Blog Tour – Colleen S. Myers – Wings of the Wicked Boxed Set

Colleen plays many roles. Not only is she a veteran, a mother, and a practicing physician, but she is a writer of science fiction and contemporary romances. Colleen’s dreams include surviving her son’s teenage years, exploring every continent on this planet, except Antarctica, cause that’s way too cold, and winning the Nobel peace prize. Dream BIG! Currently, she is working on Distant Memory, the third in her SciFi Romance series. In the meantime, look for her at https://www.colleensmyers.com

Social Media Links:

https://www.facebook.com/colleensmyers
https://www.twitter.com/colleensmyers
https://www.instagram/com/csmyers3637
https://www.bookbub.com/profile/colleen-s-myers

 

Seri Therotian lost everything to the E’mani. Her brother, her betrothed, her place among her people. But it turns out there is even more to lose including her life, her father, her people unless she is willing to lead the broken race that had forsaken her to victory.

Buy your copy at any one of these great retailers

Universal Link: books2read.com/47ZQDN

#iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id1410452943

#Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/wings-of-the-wicked-1

#Nook: https://bit.ly/2NPOKEL

#Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/wingswicked

 

 

08 Jan – Girl With Pen
08 Jan – Tome Tender
08 Jan – Little Shop of Readers
09 Jan – CA Milson Author
10 Jan – Urban Fantasy Investigations
11 Jan – Indie Book Fairy
14 Jan – Room With Books
15 Jan – Writing Dreams
16 Jan – Celtic Lady’s Reviews
18 Jan – Romance Reviews Today
18 Jan – Ash Stone Author

 

 

 

Seri’s grip on the sheer mountainside above the wind-swept canyon slipped. But her right claw managed to break the surface of the rock and halt her fall.

Thank goodness for sharp nails.

She scrambled for purchase until she got a more solid hold. Her fingers ached but she maintained her grasp. She had no choice. The pale E’mani clones in their dark gray jumpsuits were patrolling the path beneath her; at least four of them. She couldn’t take that many, even with her father’s help. They had weapons and shields. She had a wooden bow. Even with her magic, if it affected them, that was not much of a match.

She could fly away, but that did not seem like the smartest play either. They might notice a flying fluffy pink girl. She did kind of stand out, even among her own people. Most of whom were grey or brown like her father.

Speaking of her father, she turned to look at Jax hanging on a nearby rock face, his rust colored wings pulled close to his body. He blended with the surface of the mountain on the windswept peak. She on the other hand with her bright red feathers and orange underbelly was screwed. If the clones’ gazes rose, they’d spot her.

This sucked.

She shifted her grip to hang from one hand to the other and flexed her fingers, then repeated the gesture on the other side.

Jax whistled at her in warning and she glared in return.

Yes, she was moving, but that kept her from falling.

She wasn’t as used to hanging as enemies paced below her. She was only twenty after all, barely an adult by Avaresh standards and much less battle-forged than him. What did he expect?

Her mouth twisted. Wait, what was she thinking? Her father expected everything of her, she was after all a Therotian. How could she forget. She had a destiny. What a load of-.

Her clawed fingers dug into the rock causing dirt to rain down in a small waterfall onto the E’mani’s heads.

Shoot.

She didn’t mean to do that.

She shared a startled glance with Jax who swore under his breath.

He pushed off from the wall as the clones gazed straight up at them and fanned his wings to make himself a bigger target. But he was dark to her light. In the dusky sky, she stood out against the horizon.

They raised their weapons.

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Timeless Surrender by Torie James

Born on the planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Kasterborous,I am the illegitimate love child of Han Solo and  Daenerys Targaryen. Rescued by Gandalf shortly before my home planet was destroyed in the last days of the Clone Wars, I was raised in relative obscurity by my foster parents, Severus Snape and Pippi Longstocking. At the tender age of 113, I inherited the best little whorehouse in Texas and it’s been rumored that I am bringing Sexy Back. A self- confessed chocoholic, I’ve been engaged to Willy Wonka for several years despite gossip surrounding millionaire Bruce Wayne and myself.

And clearly, I practice delusion on a daily basis.

Fact is nowhere near as fun as fiction!

Growing up, I could be found nearby falling down rabbit holes, catching second stars to the right, and stepping through wardrobes into mysterious lands and countless adventures. When those stories ended, I made up my own and kept going. This later on translated into a strong passion for writing that has helped keep my feet on the ground while my head stayed firmly in the clouds.

My first brush with romance novels came at the tender age of 8 when I filched a Barbara Cartland dog eared paperback from my unassuming aunt and fell into a world of magic, wonder and entirely innocent G rated writing. (Seriously, the farthest Dame Cartland ever took any romantic scene was a chaste kiss and that generally didn’t occur until the very end.) I went on to greedily consume Johanna Lindsey, Jude Devereaux and Anne Rice when older.

Now, I’m a middle aged woman with moxie, no shame and a vivid imagination who loves to write and share her crazy with the world. Her future plans include, hopefully, buying a lovely Scottish castle and convincing Queen Elizabeth I that I’d make a fab addition to the Royal Family.

I live in Southern California, a stone’s throw from Disneyland, with my family and the most ridiculously spoiled pets anyone could imagine. My goals are simple: Keep reading, keep writing and never lose the determination to make life as random, quirky and beautiful as it can be.

Stalk Torie James online…

Blog and Website      Facebook     Twitter     Instagram     Goodreads     Amazon Author Page     Pinterest

History branded him a coward. Prophecy labeled her his destruction. Some legends are born of lies. Others begin when the lies end. And not everything remains myth…

“If you could live forever, what would you choose to live for? I chose power…”

Born of darkness and raised on revenge, Mordred Lothian spent an eternity fighting for the honor of a woman who had none. Free of her hatred, his only goal is to pick up the pieces of betrayal and attempt to forge a new life in a world that never wanted him.

Raised by one of Hollywood’s most scandalous actresses, Jenalyn Rhodes knows true illusion begins when the end credits roll. Damaged by the one person who should have protected her most, she is determined to have no master and only one mistress: Herself.

Thrown together to stop an ancient evil hell bent on vengeance, can the sacrifice of one be the salvation of the other?

BUY YOUR COPY HERE:     Books2Read Universal Link     Amazon

 

 

 

 

“What are you doing?”

He heard the uncertain tremor in Jennie’s voice and spoke before he could think better of his answer. “Do you trust me?”

Grabbing the body by the arm, he drug it between the manacles, careful not to disturb the sword. Not yet.

