RISING ASHES by Annie Anderson
Ashes to Ashes; Book 3
Release Date: AUGUST 18, 2016
Genre: Paranormal/Supernatural Romance
Cover Designs by: MadHat Books
SYNOPSIS:
West Carmichael is not my real name.
It is the name I pulled from thin air over five hundred years ago. I don’t come from royalty—I come from the dregs of the ethereal. As the King’s assassin, I have more blood on my hands than most. I don’t deserve her. I don’t deserve anyone.
But I will keep her safe.
Even if I die trying.
Evangeline Black.
My name sounds like the heroine of a historical romance novel – not that I read those or anything. My life so far: Dead parents? Check. Broken heart? Check. Evil mistress of darkness, hell-bent on power and thirsty for my death? Big. Honking. Check. But this mess won’t get cleaned up by itself.
I’ve got a job to do.
As these two reluctant hearts fight their pull, they must decide if they want to fall apart in the midst of the chaos swarming around them or yield to their hearts…
and rise.
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About the Author:
Annie Anderson is a military wife and United States Air Force veteran. Originally from Dallas, Texas, she is a southern girl at heart, but has lived all over the US and abroad. As soon as the military stops moving her family around, she’ll settle on a state, but for now she enjoys being a nomad with her husband, two daughters, and old man of a dog.
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Historical Fiction / Adventure
Date Published: August 2015
In an age ruled by iron men, in a world of new discovery and Spanish gold, a young Irishwoman named Mary rises from the ashes of her broken childhood with ships and men-at-arms under her command. She and her loyal crew prowl the Caribbean and prosper in the New World for a time until the ugly past Mary has fled from in the old one finds her.
Across the great ocean to the east, war is coming. The King of Spain is assembling the most powerful armada the world has ever seen - an enormous beast - to invade England and depose the Protestant “heretic queen.” To have any chance against the wealth and might of Spain, England will need every warship, she will need every able captain. To this purpose, Queen Elizabeth spares Mary from the headman’s axe for past sins in exchange for her loyalty, her ships and men.
Based on true historical events, this is a tale about war, adventure, love and betrayal. This is a story about vengeance, this is a tale of heartbreak…
Recent Praise for The Butcher's Daughter:
"... a pleasurable and action-packed read ... a delicious spin to the otherwise tired clichés of male captains ... the joy of the open seas - as well as the danger churning below - pulses throughout this rip-roaring, hearty tale of the high seas." - Kirkus Reviews
"... an entertaining read ... full of authentic historical events ... a defiant story, a narrative of strong will and perseverance which ultimately plummets to a tragic end." - Readers' Favorite
"... a historic adventure ... a beautiful romance ..." - Bargain Book Reviews (5x5 Stars)
"A wonderful novel in the best tradition of maritime literature ... authentic and rich with details, the characters are alive and passionate, and the plot is full of thrilling action, intense drama, and stunning surprises ... [an] exhilarating adventure ... an unforgettable journey ..." - The Columbia Review
Profanity - Moderate
Sex - Moderate
Violence – Heavy
EXCERPT
A man - I cannot say if he was wise or not - once said to me as he gently stroked my hair, as he slowly poured honeyed words into my ear with false affection: “Hush dear child, hush. ‘Tis best if you lay still. ‘Tis best you accept this gift I give you now without complaint my lovely, golden dove.”
I never knew this man’s name. Long years have passed since I heard those vile words. They haunt me still.
Blood. I saw a lot of blood as I stepped into my father’s shop that night.
I suppose the matter had to do with a debt unpaid, money owed to one clan or another. When I heard the voices of strange men inside our home arguing with my father, I had rushed downstairs out of curiosity with a candle in my hand, dressed only in my nightgown and barefoot.
And when I reached the bottom of the stairs, I saw two brutes holding my father down against his wooden cutting table while a third man, a tall, sinewy fellow standing in front of him, stabbed him over and over again in the arms, the chest and stomach with a long knife. Then the tall man tossed his knife in the air with one hand and caught it by the handle with the other, as if he was performing some parlor trick, and slashed my father’s throat wide open with one, elegant swing. Sprays of blood spurted across the room. I watched my father’s eyes flutter for a bit before they closed on him forever.
But I am well accustomed with blood and gore. I am the butcher’s daughter.
No doubt I stared at my father’s three murders wide-eyed, confused, even in horror. But I did not scream. I did not cry out. I did not look or call for any help. I buried any urge to panic.
The tall, sinewy man with the knife fled when he saw me. His two companions did not. They had unfinished business. They released their grip on my father. They let his limp body slip to the floor with a dull thud and then slowly moved towards me - all smiles.
I was but twelve or so. I had never known a man before that day.
I cannot say if the man who commanded me to lie still after he forced me to the floor next to my father’s torn body, the man who thought of me as his lovely, golden dove, was wise or not for I only knew him for the briefest of moments. You see, that man died in my arms on top of me not long after he spoke those very words to me.
My memory of that night is clouded in my mind. No, that is not quite true. I have chosen to wrap that memory in cloud. But I can, if I wish to, remember that night - even now - with crystal clarity, in the most striking detail.
Aye, the man on top of me died in my arms that day. He died after he had torn my nightgown open, after he had thrust himself inside of me - he died after I removed his dagger from his belt and plunged it deep into his black heart. I can still hear the air escaping from his lungs. I can still smell the rot on his breath. I can still see the pupils of his eyes rolling up behind his skull as his life slipped away from him forever.
His companion had fared a little better. I stabbed him, skewered him really, through the mouth when he leaned over to pull his dying friend off me. The blade pierced one cheek and sliced through the other. The man screamed and fled outside, running wildly down New Market Street with the dagger still lewdly sticking out of both sides of his mouth. Not a mortal wound perhaps, but a man with scars on each cheek like that is not a hard man to find as you might imagine. Time and patience is all that is needed. A little time, a little patience, and you can easily find a man like that with matching scars at your leisure.
I can say, with absolute certainty, that this day was the last day of my childhood. But it was also the day-of-days - for this was the first day of my liberation, of my awakening, as well.
I had forewarned her gentle majesty of course. I had told her that a highborn lady, especially a queen, should not hear of such things so foul and impure.
But she ignored my warning. She leaned close to me and squeezed my hand reassuringly. “It is, dear sister,” she told me flatly, “a pitiless and putrid world ruled by pitiless and putrid men, men who think of us as little more than chattel. We would know your story. From start to finish, we would know how it is you came to rule over such cruel and loathsome men in a man’s cruel and loathsome world.”
Yes, it is true. Sitting in a chair across from me in my drab lodgings in the Tower of London, a place of luxury compared to the dungeon I had only days before been released from, the great and mighty Queen of England addressed me, a lowly commoner and a thief, as her sister...
My lads forced the big man down to his knees before me. They stretched his arms out taut and held him firmly in place for me.
“Why, Captain Dowlin,” I said and laughed, “you’ve gone and pissed yourself I see! You’ve gone and soiled my deck! And my crew scrubbed these planks down with holystones just this morning. They put their backs into it let me tell you. They scrubbed this deck down clean.”
“Please,” Dowlin pleaded, whimpering with spittle and snot running down his long beard. His eyes were nearly swollen shut from the good drubbing my men had given him. “Please, please, please...” he repeated over and over again.
“Please?” I asked. “Is that all you can say? How pathetic. I pray you can beg far better than that, especially when it is your own, pitiful life hanging in the balance. Come now, I know you can do better and I promised my lads a bit of entertainment tonight before supper.”
“Please, my lady, please spare my life. For mercy’s sake. I have gold. I have much gold!”
“For mercy’s sake?” I asked. “No, I think not for mercy’s sake. But for gold you say? Well now, you’ve piqued my curiosity there. And how much glittering gold is your miserable life worth to you, Dowlin?”
“Anything, name your price!”
I looked over at what was left of Dowlin’s bloodied and beaten crew herded around the main mast in a tight circle. They were bound in chains, intently watching my every move, soaking in my every word. After today they would be my men.
My own lads knew the drill. They forced Dowlin down lower, exposing the back of his soft neck to me.
I stood to the side and drew my sword. “The price Dowlin - is your head!”
“Nooooooooooooo…” Dowlin screamed just before I cleaved my way through flesh and bone. With one, clean stroke, his severed head rolled grotesquely across my deck until it came to rest at the feet of his defeated crew.
And then I pointed my sword at them, the bright, steel blade now dripping with Dowlin’s fresh blood. “As my men will vouch,” I told them, “I’m no purveyor of lies and because I do not lie I cannot say to you that killing gives me no pleasure. Your master was a wretched pig and it gave me great pleasure to kill him. Now you know why some call me Bloody Mary. Now you serve me and this ship - or not. You are free to choose.”
The upshot of my touch of drama was grand. The prisoners all at once dropped to their knees and groveled at my feet. They all at once pledged their undying loyalty to me.
“Master Gilley!”
“Aye, Madam?”
“Introduce the new lads to our ways.”
“With pleasure, Mum, with pleasure!”
Thomas Gilley was my rock. He had been with me from the beginning. For nearly two years we had crisscrossed the vast and perilous oceans together. For the past year we had sailed under Dowlin’s cruel shadow.
