In the days of old, one knight fought to save the maiden he loved – a battle that ended in a bloody promise for the future. In the days of the 21st Century, Izz doesn’t believe in prophecies. A recent widow, she struggles to find the passion that once fueled her life – a passion that is reignited the day a knight in disguise cuts into her life in a flash of swordplay and seductive grins. Izz doesn’t want to love him. The guilt of moving on nearly crushes her, yet she finds herself unable to resist the touch, the feel, the scent of the man who leaves her breathless with just one look. But each day Izz finds herself drawn to Cade, the more danger she finds herself in, for someone believes Izz to be at the center of an ages-old prophecy – and will do anything to stop it. When threatening messages turn even more dangerous, Izz must rediscover a part of herself she’s never known before and fight to save her knight in shining armor. With only a sword passed down throughout the generations to guide her, Izz must prove to her adversary that unlike maidens of old, she will never be a damsel in distress. Kristina Circelli's first contemp romance with a slight touch of fantasy, for readers 18+
I am super excited to reveal the awesome cover for THE ANGEL KILLER, the second book in Lisa Voisin's The Watcher Saga, and to share an excerpt from the book.
There is also an amazing giveaway included with the reveal for a copy of THE WATCHER, the first book in the series, or a pre-order copy of THE ANGEL KILLER and a $10 Amazon Gift Card.
The Cover Revealed
Coming January 5, 2015
DescriptionNow that she’s found him again, all Mia Crawford wants is some downtime with her fallen angel boyfriend, Michael. But the call of duty keeps him away—from school and from her—with more demons to smite than ever.
When Michael is mortally wounded by a cursed sword, Mia must perform an ancient blood ritual to save him. But the spell exacts a price. Haunted by visions of war, torture, and despair, Mia discovers the world is in more danger than she ever imagined. Behind the scenes, an evil adversary pulls all the strings.
After redemption, there’s Hell to pay.
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About Lisa Voisin
A Canadian-born author, Lisa Voisin spent her childhood daydreaming and making up stories, but it was her love of reading and writing in her teens that drew her to Young Adult fiction.
Lisa is also a technical writer, a meditation teacher, and the leader of the Young Writer’s Club, a local writing group for teens in her home town. A self-proclaimed coffee lover, she can usually be found writing in a local café. When she's not writing, you'll find her meditating or hiking in the mountains to counteract the side effects of drinking too much caffeine!
Though she’s lived in several cities across Canada, she currently lives in Vancouver, B.C. with her fiancé and their two cats.
Michael leaned against the building’s stucco wall and rested his hands on my hips. Light from the store cast a warm gleam in his crystal blue eyes. He leaned in, and the draw to be close to him was a gravitational force. “Hello,” he said.
The reveal includes an awesome giveaway to ONE WINNER for a print copy of THE WATCHER (US/CA/UK) OR a pre-order copy of THE ANGEL KILLER (when available) AND a $10 Amazon Gift Card.
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About The Watcher
Release date: March 4, 2013
Publisher: Inkspell Publishing
Formats: Paperback, eBook
Millennia ago, he fell from heaven for her.
Can he face her without falling again?
Fascinated with ancient civilizations, seventeen-year-old Mia Crawford dreams of becoming an archaeologist. She also dreams of wings—soft and silent like snow—and somebody trying to steal them.
When a horrible creature appears out of thin air and attacks her, she knows Michael Fontaine is involved, though he claims to know nothing about it. Secretive and aloof, Michael evokes feelings in Mia that she doesn’t understand. Images of another time and place haunt her. She recognizes them—but not from any textbook.
In search of the truth, Mia discovers a past life of forbidden love, jealousy and revenge that tore an angel from Heaven and sent her to an early grave. Now that her soul has returned, does she have a chance at loving that angel again? Or will an age-old nemesis destroy them both? Ancient history is only the beginning.
About the Books:
The Rose in the Wheel (Book One)
Publication Date: January 1, 2002
Poisoned Pen Press
Formats: Hardcover, Paperback, eBook
Series: John Chase Mystery Series (Book One)
Genre: Historical Mystery/Regency
This well imagined, carefully detailed, and cleverly plotted debut draws on actual historical events of 1811 London.
