Saturday, April 16, 2016

Possessed By A Dark Warrior Barrage, Excerpt & Giveaway!

Possessed by a Dark Warrior by Felicity Heaton

Possessed by a Dark Warrior, the ninth book in New York Times best-seller Felicity Heaton’s hot paranormal romance series, Eternal Mates, is now available in ebook and paperback. To celebrate the release of Bleu and Taryn’s long romance novel, she’s holding a FANTASTIC GIVEAWAY and sharing sneak peeks of the book.

Enter the Possessed by a Dark Warrior international giveaway (ends April 24th) and be in with a shot of winning a $75, $50 or $25 gift certificate by using the Rafflecopter form at the end of this post or at her website, where you can also download a 4 chapter sample of the novel: http://www.felicityheaton.co.uk/possessed-by-a-dark-warrior-paranormal-romance-novel.php

Here’s more about Possessed by a Dark Warrior, including an excerpt from this paranormal romance novel.

Possessed by a Dark Warrior
A powerful warrior and commander of the dark elf legions, Bleu is a loyal and devoted male, and one who has never failed in anything—except one thing. Love. When an elusive female dragon shifter surfaces in Hell again, giving him a mission to hurl himself into, he gladly returns to his hunt for her and the deadly blade she stole from his prince seven centuries ago, but as he closes in on his prey, fate reveals she is far more than his enemy?

Having escaped from the black market arena and her life as a slave, Taryn sets her sights back on the task she began seven hundred years ago when her brother stole a precious sword, but in the three centuries she’s been a captive, everything has changed. Corrupted by a craving for power, her brother has become dangerously obsessed with finding the blade and using it to claim the ultimate treasure—the position of King of Hell.

Faced with having to end her beloved twin to stop him from bringing all of Hell to its knees before him, will Taryn be strong enough to use the very blade he seeks against him? And when Bleu finally catches his elusive prey, will he listen to his head as it demands he complete his mission or his heart as it demands he claim his eternal mate?
Possessed by a Dark Warrior is available from Amazon Kindle, Kobo Books, Barnes and Noble Nook, Apple iBooks stores and other retailers. Also available in paperback. Find the links to your preferred retailer at: http://www.felicityheaton.co.uk/possessed-by-a-dark-warrior-paranormal-romance-novel.php

Excerpt
Bleu landed without a sound in the middle of the dense crowd, the vapours from the short teleport shimmering around him for a second before he kicked off, leaving them in his wake as he broke through the throng. His steady gaze locked on his target, focused there even as he felt his six men appear a short distance behind him and begin to pursue him. Two came to flank him, the remaining four spreading out through the disgusting gathering of creatures like black tendrils, taking down any who dared to stand in their way.
He would have killed them all if he had the choice, but his mission was clear—retrieve the two elf females with minimal fuss.
Gods, he would give anything to sink his fangs and his blade into many of the wretched bastards present at the black market auction, a suitable punishment for their despicable behaviour, trading in flesh and lives.
He snarled, baring his fangs at a fool who rushed into his path in his blind panic, and swept his hand over the length of his black sword, commanding it to transform into his preferred double-ended spear. He swept the curved blade at the end before him upwards, slicing across the side of the male as he turned red eyes on him. Vampire.
Bleu bit out a nasty curse and gave himself a split-second off the mission that had been his sole focus for the past three weeks, all the time it took to spin on his heel, bringing his spear around in a deadly black arc to relieve the vampire of his head. The male toppled onto the black ground, some members of the crowd shrieking as they leaped away from the pool of blood cascading from his neck. Bleu would have paused to spit on the foul abomination, a disgusting shadow of his own noble species, had his second in command not taken the lead at that moment, shouting orders at the other elves and propelling him back into action.
Darkness dropped like a veil, and the panic in the arena increased, the crowd growing frenzied as they tried to make off with their sick prizes, scurrying away from the scene of their crimes. A chill swept through the oval canyon and Bleu sensed magic, a powerful enchantment that warned he wasn’t alone in desiring to rescue one of the poor souls being thrown onto the slab and sold as meat by the ringmaster of this terrible circus.
He threw a glance off to his right, to the black stage, easily able to see it using his heightened vision. A male. Bleu paid him no heed as he raced onto the stage, to a shifter female. A Hellcat. No wonder there was such a large crowd.
The other female on the stage moved so swiftly he couldn’t make out anything about her, leaping onto the back of the fallen angel who was responsible for the auction. His heart gave a painful beat as she roared and attacked, a sharp sensation that went through him and gave him pause, causing his step to falter and his breath to still.
He swallowed hard and frowned at the odd sensation, hazily aware that he should recognise it but unable to comprehend why.
A male swung into his path, stealing his focus away from the stage, and Bleu cut him down with his spear, shoved him aside and sprinted harder, catching up with the rest of his team.
The damned bastards who had purchased the elf females as if they were animals had backed them into a corner, tucked against the black rock and the dark wooden stage.
If they thought that would stop him from slicing them open from balls to brains, they were fucking wrong.
His mood degenerated as he reached them, a darkness as thick as the one that had veiled the world in black descending over him, and he slowed his step until he was stalking towards them, the crowd parting to allow him through, as if all present could sense the dark intent rolling off him.
The hunger to deal justice with his blade.
Light from the torches around the canyon and on the stage flickered back into life, the sensation of magic weakening as the darkness lifted.
His vision responded in an instant, adjusting to the bright light and dulling.
He flexed his fingers around the black engraved shaft of his spear and sent a mental command to his skin-tight armour, ordering the small obsidian metal scales to flow over his hands and form his claws over his fingers.
His violet eyes locked on the male stood slightly forward from the other two. The elf females huddled naked behind them, clinging to each other, their fear a palpable thing that drummed in Bleu’s blood, blackening his mood.
Bleu signalled with his free hand, slowly raising it, and his six elf warriors spread out, encircling the men, giving them nowhere to go.
He snarled at them, flashing his fangs. He would deal with them first and then he would deal with the fallen angel who had orchestrated this market, daring to take two of his kind from their kingdom.
The leader foolishly lashed out at one of the warriors on his left, brandishing a sword made of steel. Steel. A pathetic mortal made weapon for a weak creature.
Bleu drew down a deep breath, catching the scent of their blood, and wasn’t surprised that it matched their weapon. Mortal made. These three were from that realm, but in their blood was a hint of fae, an ancestor that had given them access to this realm.
Hell.
He curled his lip at the three men and dropped his hand.
Six elf warriors launched at the men, easily overpowering them, and Bleu wished he had orders to kill not contain the fiends.
“Thank you, but I have to go.” A soft female voice rose above the din and Bleu stilled. “I have to fly.”
A chill skated over his skin beneath his armour, his eyes slowly widening as he finally comprehended why he had felt such a strange yet familiar sensation on seeing the female on stage attacking the fallen angel.
Fly.
He spun on his heel to face the stage.
A heartbeat of time passed, a split-second that felt like an eternity as he stared up at the female on the stage, taking in the striking violet-to-white eyes that he would never forget as they locked on him. Her lips parted, long lashes falling to shutter those incredible eyes, and his pulse hammered into overdrive as the three long scars on the left side of his neck tingled. He slowly raised his hand to rest his fingers on his armour over them.
He inched his right foot forwards.
Towards her.
She turned in an instant and he could only watch as she transformed into an enormous violet dragon, tearing stunned gasps from the remaining few people in the arena. She reared onto her hind legs, flashing the white stripe that ran from beneath her jaw, down her throat, and under her ribs, and beat her wings, the white membrane between her purple wing bones stark against the dark sky of Hell.
His breath left him in a rush as she threw her head back, her long white horns almost touching her neck, and roared, the sound deafening as it echoed across the land.
“Wait!” He launched onto the stage in a single leap, unwilling to let her escape him again.
She snarled through gleaming white fangs each as long as his arm and swept her left paw downwards, delivering a devastating backhand that hit him square in the chest, knocking the air from his lungs and sending him flying across the arena so fast that he didn’t have a chance to teleport.
His back slammed into the rough black rock, fire searing his bones as his mind scrambled, the pain so intense that he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think or feel anything for a second.
All the time it took for the dragon to launch into the air, her enormous wings sending gusts of wind at those remaining on the stage, almost knocking them over.
He couldn’t let her escape him again.
He wheezed as he pushed onto his feet and staggered towards her, his ears ringing and vision wobbling.
He growled as she took flight and used the last of his strength to call a portal. Green-purple light shimmered over his black armour and he dropped into the darkness. It dissipated a second later as he landed on the stage where the dragon had been.
Bleu bit out every curse available to him in his native tongue, his legs wobbling beneath him, barely strong enough to support his weight as pain wracked him.
He stared at the dragon as she flew into the distance, unable to pursue her in his current condition, forced to watch her as she disappeared into the gloom.
Slipping through his grasp once more.