“And our course, Mum?”
“The new lads will tell you - gladly now I should think - what our new heading is to be.”
And by that of course I meant that Dowlin’s men would tell us where Dowlin’s gold was stashed away, or pay the awful price for their silence.
As my men went about their labors, securing the heavy guns and making repairs to shattered planks, to torn lines and sail, I went below to my great cabin, content with a good day’s work. Dowlin had thoughtlessly, and without good purpose, brutalized any who had crossed his path. Men, women, children, he cared not. Yes, Dowlin was a wretched, stinking pig who often killed for sport. I had done mankind a favor by dispatching him. But in my world, Dowlin had also been a lord and master, a prince. His death I knew could not be cheaply bought.
“An inspiring performance, Mum!” a voice called out, startling me as I stepped into my great cabin. The voice popped out from behind the door, closed it quickly and slid the bolt back inside the socket.
I would not give the intruder the satisfaction of knowing that he had, for once, caught me unawares. “I’m glad you were amused,” I told him flatly.
He slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me close against him. “Do you,” he asked with a smile, “despise all men?”
“All but one or two,” I replied and kissed him lightly on the lips. Then I reached down between his legs and grabbed him by his privates. He was already stiff and eager. I couldn’t help myself and moaned with anticipation.
“Only one or two?” he inquired. “Dare I ask who?”
“Ah, you are safe for now my dearest,” I answered, batting my eyes flirtatiously. “Well, at least for a night or two. You have skills, remarkable skills worth keeping.”
“Aye, it was a splendid day indeed. I’ve always been exceptionally good at fighting, equally talented with sword, knife, a musket or explosives. I suppose one could say I was born to it.”
“You are a great warrior, James Hunter,” I replied honestly and squeezed him even harder. “But those are not the skills that interest me tonight. I dare say you have other skills that I’ve taken quite a fancy to, skills I wish to test.”
“Ah, now, that is why I’m here my lady,” Hunter replied and flashed his brilliant smile for me. “Not too tired from all that killing?”
“Shut up and take me you fool. Ravish me - I am hot for your wicked touch…”
Hunter obliged me gladly, with all he had to give.
I stood on the poop deck next to MacGyver, Michael MacGyver, my best man at the helm, watching the morning sun, dressed in brilliant red, rise majestically above the sea’s shimmering green waters. A good, flowing wind filled our sails and the ship was cruising along nicely. We had Dowlin’s magnificent ship in tow and I could hear my men with their saws and hammers working to repair her shattered rudder. It was a glorious morning. It was a hallelujah morning.
“Good day, Mum,” Hunter said with a mischievous grin as he made his way up the companionway and handed me a mug of steaming, black coffee. “Sleep well my lady?”
“I did indeed, Master Hunter, I did indeed. And you?”
“I have no complaints. I feel most refreshed.”
From the corner of my eye, I could see MacGyver crack a thin smile. A ship is a small place, too small for secrets. The whole crew knew that Hunter and I were lovers.
I savored the coffee’s rich aroma for a bit before I took a sip. “What course, MacGyver? Did old Gilley even give you one before he retired to his hammock or are you sailing aimlessly about on the open sea to only God knows where?”
“We sail for the Na Sailtí, my lady.”
“Ahhh, the Saltee Islands,” I said. “I thought as much.”
No one had ever accused Dowlin of being clever. The Saltee Islands, lying just off Kilmore Quay between Waterford and Wexford, was an obvious choice. The islands were remote and uninhabited and not far from Dowlin’s base at Youghal. Still, without a map or guide, one could roam those small islands for years and not find any buried treasure.
Hunter grabbed my mug of coffee from my hand and took a sip. “Dowlin’s brothers,” he said soberly, staring absently out at the horizon, “ghastly brutes the pair of them, will want revenge when they hear of what we’ve done, Mary. Righteous or not, the gods always exact a price for a killing.”
Only Hunter and Gilley ever addressed me by my given name. Mary had been my mother’s name. But I did not know her. She had died when I was very young. They say she had been a rare beauty. They say that before my father took her in and married her, she had been a whore.
“No doubt,” I said evenly, stealing a secret moment to admire Hunter’s exquisite face in the soft, morning light.
He had not yet shaved. He wore no hat and had neglected braiding his long, black hair into a queue. The breezes toyed with the loose strands, brushing them across his face. His eyes were striking blue. His chin was square and strong. I thought him the most handsome man in all of Ireland, perhaps in all of Christendom.
Hunter used his fingers to comb the tangled mess off his forehead. He turned to face me and gave me a puzzled look.
“Out with it, Hunter,” I demanded.
“I’d rather see it comin’ than get it in the back. That’s all, my lady.”
“I agree,” MacGyver chimed in, “with Hunter.”
“You agree with Hunter do you now?” I asked mockingly as I placed my hands on my hips. “As if I give a damn what you two agree on! Do I smell a mutiny brewing aboard my ship?”
Hunter and MacGyver exchanged knowing glances and chuckled. As every man in my crew knew, any one of them could speak his mind freely and without fear. Honest speech was protected by one of the Ten Rules, though precisely which one I doubt any of us knew.
Then Gilley, climbing up the ladder from the main deck, stepped onto the quarter deck carrying a basket of bread from the ship’s galley. The bread was freshly baked, still warm and smelled delicious.
“Mutiny is it?” Gilley asked while handing out his loaves. “Never trusted the likes of these two, Mum. Be happy to gut them both for you after they finish their breakfast. I’ll hang their worthless carcasses off the main yardarm to rot. Let them serve as a warnin’ to all other would be mutineers.”
“Hunter,” I said, “is worried about Dowlin’s brothers.”
“Ah, and well he should be, Mum,” replied Gilley with a serious nod. “Well he should be. Them two aren’t no better than Dowlin. Worse maybe. An ill-tempered litter sprung from the angry womb of an ill-tempered bitch.”
“Aye,” I agreed. “So gentlemen, we must be the first to strike. And when we strike we must do so with deadly purpose.”
I stopped along the narrow path for a moment to catch my breath after the long and strenuous climb. I could see my ship peacefully riding anchor in the cove below. Phantom was a five hundred ton, French-built nao, ships renowned for their strength and speed. She was both square and lateen-rigged and carried eighteen great guns cast from solid bronze - a mix of falconets and sakers mounted on rolling carriages stood neatly against her bulwarks like soldiers on parade. And fixed to iron pedestals mounted along her rails were another thirty swivels for close-quarter fighting. Sitting next to Phantom was Dowlin’s larger ship, a fine, Dutch-built man-o-war displacing six hundred tons or better, not as swift as a nao but she was well-armed and built for rugged war. The sight of the stubby noses of her guns protruding through the open gunports - a mix of periers, sakers and falconets, twenty-four great guns in all - sent a tingle up my spine. She too carried a goodly number of swivels. What a handsome sight both ships made together!
The man-o-war had been Dowlin’s flagship. Now Dowlin’s flagship was my flagship. Under Dowlin, men knew her as Medusa’s Head. And just to make certain that any who laid eyes on her knew exactly what ship she was, a hideous replica of the witch’s head, with deadly snakes for hair and sharp fangs for teeth, adorned her high prow. No sailor roaming across the open sea could ever gaze upon that carved monstrosity without freezing in their tracks. As I resumed my climb up the cliff, I decided I would rechristen Dowlin’s ship. I would rename her Falling Star after the shooting star I had seen streaking outside my father’s butcher’s shop at the very moment my father’s assailants had pried my legs apart and deflowered me. And then I’d pitch the witch’s grotesque likeness into the sea.
After we reached the summit of the cliff the land flattened out before us and we could see the Irish Sea in all directions for miles. Visibility was excellent. There was not a single sail in sight.
The island was little more than a desolate pile of rock and sand covered over in wild grass and patches of scrub brush. The only inhabitants we saw were small lizards scurrying about and seabirds, birds of many kinds and colors. Countless numbers of birds squawked and chirped at each other all across the island.
Armed with shovels and pick-axes, my new recruits led the way under a bright and sizzling sun. They were clearly fidgety and reluctant to press on, fearing I suppose that they were marching to their own graves. I gave them no reason to think otherwise. We marched in single file towards the southern tip of the island until we came upon a cluster of boulders surrounded by a thicket of scraggly thorn bushes.
“This is the place?” I asked the lead man after he stopped and surveyed the area around us. I addressed this man first because I had seen the deference the others had given him. He had also been the first to tell Gilley where we could find Dowlin’s treasure.
He hesitated before answering me. I gave him a hard look and then took a moment to consider his men. “Did you, or did you not all swear your allegiance to me?”
“We did, Mum,” the lead man answered.
“What is your name?” I asked.
“Flannigan, Mum, Joseph Flannigan from Kinsale in County Cork.”
“Well, Master Joseph Flannigan from Kinsale in County Cork, I did not come all this way, I did not go to all this trouble, just so I could kill you. I don’t need to kill you. And besides, I don’t murder unarmed men.”
Flannigan lowered his head. “Beg pardon, Mum, but Dowlin was unarmed.”
“Ah, a fair point you make there Master Flannigan,” I said. “Touché. But you are mistaken. I didn’t murder Dowlin. I executed him.”
