Sons of Fire Tracy Auerbach Publication date: January 7th 2020 Genres: Urban Fantasy, Young Adult
When Keegan’s father, the Demon King of Fire, attempted to produce an heir, a surge of light energy interrupted the process. One tiny piece of the newly forming demon broke off. That piece is Keegan. For years, he has attempted to lay low, watching from the shadows while his monstrous brother Aidan, the true Prince of Fire, is groomed for the throne.
Keegan’s shaky status quo is shattered when one of his father’s power-plays goes horribly wrong. He is cast to Earth and forced to work with a suddenly powerless Aidan. The two brothers must cooperate to complete an impossible task and avoid being cast forever into the abyss. As if having to spend time with his beastly other half wasn’t bad enough, Keegan must adapt to living on Earth, wielding his new human vessel, and dealing with his demonic appetite without harming the human creatures for whom he has always cared.
As Keegan and Aidan work to save themselves, questions arise. What exactly was the King of Fire up to, that sparked their Master’s interest enough to cast them from the Demon Realm? Can Aidan be trusted in his new human form, complete with emotions, or is he the same unfeeling creature he’s always been? And why are so many demons suddenly invested in the outcome of the brothers’ trial? The only thing Keegan knows for certain is that whether he succeeds or fails at the task, the consequences for the Demon Realm and for Earth itself will be catastrophic.
Adramelech, King of Fire, stood before all the souls he had gathered, admiring the fruits of his labor. Collecting and shepherding them to his realm had taken work, but it was nothing compared to all the time and effort he had expended to reach this moment: his moment of triumph. The pale energy orbs of the damned, thousands of them, floated above the parched brown floor, drifting aimlessly, bumping into each other or into the black-hot walls of stone around them. The stage was now set for him to finally seize control from his impotent ‘Master.’
“Come to me, Fire,” he called.
A moment passed before his offspring shimmered into being several paces away. The Prince cast a vacant stare upon Adramelech, awaiting orders. The young demon’s strong torso was bare, his dark hair hanging over the translucent skin of his face. Dragonfire swirled beneath the skin’s surface, lending the impression of movement to his form. His eyes were black with hunger while his handsome, human-like figure swelled with power.
The offspring was a paradox of mental weakness and physical fortitude that had taken two hundred years to create and shape. But now it had, at last, come to fruition and Adramelech knew that his efforts had been well spent. The being before him contained so much power that it only held its pretty visage through sheer force of will. And still it wanted more. Always hungry, always obedient, always his.
“It is time, my Fire,” crooned Adramelech. “Do you understand what you must do?”
The boy-shaped demon nodded.
“First, I will give unto you what remains of my power. When I leave, you must follow the instructions exactly as I have lain them out. Remember, above all else, that it is still my power. I will not become another Lucifer, who cast his strength into a sword and imprisoned himself in ice for all eternity. My sword will behave. If you fail, I shall be forced to resort to my back-up plan. And believe me that the alternate arrangement is something you would not want to experience.”
The Prince nodded, eyes still dull and hungry. Adramelech knew his Fire would not speak unless he himself requested it.
“Do you have any questions?”
The demon shook his head.
“Then let us begin.” Adramelech willed the power within every molecule of his own form to flow to the surface, watching his creation’s eyes glow in anticipation. Indeed, the only time his heir came to life was when a large feeding was expected. The boy-shaped demon opened its mouth as Adramelech began to speak. “I, Adramelech, Son of Lucifer, offer a portion of my power unto you.”
“I, Fire, Son of Adramelech…” the Prince began.
“You must include the ridiculous human title Paimon bestowed unto you,” Adramelech corrected. “It is your written name and therefore necessary for the ritual.”
“I, Aidan Fire, Son of Adramelech, accept the power and take it unto my form to hold, so that Adramelech, King of Fire, may wield both it and I as he sees fit.”
Adramelech focused his power into a beam of energy and shot it toward his creation. Even as the Prince’s power swelled and his eyes turned the golden hue of Dragonfire, he accepted the gift hungrily. Adramelech considered all that he had wrought and was pleased.
Author Bio:
Tracy Auerbach is an author of science fiction and fantasy for teens and adults. As an avid reader with a vivid imagination, she chose to study film, English, and education, and went on to teach and write STEM curriculum for the New York Department of Education. This helped to polish her writing skills and ignite her passion for science fiction and fantasy.
Her first scholarly article, published in Language Magazine, was about the value of active, creative learning in science.
On the fiction side, Tracy’s work has been featured in the online literary journal Micro-horror, The Writing Disorder fiction anthology, and the “(Dis)ability” short story anthology, in addition to her novels.
When she is not teaching or writing, Tracy is usually reading or spending time with her family. She lives in New York with her husband and sons.
One Night with His Rival Robyn Grady Published by: Harlequin Desire Publication date: March 1st 2020 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Selling his soulfor a sizzling night of passion…
“Wanting somethingdoesn’t make it good for you.”
Wealthy horse breeder Ajax Rawson can have any woman he wants. So why can’t he keep his hands off the one woman he can’t have? Beautiful, independent and passionate, Veda Darnel is the daughter of his family’s biggest competitor. Years of bad business blood makes their affair dangerous…and forbidden. But will accusations of foul play end their star-crossed romance before it even begins?
Robyn Grady’s stories have been published in 29 languages with millions of copies sold worldwide. Her books have appeared at award ceremonies including the National Readers Choice, the Booksellers Best, and Australia’s prestigious Romance Book of the Year. Stories in her latest Harlequin Desire series, About That Night, will hit the shelves January and March, 2020. Stay up to date with the latest news at www.robyngrady.com.