“I do trust you,” Jenalyn admitted reluctantly. ‘Probably more than I should.”

Mordred closed his eyes, letting the words rush over him.

“But it’s a whole lot easier to do when you tell me what you’re doing!”

“You need to wait.”

“Yeah. And we all know how good I am at waiting.” She snorted.

He looked at the wall clock. If this went the way it should, he would have a few scant minutes.

The red numbers clicked over the minute.

He braced one hand on the body’s chest and pulled the sword free from the flesh. The blood-soaked metal hit the floor with a wet clang, but he’d already moved. He stripped the jacket from the body, then the long black over-shirt, leaving the tight black T-shirt behind.

Next, he removed the knife sheath on the left arm, then the watch and the rings and the bracelet, tossing them all on the blanket by the trunk.

Another minute ticked by.

The locks on the manacles were well oiled and tumbled open effortlessly under the key. He rolled the body onto its back and had a manacle around the left wrist before Jennie’s affronted sputtering penetrated his consciousness.

“Have you completely lost your mind? What is she?”

The manacle locked around the right wrist with a satisfying click. He let the tension leave his body as he relaxed back onto his heels. “I haven’t lost my mind,” he murmured.

Jenalyn knelt by his side. “So why the S&M cuffs?”

He gave her a questioning look. “You spend a lot of time in the S&M scene? Huh, and here I thought your stint at the Glass Dragon was your first.”

She elbowed his healing ribs. “You know what I mean.” She pointed at the body. “Is she a vampire? Some kind of demon? Is she really dead?”

“See for yourself.”

Hesitating a moment, she shuffled forward. Careful to avoid the path of blood where he’d dragged the body, she laid her fingers against the corpse’s throat.

“There’s no pulse, no breath, nothing,” She reported as she knelt back. “So why did you lock up a harmless corpse?”

“She’s not harmless. Trust me. The chains are to keep her from leaving until she answers a few questions.”

“Yeah, you could, I dunno, ask her, instead?”

He ignored her.

The third minute ticked by.

Life returned violently to the body, gasping breath and the pounding of blood to a heart magically healed from the sword. The woman on the floor convulsed, arms straining against the manacles as she fought to sit up. “Iron, you asshole? Really? “Her voice rang sweet but low, a lilting South African accent flavoring her speech.

“No other way to keep you from using your mojo. I have some questions.”

“How about asking a girl instead of this kinky shit?”

“That’s what I said!” Jenalyn barked. She’d stumbled back, utter confusion on her face as she gaped at the thief’s resurrection.

He let a satisfied smile cross his lips. “Jenalyn, I’d like you to meet Jo. Technically, she’s my cousin.” The blonde Immortal twisted in his “Jo, this is Jennie.”

“Mordred,” Jo growled. “Let me go.”

His smile grew wider as he crawled towards Jo. “You honestly expect me to let you go after you broke into my home? And how the hell did you manage it?

Jo jerked against the chains. “No one ever expects the Spanish Inquisition, do they?” she offered jokingly. “I got hired by a client to break in and get something you have. To be fair, Mordred, I didn’t know you lived here. My employer simply gave me an address.”

“It doesn’t explain how you got past my shields.”

“It’s the only answer I’ve got.”

“You broke into my house. Again.”

“I figured it worked so well last time–”

“Be quiet.”

 

 

 

 

 

Blog Tour – The Continuum by Wendy Nikel

Wendy Nikel is a speculative fiction author with a degree in elementary education, a fondness for road trips, and a terrible habit of forgetting where she’s left her cup of tea. Her short fiction has been published by Fantastic Stories of the ImaginationDaily Science FictionNature: Futures, and various other anthologies and e-zines.

For more info, visit wendynikel.com or subscribe to her newsletter here!

Social Media Links    Facebook     Twitter  


23 Jan – CA Milson Author
23 Jan – Indie Book Fairy
23 Jan – Stormy Nights
23 Jan – Dawn’s Reading Nook
24 Jan – Romance Reviews Today
25 Jan – Girl With Pen
26 Jan – Urban Fantasy Investigations
27 Jan – Ash Stone Author
28 Jan – Girl Who Reads
29 Jan – Writing Dreams
30 Jan – BookGirl Knitting
30 Jan – Torie James
01 Feb – Room With Books

 

 

Elise Morley is an expert on the past who’s about to get a crash course in the future.

For years, Elise has been donning corsets, sneaking into castles, and lying through her teeth to enforce the Place in Time Travel Agency’s ten essential rules of time travel. Someone has to ensure that travel to the past isn’t abused, and most days she welcomes the challenge of tracking down and retrieving clients who have run into trouble on their historical vacations.

But when a dangerous secret organization kidnaps her and coerces her into jumping to the future on a high-stakes assignment, she’s got more to worry about than just the timespace continuum. For the first time ever, she’s the one out-of-date, out of place, and quickly running out of time.

Nikel is a solid writer with vivid description, an imaginative future, and a command of accurate historical speech.

Unreliable Narrators

Buy your copy here:

Official page

http://www.worldweaverpress.com/store/p139/The_Continuum.html

Goodreads

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35224471-the-continuum

Amazon

https://www.amazon.com/Continuum-Wendy-Nikel-ebook/dp/B076R9Z6DS/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&qid=1509402840&sr=8-1&keywords=wendy+nikel+continuum&linkCode=sl1&tag=worweapre-20&linkId=8fbea5376b3e9fcfdea0b0fc4dc65b3e

Barnes & Noble

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-continuum-wendy-nikel/1127278953

iTunes

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id1299843408

“The spinning slows. Suddenly, everything stops.

My legs flail, searching for solid ground, until I plunge abruptly into dank, smelly water. I gasp, and my mouth fills with brine. I’m being dragged in one direction, but instinct pulls me the opposite way. I kick against my heavy skirts and break the surface. For one dizzying moment I’m utterly confused. The concrete slabs of the nearby docks sharpen my fuzzy memory.

1912.

Southampton.

The Titanic.

I Extracted while on the gangplank—a gangplank that doesn’t exist in 2012. This is exactly why our travellers are encouraged to use pre-approved Extraction locations. The Wormhole dumps travellers at the same place they’ve left from, which can make for some awkward (or dangerous) entrances.

Across the way, Marie does a frantic doggie-paddle towards the steel rungs leading up to the dock. With labored strokes, I swim after her, clutching the sphere in one hand. When I reach her, she’s still clinging to the bottom rung, too exhausted to climb to safety.

“Hang on.” I slip my Wormhole Device into my handbag and pull my dripping body up to the dock. Water streams out around me, forming a dark puddle on the concrete. The evening sun, balancing on the very edge of the horizon, casts an eerie glow on the water.