I turned to address Flannigan’s men. “I know Master Gilley explained things to you the other night and explained them to you clearly. Killing or harming innocent or helpless men, women or children is strictly forbidden. It is a violation of our Ten Rules. Now it is hot and this island is no paradise. Let us to business shall we? You can help me recover Dowlin’s plunder - and take your rightful share - or I can leave you all here to live on birds’ eggs until some fishing trawler happens upon you. But I will not kill you.”
Flannigan shook his head. “Even if what you say is true Lady Mary, we are still all dead men. Dowlin has two brothers, the Twins. They know us and they will find us and kill us all for helping you.”
Hunter took a step towards Flannigan and rested his hand on Flannigan’s shoulder. “Lad, you and your mates are most likely dead men already even if you don’t help us. Once you reach home, Dowlin’s brothers will find and kill you all just because you didn’t die with Dowlin.”
Flannigan’s men exchanged looks all around. Heads started bobbing up and down.
Flannigan clenched his teeth; he stared at me with eyes as cold as stone. “We won’t be the only game the Twins will want to feast on, Madam.”
I answered Flannigan with a bold and cocky smile. “Aye, the Twins, the Devil’s own offspring to be sure and far more dangerous than Dowlin ever thought to be. They’re more dangerous because they’re smart. The Twins and Dowlin were only half-brothers I hear, same she-bitch mother but begotten from different seed.”
“You know them then?” asked Flannigan.
“Not well. I saw them once tie a man down and slowly skin him alive. The poor devil’s only crime was to prudently pitch some Dowlin cargo overboard during a treacherous gale to save his ship and crew from foundering.”
Flannigan nodded. “Aye, I’ve seen some of their grizzly work up close.” Then he baited me. “One brother is a big, ugly bastard, strong as an ox. The other is a bit prettier, but just as big and no less strong.”
“Ah, Master Flannigan, you wish to test me? I respect that. No, the Twins are nearly exact copies of each other. One is challenged to tell them apart even close-up. They’re both huge, a head taller than any man I’ve ever laid eyes on. But one brother is a half hand taller than the other and as for appearances, well, not my taste, but they are hardly ugly.”
“Apologies, Mum. Right you are. I fear your man Hunter here is right too. The Twins will come looking for us even if we refuse to help you. What then?”
“You let me worry about that. First things first. Now, shall we dig?”
Flannigan pointed to a pitted, reddish brown rock in the middle of patch of wild flowers that seemed somehow out of place. The rock, I soon realized, was not indigenous to the island. I grabbed a shovel from Flannigan’s hand and started scooping out the first shovelfuls of dirt and sand myself.
About the Author
Mark McMillin is a general counsel for a company in the aviation industry. His home is in the Atlanta, GA area.
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Date Published: October 2015
Bess's mother moves them to Pineview, away from her best friend Megan, and she terribly misses her. Six months earlier, Bess’s father died in a car crash, and she’s also in the midst of recovering from the final stages of polio. She's in a sad and lonely place.
From the moment she and her mother settle into their new home, Bess hears whispering voices and encounters a ghostly figure in the well-kept garden and in her dreams. She can’t make sense of everything and so shares her observations with Megan by writing her regular letters.
During the summer, she makes new friends, including an orange and white tomcat that she names Pumpkin, and her new neighbour Josie. With the help of Mrs. O’Toole, the woman who watches her, Bess continues to recover, both physically and emotionally. She becomes more and more curious about the garden and the unexplained clues that she finds there.
EXCERPT
Excerpt from Chapter 3 where Bess meets her neighbor Josie:
A half hour later Mrs. O'Toole a hug, before heading outdoors with the small picnic basket. She peekid inside, surprised by how full it was. "Why so much?" Bess asked.
"Your're always hungry, and you didn't eat any breakfast."
"Kitty always likes pieces of bologna," Bess aid.
About the Author
When M.E. Hembroff retired she started to pursue her dream of writing her book. It wasn't until she retired to a small scenic town that she followed through with self-publishing her book.
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About the Series: Title: The Pirates Cycle Series Author: Chris Gerrib Publisher: Cincinnatus Press Genre: Science Fiction When eighteen-year-old Janet Pilgrim’s boyfriend was killed in a training accident at the space academy, she thought she was going to be thrown out. Instead, she soon found herself shipping out as a junior astronaut on the forty-year old spacecraft Windy City bound for Mars. But freighters and passenger ships aren’t the only craft plying the spaceways. When the Windy City is attacked by pirates on the way to Mars, Janet finds herself in more danger than she could ever have imagined. The Pirates Cycle series is available at Amazon.
About the Author
Chris Gerrib admits to being a bit obsessed with Mars, but in a healthy way. Chris still has a day job as the IT director at a Chicago-area bank, and holds degrees in history and business from the University of Illinois and Southern Illinois University. He also served in the US Navy during the First Gulf War, and can proudly report that not one Iraqi MiG bombed Jacksonville, Florida while he was in the service. In his copious free time, Chris is a past President of and currently active in his local Rotary club. His three-novel series set on Mars, The Pirate Cycle, is being reissued by Cincinnatus Press. You can visit Chris Gerrib’s website at http://privatemarsrocket.net/.
Book Excerpt:
A very solid clunk on the outer bulkhead awoke me from my after-watch nap. This was immediately followed by the general alarm. The ship’s Voice was reporting all sorts of problems, and as I rolled out of my rack the lights flickered off, and a second later about half of them came on again. As I listened to the Voice, I heard three alarms, any one of which was serious. First I heard a “loss of communication” alarm, then a “ reactor coolant leak #2 radiator” and finally a loss of pressure alarm for the #3 greenhouse. The reactor coolant leak scared me the most. Our reactor was a pebble-bed unit, so it couldn’t melt. But if it got too hot, it would automatically shut down. No reactor meant no propulsion which meant we’d sail past Mars and out of the Solar System. Some uncounted tens of thousands of years later some unknown alien would find our bones. Maybe. I jumped into a pair of coveralls and raced to the greenhouse. Everything seemed to be in slow motion, but it was really only a few seconds before I was at the pressure door to the greenhouse. As I looked in through the observation port, still struggling though sleep and shock, I couldn’t understand at first what I was seeing. Maybe I didn’t want to understand. Practically all the plants had been sucked out of the compartment, and what few remained had been sucked clean of leaves. A couple of the water sprays were running, and the water coming out was boiling and freezing at the same time. I looked shipdown towards the outer hull. Something had cut a gouge almost the entire length of the compartment, slicing through the twin hulls like a hot knife through butter. There were scorch marks along the edges of the gash, which must have immediately vented the compartment to space. A flash of red caught my eye. I blinked and saw Kate, drifting lifelessly against the far bulkhead. I stared at her in disbelief. There was a red streak of blood down her face from her nose, and her hair was matted with blood, whether from her ears or a skull wound I couldn’t tell. There was nothing I could do. I only hoped that she had passed out quickly from the loss of pressure. I pounded on the hatch for a minute, out of frustration more then anything else. “Kate, where are you?” Alex said, his voice booming out of the announcing system. I picked up the nearest ship’s phone and dialed the pilothouse. Ken answered. “Kate was trapped in #3 greenhouse. The aft bulkhead and hatch holding.” It took me a minute to notice that there was no answer. “Ken, status?” “You’d better get up to the pilothouse fast, Janet.”
Chris Gerrib is giving away one complete paperback set of The Pirates Cycle (3 books) and two complete ebook sets!
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Romantic Suspense
Date Published: June 2016
Who is Dorothy Lyle?
She’s a woman who appears super-normal at first glance. She resides in a modest house in a small Irish town, and commutes to a typical office. She’s a lone parent who misses her children now that they are at college. Yet Dorothy is so much more than the obvious. She is a powerful psychic who has been masquerading as normal for twenty years. She is also a woman who has been avoiding men since a nasty breakup and divorce left her reeling in shock while still in her twenties.
The winds of change begin to blow around Dorothy as she approaches her fortieth birthday. An unfortunate affair of the heart means that her daughter, Diane, has distanced herself from her former home and doting mother. Dorothy wonders if some extra cash might alleviate the immediate problem.
Enter the lottery and one hundred and eight-five million tax free dollars.
How easy do you think it is to hide your true self when you unexpectedly become the fortieth richest woman in your own small country? How feasible do you think it is to avoid all dating and romantic involvements when you are single, and literally rolling in cash? How practical do you think it is to stay safe when so many of those around you seem to resent your good fortune?
This box set contains the following three books:
DOROTHY LYLE IN AVARICE – BOOK 1. Join Dorothy on the first leg of her rollercoaster journey as she discovers what an emotionally charged and complicated experience dealing with unexpected wealth can be. Clairvoyance may in handy on occasion, but it doesn’t help you decide who gets what!
DOROTHY LYLE IN COLOUR – BOOK 2. Relax with Dorothy as she begins to truly enjoy her wealth and changes in fortune. Only for her new-found pleasure to be jeopardised by a tarot card reading of all things! Once again, change is afoot, although this time it’s of a sinister nature.