The Cursed Key Miranda Brock & Rebecca Hamilton (The Cursed Key Trilogy #1) Published by: Evershade Publishing Publication date: January 14th 2020 Genres: New Adult, Romance, Urban Fantasy
A forgotten past, a dark mage, and an unyielding curse.
Another team beat free-spirited archaeologist Olivia Perez to the dig of a lifetime, and now she’s left with the choice to wait for scraps or brave a dangerous, dusty tomb in hopes of finding other priceless artifacts. Her reward? A mysterious key she has no idea is cursed. Soon, Olivia realizes she’s brought home more than just an ancient rarity.
Malevolent visions begin to plague her. Unnerved by what they reveal, she casts away the key…unknowingly placing it into the waiting hands of a dark mage bent on destruction. Only when a shifter agent from the Paranormal Intelligence and Tracking Organization arrives searching for the key does Olivia realize what a huge mistake she’s made.
Forced to team up with the ill-tempered shifter, her journey to reclaim the cursed key leads down a twisting path of dark histories, dangerous magic, and deadly obstacles. But Olivia’s efforts to take back the ancient relic before the dark mage can destroy the lives of humans, shifters, witches, and fae alike are thwarted by her own dark past…and a price steeper than what she’s willing to pay.
Fans of Tomb Raider and Ilona Andrews will love the blend of urban fantasy, magical adventure, and paranormal romance in THE CURSED KEY from Miranda Brock and New York Times bestselling author Rebecca Hamilton!
A
quick glance over my shoulder showed the doorway was half the size it had been.
Despite the chill in the air, sweat beaded on my forehead, and I swiped it away
impatiently. Then, it clicked. I had been too caught up in searching for the similarities
that I hadn’t realized the answer was in the differences. Placed throughout the
runes were symbols that held none of the same angles, lines, or curves.
I
twisted the outer circle, matching up symbols that held no relation. Even with
this discovery, there could be any number of combinations, but I had to try.
The grinding stone behind me told me I was rapidly running out of time. I
paired the symbols, closed my eyes, and sent a silent prayer up to every corner
of the universe. With tense muscles, I pushed and nearly cried when the lid
gave way.
Not
wasting a breath, I snatched a cloth-wrapped item from inside. It was like
someone struck me in the chest as my I clutched it in my fist, but I didn’t
have time to dwell on it. I started up the steep path as the stone door
descended above. The moisture in these walls and stones had been no accident of
nature. It was just one more safeguard to keep the unwanted from getting a
treasure that was not meant to leave these depths.
Gritting
my teeth, I used one hand to scrabble at the wall on the left to help pull me
up. My muscles burned as I drew in quick breaths, struggling, eyes locked on
the shrinking gap. A cry left my lips as a foot slid out from under me, earning
me a sharp crack on the knee. Ignoring the pain, I tapped into a reserve of
strength deep within me, pushing my legs until they felt like they would snap
from the pressure.
I
wasn’t going to make it.
Author Bio:
New York Times bestselling author Rebecca Hamilton writes urban fantasy and paranormal romance for Harlequin, Baste Lübbe, and Evershade. A book addict, registered bone marrow donor, and indian food enthusiast, she often takes to fictional worlds to see what perilous situations her characters will find themselves in next.
Represented by Rossano Trentin of TZLA, Rebecca has been published internationally, in three languages: English, German, and Hungarian.
From an early age Miranda Brock has always loved fantasy and adventure everything. Since she doesn’t live in a world of enchanting powers, mythical beasts, and things unbelievable she has decided to write about them. (Although, if you happen to see a dragon flying around, do tell her.) Born in southern Illinois, where she still resides with her husband and two children, she grew up running through the woods, playing in creeks, and riding horses. What started out as writing poetry grew into short stories and eventually led to her first novel, Souls Discovered. Miranda lives in the country where she finds inspiration in the simplicity and beauty around her. With the help of a ridiculous amount of coffee and some good music she writes whenever she gets a chance.
Kingdom of Crowns and Glory (Kingdom of Darkness and Light, #1) Publication date: December 18th 2019 Genres: Fairy Tales, Fantasy, New Adult
Fairytale heroes, but not as you remember them…
The age old tale of Good versus Evil comes to life in this epic boxset featuring only the heroes from your favorite fairytales.
Will light triumph over dark? Will the heroes beat the villains?
Be part of the battle and explore your favourite fairytales from different perspectives, in this one of a kind split fairytale anthology retelling collection.
This set by USA Today and Amazon Best Selling authors is like nothing you have never read before.
Paired up with The Kingdom of Villains and Vengeance boxset, you can now read the story from the perspective of both the heroes and villains. Come on a magical journey to see if good does always triumph over evil.
Stories included are:
The Little Mermaid Vs The Sea Witch
Snow White Vs The Evil Queen
Sleeping Beauty Vs Witch
Robin Hood Vs Sheriff
Alice Vs Queen of Hearts
Princess Vs Rumpelstiltskin
Peter Pan Vs Hook
Little Red Vs Wolf
Excerpt from Anne Stryker’s book, Glacier featured
in Kingdom of Villains and Vengeance. A story from the perspective of
Rumplestilskin.
“Tell
me a story,” she whispered, staring at the globe like her world rested within.
I took a deep breath
and gazed at the sky. “A story? Since when do you like those?”