Regency London knows Constance Tyrone as the conspicuously celibate founder of the St. Catherine Society, dedicated to helping poor women. One wet November evening a carriage mows down Constance outside her office. Curiously, while her corpse’s one foot is bare, the other is shod in a clean satin slipper despite the muddy road. Why was a gentlewoman abroad in the night? And if she died under the wheel, whose hands bruised her neck and stole her monogrammed crucifix?
Dismissing the idea of an accident, Bow Street Runner John Chase forms an unlikely alliance with Penelope Wolfe, wife of the chief suspect. A young mother paying the price for an imprudent marriage, Penelope is eager to clear her husband Jeremy, a feckless portrait painter whose salacious drawings of the victim suggest an erotic interest. Chase’s first task is to learn the identity of the mysterious benefactor who goes bail for Wolfe while Penelope traces the victim’s last movements. Barrister Edward Buckler, intrigued, shakes off his habitual lethargy and joins their investigation.
As horrifying murders on the Ratcliffe Highway claim all London’s attention, the trio discovers that it won’t be easy to unravel the enigma of Constance Tyrone, a woman who revives the legend of martyred St. Catherine.
Blood for Blood (Book Two)
Publication Date: April 15, 2003
Poisoned Pen Press
Formats: Hardcover, Paperback, eBook
Series: John Chase Mystery Series (Book Two)
Genre: Historical Mystery/Regency
In the spring of 1812, the Luddites are on the march, Lord Byron is taking London drawing rooms by storm, and Penelope Wolfe has become a lady’s companion. When one of the footmen turns up dead with a knife to the heart, Penelope and Bow Street Runner John Chase are entangled in a web of family secrets and political conspiracy that stretches far beyond luxurious St. James’s Square.
With the help of barrister Edward Buckler, Chase follows the trail of a mysterious mad woman caught peeping in the window at the corpse. Penelope struggles to fit into the fashionable world, encountering people who hide resentment and deceit under smooth smiles.
Set against a backdrop of millennial fervor with thousands awaiting the end of the world, BLOOD FOR BLOOD explores the simple truth that every drop of blood spilled will be avenged.
Die I Will Not (Book Three)
Publication Date: November 4, 2014
Poisoned Pen Press
Formats: Hardcover, Paperback
Series: John Chase Mystery Series (Book Three)
Genre: Historical Mystery/Regency
Unhappy wife and young mother Penelope Wolfe fears scandal for her family and worse. A Tory newspaper editor has been stabbed while writing a reply to the latest round of letters penned by a firebrand calling himself Collatinus. Twenty years before, her father, the radical Eustace Sandford, wrote as Collatinus before he fled London just ahead of accusations of treason and murder. A mysterious beauty closely connected to Sandford and known only as N.D. had been brutally slain, her killer never punished. The seditious new Collatinus letters that attack the Prince Regent in the press also seek to avenge N.D.’s death and unmask her murderer. What did the journalist know that provoked his death?
Her artist husband Jeremy is no reliable ally, so Penelope turns anew to lawyer Edward Buckler and Bow Street Runner John Chase. As she battles public notoriety, Buckler and Chase put their careers at risk to stand behind her while pursuing various lines of inquiry aimed at N.D.’s murderer, a missing memoir, Royal scandal, and the dead editor’s missing wife. As they navigate the dark underbelly of Regency London among a cast driven by dirty politics and dark passions, as well as by decency and a desire for justice, past secrets and present criminals are exposed, upending Penelope’s life and the lives of others.
Buy the Books:
Die I will Not The Rose in the Wheel Blood for Blood
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About the Author
S.K. Rizzolo is a longtime Anglophile and history enthusiast. Set in Regency England, The Rose in the Wheel and Blood for Blood are the first two novels in her series about a Bow Street Runner, an unconventional lady, and a melancholic barrister. An English teacher, Rizzolo has earned an M.A. in literature and lives in Los Angeles with her husband and daughter.
For more information please visit S.K. Rizzolo’s website. You can also find her on Facebook and Goodreads.
**Listed by Amazon as a Top 100 Kids & Teens Kindle Book of 2012**
Twisted is free on Amazon November 14th, 15th and 16th!!