“Okay. Come on up—”

My encouragement is drowned out by the sound of retching. Lovely.

I clench my jaw to stop my teeth from rattling and focus on retaining my professionalism—not easy, considering the mucked-up circumstances.

Finally, Marie starts up the ladder, ascending tentatively, with gasping breaths. When she’s close enough to grab my forearms, I pull her up with much grunting and tugging. Her eyes widen as she takes in the industrial warehouses, giant cranes, and sprawling parking lots that seem to have appeared instantaneously.

“What have you done?” Her voice rises in pitch with each word.”

Blog Tour – Solomon’s Bell by Michelle Lowery Combs

author-pic-michelle-lowery-combsMichelle Lowery Combs is an award-winning writer and blogger who studied business and English at Jacksonville State University. She lives in Alabama with her husband and their army of children. When not in the presence of throngs of toddlers, tweens, and teens, Michelle can be found among the rows of her family’s farm, neglecting her roots and dreaming up the next bestseller.

She is a member of the Alabama Writers’ Conclave and the Society of Children’s Book Writers & Illustrators (SCBWI). Check Michelle out at her website MichelleLoweryCombs.com

Author Twitter       Publisher Twitter       Publisher Website

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07 Mar – Ash Stone Author
07 Mar – Indie Book Fairy
07 Mar – Stormy Nights
07 Mar – Teatime and Books
08 Mar – Romance Reviews Today
08 Mar – Tome Tender
08 Mar – Girl With Pen
09 Mar – Writing Dreams
13 Mar – Celtic Lady’s Reviews
13 Mar – Girl Who Reads

cover-solomons-bellTo save her family, Ginn uses her newfound genie powers to transport herself and her friends to 16th century Prague. Only one thing there remains the same as at home:  she can’t let anyone know what she really is.

The Emperor of Prague and those closest to him are obsessed with magic. In pursuit of it, they’ve waged war on the citizens of their city. In the citizens’ defense, someone has brought to life a golem, a dangerous being with connections to an artifact capable of summoning and commanding an entire army of genies.

Can Ginn escape the notice of the Emperor as she attempts to discover a way to defeat Prague’s golem in time to save her family from a similar creature?

Solomon’s Bell is the sequel to Heir to the Lamp and the second book of the Genie Chronicles series.

Grab your copy now!

Amazon     Barnes and Noble     iTunes     World Weaver Press

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Haley Hardy blinks up at me, her big blue eyes made larger with surprise. Haley’s the newbie: a tiny ten-year-old my family has been fostering for the last few months. Mom and Dad want to adopt Haley, but she hasn’t decided on Charles and Molly Lawson and their chaotic brood of six children yet.

“What’s up, Haley?” I ask, trying to sound as though I don’t know she’s seen me appear from out of nowhere. I turn my back to her, retrieve the lamp from the ground, and stuff it into my pack.

“Sixty-four percent of people believe the Loch Ness monster really exists,” Haley says in her high voice. “Of course, you’d have to use a point zero one significance level to test that claim; the survey I saw was online.”

Half the time I have no idea what Haley is talking about. She’s insanely smart—a genius even. I can practically feel my IQ plummet whenever I try to have a conversation with her.

“Um, really?” I ask, trying to imagine where this is going. Haley half turns toward the open door of the small barn as if she’s about to leave. I sigh with relief, but Haley seems to think better of it and turns to face me again.

“Did you know that there’s an ongoing project to have collected evidence validated by science and the Sasquatch officially recognized as a species?”

What? “Haley, where do you come up with this stuff?” I sink onto the wooden bench behind me, peering into the bright eyes of the strangest kid I’ve ever met.

“I like to read,” she says, looking away. Between her right thumb and first two thin fingers, Haley rolls the fat glass marble she carries with her at all times. Mom says it’s a kind of security object, like how some kids develop attachments to stuffed toys or blankets from their babyhood. Mom also says the rest of us kids shouldn’t make a huge deal about it. Haley’s been in six foster homes in five years, and Mom figures the marble could be a keepsake from her life before all that, though Haley hasn’t said as much. She’s so intense sometimes; I don’t think anyone knows what to make of her. Mom says some of the other foster families exploited Haley; she’s been on a major talk show and even won twenty-five thousand dollars for one of her foster families on some game show before they abandoned her on the steps of the Children’s Methodist Home on their way to Las Vegas. Watching her with her marble, seeing how slowly she works the ball of glass flecked with every color of the rainbow, I can tell I’ve hurt her feelings.

“Reading’s cool,” I say, hoping to reassure her. Sure, I thought about divorcing my parents when I found out we were taking in another kid, even when in the beginning the arrangement was supposed to be only temporary, but I kind of like the little brainiac. Mostly because of the way she’s able to keep Eli and Jasper in line. The Twosome are crazy about our new foster sister. Part of me is starting to wonder if Haley’s stats on Bigfoot could have anything to do with the boys’ obsession with B-grade horror movies.

“I’d be satisfied with being half as smart as you, Haley. I’m having the worst time in algebra.”

“Mr. Lawson is teaching me trigonometry,” Haley says brightening. “Algebra was a breeze.” My parents are homeschooling Haley; they say it’s for the best. She’d be at least a junior at my high school otherwise. I can imagine all four and a half feet of her struggling on tip-toe to reach a locker—that is if her statistics about the Loch Ness Monster didn’t get her stuffed into it. “I’m happy to tutor you,” she tells me.

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

I stand and watch Haley eye the backpack on my shoulder. She looks from my face to the pack a few times. I think she’s about to say something about what she’s seen or thinks she’s seen with the lamp when Jasper bursts through the barn door.

“Hay-wee!” he exclaims. “We need wou, quick! I fink we found a chupacabwa!”

“It’s highly unlikely that a goat sucker or el chupacabra would be found this far north of Latin America, Jasper,” Haley says. She corrects my seven-year-old brother even as she allows him to tug her excitedly from the barn.

 

 

Blog Tour – Meddlers of Moonshine by A.E. Decker

author-photo-ae-deckerA.E. Decker hails from Pennsylvania. A former doll-maker and ESL tutor, she earned a master’s degree in history, where she developed a love of turning old stories upside-down to see what fell out of them.

This led in turn to the writing of her YA novel, The Falling of the Moon. A graduate of Odyssey 2011, her short fiction has appeared in such venues as Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Fireside Magazine, and in World Weaver Press’s own Specter Spectacular.

