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Showing posts with label chapter 1. Show all posts
Showing posts with label chapter 1. Show all posts

Monday, November 16, 2020

Excerpt: Black Oak (The Loveless Chronicles Chapter 1) by Titus Murphy

In a town of myths and legends, only the dead keep all the secrets. 

Black Oak (
The Loveless Chronicles Chapter 1) 
by Titus Murphy
October 31, 2020 
Genre: Horror, Fantasy, young adult 
Publisher: Cosby Media Production
ASIN: B08KRQDCGY
Number of pages: 267
Word Count: 57, 000
Cover Artist: CMP
WELCOME TO BLACK OAK!

In the town of Black Oak, nothing is ever what it seems. Besides the wrangling local country-types, the city is marred by a history of indiscretions, murders, and no-named civilians perpetrating as heroes. But beneath the surface of this "run of the mill," Midwestern locale lurks a pervasive past that is about to come full circle: like a blazing blood moon.

Mark is an unassuming trucker who has fallen for a beautiful clerk working at a “Mom & Pop” store named Sharon, and nothing else in the world matters more than stealing her heart. But after making a run into the Bayou to deliver a package, destiny steps in and serves him a plate of "the unexpected," which sparks the flames of wickedness that will set his hometown ablaze. And as the secrets buried in this town begin to unearth, the truth will fan those burning flames until there is nothing left but ashes and chaos.

In the end, the only mystery left to solve will be if this is isolated to one town or involve the fate of the entire world...

FOREWORD REVIEW: "...full of interesting characters who hold attention...the secrets of their home are a binding force that brings the tale together."

CLARION RATING: 4/5 "In the fantasy novel Black Oak, citizens across two ears reckon with strange creatures among them."

 
Excerpt: 
“A what?” Sharon laughed. 

“You know, a PITA. Pain in the ass?” 

Sharon couldn’t contain her laughter. The conversation seemed to be leading to a much more relaxed place for Mark, and that had to be a good sign. Sharon playfully pushed Mark and prodded him on. “Tell me the story your mom told you, silly,” she said. ”What was it about?” 

“Okay. Now I know this might sound kind of crazy to you, but she would tell me about these wild beasts in the Black Oaks.” 

“Are you serious?” asked Sharon. 

Mark nodded. “Very.” 

“Well, to be honest, I’ve heard that story over a million times too.” 

“Word?” 

“Yeah. What, you thought you were the only one it was told to? This is Wichita, Mark. Everyone here has heard that story before. My dad used to tell my cousin and me that story every weekend and virtually every day she was sleeping over during the summer. He said that the forest was run by wild animals with long fangs and claws that could rip a man to shreds with one swing. Said they’d harvest your heart for food and drink your blood like wine.” 

“Word? Like werewolves?” Mark asked. 

“Yeah. Sorta. I remember how my mom would lean against the threshold of my room, listening with a serious look on her face as if the story my dad was telling us was the truth. And no matter how many times it was told to me, it would always sound the same. Wild beasts, murderous rampages and mysterious sightings in Kansas, especially in the Black Oak Forest. I brushed it off as a myth because it always sounded like some werewolf story to me. But some people say the stories are real because they’ve been told for over a hundred years in Wichita. Who knows, maybe it all could be the truth. But I never have nor do I now give it too much thought. I tend to put my faith in what I can see, and I’ve never seen anything like what my father and others describe in those stories.” 

“Me either,” said Mark. 

“Well, I tend to live by one rule when it comes to wives’ tales. If it doesn’t happen to me, it’s not real. So since neither of us has ever seen one before, they don’t exist. And that means it was just a story. Something to tell unruly kids, like you and me, to keep us in line.”

About the Author:
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Titus Murphy was born and raised on the streets of New Orleans, Louisiana. From a small child, there was an overarching desire for Titus to do one thing: win. His drive and determination drove him to succeed. Armed with a strong mind, a quick wit, and a sharp tongue, he set out to emblaze his mark on everyone he would encounter. Unknown to him were the overwhelming obstacles and seemingly insurmountable tragedy he would have to endure. From this devastation came a resolve fueled by an uncompromising commitment that resonates through every aspect of his life. Forced from the city he knew and loved, Titus relocated to Atlanta, Georgia. It was there his desire and commitment came together resolutely to birth a dream that had long been held in his heart. Oblivious to detraction, and beyond all doubt, Titus would become an author. From the streets of New Orleans that marked his life, to the ink-graced pages upon which he now pours his soul, Titus Murphy has come to show the world that he is truly…something more.

Sunday, October 1, 2017

Excerpt Spotlight: To Guard Against the Dark (Reunification #3) by Julie E. Czerneda + 2 giveaways

To Guard Against the Dark (Reunification #3)
by Julie E. Czerneda
October 10, 2017
443 pages
DAW Hardcover Original
“The final book in the hard science fiction Reunification trilogy, the thrilling conclusion to the award-winning Clan Chronicles

Jason Morgan is a troubling mystery to friends and enemies alike: once a starship captain and trader, then Joined to the most powerful member of the Clan, Sira di Sarc, following her and her kind out of known space.

Only to return, alone and silent.

But he's returned to a Trade Pact under seige and desperate. The Assemblers continue to be a threat. Other species have sensed opportunity and threaten what stability remains, including those who dwell in the M'hir. What Morgan knows could save them all, or doom them.

For not all of the Clan followed Sira. And peace isn't what they seek.”



