’s amulet that hung around their necks. Last in line was everyone else, dressed in worn grey clothing that had seen too many patches and repairs. The threadbare grey rags did little to ward off the cold, but the huddled mass of people provided them a welcome respite.

About the author



Irish-American author, Adara Flynn Quick, is the writer of The Dream Protocol series. Early in her career, Adara was fascinated by dreams, the unconscious, and the healing stories of many cultures. As a contemporary author, she writes young adult literature that brings ancient myths and legends into futuristic worlds. She is an accomplished visual artist and uses her background as a psychotherapist to inspire the finest and darkest moments of her characters.
Driven to distraction by her computer, Adara writes all of her stories longhand. Pen and paper are two of her favorite things. The author tortures her husband with a passion for downtempo electronica and too many pillows. She is a firm beleiver that there are never enough pillows.

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A Second Chance by Dana K. Ray


A Second Chance
Dana K. Ray
Publication date: June 14th 2016
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult
A past she can’t forget…
Raven will do just about anything to forget a horrific event from the past that still haunts her. Forced to attend church because of a promise she made at a party, she is immediately attracted to the young, handsome preacher but is unconvinced of his promises of a better life.
A future he refuses to accept…
Matthew has everything planned out until Raven walks into his church and turns his life upside down. Repulsed by her lifestyle, yet fascinated by her beauty and charm, he finds himself drawn to her by a force he can’t explain.
Raven and Mathew’s unlikely friendship leads them through escalating troubled waters that threaten to doom their growing relationship. Will they survive to learn valuable lessons of grace, forgiveness and love?

Excerpt

“I saw the strength you had back there. You stood up for the right thing and you didn’t worry about what it cost you. If you can do that, surely you can go to Teresa and ask for forgiveness.” Matthew said.
“You don’t understand.” Raven wiped the tear that rolled down her cheek.
“Then explain it to me.”
“Because she’s dead.” The deep voice came from behind. It was Cody. “Teresa’s dead, isn’t she, Raven?”
Matthew slid off the car, his stance solid and protective.
Raven turned to Cody and looked into his bloodshot eyes. Drunk. She couldn’t blame him. Teresa had been his twin sister. “Yes, she is.”
Cody leaned into her. “Tell him why.”
Raven looked at Matthew, then back at Cody. Her heart thundered as memories crashed through her. Her eyes rested back on Matthew. She knew the next words out of her mouth would change everything. Any hope he offered would be yanked away.
“Tell him.” Cody’s voice was firm.
She dropped her eyes and whispered, “Because of me.”
Cody leaned into her. “Louder.”
She took a deep breath and looked up, past Cody at Matthew. “She’s dead because of me.”
Cody’s lips pursed together as one of his friends grabbed his arm. “Come on, man. She ain’t worth it.”
Cody scowled, turned, and walked away.
She pulled Matthew’s coat tighter around her. “I gotta go.”
“Let’s go get some coffee and talk.”
Matthew didn’t look shocked, but she couldn’t forget how easily he dismissed her last week. “Why would I talk to you? I hardly know you.”
He looked deep into her eyes. “I care about you.”
“Why?” Her chin quivered as she fought the tears. “Am I that pathetic?”
“You’re not pathetic.” His eyes were soft, hypnotizing. “I want to help you.”
“Why?”
He ran his hand through his thick black hair and began to pace. “I know this is gonna sound crazy, but I feel a connection between us. I felt it the first time I saw you.” He stopped and stared at her. “Am I totally nuts or do you feel it, too?”
She hesitated. She did feel it but if she admitted it, it would expose her. The last thing she wanted was to be vulnerable again with anyone. Yet, he offered her something no one else ever had, a true friendship. A friendship that wasn’t based on what she had done or who she hung around with. He was different.
Matthew touched her arm. “Why do you blame yourself for Teresa’s death?”
She stared into his caring eyes. For a moment, she wanted to tell him everything. She shook her head, pulled her keys out of her pocket, and opened the car door. “I can’t talk about it.”
Matthew grabbed the door. “You can trust me. I want to help.”
“I can’t.” She climbed into the car, slammed the door, and sped off.

About the author



Dana K. Ray has been writing gutsy, true to life stories since she became a teenager. A full-time children's minister in her church, she and her husband reside in the Midwest with their four children and four dogs. A Second Chance is her first published novel. Absolution, the first in the Luciano series, is set to be released July 2017. Connect with her at danakray.com.