Like all writers, she is owned by three cats. Come visit her, her cats, and her fur Daleks at wordsmeetworld.com.

Twitter     Goodreads

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cover-meddlers-of-moonshineSomething is rotten in the town of Widget, and Rags-n-Bones knows it’s all his fault. Ever since he snitched that avocado from Miss Ascot’s pack, things have been going wrong. Armed with a handful of memories he never realized he had, Rags-n-Bones searches for a way to put right whatever he did to Widget in the past. If only he knew what it was! Unfortunately, the only person who seems to have answers is a half-mad youth that only Rags can see.

Widget is also suffering from a ghost infestation that has the townsfolk almost as spooked of outsiders as they are of actual spooks. While Rags-n-Bones seeks answers in the past, Ascot offers the town leaders her service as an exorcist, only to be handed an ultimatum: banish the ghosts or be banished herself!

Who’s meddling with Widget? To catch the culprit, Ascot and Rags-n-Bones must match wits with a shifty sorcerer, a prissy ex-governess, and a troublingly attractive captain before the town consigns itself to the graveyard of history.

Buy your copy here

Amazon      Barnes & Noble      Kobo     iTunes      World Weaver Press

 

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the-meddlers-of-moonshine-blog-tour

24 Oct – Book, Dreams, Life
25 Oct – Celtic Lady’s Reviews
25 Oct – Girl With Pen
26 Oct – Savvy Authors
27 Oct – Romance Reviews Today
27 Oct – Ash Stone Author
27 Oct – Stephanie’s Book Reviews
28 Oct – Writing Dreams
28 Oct – Romancing the Book
28 Oct – Indie Book Fairy
28 Oct  – Reading In Sarah’s Corner
29 Oct – Stormy Nights
30 Oct – Shelli Rosewarne
30 Oct – Cynthia Bloggs
30 Oct – Making It Happen
03 Oct  – Dana’s YA Book Pile

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There was a hand in the forest, and it held an avocado.

“Miss Ascot bought it for me,” said Rags-n-Bones, clutching it to his chest as he ran. The dead leaves crunched softly underfoot, thick and bouncy as a crispy cloud. “That means it’s not stealing.”

On his shoulder, Nipper squeaked. Being a rat, Nipper was hazy on the concept of “stealing.” Generally, he felt if you could get something in your mouth, it was yours.

Rags-n-Bones wished he were a rat. It would make dealing with guilt much easier. I should never have rummaged through Miss Ascot’s pack, he thought, ducking around a birch. His thumb caressed the avocado’s soft, pebbly skin. If I’d waited, she, or the Captain, or Sir Dmitri, or the Mighty Terror from the Deepest Shadows would’ve awakened and given it to me. He leaped over a log, mouth watering in anticipation of the avocado’s rich, buttery flavor. I should go back right now and—

Squeak? Nipper stuck his nose in Rags-n-Bones’ ear impatiently.

Rags-n-Bones gave up. He’d take whatever punishment arrived later. Right now, the torment of not eating the avocado was too great to bear. “There’s a grove up ahead,” he replied. “Around that cone-shaped boulder. We’ll eat it there.” Avocados required privacy for proper consumption.

How could you possibly know there’s a grove ahead? asked a small part of his brain not drunk on avocado-lust. You’ve never been here before.

He shrugged. Ahead just seemed like a convenient place for a grove. A small circle of beech trees, with an old oak smack in the center, its gnarled, moss-covered roots gripping the hummock it sat atop like an old man clutching a tea cake.

A foot skidded out from under him as he rounded the boulder, kicking up a trail of wet leaves and the smell of tannin. That’s a lot of detail for a mere hunch. Why, you can visualize the oak, can’t you? That thick, knobby trunk. Those bare, crooked branches. And carved into the bark—

Six feet into the grove, Rags-n-Bones stumbled to a halt and stared vacantly at a patch of earth. Something was very wrong. Was he being watched?

He whimpered. He was being watched. A disapproving stare pressed almost tangibly on the top of his bowed head. Branches swayed creakily overhead. He watched the wind skitter a fallen acorn across the carpet of leaves.

Squeak? Nipper scrabbled at his cheek.

I have to do it. Slowly, Rags-n-Bones lifted his gaze to meet the watcher’s.

The avocado hit the leaves with a soft crunch as his fingers abruptly slackened. Punishment had arrived sooner than expected.

Blog Tour – On A Black Horse by Monica Corwin

Monica
Monica Corwin is an outspoken writer attempting to make romance accessible to everyone, no matter their preference.

As a Northern Ohioian Monica enjoys snow drifts, three seasons of weather, and a dislike of Michigan. When not writing Monica spends time with her daughter and her ever growing collection of tomes about King Arthur.

Facebook               Twitter                        Website

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cover-on-a-black-horseWhen a Sun God makes a prophecy, it’s best to heed the warning.

Katherine stands on the edge of ruin. With Ragnarok in full swing and her friends off finding thier own lives she can’t find a purpose in her existence. When Baldr, their missing Sun God, kidnaps Katherine and entreats her to care for his friend, a wounded hellhound, Katherine makes a selfish choice for the first time in her life.

Arwan never expected to meet a God, let alone fight a group of them to begin the Apocalypse. After the battle between Bianca, the Horseman of Conquest, and Hel, the Goddess of the Underworld, Arwan, escapes home to the Welsh coast intent to die on his own land.

With Hel dead, the Horseman believe they’ve stalled Ragnarok. But Baldr has a dream that convinces the Horseman to take out the remaining hounds loyal to Hel which includes the incapacitated Arwan.

Can Katherine go against her friends to save a man she promised to protect? Even if Arwan could end the Horseman for good?

Click HERE to buy your copy!

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Excerpt

The woman shifted in the arm chair and then rocketed to standing. She blinked at the fire and then around the room spinning slowly until her eyes locked on Baldir. “YOU! What the hell is wrong with you? How could you just abduct me like that? I have a cell phone. You could ask for anything and I would give it if it were in my power.”

Arwan looked her over again from the soles of her scuffed up sneakers to the skinny jeans hugging the strong curve of her upper thighs and the purple tank top that set off the olive tone of her smooth skin. “Are you a genie?”

Her eyes locked on his and for a moment he could swear he felt something melt within him under that fiery gaze. “Who the hell are you?”

“I could ask you the same question since you are standing in my house.”

She threw up her hands. “I don’t want to be in your house. I was brought against my will.”

They both looked to Baldir who wore a sheepish grin and a pink flush.