About the Series:
The Clan Chronicles is set in a far future where a mutual Trade Pact encourages peaceful commerce among a multitude of alien and Human worlds. The alien Clan, humanoid in appearance, have been living in secrecy and wealth on Human worlds, relying on their innate ability to move through the M’hir and bypass normal space. The Clan bred to increase that power, only to learn its terrible price: females who can’t help but kill prospective mates. Sira di Sarc is the first female of her kind facing that reality. With the help of a Human starship captain, Jason Morgan, himself a talented telepath, Sira must find a morally acceptable solution before it’s too late. But with the Clan exposed, her time is running out. The Stratification trilogy follows Sira’s ancestor, Aryl Sarc, and shows how their power first came to be as well as how the Clan came to live in the Trade Pact. The Trade Pact trilogy is the story of Sira and Morgan, and the trouble facing the Clan. Reunification concludes the series, answering these question at last. Who are the Clan? 
And what will be the fate of all?



Chapter 1
STARS.

Fingers interlaced, her hair stroking his cheek, they’d walked the nights of ninety-nine worlds. Floated in space to watch planets spin. Lain naked on mossy ground, lost in one another, under so many stars—

Those had been real. These couldn’t be. The ceiling lay be­neath a covering of formed concrete, plas, and a significant amount of natural stone, a roof he’d built to keep out more than the night sky. Could be a dune curling overtop as well, it being sandstorm season.

Yet, still, stars twinkled overhead, wheeling in formation as if he watched them through time.

A dream. That was it. He shut his eyes, fingers straying to the cool metal band around his wrist. Touch seemed odd, for a dream.

He opened his eyes. Looked up. Surely only in a dream could a segment of that starry scape flex . . .

Bend . . .

Lean down, closer and closer, those stars about to crush him—

/need/~location?~/urgency/

For the— “No more!” he shouted, furious. “Get out of here!”

A heavy arm—something arm-ish— lopped across his chest and slid away. Jason Morgan squirmed in the opposite direction. “On! On full!”

The portlights obeyed, blazing into every corner of the room.

He was alone.

***

“I heard you the first time.” Huido Maarmatoo’kk emphasized the “first.” “A Rugheran was on your ceiling. The starry kind, like the ones you saw on Cersi, not the dark greasy kind here. Your shout woke me from a most pleasant dream, you know.” A sigh like rain on plas.

His hands wanted to tremble. Morgan wrapped them around his warm cup, guiding it to his lips with care. The kitchen felt strange. Too bright. He hadn’t, he thought abruptly, sat at this table for— e hadn’t, since, that was it. Hadn’t left his quarters.

Hadn’t bothered to move, in case it hurt. Fine plan, that was. All of him hurt.

Most of him stank.

Not that it mattered.

“Yesterday, you saw a Rugheran in the accommodation. You shouted then, too. And threw a jar of something at it, making a mess, at which point it disappeared. Can’t say I blame it.”

Morgan glowered through the steam at his companion. Gleam­ing black eyeballs, each on their stalk, lined the opening between the gently pulsing disks that served as a head. Unblinking eye­balls. He should know better by now than try to stare down a Carasian. “It’s not my imagination. They travel through—” the M’hir, he almost said, and flinched. “They don’t use doors. You know that. They’re here and they’re real.”

Unlike what else he saw when alone: the curve of a smile, the luxurious flood of red-gold hair, somber gray eyes flashing with sudden heat—

Sira.

Always, always, no matter how he tried to stop there, stay, the ending followed. The furious boil of waves on an unreal beach—

Her fingers, letting go—

That hollow, inside, where she’d been.

He’d curl into a ball and shiver until he fell asleep or passed out, always cold. So very cold—

A soft chink as clawtips met under his nose. Morgan refocused. “What?” He tried not to snap, wearily grateful Huido bore with his tempers and accepted his silence. He wasn’t ready to talk.

They hadn’t spoken in what might be days, come to think of it.

Something was different. He blinked. His friend’s massive car­apace was peppered with gleaming metal fragments, between the usual hooks for weaponry, the fragments from a groundcar that had exploded too close. Huido’d removed the largest to keep as souvenirs—but that wasn’t it.

The black shell was a maze of fresh scrapes and gouges, some deep. “What happened to—” Morgan’s voice broke. Gods. “What did I do?” a whisper.

“You weren’t yourself,” Huido informed him. The big alien eased back, wiggling the glistening pink stub of what had been his largest claw. “Nor am I. After molt, I will be magnificent once again! We need more beer.” In a confiding tone, “Beer speeds things up.”

He’d hit bottom, that’s when they’d last spoken. When he’d— Morgan’s face went stark with grief. “I cursed you. Ordered you to leave.”

“Bah. Why would I listen? Your grist wasn’t right.” The intact claw, capable of severing his torso in half, tugged gently at his hair. “Better. Still stinks.”

“I attacked you.” Morgan remembered it all now, too well. He’d been wild, raving. Huido had squeezed himself into the door opening to seal him in his quarters. Morgan had struck out with whatever was in the room—until he’d collapsed, sobbing, at Huido’s feet.

Eyestalks bent to survey the marks. “You tried,” the Carasian corrected smugly, then chuckled. “I’m glad you didn’t hurt your­self.”

Morgan reached up. After a second, the centermost cluster of eyes parted, and deadly needlelike jaws protruded, tips closing on his hand with tender precision. “Huido—”

The jaws retracted and Morgan found himself reflected in a dozen shiny black eyes. “The past.” The lower claw snapped. “The present! Why are the Rugherans here?”

The Human dropped his gaze, staring into the sombay. “They’re looking for—” His sigh rippled the liquid. “For her.”

“To the Eleventh Sandy Armpit of Urga Large with them!” Huido roared, shaking dishware and hurting Morgan’s head. “Tell them I said so!” After a short pause, he went on in his nor­mal voice. “You can talk to them, can’t you?”

“I don’t want to.” It sounded sullen even to him, but Morgan couldn’t help that, any more than he couldn’t help but hear the Rugherans: their matrix-like speech, emotion blended with sin­gle words or the simplest of phrases, flooded his mind despite his tightest shields. Cruel, to come to him here—

—where he came for peace.