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29 Aug 2016

Beyond Your Touch by Pat Esden


Beyond Your Touch
Pat Esden
(The Dark Heart #2)
Published by: Kensington
Publication date: August 30th 2016
Genres: New Adult, Paranormal, Romance
She wants more than he can promise.
His desires could lead to betrayal.
But without each other, neither can survive the dangers ahead.

Annie Freemont knows this isn’t the right time to get involved with a man like Chase. After years of distrust, she’s finally drawing close to her estranged family, and he’s an employee on their estate in Maine. Though she never intended to stay on the estate for long, her father’s illness and the mysteries surrounding her family made leaving impossible. And now with the newfound hope of rescuing her long-missing mother, Annie’s determined to be involved with the family’s plans one way or another.
If only she could keep her mind off Chase and focus on the impending rescue. But there’s something about the enigmatic Chase that she can’t resist. And she’s not the only woman. Annie fears a seductive stranger who is key to safely freeing her mother is also obsessed with him. As plans transform into action and time for a treacherous journey into a strange world draws near, every move Annie makes will test the one bond she’s trusted with her secrets, her desires—and her heart.
Sequel to

25810168

Excerpt

Chapter 1
Bury the truth in robes of marble and ivy,
In halls of learned books and tomes ripe with false beliefs.
But it still breathes, still whispers and waits.
--Excerpt from Devils and Djinn

By Samuel Freemont

His neck tasted like strawberry jelly. Well, actually like jelly and powdered sugar--which was no surprise since we’d spent the last hour wreaking havoc on his freshly washed sheets, first by having a jelly doughnut fight, and then by making love in said newly created mess. Chase was no slouch when it came to lovemaking, far from it. But the doughnut fight had made me laugh until I cried. In all honesty, I’m not sure which I enjoyed more, the fight or the sex--or seeing him laugh, his mind and body off-duty for a change, just there in the moment with me.
Chase rolled me onto my back and straddled me, his forehead resting against mine, his soft blue aura soaking my skin with warmth. We kissed again, gently this time, lips moving in a slow, delicious waltz. I broke away and wiggled a bit lower, trailing kisses down his neck and licking a lingering dab of jelly off his collarbone. He flinched when the tip of my tongue brushed the scarred skin just below his left shoulder, a fist-size mark created so many years ago by Malphic’s branding iron.
It was hard to even begin to think about how different Chase’s childhood and mine had been: me traveling and dealing antiques with my dad, blissfully unaware that the stories he told me about magic and his family were real--and Chase kidnapped from his human mother, taken to the djinn realm, branded and enslaved by his genie father, and raised to be a Death Warrior until my family rescued him five years ago. It was crazy. Almost unbelievably so, but it was the truth. The phone on the floor beside his bed jangled, and our private world evaporated as Chase climbed over me and sat on the edge of the bed to read the text.
“Damn. I was supposed to go see your grandfather this morning.” He was up, grabbing his briefs and jeans, his aura fading with each step.
In less than a dozen strides, he was across his attic bedroom and into the tiny half bath. It wasn’t like Chase’s and my growing relationship was a secret, something banned because I was a Freemont and he worked for my family. But finding any semblance of privacy had proven impossible with both of us living on my family’s estate of Moonhill. It had been a month since I’d first come here with Dad and things had started to sizzle with Chase. Still, we’d only managed to spend the whole night together a couple of times. Mostly we stole our alone time when and where we could, like this morning.

About the author


PAT ESDEN would love to say she spent her childhood in intellectual pursuits. The truth is she was fonder of exploring abandoned houses and old cemeteries. When not out on her own adventures, she can be found in her northern Vermont home writing stories about brave, smart women and the men who capture their hearts. An antique-dealing florist by trade, she’s also a member of Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers of America, Romance Writers of America, and the League of Vermont Writers. Her short stories have appeared in a number of publications, including Orson Scott Card’s Intergalactic Medicine Show, the Mythopoeic Society’s Mythic Circle literary magazine, and George H. Scither’s anthology Cat Tales.