Possessed by a Dark Warrior is available from Amazon Kindle, Kobo Books, Barnes and Noble Nook, Apple iBooks stores and other retailers. Also available in paperback.
Find all the links, a fantastic 4 chapter downloadable sample of the book, and also enter the giveaway and be in with a shot of winning a $75, $50 or $25 gift certificate at her website: http://www.felicityheaton.co.uk/possessed-by-a-dark-warrior-paranormal-romance-novel.php


Books in the Eternal Mates paranormal romance series:
Author Bio
Felicity Heaton
Felicity Heaton is a New York Times and USA Today international best-selling author writing passionate paranormal romance books. In her books, she creates detailed worlds, twisting plots, mind-blowing action, intense emotion and heart-stopping romances with leading men that vary from dark deadly vampires to sexy shape-shifters and wicked werewolves, to sinful angels and hot demons! If you're a fan of paranormal romance authors Lara Adrian, J R Ward, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Gena Showalter and Christine Feehan then you will enjoy her books too.
If you love your angels a little dark and wicked, the best-selling Her Angel series is for you. If you like strong, powerful, and dark vampires then try the Vampires Realm series or any of her stand-alone vampire romance books. If you’re looking for vampire romances that are sinful, passionate and erotic then try the best-selling Vampire Erotic Theatre series. Or if you prefer huge detailed worlds filled with hot-blooded alpha males in every species, from elves to demons to dragons to shifters and angels, then take a look at the new Eternal Mates series.
If you want to know more about Felicity, or want to get in touch, you can find her at the following places:

ENTER THE AWESOME RAFFLECOPTER GIVEAWAY!


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Friday, April 15, 2016

Jules: The 2nd Adventure Tour & Excerpt!

Jules: The 2nd Adventure
Kaelia Stevens

Genre: Magical Realism

Date of Publication:  December18, 2015

ISBN:1519697090
ASIN:B019KYLOJC

Word Count: 26,489

Cover Artist: Ryan Bayron

Book Description:

War. It doesn’t start with armies or bombs. It doesn’t start with declarations or protests. It doesn’t start with speeches. It starts with one thing. Intent.

Jules understands this concept. She intends to kill a cult leader. She intends to undo magic from the past. She intends to get her family home.

She intends to start a war.