Her lips lifted in a small smile, and mine mirrored the action to match. I spun
a recycled tale from fae lore, replacing our heroine’s name with hers—likely
sacrilege, but for her growing smile, I didn’t care. She fought dragons and
rode through plains upon her faerie steed, bolstering legend and carving her
name into the world itself. As the theatrical rendition slipped to a close, her
smile had fallen.
It took all my strength not to touch her then, draw her close, and whisper the
truth, about everything. But I couldn’t bear to see hatred blister in her gaze,
not tonight. Enough would happen tonight. And I couldn’t forfeit everything
now.
She pressed the globe against her chest and stared up at the stars. “Thank you,
my faerie,” she murmured, and a tear traced down her cheek.
My breath held.
She pinned me with those blue eyes that were an echo of mine. “I wish you were
real.”
Kingdom of Villains and Vengeance (Kingdom of Darkness and Light, #2) Publication date: December 18th 2019 Genres: Fairy Tales, Fantasy, New Adult
Fairytale villains, but not as you remember them…
The age old tale of Good versus Evil comes to life in this epic boxset featuring only the evil doers from your favorite fairytales.
Will light triumph over dark? Will the heroes beat the villains?
Be part of the battle and explore your favourite fairytales from different perspectives, in this one of a kind split fairytale anthology retelling collection.
This set by USA Today and Amazon Best Selling authors is like nothing you have never read before.
Paired up with The Kingdom of Crowns and Glory boxset, you can now read the story from the perspective of both the heroes and villains. Come on a magical journey to see if good does always triumph over evil.
Stories included are:
The Sea Witch Vs The Little Mermaid
The Evil Queen VsSnow White
Witch Vs Sleeping Beauty
Sheriff Vs Robin Hood
Queen of Hearts Vs Alice
Rumpelstiltskin Vs Princess
Hook V’s Peter Pan
Wolf Vs Little Red
The Brutal Time Christina Bauer (Angelbound Origins #6) Published by: Monster House Books Publication date: October 29th 2019 Genres: Fantasy, Paranormal, Young Adult
“I love the Angelbound Origins world and just can’t seem to get enough of it!” – The Avid Reader
As the Great Scala, Myla Lewis is the only being who can move Purgatory’s souls to Heaven or Hell. It’s a big job. Too bad Myla goes through assistants faster than a hot knife through brownies. Not that it bothers her much; Myla’s always been a solo fighter.
Then comes the problem of the fading angels. Millions of Heavenly residents are dying. According to a prophecy, the only way Myla can save them is by traveling back in time, meeting King Arthur, and creating her own knights of the round table. The catch? Doing so might end the after-realms in a bloody demonpocalypse.
Yipes.
Myla and her main squeeze, Lincoln, aren’t afraid of taking a few chances (in between kisses). But with so much at risk, the stakes may be too high, even for them. And the biggest challenge of all? Finding those knights.
Because Myla Lewis doesn’t play well with others. At all.
“These books don’t just capture your attention, they straight up demand it. Christina Bauer has created a fascinating and unique world that you do not want to miss out on.” – Bookhalolic Brittany
Lacing my fingers with Lincoln’s, I
guide my guy off the Arena floor. The moving spotlights make it easy to slip
off unnoticed into a nearby archway. Then it’s a matter of navigating through
the back corridors until we reach small stone room. There’s not much to speak
of here, outside of some hooks on the walls and a few large wooden trunks.
I step into the center of the space
and twirl. “Here it is. Changing room central.”
Lincoln slips off his jacket and sets
it onto a nearby trunk. “Did you come here after we met?”
There’s a certain predatory gleam in
my guy’s eyes that I’m enjoying very much indeed. “Oh, sure,” I reply. “I had
lots of matches after we first met.”
My gaze lands on a particular trunk.
Memories appear. My face turns eleven shades of red.
Lincoln notices the trunk in question
as well as my blush. He steps up to the trunk and damn, my fantasies were all
correct. The lid comes to just the right height at his waistline.
Lincoln runs his fingers over the
lid. “And what is there about this particular piece of furniture, may I ask?”
“No point telling you that I don’t
know what you’re talking about, huh?”
“None.”
“Well, I might have thought about
you, the trunk and, um, things.”
Lincoln steps closer. “Things?”
“I’d put on my dragonscale suit and wonder
what would happen if you came into the dressing room or something.”
That predatory look returns to
Lincoln’s mismatched eyes. It makes me feel all woozy inside. Not a bad thing.
“I love this story. So you’d be …
what?”
I gesture toward the trunk. “Sitting
here.”
Lincoln scoops me up and sets me
right atop the trunk. “Like this?”
“Uh-huh.”
A knowing grin rounds his mouth. “So
I could stand before you like this.” He rests his hands on my knees. His skin
is all warm and rough at once. Little by little, Lincoln slowly guides my legs
apart and presses my skirt up to my hips. Then he steps between my legs.
“Almost like that,” I say
breathlessly.
At last, Lincoln presses himself
against me. At this angle, his hardness hits all the right places. “Do you mean
this?” he asks.
Fire sparks inside my core.
“Exactly.”
“I can see the appeal.” Lincoln
slowly trails his hands over my body. Wherever he touches me, there’s an
electric zing of desire. Leaning in, he stops when his mouth hovers a breath
above mine. “You know what I want.”
“I do.” I lick along the seam of his
lips. “And I’m calling in my prize.”