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22 Jul 2016

Beyond Dead by Jordaina Sydney Robinson

Dead less than twenty-four hours, with a job that doesn’t pay, a fashion disaster for a uniform and more afterlife rules than she can shake a stick at, Bridget Sway thinks it’s as bad as it can get. And then she finds a dead ghost stuffed in her locker.
Since the police are desperate to arrest her for murder, Bridget’s new best friend convinces her the only way to save herself from an eternity in prison is to solve the murder themselves.
With a handsome parole officer watching her every move, an outlaw ghost befriending her and two persistent mediums demanding her attention, solving the murder is not quite as easy as it sounds. And when “murder” turns into “murders” Bridget needs to solve the case … before she becomes the next dead body stuffed in her locker.
Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CAKobo | iBooks | Nook

Excerpt
Chapter One
I’d always had a problem being punctual. My mum used to say I’d be late for my own funeral. Thankfully that wasn’t being held for another week or so yet, not that I was exactly sure what the etiquette would be for me attending. I’d probably still be late, though. And I mean ghost-me would be late, not dead-body-me. Dead-body-me’s punctuality was in someone else’s hands, so I was fairly certain that me would be on time.
I wasn’t even sure if I’d be able to get the time off work. Yes, you heard me right. I had a job. One that I was running late for. Though technically, being dead, I suppose I was “late” for everything now. And, in all fairness, I didn’t feel my lack of punctuality in this instance was entirely my fault. It was the fault of whoever had crammed a dead-ghost-guy into my locker.
Of course I wasn’t completely sure he was dead. Or doubly dead. I didn’t even know if ghosts could die. You see it in movies all the time, ghosts reverting back to their “death form” or whatever to scare people. It was highly possible he was waiting for me to try to get something out of my locker before springing to life and scaring me to death, if you’ll excuse the pun. An initiation of sorts. Though if that’s what it was, he had the patience of a saint because I’d been staring at him for nearly twenty minutes and he’d yet to so much as twitch.
Initiation or not, I hoped he’d not bled onto my uniform because I was pretty sure the Bureau of Ghostly Affairs would deduct it from my measly pay cheque. That was if they paid me at all. They’d been conveniently sketchy on the pay details during my very brief “Welcome to Your Afterlife” induction. In fact, they’d been sketchy on all the details. The only two things I knew for sure was that I was dead and I still had to work.
“Hey! Bridget!” Bertha strode into the ladies’ locker room, all skinny five feet of her clearly meaning business. “Move your fake-tanned ass! Get your uniform on and let’s go!” She had an annoying habit of punctuating every exclamation with a sharp clap. And my ass was not fake-tanned.
“I’d love to, Bertha. Really I would. It’s always been my dream to toil for eternity with limited rewards in the belted mauve sack you call a uniform, but, unfortunately, someone’s crammed a dead-ghost-guy into my locker, which is sadly preventing me from getting to it.” I flashed my recently bleached teeth at her. “Any suggestions?”
Bertha harrumphed, covering the space between us in a flurry of fairy strides. She glanced at the contents of my locker and paused mid-step. Frozen in place, with her knee in the air, she toppled backwards and hit the floor with a thud in a dead faint.
“I’ll take that as a ‘no’ then, shall I?”
No one would ever have described me as squeamish, but in life a dead body probably would’ve elicited more from me than a staring match with the victim. However, it seemed my shock receptors had frazzled out after the whole dying and becoming a ghost thing. I was certain I’d feel differently in the morning, though I was hoping they’d have moved him by then.
Alex, Bertha’s partner, pushed the heavy locker room door ajar and called Bertha’s name through the crack.
“She’s fainted,” I said as I stared at her prone form, feeling oddly detached. I should probably care about this. “You’d better come in.”
“Fainted?” Alex poked his head into the room. His eyes widened in worry when he saw her. As if unaccustomed to moving faster than a strut, Alex scurried awkwardly over and knelt by Bertha’s side. “Get me some water to splash on her face,” he instructed me without taking his eyes from her.
“Me?”
“Yes, you.” He pointed through the archway to the shower area at the far end of the room. “Go.”
I folded my arms and pursed my lips. I’d always had a bit of a problem with authority.
“What are you waiting for?” he asked when he glanced up to see me still sitting there.
“A ‘please’ would be nice.”
“What?” Alex stared blankly at me. “Fine. Whatever. Please can you please get me some water please? Was that okay?”
“It was passable.” I adjusted my white suit jacket as I stood and then headed across the murky grey linoleum. “It would’ve worked better without the attitude, though. She’s only fainted.”
I walked under the arch and into the open area beyond. It was like a school shower room flashback. A central wall divided the room. Shower cubicles lined the far left wall and toilet cubicles faced them on the central divide. A row of sinks ran along both walls to the right with individual mirrors above them. In what world did twice as many sinks as there were toilets make sense? Several sporadically arranged empty blue tumblers stood on the thin shelves above the sinks. I rinsed one before filling it and caught my reflection in the soap smeared mirror.
Thankfully I’d had my fire engine red hair coloured and trimmed a few days earlier. It usually made my sky blue eyes look electric and my skin appear sun-kissed; today I just looked haggard, tired and sallow. Death did not look good on me. Leaning closer to inspect the dark circles under my eyes, I realised my white trouser suit probably wasn’t helping my deathly complexion. I’d have to go shopping for a whole new wardrobe on my next day off. That’s if I got a day off. And where did the dead shop? I readjusted my perfectly trimmed fringe and sighed. Alive or dead, the important stuff was never in the inductions.
“What are you doing in there?” Alex snapped, interrupting my mental shopping list. I’d started to list individual things and then realised I should just change it to one word: everything.
I walked back across the floor, handed Alex the tumbler and then flopped heavily down on the wooden bench next to him. I was too tired to do anything but watch while he tended Bertha. Dying had really taken it out of me.
Alex was tall, dark and almost handsome. He ticked all the boxes on paper – muscled, square jaw, boyish dimples, perfect smile – but somehow didn’t pull it off in reality. I couldn’t quite put my finger on why. A bit like Bertha. She was dainty with long auburn hair and big brown eyes like pots of melted chocolate. She had a dusting of freckles across her nose, but instead of looking petite and delicate her features seemed oddly out of proportion.
Alex moved Bertha’s head so it rested on his knees and then flicked a few drops of water onto her face. No reaction. He sprinkled a little more then dragged a rough hand through his neatly styled short hair. “What happened? What did you do?”
“Me?” My voice hitched up an indignant octave. “Nothing!”
“And why aren’t you dressed for your shift?” He sprinkled a few more drops onto Bertha’s face, to no avail. “First impressions count.”
Yeah. And my first impressions of this afterlife business so far? Not impressed. “Give me that.” I took the tumbler from his hands as he gently tapped Bertha’s cheeks. We were going to be here all day at this rate.
“Well?”
I stared at him blankly. “Well what?”
“Why aren’t you dressed?” he gritted out. Clearly neither he nor Bertha dealt with stress very well.
“Oh. Right.” I nodded to my locker. “Dead-ghost-guy.”
Alex’s head spun around so fast I heard his neck crack. And while he was distracted I threw the contents of the tumbler in Bertha’s face.