Amazon    BN

Excerpt

          The moonlight shone down silver on a small, sleepy town on the outskirts of Colorado. I arrived just as the humans of the town were settling down, which meant that night-walkers, creatures like me, were out and about.
          Almost six foot of pure, sexy half-elf form, my slick boots and lithe figure slipped through the little town unnoticed. My blood-red skirt swayed with the motion, the fabric making a faint swishing sound as it slid across my legs. The crystalline broadsword across my back tapped lightly against the chain mail wrapped around my torso.
          I passed by a sprite-like figure, flicking black hair out of my eyes as we watched each other pass. The sprite flinched and flitted past me. I wasn't surprised. When you encounter a biped with eyes as dark as her soul, you quickly and quietly move on.
          A ghostly figure appeared next to me for just a moment; tall, like me. Long, black hair falling in waves away from a bird-like face. Hollow eyes. Pale skin. Leather outfit from neck to toe. Dual kodachi by her side and a billowing jacket behind her. She just loved the dramatics, even as a ghost of my psyche.
          Raven.
          Julia, she thought, I hope you know what you're doing.
          Oh relax, Mother, I thought back. I know exactly what I'm doing.
          A small establishment innocently sat on the side of a back-street, a dirty alleyway tracking behind it. Trash bins squatted on the sidewalk, dirty and uninviting.
          The brick on the outside of the building was stained with various liquids. I'd say it was various forms of blood, if only by the smell. Alien blood. Faerie blood. The black ook of various lunar skin-walkers.
          It was painted on the bricks as a sort of 'human-repellant'. The sign on the front had a faded sign indicating it was some sort of hardware store, but it was just a farce so that the humans wouldn't investigate too thoroughly.
          I walked through the solid glass doors painted black with a thick, tar-like substance and walked into Sting's store. The concrete floor was littered with old, wooden shelves lined with rusting tools. A counter sat on the wall to the left, and to the right the shelves opened up to a back room.
          On a support beam over the back room, a neon sigh blinked and hummed, reading out the name of the nightclub behind the door: "My Fair Lady."
          I walked through the backdoor and was greeted with Sting's second layer of deception.
          Wooden support beams from the exposed roofing overhead gave the appearance of gross incompetence from the builders, and thick, wooden beams came down to give the small room a square appearance. The floorboards creaked in the places that weren't punched through with holes, and the entire area smelled of puke and cheap booze.
          I walked up to the rotting counter where a bored-looking pirate skeptically glared at me with his one good eye.
          "Whaddya want, la—" He stopped, his one eye narrowing as he squinted at me. I smiled, letting him get a good look at my fair complexion and my sloped-to-a-point ears. He glanced at the slightly angular features of my fine-boned face, the odd nature of my eyes.
          With a grunt, he motioned to the door at the end of the counter. I smiled my thanks and sauntered away.
          To humans, this back door led out to the alleyway. But humans wouldn't be able to activate the runes etched all around the doorframe and on the inside of the handle.
          The nightclub—the actual nightclub—was crisp and clean. Old-fashioned. 1970s. Sting kept up a respectable establishment for a half-human.
          Blue lights glowed overhead, a long bar covered the entire left side of the wall with a massive shrine to various drinks. A bartender stood at either end of the bar, which was lined with high, stool-like chairs. The middle was comprised of a smattering of round and straight tables made of decent but not fancy wood, cleaned as best as could be with only a rag and a little magic.
          The tables were parted to either side of the room, the long space of floor filled with various creatures milling around and dancing together.
          A strong beat thrummed out from a stage, a number of long planks hammered into the far end of the club. It was raised just enough for the band and singer to be off the floor and out of the range of moving, kicking feet.
          A band was up on the stage, sassy jazz music flooding the room. A full set of drums was being pounded on by a fancy-looking pixie. An upright bass was being plucked by a willowy elf. A saxophone was being handled nicely by a shirtless vampire, and the piano's beat was pumped out by a half-elf. His feet were up on the bench, knees bent comically, and his motions sporadic as he played. He was practically hopping around up there as he rammed his fingers against the keys.
          The last beats were fired out from the band, the piano player bringing the music to a crest before they crashed down on the final note together. I made my way to the front as everyone cheered, talons and claws and fingers crashing together as the crowd showed their appreciation. I moved to the front as everyone disbanded, moving back to the tables and the bar. I watched the piano player talk enthusiastically to the band members and waited for him to notice me.


About the Author:


A half-Hawaiian, half-Spanish, half-Italian, half-Filipino, K. Stevens is 4'6" of sarcasm and introverted weirdness. She enjoys time spent communing with local flora and fauna. She hopes to one day be considered one of the greats in literature, but will settle for people at least knowing her name.













This Piece of My Heart Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!


This Piece of My Heart
Robyn M. Ryan
(Clearing the Ice, #1)
Publication date: May 2nd 2016
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance, Sports

For twenty years, Caryn Stevens dutifully followed the educational path dictated by her parents. That path had one goal—prepare her to one day assume her father’s position as CEO of the multi-billion dollar international company he founded. That and marry a man who would enhance her career and perhaps join her in leading The Stevens Company. Not too much to expect from your daughter, right?

Caryn has other ideas. Instead of returning home to Ottawa for another summer working at The Company, she’s designed a plan to stay in Toronto, take a couple of courses, and enjoy her Summer of Fun. She knew there was more
to college than rigorous classes that held little interest and study groups to ensure she excelled in all her subjects. She had two years until she finished her undergrad, and then continue on to that coveted MBA at a prestigious business school.

Just this once, Caryn will set aside The Plan and enjoy life as a regular student. To actually get her head out of the books and maybe, just maybe find someone to make the summer—dare she say it?—exciting.
You see, there’s this hunk of a guy she’s noticed on campus the first few weeks of summer. Always running—maybe in training?—but, Caryn’s seen enough to get her heart pounding. Tall, well-built, with shaggy light-brown hair. Gym shorts that emphasize taut leg muscles. Sometimes wearing a t-shirt with cut-off sleeves. Bronzed muscular biceps—truly drool-worthy. Absolutely hot—and gorgeous in a totally guy type of way. Only problem, he had no clue she existed.

Andrew Chadwick has enjoyed life in the fast lane in the five years since he’d entered the ranks of professional hockey. Preparing for his fourth season with his hometown Leafs, Andrew intends to enjoy his summer down time—hang out with friends and family, keep in shape, and erase all memories from that disastrous two-year joke of a relationship that imploded in May.

Not that he has any plans to revisit his first few years in the pros. He’d eagerly sampled the attentions of a never-ending line of women who wanted nothing more than to spend one night with a professional athlete. Believe it or not, one-night-stands with absolutely gorgeous women whose names he never bothered to remember became tedious. And that steady relationship he tried for two years? Finding your so-called girlfriend in your own bed with some other guy certainly opened his eyes.

Maybe it’s time to cut the fun and games and concentrate on things that are important—Win the Stanley Cup, give his brother any support he needs as he starts his Internship Rotations, help his Mom and Dad around their house. Act like a grown-up at twenty-four?

He’s not particularly looking, but if he were to meet someone interesting…well, he’ll just see where things go.

Neither Caryn nor Andrew expected their two very different worlds to collide on a beautiful June day…