Grab your copy here
About the Book:
Luck on the Line
On The Verge #1
Author: Zoraida Cordova
Release Date: Nov 11th 2014
Publisher: Diversion Books
Genre: New Adult
To turn her life around, she’ll have to stand the heat. To fulfill his dreams, he’ll have to get Lucky.
Despite her name, Lucky Pierce has always felt a little cursed. Refusing to settle for less or settle down, she changes jobs as often as she changes boyfriends. When her celebrity chef mother challenges her to finish something, Lucky agrees to help her launch Boston’s next hot restaurant, The Star. Even if it means working with the infuriating, egotistical, and undeniably sexy head chef.
James loves being known as Boston’s hottest bad boy in the kitchen, but if he wants to build a reputation as a serious chef, he has to make this restaurant work and keep his scandalous past out of the headlines. Getting involved with his boss’s spoiled, sharp-tongued daughter is definitely not on the menu.
As the launch of The Star looms and the tension and chemistry heat up in the kitchen, they’re going to need more than a little luck to keep everything from boiling over.
Buy it as an eBook for only $4.99!!
About The Author
Zoraida Córdova was born in Ecuador and raised in Queens, NY. She studied English Lit at Hunter College, and The University of Montana before finding a home for herself in the (kinda) glittering world of New York City’s nightlife. She prefers her whiskey neat, her bacon crispy, and her men with a side of chivalry. She is the author of The Vicious Deep Trilogy.
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About the Book:
By: Trisha Leaver & Lindsay Currie
Release date: November 8, 2014
Genre: Young Adult psychological horror
Three went in. Three came out. None even a shadow of who they once were.
When their car breaks down, Dee, her boyfriend Luke, and his brother Mike walk through a winter storm to take refuge in a nearby town called Purity Springs. When they arrive, the emergency sirens are blaring and the small farming town seems abandoned. With no other shelter, they spend the night in an empty house.
But they soon discover that not everything in Purity Springs is as it seems. When the town's inhabitants suddenly appear the next morning, Dee, Luke, and Mike find themselves at the mercy of the charismatic leader, Elijah Hawkins, who plans to make Dee his new wife. Elijah's son, Joseph, offers to help them escape . . . but the price of his help may be more than Dee and her friends can bear.
Praise For CREED:
“Debut authors Leaver and Currie make an auspicious foray into YA horror...creating a believably desperate and terrifying situation for their characters, and Dee's history of physical and sexual abuse adds another layer of terror to this suspenseful and sporadically gory thriller.” ~Publishers Weekly
Welcome to a town that makes "Children of the Corn" look like child's play. There's no shortage of scary shenanigans happening in "Creed" ... We'd rather take a year-long gig teaching botany to the "Children of the Corn" than take a gas-and-bathroom break on a sunny day in Purity Springs. ~Kat Rosenfield author of Amelia Anne is Dead and Gone/ MTV News
"This is: a straight-ahead, cover-your-ears tale of terror that grows more nihilistic and grueling by the page.... Leaver and Currie do the best thing horror authors can do, presenting protagonists who make smart choices, over and over, but to no avail. Now that's scary" ~ Daniel Kraus/ Booklist
About the Authors:
Trisha Leaver graduated from the University of Vermont with a degree in Social Work. She lives on Cape Cod with her husband, three kids and one rather irreverent black lab. She is a member of the SCBWI, the Horror Writers Association, and the YA Scream Queens
TWITTER | FACEBOOK | WEBSITE | Instagram: @trishaleaver
Lindsay Currie: Lindsay Currie graduated from Knox College in Galesburg, IL with an English Literature degree. She is a member of the SCBWI, the Horror Writers Association and a contributor to the YA Scream Queens.
TWITTER | WEBSITE | FACEBOOK
Dan Lord is a forty-year-old private detective with a law degree working the blurred line between right and wrong in the Nation’s Capital. As a self-employed solutions broker and legal consultant, he works for a very select clientele. He doesn’t advertise and only takes cases on referral. But when two people close to him are murdered, Dan’s work becomes very personal. With the assistance of a newly hired female intern, extracting clues from a ladder of acquaintances, Dan bounds through both the underbelly and elite of society, each step bringing more questions and yet ultimately taking him closer to the answer he seeks. A bail bondsman, a recluse hacker, a court clerk, a university student, an old-school barber, a high-class madam, an intelligence officer, a medical doctor, and a police detective are among the list of people Dan must cajole for help. His quest will lead him to discover things he never wanted to know, and put him in the position to reveal things that important people would prefer remain unrevealed. Tense, ingenious, and filled with the unforgettable characters, Favors and Lies is Mark Gilleo’s most thrilling novel yet.