Author Bio:
Christina Bauer thinks that fantasy books are like bacon: they just make life better. All of which is why she writes romance novels that feature demons, dragons, wizards, witches, elves, elementals, and a bunch of random stuff that she brainstorms while riding the Boston T. Oh, and she includes lots of humor and kick-ass chicks, too.
Christina graduated from Syracuse University’s Newhouse School with BA’s in English along with Television, Radio, and Film Production. She lives in Newton, MA with her husband, son, and semi-insane golden retriever, Ruby.
Be the first to know about new releases from Christina by signing up for her newsletter: http://tinyurl.com/CBupdates
Tasting Her Christmas Cookies Alina Jacobs Publication date: November 19th 2019 Genres: Adult, Comedy, Romance
Winter is coming—and unfortunately it’s bringing Christmas with it.
I loathe the holiday. I hate holiday parties, fragrant decorations, and hokey movies. If I had my way it would be winter all year round and never Christmas.
Nothing burns like the cold—except a hot oven.
That’s right; against my better judgment I agreed to let The Great Christmas Bake-Off film in my tower.
And St. Nick help me but I even agreed to be a judge.
Holly
Christmas is like the perfect sugar cookie—it slowly melts in your mouth, sweetening every taste bud, making you wish it could last forever.
I love Christmas. I love the cheerful music, the fun sweaters, and the holiday lights. Most of all I love Christmas Cookies.
A begrudging bake-off judge, I refuse to let grouchy billionaire Owen Frost hate Christmas. The man is overworked, his employees are uninspired, and his life is seriously lacking in Yuletide cheer. I want to stuff his stocking with sugary goodness to put him in a very festive mood.
So I dressed up as a sexy elf and gave Owen a taste of something extra special. You should have seen his eyes roll back in his head when he bit into the perfect sugar cookie!
I can’t let Owen Frost be a distraction. Things are insane enough without a sexy billionaire.
My baking subscription service is in the death throes.
My Christmas-ruining step sister is trying to sabotage me in the bake-off.
I’m being stalked by elves on the shelf come to life.
Ok that last one is a little weird, but welcome to my disaster of a life.
I need to win The Great Christmas Bake-Off to pay of my debts and launch my baking career. Sleeping with one of the judges is going to ruin my chance for a merry Christmas. Owen with his washboard abs and big Christmas package is a bad idea. It’s best to keep that all wrapped under the tree.
But when he said in that deep, sexy voice, “Can I have another taste of your Christmas cookies?” Well, let’s just say I’m unwrapping one particular Christmas present early!
Tasting Her Christmas Cookies is a standalone holiday romantic comedy. If you love Christmas desserts, like to laugh out loud at holiday innuendoes, and want Santa to put a tall, good-looking guy under your tree, then pick up this full-length, steamy romance novel! There are no cliffhangers but there is a very happy (Christmas!) ever after!
“We are having a Christmas bath scene in the near future,” I said to the camera, “with holiday bath bombs and themed cocktails. But unfortunately, it won’t be tonight. The bake-off starts tomorrow, baking fans!”
I looked longingly at the bathtub. Then, making sure the phone was definitely not recording, because I did not need to be that kind of Instagrammer, I took a quick shower. I seriously could not get over how huge the bathroom was. I could live in it. With a toaster and a mini fridge, I would totally be good.
After wrapping myself in the robe, I tied a T-shirt around my hair. I had frizzy hair on a good day; keeping my curls manageable was a perpetual struggle. I applied a gingerbread-cookie-scented moisturizer while my videos uploaded. Because I was busy scrolling through my phone and answering comments as I came out of the bathroom, I didn’t notice the half-naked man until he swore.
I looked up and screamed.
“Help! Help! Stalker!” I shrieked and ineffectively pointed at the stranger. Between the rippling muscles, the washboard abs, and an ass I could bounce a quarter on, I hoped he wasn’t actually here to hurt me, because he could do some damage. Pointing and shrieking wasn’t going to stop him. Fortunately, he looked more shocked and horrified than angry and violent.
“Stop screaming!” he bellowed. A freezing breeze blew into the room. It was as if the man had brought the rage of winter into the master suite with him. He looked like it, too, with his ice-blue eyes and silver-white hair. “This is my penthouse. You are not authorized to be here. That makes you the stalker!”
I stopped screaming. It clearly wasn’t helping anything. I also couldn’t help but notice that the bathroom wasn’t the only thing that was huge in the room. With him wearing nothing but boxer briefs, I could tell Santa had brought the handsome man a very large Christmas package indeed. The breeze blew in from the balcony, swirling the strange man’s clean and masculine scent around the room. I forced myself to ignore it.
“Get out of my house,” Big Christmas Package said flatly.
“You get out!” I shrieked. “I’m a bake-off contestant. This isn’t your room!”
“What the—” he grabbed his clothes, tugging on his pants. “The Great Christmas Bake-Off? I cannot have Christmas invading every element of my life. This is ridiculous. Christmas is ridiculous. It’s such a stupid, childish holiday.” He punctuated his words by snatching up articles of clothing.
“Hey now!” I said, hands on my hips, fear subsiding. “Christmas is never ridiculous. It’s the best holiday ever. And if you can’t see that, well then, you’re just a grinch, aren’t you?”
He advanced on me. I was suddenly very aware of how large he was. Christmas package notwithstanding, this dude was tall, broad shouldered, with rippling muscles. He could probably split me in two.
Yes, please.
“You’re some stupid little baker who never outgrew the childish fantasy of Christmas,” he sneered.