It hadn’t always been so. The first time Morgan set foot on Ettler’s Planet, he’d been dumped there. His own fault, having yet to gain the most rudimentary knowledge of what offended non-humans. The Trants could have removed his limbs for suggesting—well, being dumped had been the best option, suffice it to say, and one reason he’d gone on to learn everything he could about the manners of others.

That sorry day, he’d prided himself on a close escape. Instead, he’d been left in the worst place for a telepath, even one of his latent ability, for this world’s Human population contained more than its share of the minimally Talented: those whose thoughts leaked constantly, without self-awareness or restraint. Morgan’s natural shields protected his mind from others.

He didn’t know how to keep their minds out of his.

Half-maddened by the bedlam, somehow Morgan had taken an aircar and flown out into the desert, unable to stop until he reached quiet.

There—here—he’d stayed to recover. Only Huido had been welcome, the painful maelstrom of Carasian thought patterns at a level easy to avoid.

Later, healed, and having traded with Omacrons, non-human telepaths, for their mind-shielding technique, Morgan was able to protect himself. In space, in the Fox, he hadn’t needed shields at all.

With Sira, he’d wanted none. Her thoughts had been his—her mindvoice the last he’d heard. The last he ever wanted to hear. He’d never open his mind to another’s again.

Till the Rugherans, who had no right—

The Human set down his cup. It tipped, spilling dark liquid. Unfair. Huido kept the kitchen spotless. “I’ll get that.” He rose and was forced to grip the table to steady himself. It took longer than he remembered, walking to the counter, and he had to con­centrate: pick up the wipe, return, clean the mess.

Eyestalks twisted, following his slow progress. “You need a molt, too.”

“Wish I could.” Something about molting— “Order as much beer as you want.”

A chuckle. “Fear not, my brother, I’ve taken care of it—and a case of Brillian brandy, for variety.” A less happy, “If not the storms.” The Carasian loathed sand, claiming grains worked into the seams of his shell. He cheered. “While we wait, I could take care of your unwanted visitors.” With a disturbingly coy tilt of his carapace, Huido indicated the weapons, most illegal even here in the Fringe, housed on the pot rack.

Morgan shook his head. “Let them poke around till they’re satisfied.” No need to point out the unlikelihood of any weapon affecting beings of the M’hir.

As for the Rugherans’ reaction . . . should more than a jar be tossed at them?

He’d prefer not to—

The kitchen tilted. The Human lurched into his chair, sending the rest of his sombay, and cup, to the floor. He cursed under his breath. A newly hatched Skenkran was stronger. “What’s wrong with me?” under his breath.

Shiny black eyes converged on him, then aimed idly—and simultaneously—anywhere else: the weapon-containing pot rack, the ceiling, the floor, the walls.

Done it to himself, that meant.

Morgan let out a slow breath, tasting the stink on it, the truth.

He’d ignored his body’s needs. Refused food. Drank himself to sleep. Refused to move. He’d a vague memory of feeling the pinch of shots. Stims, likely.

For how long?

Judging by the tremor in his hands, it could have been weeks.

Neglect? Cowardice. He winced. Hadn’t he told Sira: Let go and live?

Hadn’t she asked the same promise of him?

Shouldn’t have taught her to be a trader, he told himself, meaning not a word.

Morgan summoned his remaining strength and stood. “To­morrow,” he announced.

One eyestalk swiveled back to him.

“Tonight, then.” Three more joined the first. Doubt, that was. “Some supper—just not—make anything,” he capitulated. “I’ll eat it.” No guarantees it would stay down.

The full force of the Carasian’s gaze returned. “At the table?”

“Don’t rush me.” The Human pretended to squint at the lights. “Too bright. And the Rugheran ruined my sleep.”

But his lips cracked, stretched by the ghost of a smile. The first—since.


About the Author:
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For twenty years, Canadian author/ former biologist Julie E. Czerneda has shared her curiosity about living things through her science fiction, published by DAW Books, NY. Julie’s also written fantasy, the first installments of her Night’s Edge series (DAW) A Turn of Light and A Play of Shadow, winning consecutive Aurora Awards (Canada’s Hugo) for Best English Novel. Julie’s edited/co-edited sixteen anthologies of SF/F, two Aurora winners, the latest being SFWA’s 2017 Nebula Award Showcase. Next out will be an anthology of original stories set in her Clan Chronicles series: Tales from Plexis, out in 2018. Her new SF novel, finale to that series, To Guard Against the Dark, lands in stores October 2017. When not jumping between wonderful blogs, Julie’s at work on something very special: her highly anticipated new Esen novel, Search Image (Fall 2018). Visit www.czerneda.com for more.



I Smell Sheep Giveaway 
Enter your comment below to be entered to win the latest book in hardcover, To Guard Against the Dark, plus a mass market of The Gulf of Time and Stars.  (US and Canada unless otherwise stated)

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Tour-wide Giveaway
To enter the tour-wide giveaway of the entire nine-book series, click here: https://sweeps.penguinrandomhouse.com/enter/clan-chronicles-series-giveaway

Tuesday, September 13, 2016

Sheep Book Review: Bang (Series: B-Squad #2) by Avery Flynn


by Avery Flynn
Genre: Romantic Suspense
September 12, 2016
Length: 65k words
Format: Digital/Paperback
Digital ISBN: 978-0- 9964763-4- 8
Paperback ISBN: 978-0- 9964763-5- 5
Freelance investigator Isaac Camacho has a weakness for bitchy blondes, and no one fits the bill quite like former beauty queen and gold digger Tamara Post. She’s sexy, feisty and on the run from a cult leader. Complicated women? Oh he loves them almost as much as he loves watching Tamara act like a total ice queen when he knows she burns white hot.