Read an excerpt from the book: The cab pulled to the curb on one of the city’s myriad one-way streets and Dan spoke through the holes drilled in the security glass. “What’s the damage?” “Nineteen even.” Dan stepped from the back of the cab and slipped a twenty through the front passenger window. “Keep the change.” “Thanks, big spender,” the burly driver replied, shoving the cash into the front pocket of his sweaty shirt. Dan bent at the waist, his manila folder in hand, and peered into the open window. The glare from Dan’s light-blue eyes melted the driver’s bravado, bringing long-sought momentary silence to the interior of the car. The cabbie muttered something unintelligible and the car pulled away from the curb into evening rush-hour traffic. Dan straightened his dark blue suit and his red tie before heading down H Street. The business side of the White House sat just beyond Lafayette Square to his left. As a white male in a suit, within spitting distance of the White House, Dan was perfectly camouflaged. Despite the changing face of American society and the dual terms of President Obama, those making the rules remained largely as it always had been – lily white. An hour watching C-Span was the only proof needed. Dan walked deliberately to the corner of H and 16th streets and silently mingled with a half-dozen likeminded suits waiting for the light. The pedestrian signal changed from an illuminated red hand to the depiction of a person walking. The crowd moved. Dan took three steps toward the street and then froze at the edge of the curb. He scanned his environment for a mirror reaction from anyone in the vicinity. Sometimes the best way to see if you are being followed is to stop. It was a standard counter-surveillance move, likely perfected a hundred thousand years ago by an animal on the Serengeti trying to avoid becoming dinner. The sidewalk around Dan emptied as the pedestrian signal on the far side of the street began to count down. Dan swiveled his head slowly, finishing with a glance over each shoulder. No one, he thought. At least no one on foot. Walking against traffic on a one-way street mitigated most of the possibilities of being trailed by car. He waited until the countdown on the pedestrian signal reached five and then crossed the street illegally in the opposite direction, dissecting a group of lawyers and think-tankers on their way to a local watering hole to finish their briefs and pontifications for the evening. On the far side of the street Dan turned right and headed back in the direction from which he came. Once again he checked for surveillance. Nothing. Near the end of the block, with a taxi queue ten yards ahead, Dan checked his watch with a casual glance and turned left down an alley without looking back. He passed several dumpsters and looked up at the darkening sky framed by the buildings on both sides of the alley. A light scent of urine wafted through the air. Under a fire escape near the corner of the building Dan turned again. He followed a staircase downward, his hand running along a worn metal handrail, his shoes trampling cracked concrete steps. Three stories above the urban crevasse, room rates started at eight hundred a night. Dan forced himself to relax. Feeling out of place was the single greatest contributor for being spotted in an area where one had no earthly business. But with the appropriate behavior and movement, a man in a suit in an alley was no more out of place than a man in overalls in the lobby of an office building. Properly portrayed, every appearance could be overlooked. Dan reached the bottom of the stairs and admired the collection of discarded cigarette butts thrown half-heartedly at an empty coffee can resting just outside the door. He took one more calming breath and pushed through an unlocked metal door that read “Exit Only” in neat white print. Unlocked doors were goldmines. Half the buildings in the Nation’s Capital were circumventing million-dollar security systems with propped open doors. A brick here. A doorstop there. If you knew where to look, an employee with a smoking habit could be better than a week of surveillance. Not to mention cheaper and less risky than paying off a doorman. Inside the building, Dan entered an elbow-room-only foyer facing another door. He watched the light under the closed door and waited for the telltale movement of people on the other side to subside. When the timing was right and the movement ceased, he pulled the knob. An attractive blonde in an off-the-shoulder red dress took a breath of surprise. Dan muted his response and without pausing pointed towards the men’s room with his chin. “Wrong door.” The lady in red smiled and Dan followed through on his impromptu ruse and entered the restroom. “Shit,” Dan