Jordaina Sydney Robinson grew up and, despite many adventures further afield, still lives in the North West of England. For fun she buys notebooks, gets walked by her husky puppy and sings really loudly and really badly whilst driving her trusty old Seat, Roger. If you want to find out just how bad her singing is then you can visit her official website and ask her.
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4 Jul 2016

Girl in the Shadows by Gwenda Bond


Girl in the Shadows
Gwenda Bond
(Girl on a Wire #2)
Published by: Skyscape
Publication date: July 5th 2016
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult
Eighteen-year-old Moira Mitchell grew up in the shadows of Vegas’s stage lights while her father’s career as a magician soared. More than anything, Moira wants to be a magician too, but her father is dead set against her pursuing magic.
When an invitation to join the Cirque American mistakenly falls into Moira’s possession, she takes action. Instead of giving the highly coveted invitation to its intended recipient, Raleigh, her father’s handsome and worldly former apprentice, Moira takes off to join the Cirque. If she can perform alongside its world-famous acts, she knows she’ll be able to convince her dad that magic is her future.
But when Moira arrives, things take on an intensity she can’t control as her stage magic suddenly feels like…real magic. To further distract her, Raleigh shows up none too pleased at Moira’s presence, all while the Cirque’s cocky and intriguing knife thrower, Dez, seems to have it out for her. As tensions mount and Moira’s abilities come into question, she must decide what’s real and what’s an illusion. If she doesn’t sort it out in time, she may forever remain a girl in the shadows.