thinking


EXCERPT

In what universe did enrolling in summer school sound like a good idea? Stuck in a stuffy university classroom on this beautiful summer morning in Toronto, Caryn Stevens tried to force her brain to concentrate on the wonders of statistical analysis. Only the third week of the semester and already she knew she was in over her head. Who cares about differential or descriptive statistics? Mode, median, and mean were bad enough, but range, absolute deviation, variance, standard deviation? Outliers? Outdoors beckoned, promising opportunities for enjoyable summer activities. She glanced at the clock, then refocused on the professor’s words. She looked down at her notes, then pretended to follow the lecture.
Only ten more minutes…Then, she’d make a quick stop at the small market nearby before heading home. Maybe she’d see that guy running again? A smile crossed her face as she visualized his tall muscular frame, shaggy light brown hair, taut muscles of his legs—gym shorts had to be a gift from God—and completely oblivious to her. Those earbuds must provide some hypnotic beat. After two years, how could she not have crossed his path on campus before? No way she wouldn’t have noticed. Maybe he’d just transferred over from one of the other Toronto area campuses?
On autopilot, she closed her text book as the class ended, shoving it and her iPad into her backpack. Freedom beckoned.
“Ms. Stevens, a moment please.” Professor Miller’s voice stopped her.
She stood aside, allowing the other students to pass, then approached his desk.
“I wanted to discuss last week’s test. You seem to be struggling with the material.”
“It’s that obvious?” Caryn flashed a smile, her stomach churning inwardly.
Miller nodded, handing her the test paper. “Before you get too far behind, let’s see if we can get you a peer tutor. Or, if you prefer, you can schedule some time with me before class.”
Caryn looked at the page, the score sucking the sunshine from her mind. “I didn’t think I was this clueless. I’ve never had much luck with statistics.”
Miller perched on the edge of his desk. “Required course for your major?”
“A friend suggested I take it in the summer—it was supposed to be easier.”
Miller laughed. “Many students think that. But, the unfortunate truth is that you need to master the same material in a shorter time period.” He paused, studying her face. “If you want to wait to take it this fall, you can withdraw with no penalty to your GPA.”
Caryn thought for a moment. Dropping that course was tempting. More free time. Summer free time. But adding it to an already full fall schedule quickly crushed the temptation. “I don’t think that will work—my schedule’s already laid out for the next two years. Last thing I need is to take this course along with a full schedule. I’ll get through this. Thank you for the offer.”
He handed another sheet of paper to her. “These students are on campus this summer. I’ve taught them, so they’re familiar with this class.”
Caryn folded and tucked both into her pocket. “Thanks, I know what I’ll work on the rest of the day.”
Her appetite gone, Caryn considered heading straight home, but knew she’d regret it later. She stopped by the grocery to pick up a boxed lunch salad, some fruit and vegetables, then impulsively added a selection of energy bars on display near check out.
“You want all this in one bag?” The clerk knew her preference, but looked dubiously at the amount of groceries.
“I did go overboard, didn’t I? I think I can handle two. Of course, I forgot my cloth bag again.” She paid, then stepped to the side to pick up her backpack before accepting the grocery bags.
“You okay with these?”
Caryn laughed at the skepticism in his voice. “It’s not far—I’ll be fine. Thanks. See you tomorrow.”
Half-way across campus, she began to doubt her confidence. She shrugged the backpack toward the other shoulder and shifted the grocery bags. Her father’s ring tone blared in her pocket. “Shit,” Caryn whispered, as she briefly considered not answering. Her dad was the ultimate task manager. He never called just to say a friendly hello. But then, the man hadn’t built a self-made fortune with chitchat.
Instead, she jammed both bags into one arm while she dug the phone from her pocket. “Dad, what’s up?”
“Have a few minutes between meetings—how are your classes going?”
“Off to a good start. Summer semester is definitely worth it.” She cringed at the lie, glad they weren’t on Skype.
“How is your statistical analysis course?”
“My favorite.”
“You getting a tutor?”
“Why would you think I need a tutor, Dad?”
“I remember your last encounter with statistics.”
Ouch—of course he’d remember. “I guess that between my tutor and you, it sunk in. This time it’s much easier.” Caryn said a silent prayer her voice disguised the second lie.
“You know you need the strong GPA…”
“…I know—to get into grad school,” she finished with a light laugh. “I know the drill.”
She heard him sigh. “Not any grad school. We’re talking NYU, Stanford…”
“I know, Dad. Have I ever let you down?”
“This is your first summer semester. There are lots of distractions.”
Caryn’s laugh was curt. “It’s hard to find time for distractions, Dad. Don’t worry. I’m on my way home now to conquer my statistics assignment. I’m completely focused.” She balanced the phone on her shoulder as she shifted the grocery bags. “I’ve got to go now. I’m overloaded with books and groceries. Give Mom a hug for me.”
“Remember, we’re visiting the plant in Taiwan next week. If you need anything…”
“I’ll get in touch with Lisa. I’m good, Dad. Have a safe trip.”
A frown creased her forehead as she rearranged her load. Thank God they’re going out of the country. Somehow I’ll pull this off. She turned, her eyes on the ground and as she took a step, she collided with someone, something—or maybe she’d walked into a tree. The impact knocked the grocery bags from her arms and sent her sprawling to the ground. Momentarily stunned, Caryn struggled to sit up as her backpack wrestled heavily with her balance. Her vision blurred, she vaguely felt someone lifting the bag from her shoulder and helping her to a sitting position.
“Are you all right?” A voice eventually pierced her dulled senses and she looked up, immediately drawn into a swirling brilliant blue whirlpool that she could not escape. “You okay?” the deep voice repeated.
She closed her eyes to clear her mind, and when she reopened them realized she had been staring into a man’s eyes. The runner’s eyes. “Oh, it’s you,” she said without thinking.
“Sorry?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know…I thought I’d run into a tree or something.” She moved to stand, but he touched her shoulder to keep her seated.
“Give it a minute and catch your breath. I’m sorry—I didn’t even see you.” He dropped to the grass beside her.
“I wasn’t paying attention. I was thinking about a test. Then, all of a sudden I thought I’d run into a brick wall.”
“No, just someone not paying attention where he was running.”
She glanced toward him, seeing the iPod strapped to his arm. “You must have a great playlist.”
“Unfortunately, sometimes I just get into a zone. I’ll stick to the path next time.”
“Don’t change on my account. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“In your own zone?”