DOROTHY LYLE IN HELP – BOOK 3. Watch what happens when Dorothy concedes that she cannot protect herself alone, and sets out to hire professional help. Ever wondered what it would be like to come face to face with your other half? The half you weren’t fully aware was even missing. And if he happened to be in a bad mood at that momentous moment, do you think it might colour your judgement? Read on, folks, and find out the answers to these questions and about a hundred more.
MIRACLES AND MILLIONS: TWO MINDS, TWO BODIES, TWO HEARTS, ONE SOUL
EXCERPT
Even though Glenda’s bedroom was on the lower level of the Falcon apartment, the bloodcurdling scream from the twelfth floor was so loud, it instantly woke her. Fearful that the Sick Puppy had invaded the apartment, she sat bolt upright and switched on her bedside lamp.
Thinking only of Dorothy and with scant regard for her own safety, she leaped out of bed and rammed her feet into a pair of furry pink slippers. She glanced around for something to use as a weapon, but the only thing she spotted was a curling tongs. She grabbed it and bolted for the door.
There was a security light glowing in the hallway when she emerged from her room. All appeared well on this floor and was deathly quiet. Glenda sprinted up the stairs in a way she had not done since she was fifty and paused at the top, listening for intruders. Silence reigned. Terrified of what she was walking into, she made her way to Dorothy’s bedroom, her feet padding softly on the hardwood floors as she went. She made sure the hall light was fully on, then tapped on the door. Receiving no reply, she pushed it open, her pulse beating so rapidly she was sure she was going to have a heart attack.
In the half-light from the hallway, Glenda saw Dorothy sitting upright in bed. Her face was flushed, and sweat was trickling down her forehead. She was silent and her eyes stared sightlessly at the housekeeper. Willing herself to remain calm, Glenda put down the curling tongs and slowly approached her boss, not knowing if she was awake or asleep.
She turned on the bedside light and dimmed it to a soft glow. She doublet checked to ensure there was nobody else in the room then scampered into the en-suite. She ran a washcloth under the cold tap, picked up a second one from the clean supply and trotted back to the bedroom. Dorothy had not moved a muscle in her absence. Using the damp cloth, Glenda gently wiped away the rivulets of perspiration, then dried her employer’s face with the spare cloth.
‘Everything’s okay now, Boss,’ she said softly, as she wiped. ‘It was only a bad dream.’
‘He’s in trouble, Glen,’ Dorothy sounded calm as she replied. ‘They’re trying to kill him.’
‘No, no, Boss,’ the housekeeper did her best not to burst into tears. ‘You’re the one who’s in danger. Don’t worry, we’re not going to let anything happen to you. Why don’t you lie down now?’
Dorothy obediently lay back on her pillows. Her eyes were wide open and her pupils fully dilated. Glenda was not sure if the other woman even knew she was in the room with her.
‘I’m going to sit here until you fall asleep,’ the housekeeper said reassuringly. ‘Close your eyes, Boss. You need your rest. We have a big weekend ahead of us.’
The words sounded totally inane to her ears, although they seemed to do the trick. Dorothy moved her hand until it rested on her heart then slowly closed her eyes.
‘So much blood,’ she murmured. ‘I think he got away this time, but it was a narrow escape.’
‘I’m sure he’s fine,’ Glenda replied helplessly. ‘Try not to think about blood. Think about the lovely new house. Is it true you’re getting a waterbed?’
‘A waterbed,’ Dorothy sighed dreamily. ‘Big enough for a basketball team. Wait until you see it, Glen.’
‘I can’t wait,’ the housekeeper replied truthfully. ‘Bel mentioned a rotisserie, although I expect she was teasing me. She’s naughty like that.’
‘You’re going to love that too,’ Dorothy whispered sleepily. ‘Goodnight, Glen. Sleep well.’
‘Goodnight, Boss,’ the housekeeper replied, as she dashed away a tear.
Dorothy’s breathing changed and Glenda knew she was asleep. There was a wing-backed chair in the corner of the room. She dragged it closer to the bed and made herself comfortable.
‘I’ll sit here for twenty minutes in case you have another dream,’ she told the sleeping form. Dorothy was blissfully unaware of the worry she was causing the other woman and slept on. This time she dreamed of flying.
About the Author
Ella Carmichael was born in Ireland in the 1960's, but only toyed with writing when she was young. Toyed might be too kind. She goofed about with a pen and paper when she was a child and teenager, but never wrote anything longer than a silly poem. She says, "You really have to fight for your dreams in this life, and I didn't fight for mine. The thought of doing so never even crossed my mind back then."
From the age of 20 she worked in offices, and often used to ask herself if there might be more to life than the daily grind. This is one of the few things that she has in common with Dorothy Lyle, the main character of her series, The Miracles and Millions Saga. Dorothy is cheesed off with the 9-5 life and hopes for more. Little does she realize what's around the corner. Be careful what you wish for!
Ella got the idea for M&M back in 2010. There was lottery fever all over Europe that autumn, yet at the same time there were photographs appearing in the papers that showed hundreds of individuals standing in line for free lunches at the Bow Street mission house in Dublin. It was hard for her to make sense of it all, yet somehow she knew it was important.
She was in a very bad place in her life in 2010, after ending a relationship with a most unsuitable man. Figuring that she had little to lose, she began to write as a form of therapy. Carmicheal tends to be a dabbler by nature, yet when it came to writing she found she was as focused as one of those drones we hear so much about. It took more than thirty years to do it, but she became a writer in the end. Ella hopes any budding authors who are reading this will draw inspiration from that. It's never to late to give it your best shot.
Once the die was cast, characters literally began to materialize in front of her. The strongest back then was Dorothy, although it certainly didn't stop with her. The Maddox character appeared over her bed one morning in a cloud of dry white ice. In the earlier drafts, Jack was very much the iceman, but Ella decided to soften him up and make him fall madly in love. Just because. It progressed from there. More and more characters began to show up and soon she had a series on her hands instead of just one book.
Publishers and agents aren't interested in a series unless the writer follows a number of very strict criteria. Carmichael has broken those rules. Her books are best read in order. The story progresses in each one, and spans the two year period between January 2011 and December 2012.
Once she understood that no publisher would touch her, she decided to go it alone. She felt she was too old to sit around and wait for a letter that will never drop onto the doormat. She signed up with KDP and uploaded every completed manuscript. At the time of writing this bio she has not yet uploaded Book 10. She is struggling to let it go...
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We're happy to be hosting Dana K. Ray's A SECOND CHANCE Book Blast today! Enter to win $10 Amazon Gift Card below!
About the Book:
Title: A Second Chance
Author: Dana K. Ray Publisher: eLectio Publishing Pages: 352 Genre: YA/New Adult/Inspirational
A past she can’t forget…
Raven will do just about anything to forget a horrific event from the past that still haunts her. Forced to attend church because of a promise she made at a party, she is immediately attracted to the young, handsome preacher but is unconvinced of his promises of a better life.
A future he refuses to accept…
Matthew has everything planned out until Raven walks into his church and turns his life upside down. Repulsed by her lifestyle, yet fascinated by her beauty and charm, he finds himself drawn to her by a force he can’t explain.
Raven and Mathew’s unlikely friendship leads them through escalating troubled waters that threaten to doom their growing relationship. Will they survive to learn valuable lessons of grace, forgiveness and love?
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Book Excerpt:
Raven staggered into her bedroom and fell on the bed. Darkness pressed into her on every side. A shard of light sliced through the room. She tried to focus on the ceiling, but the room spun around her. She slid to the edge of the bed until one foot lay flat on the floor. It was supposed to stop the spinning. It didn’t.
Oh, God. If You keep me from puking, I swear, I’ll never drink again.
It was an empty promise, as deceiving as the alcohol. The numbness was too short. All too quickly, she’d end up in the same position, praying the same stupid prayer, talking to a God she didn’t know.
Teresa appeared. Raven smiled and reached out to her best friend. Teresa came closer. Her face was white and her lips were blue. Raven’s smile faded as terror filled her.
“I’m sorry,” Raven whispered and blinked away the tears, then gave her head a gentle shake to rid herself of the ghost. Wrong move. Teresa vanished like a vapor, but her stomach churned in protest. She looked back at the ceiling, pushed the thoughts of Teresa out of her mind, and focused on not puking.
Teresa was back with a vengeance, haunting her this time, calling to her...
“Raven.”
Raven rolled on her side and pulled the pillow over her head to muffle the girl’s voice. The shrink said the memories would fade. They didn’t.
“Raven.”
Startled, she sat up and tried to focus on something. Her heart pounded as hard as her head did. She must’ve been dreaming.
“Raven.” There was pounding. “Get the door,” her sister yelled.
Raven turned. Hailey stood in the doorway of her room. Is it morning? Did I sleep? Am I still buzzed or hung over? She sat motionless for a moment. Her head throbbed. Cotton mouth. I’m hung over.
“The door?” Raven asked, but Hailey had already disappeared.
Raven crawled across the bed, peeked out the window, and looked down at the front porch. Travis, the preacher boy, pounded on the door again.
“I’ll kill him.” The doorbell shrilled through the house, intensifying the pounding in her head.