My nose was inches away from his chest. He glowered down at me. I was too angry to be aware of his half-naked body. Okay, maybe I was like fifteen percent aware. But the majority of my energy was focused on being offended on behalf of Christmas.
“Don’t insult baking,” I said, giving him my best “I want to speak to the manager vibe,” though it was ruined by the fact that I had to crane my neck up to see him and that I was completely naked under the robe. “And never insult Christmas!”
His nostrils flared slightly.
“Men like you constantly belittle the work that women do to keep cultural traditions like Christmas alive,” I continued, poking him in the chest.
“We decorate homes to make them cozy.”
Poke.
“We cook holiday dinners and bake festive desserts.”
Poke.
“We host parties that bring families and friends together.”
Before I could poke him again, he grabbed my hand in his much-larger one. Then, realizing what he’d done, he quickly released it.
“I will not stand for your bad attitude!” I declared.
He glared down at me, strong jaw clenched, eyes cold as a frozen lake. “I can’t even believe this,” he finally snarled. He grabbed his briefcase and stormed out, still shirtless.
“Oh my God!” Fiona exclaimed, wide-eyed, as she ran into the room. She hugged me then pushed me to sit on the bed. “Are you okay? Who was that? Why was he in here? Someone call the police!”
“I knew it! You’re trying to steal my boyfriend,” Amber yelled at me, rushing into the room. “That’s Owen Frost, and he’s mine!”
Author Bio:
If you like steamy romantic comedies with a creative streak, then I’m your girl!
Architect by day, writer by night, I love matcha green tea, chocolate, and books! So many books…
Sign up for my mailing list to get the free novella, AFTER HIS PEONIES, along with special bonus content, giveaways, and more!
http://alinajacobs.com/mailinglist.html
Blood Rose Rachael Vaughn Publication date: November 22nd 2019 Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy
Fleeing her past and a dark tragedy that haunts her every waking moment, Rose settles for a crummy retail job in a crummy town in the middle of Indiana. Her one solace – the sprawling forest behind her apartment complex – leads her down a dizzying path into a topsy-turvy world where Rose escapes her painful memories…but finds herself at the center of a dangerous plot.
A mysterious (and frequently unconscious) stranger, a technicolor landscape, and a sinister but charismatic leader pull Rose deeper into an unexpected adventure…where nothing is as it seems.
Follow Rose on her journey through this perilous but beautiful land, as she wonders if she can save it…or herself.
The stranger was back before long, and Rose didn’t miss the flash of relief on his face when he saw her standing where he had left her. He carried with him a bowl of water, steam rising in tendrils from the surface, and an assortment of other supplies. When he reached her he continued on past, beckoning her to follow, and Rose turned to see him heading toward a small seating area near the door. A low, backless sofa ran along the wall, each end lifting to curl in a tight spiral. An equally low table stood in front of the sofa, and two matching chairs framed either side.
After a moment of hesitation, Rose took a seat on the sofa, and the stranger placed the bowl and supplies on the table before lowering himself hesitantly to sit beside her. He gave her a questioning glance as if asking for permission, and Rose offered her wounded palm. She kept quiet, not wanting her barrage of questions to break the trance she felt from his calming influence. The man chose a soft cloth from the pile on the table, dipped it in the warm water and began to gently wash the blood from her hand. She winced when the water stung the cut, and the man grimaced in apology.
As he worked, the lace cuff fell back from his left hand and the sleeve of his jacket rode up slightly. Rose caught a glimpse of something thick and dark winding around his arm. It appeared to have the texture of an old scar, thick and ridged, but jet black and stark against his pale blue skin. It grew thinner the further down it reached, tapering out into thin tendrils at his wrist, leaving the skin of his hand smooth and untainted. Rose felt his hands falter in their movements against hers, and she looked up to see him following her gaze to his wrist. He self-consciously pulled the cuff back down into place, covering the black lines, and Rose hastily looked away.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. He didn’t respond, only retrieved the cloth and began wiping blood from her other hand. Once both were clean, he let the cloth fall into the now pink-tinged water, and took a bandage from the table. He paused for a moment, before setting the bandage back down unopened.
“You must have a lot of questions,” he said softly, not quite meeting her eyes.
A startled laugh escaped Rose’s throat. That was the understatement of the century. He gave a soft chuckle and she realized she had voiced the thought aloud.
“Yes, I imagine that must be true.” He turned to face her directly, and his eyes met hers. She was alarmed at the intensity in their purple depths, and his voice was urgent when he spoke again, the words coming fast.
“Listen, I’ll explain everything, I promise. But you’re not safe here, and I need you to trust me.”
Rose opened her mouth, but he continued before she could respond.
“I know we’ve only just met, but I promise I won’t let any harm come to you. There’s so much you need to know, and so little time, and I—” he paused, seeming to exert quite a bit of effort to gather himself. He took a deep breath and lifted his eyes to hers. “Will you trust me?”
His gaze bored into her, and without the slightest idea why, Rose found herself nodding. Anything to get that look of desperation off his face.
He seemed to wilt, relief coloring his features, and he held out his hand for hers again. She placed her wounded hand in his, and he flipped it over, palm up. Lifting his other hand, he gently placed his index finger against the gash in her palm, and without warning, a burst of light emanated out of his fingertip where it met her skin.