whispered, looking into the mirror over a granite sink with gold fixtures. He had rules. One adjustment in the plan was standard. Two put him on notice. Three unforeseen adjustments to a plan and he aborted – immediately and without exception. There was little he could do about the woman in the hall so he pushed it aside. That’s one, he thought. A little early for an adjustment. The lower level back door at the Hay Adams Hotel was a direct line into the living room of the elite. Off the Record – the appropriately named bar in the basement of the Hay Adams Hotel – boasted a history as long as its client list. It was where the rich blew off steam. People with faces too famous to enjoy a quiet drink in Georgetown or along Connecticut Avenue. Faces from the morning paper and evening news. Off the Record embraced customers who didn’t mind overpaying for drinks or the forty bucks it cost to valet their cars. Money was rapidly becoming the last legal barrier for keeping out the riffraff. The Hay Adams Hotel, and its subterranean watering hole, was public. Dan could have chosen to walk through the lobby. He could have nodded at the bellhop and doorman as he strolled in unquestioned and unmolested. He could have slowly crossed the ornate wood-paneled entrance and past the polite scrutiny of the front desk as he made his way to the stairs. But why announce your arrival when you didn’t have to? Especially so close to payday. In the mirror in the bathroom, Dan checked his watch, his hair, his face, his glasses, his teeth, his fingers. He peeked inside his manila folder. He exited the room and walked through the lone swinging door into the bar. He located his target before his first foot hit the deep burgundy carpet. He completed his room assessment by the time his second foot landed. Nine men and four women, he calculated, parsing his headcount before anyone noticed he was in the room. Five men at the bar, two of them seated together, most likely coworkers. Two women alone at a table on the far side of the room in similar black dresses. Waiting for dates, he thought. A table of three huddled in the opposite corner, far enough away to be out of most contingency scenarios. Dan added two more to the headcount for the bartender and waitress, and one more for the lady in red who was now in the bathroom. Dan stepped from the dark corner near the bathroom and approached a man in his early fifties sitting alone at a table, his hand caressing a glass of Maker’s Mark. “Judge McMichael,” Dan said, sitting quickly without invitation. The judge tried not to look surprised but the corner of his eyes betrayed him as they danced towards the entrance of the bar. “The back door?” the judge asked. “Bathroom window,” Dan replied straight-faced. “Am I at the correct table?” “Yes. Thank you for following instructions.” Dan didn’t take his eyes off the judge. The judge looked older than his pictures in the press. More stately. Fifty and fit with large hands and sharp eyes. The lighting at the table was romantic – enough light to see the judge, but dark enough to erase cosmetic imperfections from across the table. Perfect call-girl ambiance. The judge stared back across the table at a short grey mop of curls and wild blue eyes dancing behind thick black-framed glasses. The judge’s eyes dropped to Dan’s hands and the manila folder on the table. Dan noticed the judge’s attention and he covered one hand with the other, both on top of the folder. “Why don’t we both agree to keep our hands on the table,” Dan suggested before getting to work. “See the two guys at the far end of the bar?” The judge turned his head slightly. “They are with me.” The judge nodded. “I will make this short and sweet. Your wife has divorce papers for you to sign. She also has an agreement regarding alimony and the custody of your stepson and stepdaughter. She says you have been refusing to sign these documents and have threatened her and her children.” “Do you know who I am?” “Yes. Judge Terrance J. McMichael. Born in Naperville, Illinois. Educated at Princeton. Law School at Dartmouth. Judge for the United States Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit… also known as the D.C. Circuit. Wife is named Cindy. Stepdaughter is Caroline. Stepson is Craig.” “And you are?” “Someone willing to ruin your life. Your wife hired me to make a request on her behalf. You are a highly intelligent man so I’m going to assume you heard my request the first time and that I don’t need to repeat myself.” Dan paused for effect. “You are going to sign the papers.” “Do you have any idea what I can do to you?” Dan slid the manila folder into the middle of the table and opened it. The first photograph showed the judge’s wife with raccoon eyes, her nose broken, swollen to...