Calculating opportunist Tamara Post never cared what anyone thought about her—except for her sister. But when her sister dies, it’s up to Tamara to hide her teenage niece so the girl’s dictatorial father can’t marry her off to one of his disciples. The last thing Tamara has time for is Isaac—a man who flirts as well as he fills out a pair of worn jeans and whose stubborn determination to help makes it hard to act as if she’s really as cold as she appear.

When the bad guys find her, there’s only one person Tamara can depend on to help keep her alive until her niece is safe. But once the life and death chase is on, it’s not just their lives Tamara and Isaac are risking…but their hearts.

 Amazon Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo


Read the full Chapter One with an exclusive section on each of the blogs below!
Read Love Blog (part 1)
I Smell Sheep (part 3) 

So, anyone who knows me will gather these three things right off the bat. I love sexy men. I love Coke-Cola. I love sexy men. When asked if lil' ole me wanted to review a sexy book with the title "Bang", I was like...okay, MAYBE. But then you throw in that said mentioned bang-worthy cover boy is also a Marine? Yeah, I'm sold. 

I didn't know this author, her books or her previous works. Sometimes that's better. You don't walk into a story with expectations set sky high. You ease right in and feel around for a bit, before long you soon realize you may actually like this non-vampire romance. There's hot and heavy mixed in with sassy chicks and more sexy men just to get you all hot and bothered some more. I mean, we all need some hot and heavy in our lives! 

Plenty of tasty story to fulfill any ones appetite for romance, while adding in dangerous notes of adventure along the way. This one's paced just right to fit it's less then 200 pages. A well thought out story that takes the reader from start to finish with ease. I was completely entertained and left with my romance belly filled to just the right amount! 

Getting 4 Sheep




KD



About the Author:
Award-winning romance author Avery Flynn has three slightly-wild children, loves a hockey-addicted husband and is desperately hoping someone invents the coffee IV drip. Avery was a reader before she was a writer and hopes to always be both. She loves to write about smartass alpha heroes who are as good with a quip as they are with their *ahem* other God-given talents. Her heroines are feisty, fierce and fantastic. Brainy and brave, these ladies know how to stand on their own two feet and knock the bad guys off theirs.

Monday, August 29, 2016

Bang by Avery Flynn - Exclusive Chapter Reveal Hop - Part 3

Bang BY AVERY FLYNN
What do former RECON Marine Isaac Camancho, and beauty pageant ice queen Tamara Post have in common? Not much, but the sparks fly, along with the bullets, as they race to save a 16-year-old girl from the clutches of a cult-leader.

Read the full Chapter One Reveal with an exclusive section on each of the blogs below!
Read Love Blog (part 1)
I Smell Sheep (part 3) 
Grave Tells (part 5)

by Avery Flynn
Genre: Romantic Suspense
September 12, 2016
Length: 65k words
Format: Digital/Paperback
Digital ISBN: 978-0- 9964763-4- 8
Paperback ISBN: 978-0- 9964763-5- 5
Freelance investigator Isaac Camacho has a weakness for bitchy blondes, and no one fits the bill quite like former beauty queen and gold digger Tamara Post. She’s sexy, feisty and on the run from a cult leader. Complicated women? Oh he loves them almost as much as he loves watching Tamara act like a total ice queen when he knows she burns white hot.

Calculating opportunist Tamara Post never cared what anyone thought about her—except for her sister. But when her sister dies, it’s up to Tamara to hide her teenage niece so the girl’s dictatorial father can’t marry her off to one of his disciples. The last thing Tamara has time for is Isaac—a man who flirts as well as he fills out a pair of worn jeans and whose stubborn determination to help makes it hard to act as if she’s really as cold as she appear.

When the bad guys find her, there’s only one person Tamara can depend on to help keep her alive until her niece is safe. But once the life and death chase is on, it’s not just their lives Tamara and Isaac are risking…but their hearts.


Bang: B-Squad Book 2 by Avery Flynn
Chapter One – Reveal Three

Isaac Camacho shouldn't be noticing how good Tamara smelled.

One, it was weird. He was, after all, hustling through the club's hectic kitchen with one super-sexy, kinda bitchy blonde—his favorite kind—for parts unknown. He should be noticing her ass under that swishy green skirt, not something lame like the fact that she smelled like peach tea spiked with bourbon.

Two, they were dodging steaming pots and hot plates because ugly-as-roadkill bounty hunter Archie Wolczyk was hot on their heels. Even if his former life as a Recon Marine hadn't taught him the importance of survival, his stint in the county jail should have been more than enough to get an important lesson through even his thick skull: Being locked up in the pokey wasn't his style.

So instead of getting distracted by her perfume, he needed to get them both out of here before he ended up separated from the love of his life—women, all of them—for whatever stretch of jail time the judge decided aiding and abetting a fugitive deserved.

"Left." He pressed his palm against the small of her back, noting that his hand spanned almost the entirety of her waist, and guided her past the walk-in fridge and toward the employee break room.

She followed directions but shot him a quick glare over her shoulder.

Prickly little ice queen, wasn't she?

As they hurried through the break room, he ignored the surprised faces of the staff members swapping out street shoes for clogs, but gave a quick wink to the sous chef who'd given him the after-hours all-access kitchen tour a few weeks ago. Stephanie? Stacy? Selena? Sarah. That was it. Then almost as fast as he and Tamara had rushed into the break room, they were out the reinforced steel door and into the fenced-in part of the parking lot. It stank of cooking grease and rotting food from the nearby pair of Dumpsters that had been broiling in the Texas heat for the past few days. He peeked over the privacy fence, scanning the lot for the bounty hunter's backup. He spotted a couple getting out of a sedan, a valet sneaking a smoke, and a stray cat with one ear slinking between the cars.