About the Author
Dana K. Ray has been writing gutsy, true to life stories since she became a teenager. She and her husband reside in the Midwest with their four children and four dogs. She loves writing, mochas and Oreo’s. A Second Chance is her first published novel. Absolution, the first in the Luciano Series, is scheduled to be published in July, 2017. Dana loves to connect with her readers and other aspiring authors at www.danakray.com.
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Urban Fantasy
Date Published: July 5, 2016
Book #3 of the Siren Song series:
When the smoke clears, who will be left standing?
Tattoo artist June Coffin has another, more hidden talent: she’s a Siren who can influence people with the sound of her voice. But in the wake of a murder and shake-up at the Institute of Supernatural Research, her own powers are starting to kill her. The only chance she has of saving herself—as well as her kidnapped brother and best friend—is to become a vampire. But joining the ranks of the vengeful vamp, Occam Reed, is the last thing June wants to do.
Occam isn’t the only danger June needs to worry about. Power hungry telepath Robbie Beecher will stop at nothing to gain control over Chicago. He’ll destroy anyone who gets in his way—and June’s lover, Sam, is high on the hit list since his bid for Mayor. With the city and June’s heart being pulled in different directions, it’s only a matter of time before the powder keg explodes…and time isn’t something June has much of left. With a city on fire, can she rise from its ashes?
EXCERPT
The things on the vanity were meant for guests: lotion, shampoo, soap, cologne. A hairbrush, wrapped in plastic. She picked it up and peeled the plastic off.
Her face was so gaunt, her lips dark, her eyes burning green as always, though oddly, once again, not with as much intensity as before. She started idly brushing her hair. The brush was a good salon-quality one; it deserved some use. Sam was unlikely to have guests again anytime soon. Except for one guest, and he arrived shortly. A shadow moved outside the doors. Momentarily, the shadow materialized into something more solid, stepping into the light. Occam was no vision of the classic romantic vampire. He wore jeans, battered sneakers, and a ratty stained T-shirt. He leaned casually against one of the doors, hip jutted out. She paused brushing, and then resumed. He gazed at her, silent; finally, he stepped away from the doors and walked across the room toward her. She placed the brush on the vanity and watched him in the mirror. He stopped behind her and bent down so his face was next to hers. His gray, pale eyes reminded her of Robbie’s, though somehow more sinister. He gently smoothed her hair over her opposite shoulder, baring her neck. He didn’t smell as repulsive as he usually did. Maybe he’d taken a shower for the occasion. “You don’t have to invite me in,” he said. “That’s just a fairy tale.” “Yet you waited.” He continued stroking her hair. His touch made the back of her neck prickle. “You’ve been a busy man lately,” she said. “I’m surprised you have the time to watch me.” “I didn’t kill them all. I am but one drone in the hive.” “You were the one burning out their eyes. You still have the light.” He chuckled softly, a flash of fangs peeking out between his cracked lips. “At least Sam knows it’s being put to good use.” She tilted her head as his fingers dragged through her hair, pulling it. “I want to ask you something,” she said. He made a soft sound of assent. His closeness was terrifyingly intimate. “Can you get me and Sam inside the Institute?” “Where Robbie is.” “Yes.” She blinked at their reflection. “Can you get us in there? Get us to him?” “He’ll kill Sam.” “Maybe. But can you at least get us in there?” His eyes glittered. “I can.” He ceased stroking her hair and rested his hand on her shoulder. “We’ve been monitoring his ridiculous antics. He thinks he’s so clever.” “If he goes through with what he’s planning, his followers will destroy this city.” “What a pity.” Occam stroked his fingertip up the side of her neck along her jugular. She pulled away and turned on the stool. “I need to ask two things of you.” He stood upright and stepped back. He opened his hands. “Ask.” “I want you to get us inside the Institute.” He gripped her chin, tilting her face up. “And the other?” “I want Jason and Diego returned to me. Safely.” She stared up at him. He rubbed her chin with his thumb. “And what do I get in return?” She gripped his wrist. He stilled his rubbing. She took his hand, opened his fingers, and pressed her lips to his palm. His skin was rough, and he smelled like something raw and visceral, like—blood? “Everything you want,” she whispered.
About the Author
Megan Morgan is an award winning urban fantasy, paranormal romance, and erotica author from Cleveland, Ohio. RWA member, bartender by day, and purveyor of things that go bump in the night, she’s trying to turn writing into her day job so she can be on the other side of the bar for a change. Hailing from the often-wintry shores of Lake Erie, she lives with an attention-seeking cat and her adult son, both of which shed too much.
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Dracones Revelations by Sheri-Lynn Marean
Dracones Series; Book 2
232 Pages
Proposed Publish Date: June 21, 2016
Published by: Sheri-Lynn Marean
Blurb:
At the young age of only seven, the Ilyium swept through Samarias’s village in a brutal massacre. Sami, his brother, his best friend, and her father fled their world for Earth, making a new home in Washington State. At nine, Sami’s father arrived and yanked his boys away from the security of their new home. At ten, they returned—broken, and silent.
Now at twenty-one, Sami continues to hide the secrets of the past, pretending everything is fine. But it’s all a lie. With his dragon powers awakening, Sami longs for freedom from the pain and guilt, along with a soul mate of his own.
When Sami recently infiltrated an enemy compound and witnessed the Ilyium send a woman to a fiery death, it hit him hard, but he can no longer pretend anymore.
Everything is not as it seems. After learning the woman is alive, and somehow connected to Sami, his world is turned upside down. Confused, angry, and with his emotions unraveling, Sami loses control. When he is called on to fly to Calgary to rescue someone else in trouble, strange things happen, and now he comes face to face with the demons of his past. Sami has some brutal decisions to make, possibly sacrificing what he desires most in order to do the right thing.
Dracones Revelations is the second book in the Dracones series for readers age 17+.
If you are a fan of dark, steamy paranormal romance, get Sami’s story today and be swept into the world of Dragons, Phoenix shifters, Night and Day Walkers, Magic, sensual heat and the revelations of Sami’s past.
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Excerpt:
Chapter One
It was not possible. Fate was far too much of a bitch to allow it to be true. Besides, he saw her die a fiery death. She couldn’t possibly still be alive, could she?
With his heart pounding and emotions in turmoil, Sami walked into his room and closed the door, the dark anguish within threatening to overwhelm him. All consuming, his feelings born of guilt, shame, and helplessness had been growing steadily worse the last few months. Since he was ten, he’d kept his feelings locked tightly away, not letting any of his family know what was inside of him, but lately it had become unbearable.
Nothing in his life ever worked to his advantage, so why should this be any different? His desire to believe Brimstone warred with the knowledge that he couldn’t be so lucky. And yet, Brimstone was her twin. A Phoenix, as he’d just shown them all amid a swirl of flames. So yes, it was possible. She could still be alive. Sami didn’t know how to deal with the emotions that thought left him.
Sami had dreamed of the woman for weeks until one devastating day, one week after his twenty-first birthday. It was a moment in time he’d never forget. It was the day their enemy, the Ilyium—a clandestine group of mortal druid hunters who hate all supernatural beings, tossed her like a pile of annoying garbage into a fiery pit of flames. He had tried to get to her in time but as his dream-vision had foretold, he’d been unable. The horror and guilt of that, added to everything else he kept hidden, left him in a deep funk struggling to find something to live for.
Now, fearing that it wouldn’t be true after all, he killed the tingle of hope trying to take hold inside him. He surveyed his wall of computers and running programs. The live video feed showed differing views of their property outside on the mountain. Their new allies, the Okami wolves were stealthy shadows in the forest as they guarded Sami’s home, going unnoticed unless you knew they were out there.
Grateful for the wolves and the protection they offered, he noted that nothing out of the ordinary seemed to be happening outside. At least not at the moment. However, with their enemies hunting them that could easily change.
Sami grimaced at his reflection in the mirror over his dresser. His green eyes were bloodshot and he looked like shit. Then again, it was no wonder since he hadn’t been sleeping lately. Running a hand through his messy blond hair, he sat down on the edge of his bed. Weary, he reached over and opened the drawer of his nightstand. The handle of his twelve-inch dagger beckoned him, while its deadly blade nestled in its leather sheath. Ignoring the dagger for a moment, he glanced at the bottle of pills. He found the blood thinners and package of large hypodermic needles a few days ago while rescuing his brother, Jax from the Ilyium.
Jax, only ten months older than Sami, had teetered on the verge of death once again. They’d found him hooked up to a machine used to drain and collect his blood. Disgusted and outraged, Sami had carefully removed the needle and tubing out of his brother’s arm, and dropped it all on the floor. A sense of déjà vu had swept over him as he wiped tears from his eyes. When Sami turned away and spotted the items on a cart, and without understanding what compelled him to do so, he quickly slid them into his pocket.
Now, the horror of everything they’d all been through the last week was catching up to him and filling him with despair. Twice in seven days, Jax had almost died. Well, the second time he did die, but thankfully Tierney was able to resurrect him. As far back as he could remember Jax was always trying to protect him and Tierney. Jax had taken the brunt of their father, Marcius’s abuse when he was only a boy of ten, almost dying then too. And it had been Sami’s fault that time. Sami shivered at the thought of how many times Jax had cheated death. This latest incident made it three times now that he had almost lost his brother. This shit needs to stop! I can’t take it anymore.