About the author: Mark Gilleo is the author of three award-winning novels. His books have won both the National Indie Excellence Award and the Readers’ Favorite Award. His two most recent novels were finalists in the 2014 International Book Awards. His latest novel, Favors and Lies, was named Runner-Up for fiction in both the 2014 San Francisco Book Festival and the 2014 New York Book Festival. Mark has a graduate degree in international business from the University of South Carolina and an undergraduate degree in business from George Mason University. He enjoys traveling, hiking and biking. He speaks Japanese. A fourth-generation Washingtonian, he currently resides in the DC area. Follow the author on Twitter |Goodreads
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Lead Specialist Paelae Madison is the last of her kind. The only survivor of the First Attack, and bent on revenge for the destruction of her people. In desperation, she teleports onto an Arcadian ship and offers aid in the coming war. Arcadia sees her as a hero, but Lemise is weary to trust a stranger whoâ€™s survived over five hundred previous battles.
Together the two fight to defeat an enemy far more advanced, and far more cunning than Arcadia has ever known. But extinction lurks around every corner, and The Enemy isnâ€™t the only one threatening to destroy the world.
Take a Peek at Arcadian Culture:
Arcadia is a junkyard planet but it collects more than just broken ships. Before it was a recognized planet, it had been a place of refuge for lost voyagers. Eventually it began to collect people like it collected trashed technology. Some were refugees, others were stranded after running out of money for their journey, and some were simply shunned from their own worlds.
With so many different people thereâ€™s a lot of borrowed pieces of culture that has been meshed together to form the Arcadian way of life. For example: they love to refurbish or repurpose technology but it is the highest crime of their court systems to help create or aide in the creation of cyborgs: part human, part technology. Donâ€™t improve what man did not make.
The law developed from their belief that a soul cannot find the World Beyond unless the body is whole. It makes navigating the Field of Stars, a type of purgatory, difficult because a partial soul would have to wait for a whole soul to help guide them. This belief was stolen from the Monks on the planet Maldeen who had a very different lifestyle, rarely traveling into space.
Paelae is the outsider on Arcadia, she comes from a more crisp and clean way of traveling space. Itâ€™s like taking Captain Picard and putting him on the Serenity. She has a hard time adjusting to their way of life but as you read it from her perspective you begin to pick up on where all those bits and pieces of Arcadian society came from.
Lemise, who is born on Arcadia and has had little contact with other races (since most just fire at them for scavenging the graves of the dead) sees Paelaeâ€™s past life on the Imladian ships as very excessive and wasteful. In this way, as well as others, they tend to clash.
As the story progresses you can really see how Paelaeâ€™s and Lemiseâ€™s culture begin to shape who they become from a young age.
Read an Excerpt:
Officers stumbled over each other in preparation for the day ahead. As soon as the first rays of purple sunshine peaked over the city, a line had started to form for the bathrooms, and Paelae was thrust back into the world of the living with a jolt. Sweat covered her face, and her breathing was too rapid. Despite the cramped space, the other women gave her a reasonable berth, some eying her while checking their weapons. Had she screamed in her sleep? The nights had grown increasingly rare when she didn’t have a nightmare. “Hey.” Paelae sat up and tugged the clothes out of her trunk. She ran a hand over the purple and black jumpsuit provided for her; it felt wrong, wearing the colors of another people. It was the first time anyone offered her a uniform. She preferred the Imladian one; it was familiar. “Hey.” This time she looked up, noticing that the one-word sentence had been directed to her. A woman stood at the end of her bed, arms crossed and legs apart as if at ease. “Name’s Benni. I’m your guard.” Of course, the woman from the ship. Benni was a head shorter than Paelae and bore the markings of a low rank. “I’m Paelae,” she said and stood to greet Benni with a hard stare. “I’m your…” She searched for an appropriate word. “Ally,” Benni finished for her. “Sky cap’s waiting outside for you.” Paelae took the cue and began her attempt to navigate out of the barracks, jumping over beds and weaving around people until she reached the metal door. Outside, the world was tainted purple as the sun filtered through Arcadia’s atmospheric shielding, a product of too many chemical bombs. What had once been a rushed patch job to keep air on the planet had since evolved into a last line of defense worthy of acknowledgment. It was one of few things Arcadians boasted about among the planets—when the