Rose felt strangely detached, as if she were watching this happen instead of actually experiencing it. She felt no pain, only a bright, comforting warmth that grew to encompass her whole hand. He traced his finger slowly down the length of the wound, the bright light following the path of his finger, and Rose watched in surprise as the line of her blood began to glow bright, the same iridescent glimmer she had noticed when she’d touched the handle of the door what seemed like ages ago.
Rose watched in wonder as the stranger lifted his hand, the light fading. The shimmer faded from her palm as well, the wound sealing in its wake.
“There,” he said, releasing her hand. His voice sounded faint, its resonance muted. Rose looked up, sensing something was off, and found his face pale, nearly white, the silver lines practically nonexistent.
“Are you okay?” she asked, suddenly worried for this man—creature—she didn’t know, but he simply nodded and waved off her concern. She looked down at her palm again in amazement, a thin faded line all that remained of the red gash.
“What was that?” she asked, “How did you—” But her attention was caught quite suddenly by his hands, which were clutched tightly in his lap. He held his right hand wrapped protectively around the left, but past his grip Rose could see the black lines moving on his skin, creeping slowly beyond the edge of his cuff and onto the back of his hand, tendrils snaking across the pale flesh there.
Author Bio:
Rachael Vaughn is the creative brainchild of husband-and-wife writing duo, Laura Rachael Black and Trenton Vaughn Hockersmith.
Laura is the wordsmith of the pair, and a bona fide dabbler. With interests in everything from mosaics to wood carving and playing the hammered dulcimer, there isn’t much that doesn’t appeal to her insatiable need to create. When she isn’t writing, Laura stays busy as the co-owner of Firefly Tattoo–one of Indianapolis’s premier tattoo studios–where she is also a full-time artist. You can check out her professional tattoo gallery at https://www.fireflytattoo.com/f88479627.
Trent acts as the bookends of the writing process. He serves as the team’s world-builder and plot developer on the front end, and acts as an editor and proofreader (plus the ultimate voice of reason) on the backside. His educational background in English and psychology help him craft vibrant worldscapes and compelling, authentic characters. When not mired in the trenches of world-building, Trent enjoys reading, playing video games, and practicing jiu-jitsu and tai-chi.
The team shares more than a pen name. Their home outside Indianapolis is also inhabited by their daughter, Seva, and Helena, the world’s fluffiest cat.
Two Thousand Lines Michelle Jester Publication date: November 21st 2019 Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance, Young Adult
Olivia Brooks has been able to keep her life in Sugar Mill, Louisiana held perfectly together, far away from the small town where she grew up. Even though her past still haunts her, she has found a perfect process of surviving, until a string of events brings Luke Plaisance to Sugar Mill and turns her organized life upside down.
While Olivia fights to hold on to the life she’s created, unraveling it may be exactly what it takes for her to truly survive. She must accept her past in order to live, or let it threaten the only future she’s ever wanted. Because some secrets can’t stay buried… and shouldn’t.
An inspiring and heartbreaking tale of abandonment, survival, and purpose. A harrowing journey of self-discovery and perseverance.
“I’m not asking you why, Olivia, but also don’t feel like you have to lie to me. It’s none of my business and I know that. You don’t owe anyone an explanation.”
“Then why are you here?” she turned abruptly to face him, obviously angered.
“I like cinnamon rolls.”
“You also don’t have to lie either.”
“Mama Gigi,” Luke responded quietly.
“What?” Olivia bowed her head slightly.
“Mama Gigi. She said when I smell cinnamon and baking bread, if I look over here and your kitchen door is open, and I quote, ‘go to her and stay until she’s safe.’”
Olivia looked up with tears welling in her eyes again, “I’ll be sure to close my door next time.”
“No, you won’t. Mama Gigi said you will always have your door open when you make them. She thought whatever you were mourning was pretty strong, ‘cause it obviously made you feel suffocated.”
“I miss her. I miss her so much.”
Luke stood quickly and went to Olivia. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her. But, as he got closer she stepped back, so he stopped.
“I can’t leave until you’re safe.”
“I’m never safe,” she whispered.
“You’ve been safe since I got here.”
Author Bio:
Michelle Jester lives in Greenwell Springs, Louisiana with her husband, high school sweetheart and retired Master Sergeant. Together they have a son and daughter. She is a hopeless romantic and has been writing poems and stories for as long as she can remember.
One of her prize possessions is a bracelet with only a yellow, Rubber Duckie charm on it; which she wears every day to remind her to enjoy the fun and happy things of life!
The eerie cover of Beneath London’s Fog by Ilona Caldwell makes me think of Jack the Ripper and ghosts. Are you creeped out yet?
Jonathon has made himself a prisoner in Raven Hollow Manor, along
with his daughter, Holly. He lost his love, Anna, but her ghostly
presence lingers.
His past is coming back to haunt him when a serial killer goes wild in the foggy nights of London.
He is able to transform himself and I loved it. He becomes a cat, a
Great Dane, or a mist in the night. Being immortal allows him to see
without being seen. He is very protective of Holly and struggles to
allow her some freedom. He is easily able to ‘spy’ on her, assuring her
safety. After all, he knows first hand the monsters that lurk in the
shadows. His oasis is by Anna’s gravesite. He reads Poe and Robert Frost
to her.
Holly knows that he is an immortal. Authors have the freedom to
create the immortal they want to portray, and I love Ilona Caldwell’s
version.
I begin to wish for his happiness, for him to move on and create a new life, without Anna.
Enter…Walter Deverough, a detective on the hunt. I wonder….I feel we’ll be seeing a lot more of him.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned and SHE will scorch the earth with her need for revenge.