Nothing of consequence stood between them and his truck, which was combat parked just outside the gate, ready as always for a quick getaway. He unlocked the doors with his key fob and opened the passenger door, then held out his hand to help Tamara up onto the running board. She was tall, but his oversized tires—perfect for off-roading—were no joke.

"No way." She took a step back, as if she could still escape.

It was cute.

"We don't have time for me to sweet-talk you, darlin', so let me put it this way. You either get that fine ass of yours in the truck or I'll expend the itty bitty amount of energy it would take for me to pick you up and flop you down in there."

The start of a snarl curled up one side of her mouth and she took another step back. "Look, I appreciate you giving me the heads up about the bounty hunter, but I don't know you and there's no way in hell I'm getting in your truck."

So, plan B it was.

About the Author:
Award-winning romance author Avery Flynn has three slightly-wild children, loves a hockey-addicted husband and is desperately hoping someone invents the coffee IV drip. Avery was a reader before she was a writer and hopes to always be both. She loves to write about smartass alpha heroes who are as good with a quip as they are with their *ahem* other God-given talents. Her heroines are feisty, fierce and fantastic. Brainy and brave, these ladies know how to stand on their own two feet and knock the bad guys off theirs.

Thursday, June 23, 2016

Spotlight and Excerpt: Can’t Forget (Solum Series Book Two) by Colleen S. Myers + giveaway

Can’t Forget (Solum Series Book Two)
by Colleen S. Myers
Genre: Science Fiction Romance
Publisher: Champagne Books
June 6th, 2016
Number of pages: 253
Word Count: 82,000
Cover Artist: Elaine Smith
Is it better to be safe or loved?

Four months have passed since the E’mani destroyed the Earth and scooped up the remains. Elizabeth “Beta” Camden was one of those taken. With the help of their enemies, the Fost, she escapes and confronts her prior captors successfully. Though she knows she should remain vigilant toward the E’mani, she follows her heart instead and falls in love with Marin, the sexy Fost warrior..

She should have trusted her first instinct.

This time the E’mani don’t come in force--they slip in silently. And any hope Beta had of a peaceful life is lost. She leaves in the dead of night to find the E’mani stronghold and end them once and for all. But love is a tricky bitch. It takes a threat to Marin’s safety to make Beta realize, if she can’t forget her past, she won’t have a future.



Must Remember (Solum Series Book One) On Sale for .99 June 1-July 1


Excerpt
Chapter One 
The snowball hit the back of my head dead-on. Bam. 

I stumbled forward from the force of the blow. The flakes created a halo of white powder around my head in the cool, crisp air then settled all over my face and neck. 

What the…oh no he didn’t. A growl rose in my throat. I turned to confront my foe. I creased my eyebrows and I glared at him, mean-like. 

With a smug expression on his face, Marin stared back, tossing another snowball between his hands. 

“Elizabeth, you appeared distracted. I wanted to help.” His voice was smooth, deep like aged rum, and echoed in the unique way of his people, the Fost, almost like he was being dubbed. The sound got me every time causing me to shiver, or maybe it was the snow dripping down my back. 

“That was helping?” My ass. 

“Yes, you were about to walk into a tree,” he said dryly, dropping his ammunition. 

I whipped around. Sure enough, a tree loomed in front of me. Dark-gray bark, feathery fronds interspersed with lethal spikes, blue moss climbing its trunk. Yep, that was a tree. Well for here anyway, not like on Earth. 

I glanced back at Marin, who stood so trustingly under the boughs of another nearby tree laden with snow. A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. See, I could help too. He looked hot, literally and figuratively. 

“Okay, thanks.” 

With a thought, my power twisted deep inside, and I sent out a burst of air through the branches. They shuddered in response and unloaded their cold, wet contents on Marin’s head with nary a sound. 

The snow dusted his brows, his cheeks, and obscured the single streak of dark green that coursed down the left side of his mahogany hair and framed his face. A single flake melted on his lips. 

Our gazes met and held. His light brown eyes had a slit pupil that dilated then contracted as he focused on me. I used to find it…disconcerting, but it was just him, along with his long limbs, sharp features, and elaborate tattoos called jatua. All small differences but strange enough to have unsettled me in the past. Now it was so damn unfair how sexy I found him, alien race and all. 

Marin raised an eyebrow and licked at his bottom lip, watching me watch him. My gaze followed the path of his tongue. 

Heat spread through me as I imagined myself tasting those lips. I tucked a strand of red hair behind my ear. My breath slipped out in a sigh. 

He smiled wide. “Lands, I love how you look at me.” 

“Stop.” I blushed, twirling back and starting down the path we’d been walking before he ambushed me. 

“How much farther?” I asked when he caught up and bumped into my side. 

“We are close,” Marin replied. He was so busy shaking the snow out of his hair, he didn’t see my smile. 

“Are we there yet?” 

“No.” 

Ha, so literal. “Are we there yet?” 

His hands stopped and his brow crinkled. He looked so confused I had to laugh. Then I tripped flat on my face in my clunky snowshoes and it was Marin’s turn to snicker. He picked me up and settled me against him, my face tucked into his shoulder. 

“You all right there?” His words whispered past my ear. 

“I’m fine.” My voice came out a lot breathier than I intended. Damn it. 

The corner of his lips curled up. He traced the side of my face. Tingles trailed along my skin. I put my fingers over his and stood on tiptoe in invitation. Marin obliged and brushed his mouth along mine. Our lips clung for the briefest of seconds before he shoved snow down the back of my coat. 

I shrieked, dancing backward. Cold, cold, cold. 