He stood so he could look between them both. “Ok look.” He faced the woman. “If I had asked you to come here you would have refused. I know it.” Then he turned to Arwan. “And you would have been your surly self about the whole thing and just died out of spite instead of letting me get help.”

Arwan glared at him. He’d been called surly, pig-headed, and any other synonym of stubborn over the years. He took a deep breathe and glanced back at the woman. “Fine, again I ask who are you?”

She crossed her arms under her breasts. He couldn’t help but notice the full weight of them propped up by her forearms. He shook that thought path off. He was dying, there was no time for thoughts like that. “My name is Arwan.”

She huffed. “Katherine.”

“So what are you then?”

Katherine shuffled from foot to foot. “I’m a barista.”

Baldir interjected. “She owns a coffee shop. It’s in New York City, no less. She’s a little more than a barista. Not that her coffee making skills will apply in this situation.”

“Why am I here?” Katherine asked still clutching herself tightly while attempting to give off more attitude than Arwan could see she possessed. Some of her brown hair had escaped it’s confines casting a halo around her head in wavy curls. She looked so young, so innocent to be involved in their world.

“No.” Arwan pushed himself off the bed with effort. His forehead sprouted a fine sheen of swear by the time he reached his full height. She barely stood as tall as his chin but at 6’4 he towered over most people. “She is too innocent for this. I won’t corrupt another poor soul to save myself.”

He tried to move toward her but caught the chair the wrong way and went down. Her arms were around him before he hit the floor and she set him carefully on the scuffed and aged hardwood.

“You’re hurt,” she said, softly, still holding him.

The heat of her body sunk into him reaching those dark places long chilled by the absence of others. She smelled of chocolate and coffee beans. A heady scent comforting him before he that realization set in.

Other books in the series…

On A Red Horse (Book 1)
On A White Horse (Book 2)

 

 

Spirit Board by Erzabet Bishop

Two mates are better than one…
 
Vanessa lives vicariously through the romance heroines in her overflowing bookshelf. No real man can ever measure up to the sultry, shapeshifter heroes with their feral smiles—or so she thinks until a creepy costume shop and a chance encounter with a fortuneteller shake up her ordinary life. When Vanessa’s best friend brings her to a sexy costume party, she realizes more than fur is going to fly.
 
Rick is an Alpha cat shifter and co-owner of the Imaginarium. When he scents the luscious Vanessa, he has no intention of letting her slip away. But Rick isn’t the only man searching for his one true love. Cian is a former Captain of the Winter Court in Faery, wielder of shadows and magic. When Fey enchantment and shifter might collide, more than mere hearts are caught in the crossfire. And as a threat looms closer with the turning of the season, both men may be the keys to Vanessa’s heart—and her survival.
 
Fancy a giveaway? Check this out
Swirl
“Do you want your fortune told, my dear?” The crone’s rheumy eyes met hers, and a shiver slid down her back. The woman gave her the willies.

“I…”

“Please. Be my guest. It will be my treat to show you your fortune.”

Indecision warred within her. “I’m here with my friend.”

“Go ahead! Get your fortune read.” Aria came up beside her and looped an arm around her neck. “Let’s find out what kind of night you’re going to have at the party.”
“OK.” Vanessa made her way to the small table and lowered herself into the seat. In front of her laid a strange-looking Ouija board printed with an alphabet and a yes and no. The older woman took an item out of a wooden box and placed it carefully on the surface of the board.

“What’s that?”

“It’s called a planchette, silly.” Aria rolled her eyes and grinned at the annoyed look Vanessa gave her.

“I’ve never used one of these, OK? My father would kill me.”

“Why? Does he think they’re a portal to some other dimension or something?”

Vanessa wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure. He just never let anything like it in the house. It’s beautiful.” The workmanship of the board and the intricate lettering transfixed her. She reached out to touch the planchette but the older woman stopped her.
“Not yet, my girl. First you must think of a question.”

“What kind of question?”

The woman’s thin lips curved upward. “The spirit board offers much guidance but also warns of things to come. Ask the right questions and you’ll find the answers you seek.”
“Cryptic, much?” Aria yawned. “Why don’t you play with the board and I’ll find you something to wear.”

“Sure. Whatever.” Vanessa focused her attention on the board in front of her. The letters weaved in front of her eyes.“Now,” the old woman began, her eyes bright in her pale face, “think of the question you would like to ask the spirits. But be warned…”

“Of what?”

“The truth can wound or it can set you free.”

Vanessa held out her hand and the old woman enveloped it in her own. She placed Vanessa’s hand on the planchette and released her.
“Fingertips only. Now…think of what you want to ask.”

Vanessa moved her fingers until only the tips touched the planchette. Her mind raced. There were so many questions she wanted answers to. Who was her mother? Not her father’s wife, but her biological mother. Should she go to this party with Aria on Friday or stay home like she always did, safe behind a pile of books?Before the woman placed her own fingertips on the planchette, it took off toward the yes. Then it sped to the letters and began to spell out something.

“What the—?” Vanessa snatched her fingers away as if they’d been singed.

“Goddess…” The fortune-teller stood abruptly, knocking her chair over. Her brow contorted and her eyes were owlish with fear showing a ring of veined white around the iris. “Stop.”

“It’s still moving,” Vanessa whispered, her pulse hammering beneath her skin. “I’m trying to make out what it’s saying, but the thing is going too fast.”“What’s going on over here?” Aria scrambled back toward the table, an expression of horror on her face. “Jesus, Vanessa.”

“I didn’t do it,” she snapped. “It’s wigging out.”

“Obviously.”

The old woman backed up, her eyes wide. “You must go to the party. Something you need will be revealed to you there. That is all I can tell you.” With that, she yanked the planchette off the board and swiftly tucked it
back into the wooden box it came from. Without looking at either of the girls, the fortune-teller retreated into the back room, the door shutting behind her with a resounding thud.
“Thanks,” Vanessa called, a little too late.

“OK then. That wasn’t weird.” Aria grimaced. “Come on. I have a couple of dresses you need to look at.”

“Yeah. Sure. OK.” Anything to get her mind off of whatever just happened. “Freaky” didn’t even begin to cover it.
“How about this?” Aria raised her arm and a flowing Egyptian priestess costume dangled from her fingertips. The white fabric was sheer, but it had so many layers, it had the potential to work. Around the hanger was a plastic bag complete with golden armbands and some kind of bluish lapis necklace.
“OK,” Vanessa replied reluctantly. “Hand it over.”
Aria scurried over and passed the dress off, a smirk on her full lips. “This is going to look great on you. Just wait.”
“Sure.” As long as it got her out of here faster. Vanessa decided putting distance between the fortune-teller and her would be a good thing. “Why did I let you talk me into this again?”
“Cause you love me and you’ll have lots of fun?”
“You haven’t even told me what kind of party it is.”
Aria gave her a cheeky grin. “And ruin the surprise?”
 