She laughed. “Unfortunately, no. Walking while talking on the phone. Obviously can’t do both at once.” She snuck a look at him. This close, he looked even better than she’d remembered. His legs—and probably the rest of him—really did have rock-hard muscles. His hair—not as long as she’d thought—dampened with perspiration and his face reddened from exertion only added to his athletic good looks. And she sure hadn’t known about those blue eyes…or the way they’d make her stomach flip-flop. Definitely all man, definitely different from any students she knew.
He looked at the salad, vegetables, fruit, and energy bars strewn across the lawn. “Lunch?”
“Lunch, dinner. Probably breakfast tomorrow.”
He reached for two of the energy bars and handed one to her. “Looks like these came through unscathed.” He locked his eyes on hers. “Do I know you?”
“I don’t think so.” Caryn quickly focused on opening the bar she held. “Why?”
“You said, ‘Oh, it’s you,’ like you knew me.”
“I didn’t know what I was saying. I thought you were a tree.” She glanced at him and his skeptical smile told her he wasn’t buying her explanation. “Well, you felt like one. I’ve seen you running a few times. Your schedule must be the same as mine.”
He leaned back on his elbow as he took a bite of his bar. “And I haven’t seen you, why?”
“Guess you’ve been in that zone.” She teased him with a smile. “Or maybe I’m invisible.”
“Hardly.” She could feel his eyes on her, taking in her jeans and probably disheveled state. Self-consciously, she smoothed her hair and straightened her shirt. “If I were in my right mind, there’s no way I’d miss you.” He smiled and she felt a warm flush creep up her cheeks. “You sure you’re okay?”
She nodded, shaking the hair away from her face, her hand brushing against her forehead. He saw the reddened skin and without thinking reached to gently touch her forehead, frowning as he felt the swelling in the area. “Must have gotten you with an elbow.”
“Or your iPod.” She nodded toward his arm. “Or maybe you are as hard as a brick wall.”
He laughed softly. “Headache?”
“A little.”
“Maybe we should get it checked out.”
“I’m fine.” She started to push herself to her feet, and he quickly grasped her arm to help. He watched as she took a deep breath, his hand supporting her as she gingerly took a few steps. “See? Nothing broken.”
“I’d feel better if we’d get a doctor to look at your head.”
“It’ll take forever. You know how it gets at the student health services.” She rolled her eyes at the thought. “I have better things to do with my afternoon.”
“You could have a concussion.”
She shook her head, as she reached to pick up a paper grocery bag. “I’m fine. No blurred vision, no flashing lights, just a little headache,” she said. “And that’s probably because all I’ve had to eat today is this bar.” He took the bag from her and began collecting the remaining bars and fruit. “There’s not much else worth saving.” She nodded toward the remnants of her salad scattered around them. He followed her gaze and laughed softly, then looked at the bag he held and shrugged.
“How about if I just replace it?”
She started to reply, but felt herself hypnotized once again by those blue eyes. She shook her head as she quickly looked away. “There’s no need. I didn’t have that much.”
He handed the energy bars to her. “So you don’t starve. I’ll clean up the mess I made.” He scooped the salad remnants and produce into the bags, then placed everything into a nearby trash container.
She tucked the bars into her backpack, but he quickly stepped to her side and picked it up, slipping it on his shoulder. “What do you have in there, bricks?”
“My marketing and statistics texts. I can carry it.”
“No, I insist,” he replied. “Least I can do.”
“Don’t let me interrupt your run any more than I have already.”
“I was about done for the day. Next time I’ll stick to the park. I can get my car and give you a lift home.”
“It’s just a couple blocks.” She pointed toward the row of townhouses at the edge of the campus. “You don’t need to go out of your way.”
He pushed the damp hair off his forehead, then nodded toward the street. “I don’t live too far from here, either. Just up the street from you.”
She looked up at him as he fell in step beside her. “By the way, I’m Caryn.”
“Andrew. In school this summer?”
“Just taking a couple courses I couldn’t fit into my schedule during the last year. How about you?”
“Down time for me.”
“Lucky. So you’re just keeping in shape?”
“Trying to.”
She preceded him up the sidewalk leading to her townhouse, reaching in her pocket for her keys. “Thanks for carrying my bag.”
“Glad to.”
She opened the front door and he set the bag just inside. “Can I get you a bottle of water or something to drink?” Her voice sounded as awkward as she felt.
“Thanks, I’m fine.” He leaned against the door frame, suddenly unwilling to let the moment pass. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that bottle of water.”
He waited at the door while she retrieved it from the kitchen and handed it to him. “Thanks for helping me.”
Andrew slowly pushed away from the door. “I’ll look out for you next time I cut across campus.”
Caryn watched as he turned and walked away from her door, opening her mouth to ask him to stay, but stopping as he looked back over his shoulder at her. He gave her a small wave and a wink before he headed in the direction he’d indicated he lived. Flustered, she watched as he made his way through the pedestrians milling on the crowded sidewalk, then slowly turned and entered her home, shutting the door behind her.
She got a bottle of water from the refrigerator, before she stepped inside the downstairs bathroom to examine the bruise forming on her temple. She lightly fingered the skin, and shaking the hair away from her face, she splashed cool water against her forehead. She pressed the cold bottle of water against the bruise as she remembered the way his fingers had made her skin tingle when he’d touched her forehead. She’d met the guy who’d intrigued her, had actually sat next to him on the lawn. She knew his name. He’d walked her home! Did that mean something more than just him being nice? Andrew could definitely provide a nice “diversion” as her dad would label it. That’s a risk worth taking. Besides, maybe Andrew’s already passed this course? He could make statistics more than tolerable.
She wished again that she had asked him to come in, hating the thought that she might not see him again. “Stupid,” she said to her image in the mirror. She tossed the towel over the bar beside the sink and went to the living room. If she hadn’t been tongue-tied like some sixteen-year-old, maybe he’d be sitting across the table from her right now. She pulled the test paper and the list of tutors from her pocket, placing them on the coffee table. Her elbow ached as she retrieved her bag from beside the door and dragged it to the couch, pulling out the heavy statistics text and dropping it on the papers. Not what she’d had in mind for the afternoon.
She looked at the list of tutors and made an appointment with the first student who answered the phone. There went another hour of her days. At least getting up extra early ensured she’d finish at the same time—maybe even pass Andrew again on her way home. She rubbed the aching joint. Seeing the grass stains on her skin and on her jeans, she decided that a hot bath would be more beneficial than studying statistics just then.