Marin bolted down the path, much more sure in his steps than I. 

The jerk. He was lucky he got out of range, or I would have gotten payback. 

I fiddled with my jacket to get the rest of the snow out, shuddering at the feeling of wet fabric sticking to my back. 

God, I hated winter. The first snow, I marveled like everyone else. Oh, so pretty. The world sparkled underneath the coating of white. Then the freeze set in, the biting wind, the forced isolation. And did I mention the cold? Give me spring or summer any day. 

We were traveling to the mines outside the city of Groos. The miners had reached a type of rock they’d never seen before. It was dense and coarse. They couldn’t blast through it, and their efforts were destabilizing the tunnels. They tried to dig around it, but so far they’d had no luck. Nobody knew how thick the vein was or how far it reached. They wanted me to try magical means to remove it. Fat lot of good that would do. 

When I caught up to Marin, I gave him the evil eye. 

Marin grinned. “What?” 

I flipped him the bird. 

He grabbed my middle finger, “What does that mean? You do it all the time.” 

“Nothing.” 

His brows wrinkled again. “Woman.” 

“Man. And don’t talk to me. You put snow down my back.” 

Marin laughed. “Sorry.” 

“My ass, you are not the least bit sorry.” 

“Wait, what does your bottom have to do with this?” 

I blinked. Ha, I forgot sometimes that certain expressions didn’t translate. “Nothing.” 

He growled and kissed my knuckle before dropping my hand. “I hate when you say that.” 

“I know, thus, why I do it.” I grinned and stepped ahead of him with a wiggle in my step. 

He swatted me on the ass as I passed. While I acted angry outside, inside I loved when he played. He only ever did it when no one could see him. He was Clan Chief after all, even though he was only five years older than me at twenty-five. The position left him little time for fun and his own sense of responsibility precluded it. 

A few minutes later and we reached our destination. A box canyon opened up in front of us, filled with barren trees and snow. At the far end of the canyon, a cave entrance loomed, braced by wood. A single railroad track led out of the opening to the left and a snow-laden press stood to the side, up against the high stone walls. 

Con waited outside the entrance, his red and green Mohawk vivid against the backdrop of white. His stout form and kind face emphasized his resemblance to a Santa, A badass one. No fluffy red suit for him. 

Marin inclined his head, straight to business. “Show us this rock.” 

With a flourish, Con gestured ahead, and we entered the mines with cautious steps. Just past the entrance, the light from the two suns outside faded and darkness fell. I slowed and Marin’s hand brushed my lower back. 

“Let your eyes adjust for a moment,” Con muttered from behind us. 

As I stood there, the walls started to glow. Streaks of aqua phosphorescence lit the pathway ahead. 

“What is this?” I asked in wonder, moving in a circle. 

“Theris, a weed. It grows in the caves. When you break its shell, it glows.” Con held out a small stick almost like an aloe branch that he snapped before our eyes, and a thin, clear liquid trickled out. “The glow lasts almost a week. We carry some on us at all times. Come, follow me.” 

Con led the way down the cramped passageway. Gravel and ice crunched underfoot. The smell of dust filled the stale air. My breath steamed. Damn it. I shivered and rubbed my arms through the jacket. Marin ran his hand down my spine. 

It took about five minutes of hiking to reach the antechamber. When we got there, Con stared at me with a hopeful expression. 

“Okay, you want me to, you know.” I made woo-woo gestures at the wall. 

“Yes,” Con replied. 

Four months ago, I’d escaped from an E’mani spaceship and ended up here on Solum. The Fost, Marin’s people and the sworn enemies of the E’mani, took me in and hid me from their foes, but the E’mani didn’t give up easily. In one of their attempts to draw me out of hiding, they set bombs at these mines. Several people had been trapped inside. I’d used my magic to move the rock—how I got magic, I still don’t know—and created a new entrance. Now they wanted me to do it again. No pressure, right? 

I reached out and touched the wall. The dark surface crumbled under my fingertips. All throughout the flaky stone, a silver metal streaked. Not dust or ore. This was metal, hard and thick. No wonder they couldn’t get through it. 

With a deep breath, I closed my eyes. The power sprang eagerly to my summons. Heat spread outward from my core and my palm tingled where it touched the rock. The chill from being deep in the cave during winter faded.. A pulse vibrated in the air around me, pulling me deeper. I concentrated on that sound, letting it center me. My heartbeat synchronized to the sensation. 

One. My skin grew tight. I let my breath rush out in a slow exhale. 

Two. The stone warmed underneath my fingertips. 

Three. The ground shook in response to the power rushing to my call. I kept my hands square on the wall. 

Four. My hair stood on end, strength rushing through me, filling me until the force of the earth beneath my hand made me feel stretched like taffy. My mind screamed from the pressure and I squeezed my eyes shut. I needed to hold it as long as I could. My body shuddered until every pore sweat and my body strained from the contact, pushed to its limits and beyond. And then I shoved all the power out with my mind into the rock. 

Please move. Please. 

A beat. 

Nothing happened. 

“Anything, Beta?” Con asked right next to my ear. 

I jumped. 

“Nope,” I squeaked out, trying to bring my pulse under control, oddly empty. 

“Keep trying,” Marin said and touched the rock to my left. Con did the same on my other side. We all focused this time, but unlike the time we freed the miners, there was no movement. The metal seemed inert. Its light gray color contrasted starkly with the dark-brown stone. 

My shoulders slumped. “Nothing. I’m sorry.” 

“And this means we cannot mine the ferok, doesn’t it?” Marin asked, rubbing his forehead. 

“Correct, it covers the veins,” Con said. 

My fists clenched. The Fost had found another metal--ferok. It was pliable and could be imbued with magic. With it, they could shatter the technological defenses of the E’mani. That was a good thing, but the metal kept us from it. And we had so little of the ferok to begin with. This was not happy news. 