Swirl

Erzabet Bishop is an award winning author who loves to write naughty stories. She is the author of Lipstick, Dinner Date, Crave, The Science of Lust, Arcane Imaginarium: Spirit Board, Holidays in Hell, Mallory’s Mark (upcoming 2016),The Devil’s Due (upcoming 2016), Charity Benshaw’s Enchanted Paddle Emporium (upcoming 2016), Sigil Fire, Glitter Lust (upcoming 2016), Written on Skin, Club Beam, Pomegranate, A Red Dress for Christmas, The Black Magic Café, Fantasies in Red, Sweet Seductions: The Erzabet Bishop Collection, Holiday Cruise, Fetish Fair, Temptation Resorts: Jess, Temptation Resorts: Marnie, Taming the Beast, The Erotic Pagans Series: Beltane Fires, Samhain Shadows and Yuletide Temptation along with being a contributor to many anthologies.

Erzabet has been a finalist in the GCLS awards for 2014 and 2015, winning the Goldie for her spot in two anthologies.

She lives in Texas with her husband, furry children and can often be found lurking in local bookstores. She loves to bake, make naughty crochet projects and watch monster movies. When she isn’t writing, she loves to review music and books.

Follow her reviews and posts on Twitter @erzabetbishop and sign up for her newsletter to keep up with new releases and hot deals!
 

Texas Twister by Dana Wright

Sometimes love finds you in the darkest places.
 
Magdalay Rousseau is having a bad day. She can’t find the charging cable to her laptop, and when she goes into her husband’s office to look for it, she discovers he’s been cheating on her. She decides to hire a private investigator to dig into her husband’s secrets, but what the detective discovers about her turns her world upside-down.
 
Carter Zusak is a private detective–and a cat shifter. When a new client shows up, he’s almost certain she’s a flake. What kind of woman writes romance novels and owns a shop selling supplies for witches? He’s sure she’s got a bat or two loose in her belfry–until he delves deeper into her case. No one in her life is what they seem, and Magdalay has just put herself in danger more insidious than he ever imagined. Something about this witch sets his heart on fire. But he’ll have to figure out a way to save her before they
both get burned…
 
Published By: Etopia Press  *  Oct 27, 2015  *  ISBN # 9781944138158  *  Pages: 99
 
Excerpt skinny
CHAPTER ONE

Magdalay Rousseau stared at her lifeless laptop and groaned. It wouldn’t turn on. Again. So much for a lasting battery. Already irritated from lack of sleep, she pressed the on button one more time and tried to recall where she’d left the charger. It should be in the little plastic bag she usually kept next to her laptop, but it wasn’t.

“Great. I can’t believe this. I ought to just spell you and be done with it.” She growled and pushed herself up from the small space at the kitchen table. Perhaps it was in her work bag in the foyer. She hated resorting to magic when real world solutions worked just fine. It had been a point of contention with her mother for years. Besides, she wasn’t very good at it. Wish for rain and get a flood in her kitchen. That was her life right now. Magdalay peered into the bag. Nothing.

“Oh. This is just getting better and better.”

Magdalay spun on her heel and considered her next move. She had a deadline for her publisher, and today would be her only day off with no distractions until next week. Not that she could focus anyway. Not with the antics Russ was pulling lately. Her mind kept circling him like a dog with a bone. 
He’d been out with the boys from the club, but something in the back of her mind kept digging at her. Their poker games didn’t last that long. Neither did their dinners at the club, which she now refused to attend. Not after the last time with his uppity friends and their equally unpleasant wives. She didn’t fit in with the country club scene, and that was more than all right with her.

Russ hadn’t come home—again—by the time her head hit the pillow last night at midnight. It was becoming par for the course. Magdalay couldn’t concentrate on anything and that included leaving her damn charging cable someplace. She could swear it was next to her workstation last night when she went to bed, but she could have been dreaming. She couldn’t remember, and that just pissed her off, making her already foul mood even more noxious.
“Did you wash my pants?” Russ called out from the bedroom, his voice lacking any of the warmth she used to receive from him.

“Yes,” she ground out, barely containing her urge to demand where the hell he’d been all damned night. It didn’t do any good. He never answered her anyway. “They’re folded on the dryer.”

Her husband, Russ, clad in a blue pullover shirt and tighty-whities bolted from their bedroom down the short hall toward the laundry room. The door opened and shut, and she caught a streak of blue out of the corner of her eye but no acknowledgement or thank you. Next time she ought to let his clothes just pile up and see what happened. Well…she took that back. A week ago, she’d been too busy to keep up with the laundry and he’d shaken her awake after a long day at the shop and writing, demanding to know when she would get around to it. The icy stare was enough to motivate her into preemptive action. She’d never been afraid of her husband before that night, but things had changed between them at an alarming rate.

She poured the water into the coffeepot and flipped on the switch, sighing as the rich aroma of the Columbian blend pervaded the kitchen. It was still early, and she’d spent a sleepless night tossing and turning and imagining his car wrapped around a pole or worse. The man hadn’t come home until after two. At least that was the last time she recalled on the blinking clock on the nightstand. Russ hadn’t even had the decency to let her know where he was or if he was OK. Magdalay didn’t remember him sneaking in. She’d tried to stay awake so she could talk to him or at least give him a piece of her mind, but she must have drifted off in a wave of jittery exhaustion.
Last night had just been the latest in a long line of whatever was happening in their marriage and fixing it was becoming a pipe dream. He’d grown more and more distant over the past three months and she didn’t know what had gone wrong. Well…except for her working. He hated the hours she spent away from home, but with her mother’s passing, Broomstix had become hers. The irony wasn’t lost on her. A witch who didn’t want to be, or worse yet, was terrible at it. She thought back to her mother’s last days and the love she had for her trusty cat, Jules. They’d been inseparable.“You need a familiar, love. Sometimes having someone at your back and by your side is the most powerful magic in the world.” Magdalay’s lips twisted and she sighed. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried. Every cat she’d gotten went missing in a matter of days. When she’d gone to Russ about the missing animals, he’d had nothing to say.