Hi Gwenda! Can you tell us a little about your latest book?
Of course! Girl in the Shadows is about Moira Mitchell, the 18-year-old daughter of a famous Las Vegas magician, who wants desperately to be the first female magician as well known as Houdini or David Copperfield or her dad. But when her dad forbids her from pursuing magic as a career, she decides to run away to the Cirque American--where things get quickly complicated by the discovery she can do real magic and it has something to do with her mysterious absent mother. There’s stage magic, a knife-throwing love interest, lots of the characters from book one about the Cirque, and a centuries-old secret society, for starters.

What inspired you to write it?
I’ve always loved the circus and I’ve always loved magic. So when I began to think about doing a second book set at the Cirque American, focusing on a young female magician seemed like a great fit.

How did you come up with the idea for the cover?
I had nothing to do with it, other than to be ecstatically happy! The cover was done by M. S. Corley and I think we can all agree it’s completely fabulous. The thing I love most is how all these elements of the book are hidden with it (the Ferris wheel!).

If it was made into a movie, who would you like to play the main characters?
Oh, gosh, I’m terrible at fake casting, because I never know anyone’s names.

Is it part of a series or is it a stand-alone novel?
It’s both! It’s set in the world of the Cirque American and has some overlapping characters with Girl on a Wire (and Girl Over Paris, a comic book miniseries that also starts in July)...but it’s a companion focusing on a new main character and can be read independently.

Where is the novel set and why did you choose to set it there?
It’s set at the Cirque American, over the course of its summer season, so the cast travels around the country. I have always loved circuses and so I designed my dream one.

What is it about this genre that appeals to you so much?
I love mystery and fantasy and magic and magical realism and so it all gets mixed into the YA stew of the Cirque world. YA is a very exciting place to work.

What made you want to become an author?
I’ve always loved stories--experiencing them and telling them.

How do you come up with character names?
Trial and error.

Do you struggle to come up with book titles? Do they come before, during or after you've written your book?
It just depends on the book. I’m also married to a writer, and we actually just co-wrote a middle grade together that comes out next year and so I made him come up with the series title (the Supernormal Sleuthing Service). In fact, about half my titles come from him. And I actually had brainstorming help from twitter and facebook and my editor on this one, but ultimately it came out of the prologue.

Name one of your all-time favourite books?
I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith.

Who, or what, inspires you?
So many people, so much art, so much of the world.

Where is your favourite place to write?

Anyplace when the words are flowing. :-)

What is your favourite movie that was based on a book?
Hmmm. Maybe Cold Comfort Farm or The Maltese Falcon?

Name two of your favourite authors.
Holly Black and Leigh Bardugo.

Tell us a random fact about yourself.
I took up aerial silks last year. And if that’s not random enough...I floss daily.

Who would play you in the movie about your life?
I’d love a young Claudette Colbert in an alternate universe.

Tell us an interesting fact about where you live.
I live in Lexington, Kentucky, which has several amazing bookstores.

What are your (writing) plans for the future?
I’m working on a YA book I’m not allowed to talk about yet at the moment, and the first in the Supernormal Sleuthing Service books will be out sometime next year.

Tell us one thing that's on your bucket list.
Fly in a hot air balloon over someplace exotic.

Favourite myth / fairytale?
This is going to sound strange, but I love the story of Medea. I always feel like there’s more to it.

Who/What did you want to be when you were a kid?
A writer. But I really wanted to be related to an astronaut.
Thanks for the interview!
My pleasure Gwenda! Fabulous to have you here on Fiction Dreams today :D


Gwenda Bond is the author of the young adult novels Lois Lane: Fallout and Girl on a Wire, among others. Lois Lane: Double Down and Girl in the Shadows, a companion novel to Girl on a Wire set in the Cirque American, are next up in 2016. She’s also hard at work on some secret projects you don’t know about yet.
Her nonfiction writing has appeared in Publishers Weekly, Locus Magazine, the Los Angeles Times, and many other publications. She has an MFA in writing from the Vermont College of Fine Arts. She lives in a hundred-year-old house in Lexington, Kentucky, with her husband, author Christopher Rowe. There are rumors she escaped from a screwball comedy, and she might have a journalism degree because of her childhood love of Lois Lane. Visit her online at www.gwendabond.com or @gwenda on Twitter.


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