Author Bio:
From early childhood, Robyn M. Ryan knew she wanted to write. This goal grew throughout elementary and high school, first composing novels featuring favorite TV and music personalities, then venturing into sports writing. Attending UGA’s journalism school launched her career in public relations, which included an internship with the Atlanta Flames NHL hockey team. At that time romance novels did not feature pro athletes, so Robyn wrote the books she and her friends wanted to read. Many years later, this manuscript received a serious critique and edit. This Piece of My Heart, a hockey romance, is the first book in Robyn’s series Clearing the Ice.

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Thursday, April 14, 2016

Everdeep Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!


Everdeep
Candace Knoebel
(Night Watchmen, #4)
Publication date: April 14th 2016
Genres: Paranormal Romance, Young Adult

There are some sacrifices we never recover from…

Faye Middleton is at a crossroads in her life. After breaking the last seal and discovering their Rebellion camp was destroyed, she returns to Ethryeal City, determined to avenge the deaths of her mother and friends.

Faye and her team do what they can to keep their Coven intact now that the Priesthood has fallen, but with Darkyn attacks threatening the exposure of their kind, the Primeval Coven is close to being cut off by the United Nations.

Until Meredith, a mysterious Darkyn, appears, claiming she has information that will help Faye bring down the two responsible for the deaths of her mother and friends, and for the fall of her Coven. The only catch is that it requires returning to the very place she lost her mother—the Underground.

Not wanting to risk any more lives, Faye and Weldon agree to go with Meredith on their own. They know Faye will have to face the one machine every Coven is after—the Exanimator. No one who has ever stepped in has ever come out the same, if at all…

But Faye will do anything she can to protect those she loves, even if it costs her life.

Previous books in the series:
18478915 21894440 23248440

Grab book 1 – Everlasting – for FREE until April 15th only!

EXCERPT

Jaxen’s on the edge of the bed with nothing but a pair of gunmetal gray sweatpants on, an empty glass in his hand, and a half-empty bottle resting by his feet.
He looks so tortured. Looks at me as if he wishes he were seeing someone else. Someone less distant and broken. It feels like ice is eating away at my bones. Like fire is scorching every one of my nerves.
“How did your meeting go?” His strangled words slur a little.
“Okay, I guess.”
I make my way over to him, but everything feels so unfamiliar and shaky—like walking into another plane of time. Like stepping on a spider web and finding myself caught as the truth makes its way across, ready to spin me and drain my blood.
He makes a haphazard gesture for me to sit next to him. “That good?”
“It was fine,” I lie, taking the empty glass from his hand. I grab the bottle by his feet, pour myself a shot, and toss it back, reveling in the fiery burn running down my throat that washes away the awful taste the Belladonna I took a few minutes ago left behind.
“So, this is what we’ve become then?”
I hate the desolation in his voice. There’s a desert between us without a hope for either one of us crossing it.
“What’s that?” I ask a little tersely, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and downing another shot. I’m trying to pretend I don’t know where this is headed. That I don’t see and hear the heartache ripping our guts out right now, because I need to pretend. I need to fake that everything is okay. Need him to believe I’m fine because the moment I don’t… the moment he looks at me, knowing I’ll die and seeing that death reflected in his gaze, then it will all be over.
Everything.
He tries to clear his throat, but the sound is painful. Like he’s swallowing tears. “I don’t know. Strangers? Two lovers who lie to one another? Who hide things from each other? Who can’t turn to each other whenever something bad is happening?”
I don’t recognize this Jaxen. This raw ache in his voice that scratches at the door of my heart, waiting for me to open it. I find myself missing the old him. The one who had his emotions under control. Who could take this pain and survive in it.
I set the glass down. Brace my hands on my knees as the alcohol sends my brain spinning. “I love you, Jaxen. More than I could ever explain to you.”
He laughs like he might be losing his mind. “Yet, here we are, our entire future splitting off from each other.” The cynicism in his voice is as thick as tar, and it’s choking my ability to think. To make sense of what I should and shouldn’t say.
I need a breath of fresh air. Need a new body to hide in. One where I’m safe from his prodding. Safe from myself.
“Jaxen, what am I supposed to do?”
“Stop shutting me out.” His chest heaves, heart throbbing in his neck.
I find a shadow across the room. Feel my regret slip down my cheek.
“I can’t even feel your mind anymore. It’s like you’re… you’re purposefully pulling away from me. Like you’re a ghost haunting me.” His eyes are flashing with anger now. He’s two steps from falling off the edge. From losing it all. I want to tell him everything. Want to tell him about my impending death, and that it’s easier this way because he’s going to lose me, only, not because of his curse.
Because of my curse.
“There are things, Jaxen. Things we knew would happen one way or another,” I say, and I find myself surprised by how calm I sound when my heart rattles at the cage of my bones to be free from my irrevocable torture.
“Things,” he retorts, spitting out the word with heavy distaste. “No, Faye. Things are that dresser or this pillow. Things are not the secrets Mack, Weldon, and Seamus has asked you to keep from me. Things are not the way you’ve been handling everything lately. That’s called shutting down. That’s called knowing about something that’s going to happen… that’s going to affect both of us, and you deciding not to tell me.”
I can’t believe the anger radiating off him like heat waves. The fury raging in his eyes as his hands clench and unclench against his legs, like he’s trying to contain the outburst that’s been coming my way since we returned here to Ethryeal City.

Author Bio:
Candace Knoebel is the award-winning author of Born in Flames-book one in a young adult fantasy trilogy. She discovered in 2009 through lunch breaks and late nights after putting her kids to bed, a world where she could escape the ever-pressing days of an eight to five Purgatory. And an outlet for all the voices residing in her head.
Published by 48fourteen in 2012, Born in Flames went on to win Turning the Pages Book of the Year award in February of 2013. In January of 2014, the last book in the trilogy, From the Embers, was released, thusly completing the trilogy. She now works on the Night Watchmen Series, while guzzling Red Bulls and pretending to be a ninja on Heelys.

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Corrupting Chloe Cover Reveal


Corrupting Chloe
Olivia Noble
Publication date: April 26th 2016
Genres: Erotica, Romance


She knew that it was dangerous to get involved with her boss…

Fresh out of nursing school, Chloe Rivers was easily seduced by a sexy, controlling doctor who turned the entire hospital into their personal playground. When her lover reveals his true colors, Chloe is completely devastated. Years of abuse and abandonment leave her feeling empty and driven to do something reckless.

Accepting her roommate’s invitation to an exclusive sex club, Chloe does not expect her whole world to be turned upside down. When she meets a gorgeous stranger with muscles ripped straight from a magazine, she thinks he is exactly what she needs to forget her troubles. But Dominic Black is much more than he seems.

Chloe quickly finds herself in too deep, in a world where money, pleasure, and power can lead to total ruin…
Author Bio:
Olivia Noble is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who lives in Raleigh, North Carolina with her husband, two beautiful children-- and a new baby on the way! The husband recently thought it was a good idea to read Olivia's books, and he blames their "extremely inappropriate" content for their little accident. (She happily takes responsibility.)
Raising two rambunctious rug rats makes it nearly impossible to escape long enough to finish writing an entire book, but Olivia does her best to find "Mommy time." She likes to keep her books romantic, steamy, and filled with fun characters that get into all kinds of trouble-- the kind of trouble she wishes she could get into.
Subscribe to Olivia's mailing list to receive a free book as a gift: http://eepurl.com/TRg95

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Wednesday, April 13, 2016

The Virgin Queen Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway!