Frustrating wasn’t even half the word for it. Perhaps she wasn’t cut out for animals. Then she thought all she needed was her soul mate. That would have to be enough. She’d always thought Russ was that person, but more and more, she sensed a tremendous gulf between them, and it left her hollow inside. Last month she’d been at the stitching circle and each of the ladies was practicing poppet magic. The little cloth dolls danced and frolicked in anticipation of whatever task they were intended for. Hers lay there, looking still and unresponsive. It was to be a creative muse for her magic. She figured if she could cast a spell and have a poppet work on some of her overdue plot lines and synopses, she’d be ahead of the game. No such luck.

The stitching circle, full of her mother’s old friends, thought it was hilarious. Now on top of her writing schedule, it was her responsibility to keep Broomstix going. People depended on her, and she was trying to learn as much as she could. Gaining the knowledge she needed wasn’t going as smooth as she’d like.Her gaze raked the cluttered counter where her husband paid bills and recoiled. No way was she touching that. “Not a chance.” Then she remembered Russ had the same model laptop she did. She could borrow his charger and pick hers up tomorrow when she went back into work. Problem solved.

“I’m out. See you tonight,” came the clipped response from the front hallway followed by the slamming of the decorative lead glass door. He hadn’t even come into the kitchen. Not even for coffee. 

“Wow.” Now she knew he was avoiding her and likely hiding something. Magdalay shook her head, the bitterness of her new reality sliding down her stomach like a Ping Pong ball. His behavior stung, and she didn’t know what to make of it. She moved down the hall, her linen nightgown floating around her legs. In the Texas heat, it helped to have something comfortable and the Eileen West nightgowns were her guilty pleasure. Goddess knew she needed something. 
She paused in the doorway to his office and sighed. Goddess, she hated invading his space. Maybe the charger was right out in the open and she could snap it up and be out before she disturbed anything of importance. Then she saw it. Propped on a pile of paperwork next to his computer was her small, holiday design-covered Ziploc bag with her cord dangling off the desk over the top of it.

“What the heck?” Her lips slid into a frown and she unclenched her hands. He took it. Probably to do the same thing she’d been about to do, but at least she would have replaced his where she found it as soon as she was done. She reached down to pick up the bag and wind up the charging cord, and her hand brushed the mouse on his desk, the darkened screen erupting to life. His e-mail was up. She wouldn’t have stopped save for the name on the screen.

WTF?

Slowly, Magdalay lowered herself into the chair and began to read. She hadn’t meant to intrude on his privacy. They’d always respected each other enough to be honest. At least she’d always thought so. But with every line she read, the trust she believed her marriage was based on was revealed to be nothing more than a lie. She hated wives who resorted to sneaking into their husband’s phone records and all of those things to find out what they’d been up to. Now, here she was, and she didn’t have a clue what to do about it. What was done was done and couldn’t be taken back. One e-mail turned into two. Two turned into a dozen, and at that point she had to stop, the contents of her stomach churning like wildfire in her gut.

Fuck me. Fuck me like you did in your office.

I want it all.

You motherfucker.

Tears stung her eyes. There was no other explanation was there? It was all laid out in black and white. The only thing missing was a frigging video of them fornicating. Her stomach lurched. 
The lump in her throat threatened to overtake her, and she had to pause and take a deep breath. Her mother’s absence was a raw and gaping wound. Eleanor would have known what to do, but Magdalay was frozen with indecision. Her thoughts turned to the ladies in her stitching circle. They met once a month but it wasn’t scheduled until next week. Goddess, but she sure could use some comfort now. Or at least, a sounding board for her fury. Her fingertips itched to zot the fucker but no…not yet. Not that she was fully capable, but her circle was. She’d seen it time and again.But the emails…she read the last line again. I want to run my fingers down your long, long legs and part your… She had to stop. Nausea threatened to overwhelm her once again.

“You cheating bastard,” she whispered. She had to be sure. It was possible it was only emails. In her heart, she knew that was a lie. Magdalay stood, her knees shaking and made her way out of Russ’s office to her work space in the kitchen. She hooked up the laptop to the charger and shoved the plug into the wall.

Magdalay considered her options. She could wait and confront him when he got home. Whenever that would be.
No.
Or she could hex him where he stood and watch as his dick shriveled up and fell off. A tiny smile twitched at the corner of her lips at the idea. If only. With her luck, she’d turn him into an overlarge piece of beef jerky and have to explain that one to the police. Not a good idea. Her magic was unpredictable at best. She’d hid it from him, not wanting to go there. It wasn’t her fault she was born a witch. It was her choice whether or not to use it. If something needing a spell came up, she waited until her hubby was off doing engineer things or sleeping in front of the television. Proof. She needed more proof. The laptop whirled to life and she pulled up her search engine.
What about a private detective? She had a little mad money put aside for the dress she wanted for the romance writer’s convention in a few months. Magdalay had no idea what the detective would cost, but she had to know. With unblinking eyes she typed, private investigator Spinnaker, Texas then she closed her eyes, rolled the mouse, and clicked on the Blue Moon Detective Agency.
 
Swirl
 
Dana Wright has always had a fascination with things that go bump in the night. She is often found playing at local bookstores, trying not to maim herself with crochet hooks or knitting needles, watching monster movies with her husband and furry kids or blogging about books. More commonly, she is chained to her computers, writing like a woman possessed.
She is currently working on several children’s stories, young adult fiction, romantic suspense, short stories and is trying her hand at poetry. She is a contributing author to Ghost Sniffer’s CYOA, Siren’s Call E-zine in their “Women in Horror” issue in February 2013 and “Revenge” in October 2013, a contributing author to Potatoes!, Fossil Lake, Of Dragons and Magic: Tales of the Lost Worlds, Undead in Pictures, Potnia, Shadows and Light, Dark Corners (upcoming), Wonderstruck, Shifters: A Charity Anthology, Dead Harvest, Monster Diaries, Holiday Horrors and the Roms, Bombs and Zoms Anthology from Evil Girlfriend Media. She is the author of Asylum, The Invitation and Texas Twister.  
Dana has also reviewed music for Muzikreviews.com specializing in New Age and alternative music and has been a contributing writer to Eternal Haunted Summer, Massacre Magazine, Metaphor Magazine, The Were Traveler October 2013 edition: The Little Magazine of Magnificent Monsters, the December 2013 issue The Day the Zombies Ruled the Earth. She currently reviews music at New Age Music Reviews and Write a Music Review.
Twitter: @danawrite     Author site and newsletter     Facebook fan page     The Romance Reviews 

Blog Tour – Finding Destiny by Katrina Hart

I have a soft spot for elements of fantasy and magic and I have a feeling that Finding Destiny will deliver on its promise.  I know that I’ve certainly loved working with Katrina on this tour. She’s fun, charming and talented and I know that you’ll love her as much as I do.