Memories swamped him, immediately followed by his old friend—guilt. In reaction, power that came from being an immortal with a dragon inside of him mixed with his dark anguish. It crawled through him. Feeling as if he was suffocating, Sami struggled to draw in a breath. Black spots formed before his eyes and pain… excruciating agony filled every inch of his body. No! A cry escaped his lips as an image popped into his mind. Not an image of his brother suffering, or the woman he recently saw die. No, neither of those. This was an image that he kept buried deep inside him. One he refused to look at. But now that image rose up, and he was helpless to stop it from taking over his mind. It was the image of a pretty, blond-haired, green-eyed little girl. No-no-no! Pain stabbed straight to his heart. Sami grabbed his dagger and yanked the sheath off, revealing a deadly sharp blade.
Sami detested what he was about to do but as his vision dimmed even more, the pain consumed him. He needed to act. With a deep breath, he drew the blade across his forearm, cutting deep. Blood welled up instantly bringing with it a cool soothing relief. I’m so sorry…
The apology was a whisper in his brain as all the bad emotions flowed away. Sami leaned back on his bed, feeling light and without a care. It was just an illusion. Two days ago, despairing over ever finding his brother, Sami accidentally discovered that cutting himself helped. He knew it wasn’t a fix or an end-all, and sooner or later, it might even stop working. But for the moment, it let him get a handle on things and keep functioning. If what he was doing could be called functioning.
As a Dracones, he’d always been able to feel his dragon deep within him. Sometime within his twenty-first year, he’d go through his Awakening and the thought made him shudder knowing how brutal the Awakening was on his kind. Not everyone survived the change. Only a week ago, before the Ilyium captured and tortured him, Jax went through his Awakening. Thankfully, his brother’s soul mate, Tierney was able to help him. The best way to survive the Awakening was with the help of another Dracones, or a Fallen but of course, the greatest assistance came from a soul mate. Once they emerged alive on the other side, they could then shift into their dragon whenever they wanted. Unfortunately, as Sami’s time drew closer, the power inside him grew as well and wanted out. With his power and the anguish both battling to be free, cutting himself was the only way he found to control it these days.
Sami closed his eyes. All he really wanted was for all this to go away. Unable to remember a time when these dark feelings hadn’t filled him, he used to think that when either he or Jax killed their father, the man responsible for so much of their anguish—that he’d feel better. Now, even though Marcius was finally dead, nothing had changed.
When he opened his eyes a few seconds later, Sami could feel everything seeping back in. He glanced at his already healed arm and his thoughts spiraled back to what really had him out of sorts. Could she really be alive? According to the man Sami rescued two days ago while looking for Jax, she was. Brimstone claimed she was. Try as he might to stop it, hope continued to bloom in his chest. The connection he’d felt to her in his dream had been so intense…
Standing, he made his way to the bathroom to wash the blood from his arm. After cleaning his knife, he secured it in its sheath on his hip, making sure the rest of his weapons were concealed as well. Back in his room, he grabbed his truck keys and wallet, patting his pocket for his cell, when Tierney’s voice filled his head.
‘Sami, the big bad wolf is going with you. Can you drop him off at Club Purgatori?’ She spoke to him telepathically.
Sami snorted at her humor. ‘I guess. I’m leaving now though.’
‘He’s already waiting at your truck with Bird Boy,’ Tierney said.
‘Oh-kay,’ he said.
‘Oh, and I know things have been insane, but we need to talk about what to get Thaniel for Christmas.’
Sami groaned. With all that had been going on lately, he hadn’t even given Christmas a second thought. ‘Yeah, okay…’ Shit!
Sami glanced out his window, looked down at where he’d parked his Chevy pickup, and chuckled. Bird Boy! What an appropriate name for the Phoenix. While freeing and rescuing a bunch of prisoners from the Ilyium, Sami had spotted Brimstone in one of the torture chambers. The guy was the spitting image of the woman Sami had watched being thrown into the fire mere days before. Sami freed him, wanting to question him but as they were making their escape from the mine, Brimstone quickly passed out from his injuries. So Sami just brought him home with them instead.
When he’d recovered enough to get around, Brimstone asked for a ride to Spokane claiming he needed to find his sisters, one of whom was his twin. They gently tried to tell him that his twin was dead but he just laughed, telling them that he and his siblings were Phoenix and to them, fire was re-birth.
They’d been stunned when he transformed into his Phoenix form right there in the living room. A pair of large, shiny black wings sprouted from his back, each feather a thin, black, razor sharp obsidian knife. His hands turned into lethal looking claws and grey eyes glowed while the rest of him, from what Sami could see, remained the same.
“I can fly, but I avoid it during the day—causes problems with the humans,” he told them with a bit of humor.
Sami struggled to take it all in, then deciding he needed to see the guy’s sister for himself, alive and well, had offered him a ride to the city.
Now, Sami hurried down the stairs nearly running into Genna, who was helping Caden into the great room. “What you in such a blasted hurry for?” Genna asked, glaring up at him.
Sami scanned the great room for Thaniel, the shy twenty-year old newly turned Were-leopard. “Sorry, I’m heading into the city.”
“Ohhh. You’re looking for the firecracker girly.” Genna grinned.
Fire cracker girly? Sami rolled his eyes and ignoring Genna, he glanced at Caden. The poor guy was healing human-slow. Sami didn’t envy him. “How ya doing?” he asked him. This was the first time he’d seen Caden since they’d brought him home two days ago.
“I’m okay, thanks.” Caden shrugged then winced and tried to hide it. Genna’s eyes flashed with exasperation.
“No, it’s obvious you’re not, idiot,” she muttered as she helped him over to sit on one of the couches. “Stay,” she commanded with a warning look. Caden took a deep breath but didn’t say anything as Genna headed into the kitchen.
Sami shook his head and began to turn away to go look for Thaniel, when Caden spoke. “Thanks for letting us stay here.”
Glancing back at him, Sami gave him a nod. “No problem.” I really hope it won’t be a problem...
Caden was the son of their enemy and while they weren’t very keen on him being here, Genna had helped them find Jax. All she asked in return was Tierney give them a safe place to stay. Of course, at the time they didn’t know Caden was the Master’s son. Although, it really wouldn’t have a made any difference, they had been desperate to find Jax.
Sami headed down the hall and hesitated before Zander’s door. A moment later, he eased the door open. Jax sat in a chair beside Zander’s bed, staring at the man who had raised him and Sami, loving and caring for them as a father should.
“Hey.” Sami stepped into the room and was startled to notice that Jax still looked a little rough from his time with the Ilyium, although his visible scars had miraculously healed. Why didn’t I notice that earlier? But then again, his mind had been on other things lately.
“You heading out then?” Jax asked, looking up at him.
Sami nodded, eyes widening at the mark on Jax’s neck. “Yeah…is that…?”
Realizing where his brother was looking, Jax nodded. “Yeah.”
The mark was a dragon eye rune that Jax had gotten when he bonded with Tierney.
“Cool,” Sami said then with a sigh, he looked towards the bed where Zander lay unmoving in his magical coma.
“I don’t get it, why isn’t he healed yet?” Jax asked, frowning at Zander.
Sami shook his head. “The healer says some kind of spell was done on him—”
“Fucking assholes, I’d love to tear them a new one,” Jax growled.
“They sure like to make us suffer.” Sami tried not to think of the condition they had found Zander and Jax in when they rescued them.
“Someone needs to make them suffer,” Jax muttered.
“Yeah…well, I’ll see ya later,” Sami said, heart heavy as he turned away. He walked out shutting the door softly behind him and headed down the hall to Thaniel’s room.
Pausing in the open doorway, he glanced over at the large bed, not surprised to see it perfectly made. Thaniel had yet to sleep in it. Sami’s gaze swept the room and found Thaniel sitting on the floor in human form in the corner. It was a spot chosen, whether consciously or subconsciously, so that no one could sneak up on him.
It was sad seeing him this way. In the first few days after Thaniel joined them, Sami and Tierney often found him there, alone and scared until Tierney asked if Thaniel would like to sleep in her room. Although still leery of everyone, Thaniel had nonetheless gone up and slept on the floor by Tierney’s bed. After they found Jax and brought him home, Tierney put him in her room while he recovered. Thaniel, who’d been sleeping on the floor beside the large bed, climbed up to sleep at the foot of the bed instead. None of them was sure if he just wanted to be closer to Jax and Tierney, and felt more comfortable about it, or if it was a protective instinct in him being a Were-leopard.
Sami had thought Thaniel was adjusting to his new home but maybe he was wrong. Fear shone bright in Thaniel’s eyes as he stared at Sami through his long pale-blond hair. Sami started into the room then stopped himself and rested a hand on the doorframe. His protective instincts were surging through him. The same instincts that Tierney and Jax spoke of when they first rescued Thaniel from the Were-wolf den in Spokane.
“Hey, ah…are you okay?” Sami asked, wondering what had set Thaniel off this time.
When they had found Thaniel curled into a ball on a nasty mattress, they thought he was a young girl of about twelve or fourteen, but quickly realized how wrong they were. Though terrified, filthy, and starved, Thaniel was actually a young man of twenty. They fed him, bought him some clothes, and took him to their apartment in the city to shower and clean up. They’d been shocked when he stepped into the kitchen where they waited.