We, also, have Leland…a hero to the end.
Fast paced. Suspenseful. A vampire of a different color. Great world
building as I pictured him walking the streets of London, damp and
weary. Ilona Caldwell draws pictures with her words.
I voluntarily reviewed and ARC of Beneath London’s Fog by Ilona Caldwell.
4 Stars
Beneath London’s Fog Iona Caldwell Published by: FyreSyde Publishing Publication date: October 30th 2019 Genres: Occult Fiction, Ghost Story, British Literature
Jonathan is the immortal master of Raven Hollow Manor – a decrepit mansion riddled with superstition, murder and restless ghosts. Beneath it lies a restless malice.
Its previous owner driven mad, violently kills his guests with a rusted ax, creating the perfect venue for Jonathan to seclude himself in a prison of his own device.
When the streets of London begin to run red with blood; the bodies exhibiting disturbing signs and baffling wounds, the identity of the killer remains elusive to police.
The bodies are just the beginning of Jonathan’s troubles. A mysterious letter accusing Jonathan of committing the murders appear, raising suspicion in the police. Hidden beneath the mangled bodies, Jonathan soon realizes he is being forced to face demons he thought died in a forlorn past he attempted to escape.
One thing Jonathan knows for certain: He must deal with the demons of his past if he is to survive his future. Not only him but those he has come to love as well.
For fans of Jim Butcher, Stephen King, Darcy Coates and Nick Cutter.
I want it known before this tale begins – I am not a hero but a villain. I want no sympathy from whomever reads this recalling of my story; no mourning for the tragedy that befell my life. I am not an innocent man but a sinner forced to face the ravaging demons and ghosts of his own creation.
My story began as many do – a lie, a fire and murder. One of my kind murdered the woman I loved in the coldest of blood in one of history’s darkest times at the behest of a possessive noble.
After a run in with him in Nottingham, I soon found myself fleeing for my life from hunters, framed for a murder I had not committed.
Forgive me, I am getting ahead of myself.
Let me begin where this part of my story took place.
A bloody civil war ravaged London followed shortly by the Great Fire in 1666. A glorious time for me and those like me to take advantage of the chaos and remain hidden in the shadows.
I managed to pursue the one responsible for nearly getting me killed two centuries prior to the plague which befell London before the fire.
Within the shadows of the flickering flames of St. Peter’s Cathedral, I struck him down and departed the city, thus avoiding my demise.
I had yet to escape him, however, when his vengeful spirit devoured the souls of the innocent in a mad bloodlust.
Though greatly injured, I managed to drive his spirit to my new home Raven Hollow Manor in London, imprisoning him in stone coffin in the crypt beneath it.
Peace resumed in my life and nobles of all kinds enjoyed lavishly hosted parties within the halls of my estate.
Unfortunately, the short lived splendor at the hands of the hauntings filled the ears of the locals and my beloved home decayed into a tangled web of blood-filled rumors and superstition.
My once glorious halls became infested with dust, its crystal chandeliers covered with cobwebs, their spiders fat on the insects buzzing around the decay and mold-covered wallpaper.
Yet, there I remained as it proved a decent place to not only contain my greatest sin but served also as a castle of solitude.
The tides of time swept by in a cacophony of modernization and the movement from superstition to things only mortal science could explain.
I still needed to venture into the city, not only to feed but also to purchase other items needed for everyday living.
It wasn’t until the winter of 1910 that my silence would be disrupted in the form of a girl named Holly, a young street urchin accused of theft. I took her with me after using a bit of “persuasion” on the local officers to let her go.
They did not need to know where I would take her and she soon grew into a wonderful messenger on my behalf. She became a rather attractive young woman with bouncy blonde curls who kept me company with stories of what went on in the city.
I am sure, at one time, she became infatuated with me. It did not surprise me. To mortals, my kind held a certain allure they found difficult to ignore. I ended her infatuation quickly following a stern talking to and dousing with cold water.
One day, while in my labyrinthine garden, Holly came to me in tears.
When the people of London learned where Holly lived, the townsfolk dubbed her a practitioner of black magic.
One day, I found Holly sitting on one of the marble benches in the garden, sobbing. I picked a flower and put it in my daughter’s hair, sitting next to her beneath the statue of a praying angel.
“You need not worry about them, dearest. Mortals are always quick to place labels on what they do not understand.”
Holly sniffled and sobbed, wiping her nose and offering me a smile. “But why do they avoid this place, Jonathan?”
“Mortals fear what they cannot comprehend. Pay them no mind. You are a wonderful young woman,” I purred, brushing a blonde curl from her face.
The words appeared to have placated her as she smiled and joined me in a moonlight stroll through the garden.
***
Around midnight, after dinner with Holly, I dismissed her to bed. Once she departed, I sought out sustenance in the city.
A dense fog rolled in due to the cool winter weather and the recent days of rain.
Combined with the darkness of the streets and alleyways, I managed to meet a young working woman on the corner and wooed her into joining me for a walk to the park. As with other women, I made sure she understood I respected her body with gentle caresses and loving words murmured into her ears.
Once I placed her deep under my spell, I kissed the tender flesh of the woman’s throat and exposed shoulder, thanking her for her gift.
My fangs pierced her flesh, earning a moan of pleasure as her body surrendered its precious life force without any significant damage. Her body pressed against mine, her moans increasing with pleasure at my kiss.
I preferred this method to those of many of my other brethren who tore their victims apart during a feeding, choosing power to subdue instead of sexual allure.