The Virgin Queen
The Chronicles of Parthalan
Book Two
Jennifer Allis Provost

Genre: Fantasy romance

Publisher: Bellatrix Press

Date of Publication:  April 5, 2016

Number of pages: 300
Word Count:  100k

Cover Artist: Veronica Jones

Book Description:

A broken queen. A friendship mired in deceit. Can one man from the desert help hold the realm together?

Asherah, Queen of Parthalan and Lady of Tingu, has led her people through eight centuries of prosperity. That peace shatters when Mersgoth, the mordeth thought long dead, attacks Teg’urnan. In the aftermath a new warrior emerges: Aeolmar, a man as secretive as he is deadly.

Asherah and Aeolmar race across Parthalan in pursuit of Mersgoth, and track the beast to the High Desert. While they're gone, Harek, now Prelate of Parthalan, conspires with the Dark Fae against the elves...Against Leran, the king of the elves and Asherah's son in all but blood. Will Asherah see the truth of Harek before it's too late, or will he bring down the fae once and for all?



Excerpt 

Chapter One
Asherah held her hand against her brow, shading her eyes against the suns as she surveyed the carnage across the plain. There had been no warning of this attack, led by the mordeths Mersgoth and Esguth, no scouts had run to the gates alerting Teg’urnan that demons had been on the move near Teg’urnan; then again, the scouts probably had been the first to die. No, yesterday had been a day like any other, almost boring in its sameness to the days that came before, until darkness fell.
Shortly after the child sun went to rest, demons had amassed before the gates, an unusual and effective tactic for creatures who shunned the darkness. It was a force Asherah hadn’t seen the like of since her army of slaves and elves, the Ish h’ra hai led by herself, Lormac, Harek and Tor, had taken the palace from Sahlgren. Since that bloody, tragic day when both Asherah’s mate and dearest friend had perished, she had led Parthalan through nearly eight centuries of peace.
Harek...the one time Teg’urnan was attacked since she took the throne, her Prelate, along with all of the con’dehr, had been away to the south. He’d been leaving the palace more often of late, and Asherah speculated that the mordeths had become aware of his frequent and extended absences. She suspected that they’d waited until the Prelate and his guards hadn’t been in residence before they moved against the palace. She wondered if Harek had been attacked, if he yet lived. She needed him alive, needed him to return, for she doubted she could set this mess to rights without him.
No, that’s not true. I just don’t want anyone else near me to die.
The queen shoved away her thoughts about Harek’s possible demise and brought her ruminations back to the prior evening. Upon the alarm’s sounding, the legion and hunters had scrambled to meet their attackers. Even the sola had emptied, with each and every nuvi grabbing the nearest weapon and mustering in defense of their home. Asherah and her First Hunter, Argent, had been among the first outside the gates. As they had called out orders, one of the mordeths, Esguth, had taken notice of Argent, and had fixated on him throughout the battle. While Esguth had baited the hunter, Asherah had shouted for Argent to keep his head, for he had been too canny a warrior to fall for a demon’s tricks. Or perhaps not. His body had yet to be found, but reports claimed that Esguth had ripped Argent to pieces.
My Prelate is gone; my First Hunter is dead. Why am I left breathing? Why Esguth had bothered singling out Argent had been a mystery to the queen. While Argent had been First Hunter, and therefore a target of all demons, she could not recall Esguth having ever having had set eyes on him. Further, Argent had gone into battle clad in simple leather armor that in no way differentiated him from the rest of the hunters. She shuddered as she remembered the look in the mordeth’s eyes, as if Argent had been his intended prey. Even now, after all the death she had seen, all the demons and men she herself had killed, the malevolence in Esguth’s stare made her blood run cold.
A herald approached Asherah and confirmed what she had been dreading: none of the hunters could be found, and each was assumed dead. As queen, Asherah felt the loss of each and every Parthian deep within her being, but her hunters were as special to her as her Ish h’ra hai had once been. It had been Caol’nir’s idea to have a team of warriors specially trained to fight demons, in much the same way he had taught her and Torim the finer points of combat. She’d wanted Caol’nir to train them himself, but he had not been swayed in his desire to create a quiet, demon-free existence for his mate. Asherah never learned where he and Alluria eventually made their home.  She had honored their pact that his name be stricken from Teg’urnan’s records and never had sought them out or spoke, their names. Still, she never gave up hope that she would see them again.
Gods. If only they’d been here. Caol’nir had killed seventeen mordeths during the Battle for Teg’urnan, but the one who’d gotten away was Mersgoth.  Mersgoth, the beast who had marked Caol’nir’s mate and driven them into hiding, the same beast who had led yesterday’s charge alongside Esguth. What she wouldn’t give to see that creature’s head on a pike.
The battle had suddenly ended when the demons scattered, and it was later reported that the lessers had abandoned the fight when Esguth fell. No one knew who killed the mordeth, and there was no sign of the demon’s carcass near the gates. Asherah now wended her way down the Hill of Rahlle, named for the sorcerer who’d sacrificed his sight for its creation, and across the deathly stillness of the battlefield, desperate for any sign of her hunters. She forged ahead like one possessed, ignoring the sucking noise the blood-soaked ground made against her boots.
Lormac, if ever you wished to offer your wise counsel, now is the time. Lormac would have rallied the survivors, issued orders… he would have known what to do. He had always known the right word or action; he who had been her mate, he who she’d lived without for far too long. She sighed, and wondered when she would join him. On days like this, she hoped that day would be sooner rather than later.
The queen wandered on, picking her way among the dead as the sharp incline of the Hill of Rahlle gradually leveled out to the flatness of the plain. She hadn’t realized the distance she’d covered from the palace until she spied an individual kneeling before the rocky outcrop on the far side of the plain.
Is that a survivor, or yet another demon? As she got closer she saw that it was a faerie man, kneeling with his head bent forward as if in prayer.  Scattered around him, as if they’d been flung from a great sack, were the limbs and heads of demons. His back was to Asherah, but as she approached she noted his long chestnut hair, and that his jerkin looked to be blue underneath the gore...
“Aeolmar!” Asherah cried as she threw her arms around the hunter. “Aeolmar, Aeolmar, Aeolmar, I thought those beasts had killed every last hunter.” She felt his arms and back for wounds. “Are you all right?”
Aeolmar nodded slightly; Asherah assumed he was in shock. Still searching for wounds, she grabbed his hands, pausing when she saw the sword he held in a white-knuckled grip.
“This is… Is that Esguth’s weapon?” she asked incredulously. While she was aware of Aeolmar’s excellent swordsmanship, the taking a mordeth’s sword was nearly unheard of. Not even Caol’nir, arguably the greatest warrior she had ever known, had managed such a feat. She looked again at the heaps of demon limbs, and noted how one arm was so much larger than the rest. No, he couldn’t have, not alone…
“Did you kill Esguth?” Asherah asked. Aeolmar finally met the queen’s gaze, his face as unmoving as stone.
“Yes.” He glanced at the destruction he’d caused. “I killed them all.”
Asherah stood, awed and slightly frightened of this man who was able to dispatch at least a dozen lesser demons as well as the mordeth on his own. In all her days she’d only known a handful of people capable of such a feat, herself being one of them. She pulled Aeolmar to his feet, and hunter and queen began the long walk back to Teg’urnan. Aeolmar kept his free hand on the queen’s elbow as he led her around the bodies, his other hand clutching the mordeth’s sword as if one of the corpses may rear up and attack. After a time, they came upon a man’s arm clad in dark green leather, which was the last either of them saw of Argent. Once they reached the gates, they were told that the other mordeth, Mersgoth, fled the battle shortly after Esguth fell, the suspicion now confirmed by a sighting east of Teg’urnan. He had once again escaped with his hide intact.
The queen nodded, hardly hearing the detailed account of the demon’s whereabouts. Instead, she contemplated the statues of the stag and doe as they leapt toward each other over the dark iron gates of Teg’urnan. Sculpted as representations of Olluhm and Cydia, gods of the sun and moon who were parents to the Fair Folk, they were meant to honor her kind’s origin. To Asherah, the statues went far beyond a mere reminder. Olluhm was strong and his justice swift; indeed, tales were told of him setting entire realms ablaze to ensure the safety of his mate and progeny. Cydia, the calm mother goddess, tempered her fiery mate with the compassion that only a mother could possess.
For this offense there will be justice, swift and sure. Compassion be damned.
“Aeolmar, you are now my First Hunter,” Asherah proclaimed. “What is your first command?”
“Find Mersgoth and kill him,” Aeolmar replied through clenched teeth.
Asherah laced her fingers with the new First Hunter’s. This new threat would be dealt with, and Asherah wouldn’t need Harek’s help. No, she and Aeolmar—she and her First Hunter—would have their vengeance.
“As you wish.”