Thaniel’s tangled, muddy-brown hair, once washed and brushed, was a waist long silky whitish-blond. It hung in his face partially hiding his perfect features. Still, his looks were ethereal with long eyelashes and slightly darker eyebrows over pale blue eyes. Although Thaniel looked young and innocent, once you gazed into his eyes, you saw pain, suffering, and fear.
“How ya doing?” Sami asked now, hating that Thaniel still didn’t trust them and was still afraid. A lifetime of abuse, fending for himself alone, and then captivity hadn’t taught him anything else.
Watching Thaniel’s shoulders lift in a faint shrug, Sami’s heart went out to him. Though only a year younger than him and Tierney, the poor guy had led a brutal, loveless life. As many problems as Sami had, he’d always be grateful for his family’s love and would never trade it for anything.
Now, the look in Thaniel’s eyes made him even more grateful and wishing he could somehow ease the guy’s fear. They tried to tell him that this was his home, for good if he wanted it, but Thaniel had no reason to trust them and found it hard to believe they could want him here. “So, I’m heading into the city…I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you,” Sami said.
Thaniel blinked in surprise then just as quickly, suspicion set in. Sami’s heart twisted with sadness but he pushed on. “In my room, I have monitors set up showing various angles of the property. Would you mind checking them once in awhile? You don’t have to do anything…” Sami waved his hand to give him a kind of whatever display.
At his words, Thaniel’s eyes grew wider and he perked up a bit then nodded showing he was willing to help. “Okay.”
Sami wanted to smile and cry at the same time that something so simple could make Thaniel happy. Well, maybe not happy but anyway, happier than he was. “You don’t have to stay up there. With the Okami wolves keeping an eye on things, we’re pretty protected but I’d just like you to go in and check every so often…if you don’t mind?” Sami said.
Thaniel nodded and climbed fluidly to his feet. In just seven days, he’d already put on some weight and muscled up. It was amazing what having food to eat will do, and his improving health was nice to see. He’d been skin and bones when they found him and had a hard time controlling his shift into his leopard. Then when they got him home, he’d been too shy to eat much or help himself. It wasn’t until Tierney told him that if he ate whenever he was hungry, he’d have an easier time controlling his Were-leopard. That seemed to help.
“Okay, well…if you see someone or something out of the ordinary, tell Tierney or Jax, okay?” Sami said. Thaniel nodded and Sami gave him a little smile. Sami only hoped the monitors wouldn’t intimidate him. They had introduced him to the different game consoles and showed him how to work the TV, but Thaniel didn’t seem interested. The only thing that seemed to interest him was books, so Sami gave him a couple of fantasy books to read. Thaniel had been thrilled and when he wasn’t sitting in his corner, he was reading. He had told them about his friend, Real, who had protected him out on the streets and taught him to read.
Once Sami reached his truck where Brimstone and Soroyan waited already inside, he climbed in. Brimstone turned to him with a grin. Wondering why, but not saying a word, Sami put the key in the ignition, started the truck and putting it in drive, started down the gravel driveway.
“So, that’s a sweet place you guys have there, tons of room,” the slender, dark haired Phoenix between Sami and Soroyan, the enforcer for the Okami wolves said. Soroyan was the big bad wolf that Sami needed to drop off at Club Purgatori.
“Ah, yeah…” Sami glanced in the rearview mirror at the massive log building that used to be a resort before they moved in fourteen years ago.
They drove in silence for a couple of minutes before Brimstone turned his silver eyes on Soroyan. “So, you smell like a wolf, but not like a Were…what are you?”
Sami almost choked at how blunt Brimstone was and glanced over to see Soroyan glowering at the guy. Sami didn’t think the big bad wolf would answer so he was surprised when Soroyan said, “No, not Werewolf. Okami wolf.”
“Okami, huh? Never heard of em.” Brimstone shrugged.
“Well, you do know Were’s, like Werewolves, are humans that have been bitten right?” Sami asked.
“Yeah, so?” It was obvious Brimstone didn’t understand where Sami was going with this, if he understood exactly what Weres were in the first place.
“Well, after they’re bitten, they can shift into wolf form but have no control during a full moon. The Okami are wolves that can take human form. They haven’t been bitten, but instead are born that way and just like you shift into a Phoenix, their shift is also instantaneous,” Sami explained.
“And we are not controlled by the moon,” Soroyan added gruffly.
“Huh…” Brimstone started to say something, but just simply nodded like it all made sense, then looked at Sami, “Well, I know you’re not human, and I don’t think you’re any kind of Were, so what are you?”
“Why do you think I’m not human?” Sami asked, in part out of curiosity and in part, to buy time as he decided how much he wanted to say.
“You don’t smell like a human or a Were so…”
Sami took his eyes off the road for a moment to glance at Brimstone who looked small sitting between him, and Soroyan’s six-foot-five bulkier frame. After spending years keeping their secret safe, Sami wasn’t sure what to tell the guy. Yeah, Brimstone trusted them with his secret, but Sami didn’t know how carefully he guarded that secret. “We’re immortals,” he finally said.
Brimstone looked at him skeptically. “That’s it, immortals?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion as if he didn’t believe him.
Turning back to the road, Sami nodded. He wasn’t about to tell Brimstone they were Dracones or where they come from.
“So why then were you so upset when you thought my sister was dead? I mean, other than the obvious of seeing someone thrown into a fire,” Brimstone asked wryly, making Sami shift uncomfortably in his seat.
“It’s complicated,” he said and heard Soroyan snort but the guy didn’t take his dark gaze from the passing scenery.
“Well, Hellfire is one of a kind…” Brimstone paused for a second before saying, “I know there’s something going on with you regarding my sister, but I gotta tell you man…Hellfire, she isn’t like normal women. She is extremely independent, and more likely to kick your ass as speak to you.”
“What’s with the names?” Sami asked, ignoring his comment.
Brimstone snorted. He directed his gaze back on the road in front of them for a moment. “Our parents wanted us to be mean.”
At Sami’s frown, he chuckled. “Really, it’s the truth. They waited till each child was a few months old before naming us. Seems to have worked too since I have two older siblings who are twenty-eight, twins as well and mean as sin. Then there’s Hellfire and me. We’re twenty-four. Trust me when I tell you, I’m the nicest of the four of us. Although our baby sister, who we call Nix, is twenty and the sweetest girl you could ever meet.”
“They’re usually the deadliest,” Soroyan commented, still staring out his window at the forest. Sami shot Soroyan a surprised glance. It was hard to tell if the guy was joking or not and right now, he looked like he’d rather be out in the forest instead of riding to the city.. “Where are your parents?” he asked then, glancing back at Brimstone.
“They died five years ago.”
“Oh, sorry man…”
“Yeah.” Brimstone didn’t say anymore.
“So, how’d you get caught anyway?” Sami asked, referring to finding Brimstone in the mine the Ilyium had used as a stronghold two days ago.
“Well, Nix and I went looking for a new place to live. We try not to stay in one place too long.” Brimstone paused, trying not to show how worried he was about his baby sister. “Nix was tired so I left her at our new digs and went back to the warehouse for our belongings. That’s where the Were-wolves ambushed me. They knocked me out with a tranq’ dart and delivered me to a crazy-ass fucking weirdo—Val Jean.”
“I’ve heard that name before,” Sami said with a frown, trying to remember where.
“Yeah, guy thinks he’s some kind of fucking King. He got really angry…said I wasn’t the Phoenix he wanted. He threatened the wolves then had me shipped off to the Ilyium, where you found me. That was about a week ago now,” Brimstone said.
Sami noted the furrow between Brimstone’s eyebrows and the sudden way he grew silent. Sami wondered if there was more Brimstone wasn’t telling them.
“Who do you think Val Jean really wanted?” Sami asked noticing that Soroyan was suddenly paying attention.
“Do you know where they took you, where this Val Jean is?” Soroyan interrupted.
“No, I have no idea,” Brimstone said and Sami caught the tinge of worry in his voice. “Anyway, I’ve been caught before only it hadn’t been so bloody hard to escape, but this time…well…I figured I was dead until you showed up. Thanks for that, by the way.”
“You’re welcome,” Sami said, pushing the memories away of what had happened in the mine the other day. “I’m glad your brother is okay too,” Brimstone said.
Sami nodded not saying anything else even as his thoughts went to the power Tierney had used, and how she had brought Jax back to life.
“Though that was some crazy-cool shit…and the magic you guys have…how’s Tierney’s dad doing anyway?” Brimstone asked. Sami knew he was still trying to figure out what Sami, Tierney, and Jax were.
“Zander? He’ll be okay—eventually. Unfortunately, the Ilyium did something that slowed his healing,” Sami said.
“Bastards,” Brimstone growled, and then sighed. “Don’t know what I’d do if something happened to Nix. She’s too innocent and trusting, and way too pretty for her own good making her a magnet for creeps.”
Although Sami worried over his brother and Tierney, at least he knew they were both tough as nails. “That’s gotta be scary.”