—oOo—

Finding-Destiny.When eighteen year old Alex’s little sister’s pony goes missing, he sets out to look for her and finds himself in a strange gypsy camp in the middle of a forest. The pony is being cared for by a young girl called Faith. When Alex accepts a drink from Faith’s grandmother, he wakes up later to find himself transported into 2038 to a technologically-advanced, very colourful world inhabited by humans and robots.

Alex soon discovers that he is now twenty, married and has a magical little baby girl. A magic he only seems to notice. He soon finds out that he will have to defend his little girl from the half-breeds with everything he has. He travels back through the magic pages of books to try and save her before it is too late and she is lost from him forever.

Grab your copy here…

http://www.pilrigpress.co.uk/books.html

Amazon

iTunes 

—oOo—

Finding Destiny Blog Tour24 Aug – Romance Reviews Today
25 Aug – Room with Books
26 Aug – Paranormal Book Fairy
27 Aug – Book Girl Knitting
27 Aug – Lynn Stevens
27 Aug – Savvy Authors
28 Aug – Undercover Book Reviews
28 Aug – CA Milson
28 Aug – Up All Night, Read All Day
29 Aug – Books & More
31 Aug – Coffee Time Romance
31 Aug – Nat’s Book Nook
31 Aug – Night Owl Reviews
31 Aug – Pamaceeve
02 Sept – Romancing the Book

—oOo—

katie-pic-lr (2)My name is Katrina Hart but I was always called Katie. I live in the East of England with my family and Holly, Smokey my two cats as well as Jessie our dog, they are a nutty bunch but I love them all the same. I have always had a passion for reading. I could easily spend a whole lifetime engrossed in a good book.

In my twenties I joined an online writing class, where I fell in love with writing my own stories. Since I started writing I have discovered a new love for quotes, a quote that really inspired was from Toni Morrison. Toni said  “If there’s a book you really want to read but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it.” I came across this quote whilst I was studying, this is one of the many things that inspired me to begin my first novel.

http://katrinamarie25.wordpress.com.

Twitter; @KatrinaHart2015

Facebook  

Goodreads  

—oOo—

Finding Destiny

Alex“Destiny! Destiny!” I yelled, walking the dark forest alone.

Broken branches crunched beneath my feet. Black, shadowing trees loomed over me, following my every move. Owls hooted and flapped in every direction. I proceeded, calling the girlie-named pony.

I walked till my feet burned. It had been hours with no sign of Destiny, when the forest seemed to come alive before my eyes! Classical music hummed around a circle of purple gypsy tents, which surrounded a huge pink camp fire. I rubbed my tired eyes in disbelief. I opened them again and saw Destiny being cuddled lovingly by a pale girl with black hair flowing like a never-ending river. I walked over to the girl and Destiny.

“Hey miss, you found my sister’s pony.” I looked down at them both.

“Mister, she is my pony!” She held Destiny closer in a protective grip.

I was about to argue my point, but a cold hand pushed on my shoulder, stopping me.

“Grandma! He wants my pony.” The girl pointed in my direction.

“Faith, don’t point it’s rude!” The old woman scolded her like she was a child.

“Where the hell did you come from!” I shouted and jumped to look her in the face.

“My tent, just this way,” the grandma said as she walked inside her purple tent.

I followed, outraged. I just wanted my sister’s pony back.

“Enter,” the old woman croaked, coughing.

“Are you okay!” I whispered.

“Yes! Yes! Don’t worry yourself, now what can I do for you, sir?” She coughed again.

“I need my sister’s pony back. It’s her everything,” I pleaded.

“My Faith loves her too,” the old lady coughed again.

“I will do anything, I need that pony!” I tried again, staring into the old lady’s purple eyes.

OC Madam MoonFighterHer wrinkled, transparent face and white long hair, tied in a bun tight above her head, made her look frail. She sat down behind a crystal ball. “Anything?”

I nodded.

“Let me see your future,” she coughed, rubbing her crystal ball and looking inside its clear dome.

The silence dragged on like an unspoken question in a crowded room. Sadness crossed her face.

“It’s done!” she shouted; her eyes seemed to turn black.

“Thank you.” I smiled, a little confused.

“My pleasure.” She coughed, handing me a blue drink in a clear glass. “Please drink, it will bring you good luck on your way home. It’s a tradition, you know,” she said.

I didn’t want to seem rude, so I drained the glass. My head spun and everything became unfocused.

*****

I fought to see through the darkness. Crying, and the smell of hay surrounded me.

“Hello! Who’s there? Where am I?” I whispered, following the cries of what sounded like a girl being murdered.

“Hello!” I yelled over her cries. I feared for us both. A light danced on of its own accord. Straw was everywhere. Pink, blue and red horses wandered about, leaving their stalls empty. The barn looked steel, unlike anything I had seen before. A computer was flat-attached to the wall, but there was no keyboard to type on. Had I been drinking? Or dreaming? I wasn’t sure, but this barn looked far too advanced for my time.

The girl’s cries turned to screams. The sound was deafening; my heart thumped. I stood beside the screaming stable door, sliding it open with a loud squeak. Peering inside, her gaze met mine; her black flowing hair lay upon the straw, sticking to her sweat-covered forehead.

OC Faith (2)“Faith? Is that you? What are we doing here?” I rushed to her side.

“I’m screaming and you are late!” she said blowing out a breath.

“I don’t even know where we are, do you?” I retorted.

Faith screamed, grabbing my hand like a vice then relaxing once more. She placed an old folded piece of paper into my hand.

“Read it!” Her breath came out raggedly.

The note read …

Dear Alex, and Faith.

Destiny had many lovely years with your little sister, as promised Alex.

I saved your lives. You are in 2038 on the morning that bound your futures together. I saw it!

Don’t hate an old Gypsy for sending you on your way.

Good luck both of you!

The note fell from my hands, “We are in 2038, hell!”

“Isn’t it?” Faith screamed.

I tried to get Faith to let go of my hand. Then her body went stiff and I began to panic; she needed a doctor or midwife right now. But a cry split the air and a robot computer handed her a screaming baby.

On the computer screen, fireworks announced Faith had a baby girl

“We,” she whispered, as the robot computer walked away. I kissed Faith softly on the lips, and a weird deja vu came over me. Love flooded my heart, sending warm shivers coursing through my body.

“Shall we call her Destiny?” Faith asked, gazing into my eyes.

“That’s perfect,” I smiled.

This was the first moment of my new life.