“Land’s sake, why can it never be easy?” Marin echoed my thoughts. 

Marin slapped Con on the back. “We will search the library for more information. You continue to try to mine this rock. See what you can do.” 

Con nodded in agreement as Marin gathered me up and we trudged out of the caves. Silence reigned for the next half hour. 

“Stop worrying,” Marin said. 

“I’m not worrying.” 

“I can practically hear the thoughts racing through your head.” 

“I am not worrying.” I enunciated slowly, my steps deliberate 

“Yes, you are.” 

“Well, fine, I can’t help it. I can’t stop thinking about the E’mani. Without the ferok, we only have our magic and we need more. And there’s this feeling of dread,” I splayed my hand across my chest, “right here, and it’s getting stronger. The E’mani are out there. I know it. I’m not sure why they haven’t attacked us yet, but they will. We need a weapon.” 

The E’mani wouldn’t have forgotten about me or the Fost. I didn’t hold out hope that they’d forgotten about the men they’d lost in their attempts to recapture me either. 

“The land protects us,” Marin replied. 

A snort escaped me. “Magic vs. machine. That didn’t work out so well for you guys the last time.” 

Marin tossed me a chiding look. “We survived, did we not? That is what matters. And we have lived as we are meant.” 

God, his words made my teeth itch. “You can’t think the E’mani aren’t planning retaliation. They are not a forgiving race.” 

I’d know having been their prisoner and all. And the more I thought about the E’mani, the more hatred stirred inside me. I loathed those pale freaks. They’d destroyed my world, in their never-ending quest to “make things better.” Then they brought me here. I didn’t remember much of my time with them, not yet. But I recalled enough to despise them. They were not kind masters. 

White eyes stared at me through amber glass, E’mani eyes. 

“Hello, Elizabeth,” Xade crooned. Light flashed off the razor sharp edge of the scalpel in his hands. “Time for more samples.” 

Marin’s words snapped me out of my memories with a jolt. “We all know the E’mani are coming. But the winter has been harsh, more so than usual. And before they came after you, it had been ages since the last time we saw them. They left this world long ago to recoup their losses after the war. They left even while we were still fighting and maintain only a small presence out in Industry.” 

My jaw set. “Good. Industry is where I need to go. I need to find one of their labs.” 

Marin sighed. “We have talked about this, Elizabeth. First, you have no idea where to find a lab. And second, you have no idea what you need to do if you did find it.” 

“I remember some of what they taught me. And being in the labs, where they kept me, will help me remember even more. I scared them, Marin. Me. When I confronted them—” 

“It might not have been you. It might have been all the lightning you were throwing around, or the blade Zanth wielded,” he argued. 

I grit my teeth until my jaw hurt. Damn him. Why wasn’t he listening? Tears blurred the path in front of me. 

“It was me; I could tell. I know something that can hurt them, I can feel it. The E’mani were frightened enough of me that they came in force to capture or kill me and it has to do with the labs. I know there is something I’m meant to do, and soon. If not, something bad is going to happen.” Chills shivered down my spine. I heard the faint echo of screams—men’s and women’s—from long ago. They had a plan for us, just like they had for Earth. How could I stop it? “Marin?” 

“Yes.” 

“If I asked you to, would you leave with me, today, and travel to Industry?” 

Marin blinked. “Today? No, we need to plan these things, you know that, Elizabeth. To go now would be stupid.” 

I stomped forward on the trail. “Of course it would be. How silly of me. You’re right.” 

“Elizabeth, please.” Marin caught up and put his arm around my shoulder. “We will go to Industry soon. I promise.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you keep saying that.” I let my head fall against his shoulder. Arguing with Marin never seemed to end how I wanted it to. No use being pissy about it now. And he was right, which was even worse. To go during winter would be foolish, but still… 

A few minutes passed. The snow crackled beneath our feet. It was cold enough, I’d long since lost feeling in my toes. 

The entrance to the city of Groos came into view. There was a large chiseled gate built into the natural arch that fronted the valley. They built the gatehouse into the valley walls itself and tunneled above the gate, giving the guards a clear sight line of anyone approaching. 

Bas-relief scenes covered the arch’s surface blending with the rock face. One scene depicted a Fost couple embracing in a corner their arms wrapped around one another. In the other corner was a Coreck, a catlike creature that stood on two legs, with a long tongue. Yet another showed a battle. Men fought with swords and spaceships flew overhead. The pictures were so vivid, they seemed to flow across the rock, lifelike and real. My fingers itched to touch the stone. Every time I saw it, I was struck by how natural it appeared. It fit. 

Unlike me. 

About the Author:
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Colleen Myers was raised in a large family in the outskirts of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania where she grew up on Harlequin teen romances and stories from her mother’s work as a paramedic. She was her high school salutatorian and attended Allegheny College on the Presidential Scholarship.

After college, Colleen spent a year in service in the Americorp giving back to the community at a local Pittsburgh Women Infants and Children Clinic (WICC) before attending Kirksville College of Osteopathic Medicine on a military scholarship.

Upon completing medical school, Colleen attended residency at Andrews Air Force Base in Maryland during 9/11. She earned three meritous service awards from the military along with outstanding unit awards. After serving seven yearsof active duty, she promptly landed a position at the VA to provide fellow veterans with optimum medical care. Still an avid fan of romances into adulthood, her love of the genre inspired her to hone her craft as a writer, focusing on contemporary romance and science fiction. Her background in medicine and the military provide an inspiring layer of creative realism to her stories and characters.

Her first book, Must Remember, the first of the Solum series, is being published by Champagne Press. The sequel, Can’t Forget is the recipient of the 2015 RWA New England Readers Award.