planets still existed. Captain Lemise stood just outside the barrack doors, looking across the miles of asphalt designated for intergalactic travel. Bordering the west side of the airfield and encroaching fast upon the north, were piles of rejected technology and broken spaceships tossed out by hundreds of different races. That’s how Arcadia had started, as a junkyard, but then lost voyagers found a home on it, attracting others—from those shunned by their own people to travelers broken down with no funds to continue on their journey. Eventually, it became a home for those who had nowhere else to go, and scavenging became more than an act of survival; it became a trade. Most of the north and east were surrounded by low-class, brick apartment buildings, meant for the soldiers and their families. “You’re not in uniform.” Lemise deduced upon seeing her. “If you want on my Chasers, you wear my uniform.” Paelae shrugged. “Bathroom line was too long to change.” Lemise began to walk away. “Then wake up earlier.” Paelae walked close behind with Benni in tow as the sky captain began to explain. “Miss Demitri is our chief innovation and engineering specialist; with a screwdriver and a handful of computer chips, she could change a toaster into an engine. You will work beside her under close supervision. I want a particle shield by the end of the week.” She almost laughed. Particle shields were difficult with the right materials, but with makeshift metals and roundabout wiring, he would be lucky if it turned on in three weeks. “In exchange, you will work beside me in the evenings,” he continued. Lemise didn’t expand any further on her evening expectations, but Paelae suspected they would be dull at best until Lemise began to trust her better. “Unless there are complications. Then I will jettison you out of an airlock in EWAN territory. Am I understood?” “Yes, sir,” she said. Centuries of military training had drilled the habit into her. He led them to a jeep, and another soldier drove them east to a warehouse that stood ten stories tall. Behind it, a mesh, wire gate separated civilian from soldiers. Paelae watched as a group of young boys tossed a ball back and forth to each other, running down a deserted street to throw it in a trash can. They used to play a similar game on the cityship as trainees. It was one of the few bits and pieces they had smuggled from the Earthen culture, played in secret when the officers had left. Once, General Amir had caught them midgame when he came to get Paelae for sparring lessons. Anything Earthen was not to be spoken of or remembered in any way, but she had been rebellious as all teenagers were those days. Everyone had frozen in place. The terror coursing through their bodies made them forget to even salute. Trying to run would have been devastating. Amir had walked between them, assessing the trainees. He had been furious, but his anger hadn’t been displayed in shouting or beating; it had filled the silence that spread between moments in time. “Madison,” he addressed with a calm, collected demeanor, turning to look at her. “Why do we not register Earth as a planet in our systems?” She didn’t reply. “Madison!” This time the words were forceful, bringing her back from the past. Lemise and Benni had already departed from the vehicle and waited for her. With a sigh, she shook the memory away, letting it dissipate into the morning air and jumped out of the jeep. Lemise led them through an open garage door. Inside, the warehouse resembled a miniature junkyard. As Paelae looked closer, she could tell that the piles had been organized to some degree. One had wire, another had chips, and a third was weaponry. “Demitri!” Lemise called. A clatter of metal followed, and the sky captain took that as a cue. They wove in and out of large piles and then climbed over smaller ones until the ground could be seen again. A giant square of cleared floor sat under an open roof, and near the opposite end, a young woman drew up schematics on a metalwork table. “Demitri,” Lemise called again as they walked up to her. Demitri glanced up through layers of grease stains and smudges of dirt. Bright red hair fell in a tangled mess past her shoulders, held back by a set of goggles. Deep, blue crescents were visible beneath her eyes, as if the woman had been bruised. “Did you sleep here last night?” He didn’t address her as a soldier, nor did she wear a uniform. Instead, brown overalls adorned her skeletal frame, and a belt of odd tools kept it hanging up. Demitri gave him a confused look. “No. I’ve only just arrived.” “You were supposed to be in an hour ago,” Lemise said as the military eased back into his speech. “I was delayed,” she said and threw her arms open. “It’s not like I don’t stay past midnight anyway. Every genius needs sleep. Is this the Imladian?” Lemise pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “This is Madison.” Demitri stepped around the table and snatched Paelae’s arm up, pushing back the black leather sleeve. After a moment, Demitri let out a whistle. “That’s a particle shield