When signs of weakness began manifesting I released my hold, picking her up after licking the small puncture wounds, my saliva healing them, leaving no marks or scars.
To assure she received care, I took her to the nearest hospital and deposited her on the steps without anyone noticing.
As always, I used hypnotic suggestion to erase her memory and leave her with a pleasant dream.
During the wee hours of the morning, I tended to enjoy the calls of the birds and the chirping of the crickets to help relieve the burden on my mind.
Not a soul roamed the streets near the bridge where I liked to sit and write poetry or read a book.
In the midst of the silence, a horrifying shriek caught my attention, almost startling me.
My pupils narrowed to those one might see in a viper or a cat. I let my body dissipate into the form of a black mist, hovering over the city in search of the source of the scream.
I found it in the shape of the body of a mangled man.
The whites of his eyes consumed most of the portion of the glossy orbs in his skull, mouth gaped open mid-scream.
I knelt before him, my own brows furrowed in frustration at the recognition of the familiar puncture wounds on the man’s throat. This cannot be. No other has hunted here in centuries.
The disturbing find made something clear.
Many of my kind preferred not to hunt in one place occupied by another of higher status, or in another’s territory for that matter. We changed due to the growing number of human hunters who would kill any of us they came across.
Despite the city’s size, my reputation often kept others out of my hunting grounds, for which I remained grateful.
This new kill had been malicious.
If I allowed such behavior to continue, it could draw the attention of the hunters or the local police to my home.
Whomever the responsible party, I needed to locate them and have a word with them or kill them if necessary.
My eyes closed, a heavy sigh drawing up from within my lungs. I placed my fingers over the man’s eyes, using a gentle touch to close them. “Forgive whichever of us did this to you. You did not deserve to die in such a horrific manner.”
Searching through the pockets of his trench coat, I located his identification card and vowed to send some money and roses to his family.
Sounds of sirens and the calls of the corner watchmen announced the arrival of the authorities. I left them the man’s wallet so they could inform his family of their loss.
I lurked in the shadows listening to the inspectors scrutinizing the scene.
“Bloody mystery, it is. This is the second mangled body we found this week. One has to wonder if we might be witnessing the birth of another blighter of a serial killer.” One of the inspectors scratched his head beneath the dome shaped hat.
I recognized him as Bertrand Abrams, a well-known officer and one of the only men who aided Holly during her visits to town.
From his looks, one would expect him to hail from Scotland. A bushy mustache and stringy hair with the consistency of sheep’s wool held the color of fire. Dimples set into high cheekbones and a double chin made me smile. A portly belly betrayed his affinity for too many scones and perhaps Scotch.
He had been wrong. This death held no mystery. I merely needed to find the one responsible before it resulted in too much of a personal dilemma.
Following the release of the corpse to the medical examiner, I took the form of black mist and drifted back to Raven Hollow.
The beginnings of my night would be haunted by dreams of a past filled with love, vengeance and pain.
It would be filled with shining auburn locks and eyes the color of the fresh leaves of spring.
Author Bio:
Iona Caldwell is the lover of all things arcane, folklore, nature and magic.
She is the author of the British Occult Fiction, Beneath London’s Fog set to be published by FyreSyde Publishing October 2019. Her second title, Hell’s Warden is forecasted to release in February of 2020. When she’s not busy weaving worlds of the arcane and dark, she’s spending time out in nature. An avid lover of books, Iona claims her biggest inspirations are H.P Lovecraft, Stephen King, Neil Gaiman and Edgar Allen Poe.
She believes storytellers should tell the stories they want to tell. As such, most of her titles are stand-alone novellas she hopes will leave her readers immersed in magical worlds.
She is also an extremely active book blogger who will review primarily horror, suspense, supernatural thriller, mystery, and occult/gothic fiction.
The Brutal Time Christina Bauer (Angelbound Origins #6) Published by: Monster House Books Publication date: October 29th 2019 Genres: Fantasy, Paranormal, Young Adult
“I love the Angelbound Origins world and just can’t seem to get enough of it!” – The Avid Reader
As the Great Scala, Myla Lewis is the only being who can move Purgatory’s souls to Heaven or Hell. It’s a big job. Too bad Myla goes through assistants faster than a hot knife through brownies. Not that it bothers her much; Myla’s always been a solo fighter.
Then comes the problem of the fading angels. Millions of Heavenly residents are dying. According to a prophecy, the only way Myla can save them is by traveling back in time, meeting King Arthur, and creating her own knights of the round table. The catch? Doing so might end the after-realms in a bloody demonpocalypse.
Yipes.
Myla and her main squeeze, Lincoln, aren’t afraid of taking a few chances (in between kisses). But with so much at risk, the stakes may be too high, even for them. And the biggest challenge of all? Finding those knights.
Because Myla Lewis doesn’t play well with others. At all.
“These books don’t just capture your attention, they straight up demand it. Christina Bauer has created a fascinating and unique world that you do not want to miss out on.” – Bookhalolic Brittany
Christina Bauer thinks that fantasy books are like bacon: they just make life better. All of which is why she writes romance novels that feature demons, dragons, wizards, witches, elves, elementals, and a bunch of random stuff that she brainstorms while riding the Boston T. Oh, and she includes lots of humor and kick-ass chicks, too.
Christina graduated from Syracuse University’s Newhouse School with BA’s in English along with Television, Radio, and Film Production. She lives in Newton, MA with her husband, son, and semi-insane golden retriever, Ruby.
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