###

Harek stood in front of the large window, his hands braced on the ledge and surveying the valley before him as if it were his own private kingdom. Indeed, these past few winters he’d spent far more time at this southern residence than in the palace, so much so that he’d had a full manor built to accommodate himself and his con’dehr. They’d spent much of the cold season at this home away from home, he and his warriors and no others. There was the occasional complaint over the lack of women, but generally the men bore their isolation well, and Harek needed no reminders of Asherah.
Many speculated as to why Parthalan’s Prelate took such frequent leaves from Teg’urnan, though few dared to ask him directly. Officially, he stated that since the old king had hidden away in the south while plotting with the mordeth-gall, there was a dire need to secure the region against further threats. That had been reason enough for his presence, but then a routine sweep had revealed a fissure at the desert’s edge, belching the all too familiar stench of demons. It wasn’t large, perhaps the length of three horses standing nose to tail, but its small size had mattered not. Whether by accident or design, there had been a crack in the very fabric of Parthalan that lead directly to the underworld.
“So this is why he went south,” Asherah had said when she was told of the fissure, assuming that the source of Sahlgren’s betrayal had been at last revealed. Against Harek’s advice, she had journeyed to look at it with her own eyes, though he hadn’t let her get too close to the edge. Back then, in the early days of Asherah’s reign, she still had worn the Sala, the armband given to her by Lormac that marked her as Lady of Tingu. The four green stones of the Sala had glowed an ominous red to warn her away from the evil sludge that oozed from the crack. Trust the elves to make an object that warned you of impending evil when you were right in front of said evil, not when you were still a league or two off. Foolish, foolish creatures.
No matter, Harek would worry about the elves another day. It had taken nearly a full turn of the seasons to close the fissure, which had first been first packed with rock and assorted rubble, and then with dressed stone as masons fit together an impenetrable wall of granite. Once the masons had completed their work, the royal sorcerers, under Sarfek’s direction, had woven a net of spells tightly around the stones. When all was said and done, the area looked like an ordinary hillside, not a gaping chasm where evil once spilled forth.
Harek had never doubted Sarfek’s abilities, and had been confident that the seal was sound.  Life had gone on in Teg’urnan, and as time wore on the queen wore the Sala less and less. Eventually the fog of despair had lifted from Asherah’s sparkling black eyes, and those dark gems had settled upon a man. His name had been Brendan, and he was one of the warriors who’d fought in the Battle for Teg’urnan. He had been a kind man, strong and swift and handsome, a man who made Asherah smile again. A man who wasn’t Harek.
Unable to voice his despair, Harek had made up the excuse of ensuring that the fissure hadn’t reopened and fled Teg’urnan before the sight of Asherah in Brendan’s arms drove him mad. As time continued to flow, Harek stopped citing the fissure as the reason for his long absences, and Asherah stopped questioning him. He wondered if she noticed when he wasn’t there.
Soon, things will be different. Soon, Asherah and I will be close like we once were, and—
A commotion in the courtyard below interrupted Harek’s thoughts. It was a messenger wearing Teg’urnan’s silver and blue colors tumbling off a horse that looked as if it would collapse in the next moment. The messenger gasped his missive between breaths, then crumpled to the ground. Harek turned from the window and rushed toward the stairs; his warriors were already running to fetch him. It was Olwynn who spoke, his face bloodless.
“Teg’urnan has been attacked!”



About the Author:

Jennifer Allis Provost writes books about faeries, orcs and elves. Zombies too. She grew up in the wilds of Western Massachusetts and had read every book in the local library by age twelve. (It was a small library). An early love of mythology and folklore led to her epic fantasy series, The Chronicles of Parthalan, and her day job as a cubicle monkey helped shape her urban fantasy, Copper Girl. She lives in a sprawling colonial along with her beautiful and precocious twins, a dog that thinks she's a kangaroo, a parrot, a junkyard cat, and a wonderful husband who never forgets to buy ice cream. She spends her days drinking vast amounts of coffee, arguing with her computer, and avoiding any and all domestic behavior.

Connect with Jennifer at www.authorjenniferallisprovost.com



Twitter: @parthalan