all right. I’ll need the big guns for those supplies.” “One week,” Lemise said. Demitri laughed before realizing he was serious. “Two weeks, sleep, free meals, and you throw in that glass plating I need to fix the Mirage.” “One week, no sleep, free breakfast, and you fix the Mirage because it’s your job, not a bargaining chip.” “Two weeks, no sleep, and lunches.” “A week and a half, sleep, and no food.” Demitri was about to throw in another bargain when a little girl ran out from behind a pile of piping. She held up a colored picture with evident pride, tugging on Demitri’s pants and grunting to get her attention. “A week and a half, no sleep, and forget this happened,” Demitri said as she placed a hand on her daughter’s head. “The daycare was filled, and Pops is working cross-continent. I wouldn’t bring her unless it was my only option, I swear.” Lemise knelt down to the girl’s level. “Hello, Demi.” He smiled. Demi held up her picture of colorful stick figures, grunting as she pointed in stunted movements at each one. “I see.” Lemise took her picture and gave it a further inspection. “It is a beautiful picture. Will you draw me one?” Paelae watched in mild horror. Demi was broken. On the cityship, they considered it a mercy to chloroform such children at birth, if they made it that far without detection; and it shocked her that all those years she never thought twice about it. Never before had she encountered one on other planets, though she’d heard stories. Lemise stood, turning back to Demitri. “Will she be okay around new faces?” “Yeah, she’s better with it now.” Demitri cracked her knuckles in anticipation. “A week and a half, no sleep, and lunches,” he offered. “Deal.” They shook on it. “I’ll leave you to it then,” Lemise said and left, disappearing behind piles of trash. Demitri pulled a chair up for her daughter to continue drawing, and then lounged back in one of her own. “You named her after yourself,” Paelae stated when the silence had extended beyond comfort. “Of course I did. She’s a Devonian.” Demitri fiddled with the lenses on her goggles. Paelae nodded, though she didn’t know what that meant. “Should we get started, then?” Demitri tossed her a pencil. “Copy your arm, please.” She looked at the writing instrument with amusement. Once, this had been the only way to transcribe thoughts, but it had been centuries since she used one. “I don’t know how to use this.” That caught Demitri’s attention. “You don’t know how to use a pencil?” “Not anymore, no.” Demitri laughed. “Aliens, sometimes you get too advanced for your own good. Come here. I’ll do it.” Another pencil was pulled from the depths of her ponytail. “Please tell me you can at least use a welder.” ');
by Kimberly Blalock
Designed by: Tugboat Design (Website)
Series: The Angel Trilogy, Book One
Genre: Contemporary Romance (18+)
Release Date: December 31, 2014
When Evan Young walks into Abigale Hayes’s life she falls; mind, body, and soul for the man she thinks he is, having no idea that the secrets he holds in his hands will destroy the girl she is. Abby must decide how the truth will affect the relationship that has her craving more with every breath she takes and how she will take revenge into her own hands. Evan will die to protect Abby and will kill for her too. The events that unfold will change who Abigale Hayes is forever.
Kimberly loves discovering new music to jam out to and loves anything that’s different. Her many interests include Google, you heard it! Google. If you need to know any unusual or interesting fact she has searched it and can recite it. Her motto is: Why be the same as everyone else when you can stand out?
When Kimberly isn’t writing or playing superhero for her children, she takes care of her patients as a Registered nurse in the field of hospice.
HAPPY RELEASE DAY FOR
A Christmas Reunion, The Gift of a Second Chance
by Donna Hatch
Available FOR ONLY $0.99 in digital format everywhere ebooks are sold!
A Christmas Reunion,
The Gift of a Second Chance
by Donna Hatch
Adult Historical Romance (Clean)
Published by The Wild Rose Press
Heartbroken that her betrothed has wed another woman, Emily is determined to pick up the pieces of her life and enjoy Christmas with her family.
Newly returned from war, Bennett holds a secret and will do anything to ensure Emily, his only true love, never discovers it...even if it means losing her.
Fate reunites the star-crossed lovers and reveals the truth that will either unite them or drive them apart forever.
My passion for writing began at the tender age of 8 and I’ve been hooked ever since. Of course, I also wanted to be an actress and a ballerina, but one out of three isn’t bad, right?
In between caring for six children, (7 counting my husband), my day job, my free lance editing and copy writing, and my many volunteer positions, I manage to carve out time to indulge in my writing obsession. After all, it IS an obsession. My family is more patient and supportive than I deserve.
$25 Amazon gift card and an ebook of A Christmas Reunion
- Open internationally
- Ends November 12th