“Yeah, it is, she’s the perfect target for assholes. Lord knows, the rest of us have kicked a few shit-heads just for looking at her wrong.” Brimstone swallowed hard. “God, if the wolves have gotten a hold of her…she’s the heart of our family, all that holds us together most of the time.”
Sami nodded, hoping nothing bad had happened to the girl. “That’s Tierney. She holds all of us together too.”
Brimstone nodded but didn’t say anything more.
What others are saying…
Sheri-Lynn Marean did it again! She captured my attention within the first few pages, leaving me feeling satisfied about reading her latest addition and craving more. This author is different from most when it comes to her series. I find others are very repetitive in their writings,constant use of same words or sentences, no real individuality for each book, just different characters. Revelations focuses on Sami and his inner demons past and present.
Just like any war there are many battles and obstacles to overcome. Can he find happiness after Hellfire, his destined soulmate? Can he ever make peace with his traumatic childhood and stop blaming himself? Can he learn to be honest about his feelings and stop hiding his pain from his closest loved ones? Only one way to find out and that is by reading the newest addition in the series, I promise you won't be disappointed. ~ Samaria ~ Goodreads Reviewer
***
Sheri-Lynn Marean and her stories just want to make me squeal with excitement. Dracones is such a different type of Dragon story. The perspective of the children growing up and not fully understanding what a Dragon is capable of makes these so interesting. And this is only the 2nd book. Wow. Dracones Awakening is the first book and explains their journey to Earth and Jax and Tierney part. Dracones Revelations is the 2nd book and it centers on Jax's brother Sami. His inner struggle with his Dragon and not being able to get the girl Hellfire out of his mind. Hellfire in my opinion will tee you off more than once here, she sure did me lol. I loved the creativity of the characters. I felt their pain and suffering, their hopes and dreams, everything!! That is when you know it's a wonderful book to read, one you can get lost in. Sweet. ~ Sharon ~ Goodreads Reviewer
Other works from Sheri-Lynn Marean…
Dracones Awakening by Sheri-Lynn Marean
Dracones Series; Book 1
327 Pages
Published: March 8, 2016
Published by: Sheri-Lynn Marean
Purchase Links:
~Meet Sheri-Lynn Marean~
Sheri-Lynn Marean, Author of Dracones Awakening, the first book in the Dracones series, resides in western Canada with her husband, three kids, one dog, one cat, and two fish. Sheri did not grow up thinking she would one day be an author. Instead, she grew up riding and working with racehorses, drawing and selling her animal artwork, and of course reading.
Sheri fell in love with reading at age twelve when she read The Black Stallion series by Walter Farley. She has not stopped reading. With a wide variety of reading interests, Sheri's passion presently is the paranormal romance genre.
One day, after reading an unsatisfying book, she decided she would write her own book, with her own characters, doing what she wanted them to do. She began to type and the characters came to life in her head. She has never looked back.
As Death Draws Near (Lady Darby Mystery #5)
by Anna Lee HuberPublication Date: July 5, 2016 Berkley Harcover & eBook; 336 Pages Series: Lady Darby Mysteries Genre: Historical Mystery The latest mystery from the national bestselling author of A Study in Death tangles Lady Kiera Darby and Sebastian Gage in a dangerous web of religious and political intrigue. July 1831. In the midst of their idyllic honeymoon in England’s Lake District, Kiera and Gage’s seclusion is soon interrupted by a missive from her new father-in-law. A deadly incident involving a distant relative of the Duke of Wellington has taken place at an abbey south of Dublin, Ireland, and he insists that Kiera and Gage look into the matter. Intent on discovering what kind of monster could murder a woman of the cloth, the couple travel to Rathfarnham Abbey school. Soon a second nun is slain in broad daylight near a classroom full of young girls. With the sinful killer growing bolder, the mother superior would like to send the students home, but the growing civil unrest in Ireland would make the journey treacherous. Before long, Kiera starts to suspect that some of the girls may be hiding a sinister secret. With the killer poised to strike yet again, Kiera and Gage must make haste and unmask the fiend, before their matrimonial bliss comes to an untimely end… Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Books-a-Million | iBooks | IndieBoundPraise for the Lady Darby Mysteries“Riveting…Huber deftly weaves together an original premise, an enigmatic heroine, and a compelling Highland setting for a book you won’t want to put down.”—Deanna Raybourn, New York Times bestselling author “[A] history mystery in fine Victorian style!”—Julia Spencer-Fleming, New York Times bestselling author “[A] fascinating heroine…A thoroughly enjoyable read!”—Victoria Thompson, national bestselling author “[A] clever heroine with a shocking past and a talent for detection.”—Carol K. Carr, national bestselling author
About the AuthorAnna Lee Huber is the Award-Winning and National Bestselling Author of the Lady Darby Mystery Series. She was born and raised in a small town in Ohio, and graduated summa cum laude from Lipscomb University in Nashville, TN with a degree in music and a minor in psychology. She currently resides in Indiana, and when not working on her next book she enjoys reading, singing, traveling and spending time with her family.
For more information please visit www.annaleehuber.com. Connect with Anna Lee Huber on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads. The Memory Painter: A Novel of Love and Reincarnation by Gwendolyn WomackPublication Date: July 5, 2016 Picador USA Paperback; 336 Pages ISBN: 978-1250095770 Genre: Historical Fiction/Time Travel/Mystery/Romance Finalist for the 2016 RWA Prism Awards for Best First Book & Best Time Travel/ Steampunk category. Two lovers who have travelled across time. A team of scientists at the cutting edge of memory research. A miracle drug that unlocks an ancient mystery. At once a sweeping love story and a time-travelling adventure, Gwendolyn Womack’s luminous debut novel, The Memory Painter, is perfect for readers of The Time Traveler’s Wife, Life After Lifeand Winter’s Tale. Bryan Pierce is an internationally famous artist, whose paintings have dazzled the world. But there’s a secret to Bryan’s success: Every canvas is inspired by an unusually vivid dream. Bryan believes these dreams are really recollections―possibly even flashback from another life―and he has always hoped that his art will lead him to an answer. And when he meets Linz Jacobs, a neurogenticist who recognizes a recurring childhood nightmare in one Bryan’s paintings, he is convinced she holds the key. Their meeting triggers Bryan’s most powerful dream yet―visions of a team of scientists who, on the verge of discovering a cure for Alzheimer’s, died in a lab explosion decades ago. As his visions intensify, Bryan and Linz start to discern a pattern. But a deadly enemy watches their every move, and he will stop at nothing to ensure that the past stays buried. The Memory Painter, like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Inception, is at once a taut thriller and a deeply original love story that transcends time and space, spanning six continents and 10,000 years of history. “Gwendolyn Womack’s tale dazzles.” ―US Weekly (Standout Spring Novels) “…hang on for a wild and entertaining ride around the world and through the centuries back to ancient Egypt.” ~ Library Journal, starred review “A sweeping, mesmerizing feat of absolute magic. . . . ” ~ M.J. Rose, New York Times Bestselling Author of The Witch of Painted Sorrows “Layers of past and present form a rich pastry of a narrative, poignant and thoughtful, rich and suspenseful, filled with intrigue and dripping with meaning… ” ~ Charlie Lovett, New York Times Bestselling Author of The Bookman’s Tale and First Impressions Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Books-a-Million | IndieBound Review: Lovers, friends, enemies- souls that are continuously playing out their roles in each successive life until they remember their purpose. In the present, Bryan Pierce wakes up from an extraordinary dream and feels the need to paint everything that occurred. He can recall everything about the life of the person he has dreamt about, including the ability to speak their language and perform any special skills that they had. Bryan isn’t just recalling a dream, he is remembering an entire past life, all of the memories have come flooding back at once. Most of all, he remembers the woman from his dream and when he finally meets her in his current life as Linz Jacobs after she recognizes one of his paintings from her dream, he sets in motion a chain of events thousands of years in the making. The Memory Painter is incredibly unique with vivid writing that pulled me into the book much like people were pulled into Bryan’s paintings. I love the idea of past lives and The Memory Painter used the concept in a creative, magical and intense way. First of all, the past lives that Bryan and eventually Linz remember took me back in time to a wide range of periods and different historical figures. A mystery is teased out with each progressive life as Bryan and Linz are able to piece together their memories, an antagonist appears. One soul has been tearing them apart and killing them off in every lifetime, this aspect had me completely engaged. I thought I had everything figured out as to who the soul was and why they were acting how they were; however with a roller-coaster of twists and turns and finally remembering their first lives in Egypt, everything is turned around. I was continuously pulled into the story as each past life was revealed and Bryan and Linz currently tried to figure out their entwined pasts. Overall, this story is incredibly engaging and inventive, a perfect story to sink your teeth into and devour in one sitting. This book was received for free in return for an honest review. About the Author: Originally from Houston, Texas, Gwendolyn Womack began writing theater plays in college at the University of Alaska, Fairbanks. She went on to receive an MFA from California Institute of the Arts in Directing Theatre, Video & Cinema. Currently she resides in Los Angeles with her husband and son where she can be found at the keyboard working on her next novel. The Memory Painter is her first novel. For more information visit Gwendolyn’s website. You can also connect with her on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads. |
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