Colleen currently resides in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania with her son, and spends her spare time writing novels.


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Tuesday, February 23, 2016

Exclusive sneak peek at Chapter 1 from Chaotic War (Sons of War Book 3) by Lia Davis + giveaway



Chaotic War (Sons of War Book 3)
by Lia Davis
February 23, 2016
80 pages
Publisher: After Glows
While Zavier Sullivan may be the calm, reserved brother, his dragon is not. Especially since the beautiful, unorganized demi-goddess, Danielle Roberts—a.k.a Elle—moved into the mansion and into his life. She disturbs his OCD and makes him yearn for things he shouldn’t, but he can’t stay away from her. Nor can he deny her anything. Including his blood. 

Ever since arriving at the home of the Sons of War, Elle has been plagued with dreams of the past and future. The visions are taking a toll, causing her debilitating headaches and ruining her sleep, but she doesn’t know what it all means. Her mother, Nyx, the Goddess of Night, has never bothered to show up and explain things to her. Until she arrives and unlocks Elle's powers, promptly transforming her into a half-daimon, half-goddess. Now, Zavier may be her only hope of holding onto her humanity, but can she bond with him after everything she’s seen? Especially in the midst of everything the Sons and their mates are going through.


Chaotic War – Chapter one reveal 
Sons of War, book 3
By Lia Davis
Chapter One

Elle paced the small cage, her hands fisted at her sides. Somehow, Garrick had muted her powers or cast a spell around the cell that kept her from using any of her magic against him. A low snarl escaped from her as she smelled the male at the door to the room he kept her in. “Where is Zavier?”

An evil laugh sounded through the room before he stepped into view. “He will be with us soon.”

“You will burn in Tartarus.”

Garrick moved to a laptop set up on a counter to her right as if unfazed by her taunt. Bastard. Just then, two Imperials—descendants loyal to Garrick—drug a half-unconscious Zavier through the door. Elle’s heart stilled for a moment. Cold fear raced through her, chilling her to the bone.

She gripped the bars and growled. “Let him go.”

The sound of a drawer opening drew her attention to Garrick. The male pulled out the Divine Dagger and smiled. Evil flowed from him. He couldn’t have the Dagger. “That’s the wrong one.”

“I think not. You see…the guardian in charge of protecting the Dagger is insane and easily persuaded.”

He’s lying. Of course, he was. He was an evil, greedy asshat. When she opened her mouth to tell him just that, he faced Zavier, the Dagger fisted in one hand. Elle’s whole body tensed and her blood froze. Before she could get a scream out, Garrick plunged the Dagger into Zavier’s heart.

“No!” Elle jerked awake, her heart pounding, the beats resounding in her aching head. A dream. No, it had been a vision, she realized with a lump in her throat. Zavier. She swallowed a sob and listened. Relief flooded her when she heard the male’s office chair creak on the other side of the curtain that separated her studio from his office.

A sharp pain exploded in the back of her head and arched like electric currents to the font, settling behind her eyes. Ugh. She pressed her palms to her temples and squeezed her eyes shut. The headaches got worse with each vision.

“Elle? Are you okay?”

The smooth, husky tone filtered through the cotton barrier, relaxing her. But only a little. “I’m fine.”

Forcing herself to stand, she willed the pain in her head away. More like wished it away. The headaches never left her. They were constant reminders of the dark power that lie within her, waiting to be unleashed.

She stumbled to the worktable and searched for the brush she always used to paint her dream-visions. It wasn’t there. Frowning, she grabbed a new one then set up her palette. Tears stung her eyes as the images whirled in her mind. Zavier was going to die.

No. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow it. The future could be changed, right?

Absently painting the final scene of her vision, she let her mind wander. She would find out how Garrick had gotten the Dagger, or if he even had the right one to kill Zavier. There was one way to ensure that she got the Dagger first. Call her mother and ask the goddess of night to unlock her powers. Only then could she go into the Underworld and retrieve the Dagger from the drakon, Zander.

Drakons, as opposed to shapeshifting dragons like the Sons of War, were born dragons. They could take a human form, but most preferred not to. As she understood it, Zander was a two-headed drakon who guarded the gate to Tartarus. He was also the current keeper of the Dagger.

Once it was in her possession, she’d have to figure out a way to keep Zavier from facing Garrick. How? She didn’t know. She didn’t even know how Garrick would capture her in the first place.

“Damn it, Elle.” Zavier’s annoyed tone made her drop her shoulders as she remembered where she’d left her paintbrush.


***


“Are you kidding me?”

Zavier let out a low growl as he picked up the paintbrush, coated with stinky paint. Didn’t the female know what boundaries were? Sharing his basement office with her was a mistake. She was messy, unorganized, and a huge, beautiful distraction.

Rising from his chair with the brush between his index finger and thumb, he marched to the thin curtain separating his space from hers. Not that the cotton barrier helped much with privacy. He jerked the drape open and froze.

Elle stood in the middle of her studio, staring at an unfinished painting. Her long, black hair was twisted in a messy bun on the top of her head, and a few thick strands fell on either side of her face. The green of her irises was slightly darker than their normal pastel shade. Dark circles rimmed her almond-shaped eyes.

“When was the last time you slept?”

She glanced at him, but he could tell she wasn’t really focusing on him. Fuck. Her dream-visions must have gotten worse for her to skip sleep. His dragon snarled and urged him to move closer to her.

It didn’t matter how annoyed he got with her messes, there was no denying what was fated. Danielle Roberts—Elle to her friends—was his. And he was going to claim her one way or another.

Closing the distance between them, he stroked her face with his empty hand. She released a soft sigh and leaned into him. A single tear rolled down her cheek. “Headache. The visions cause headaches. It’s worse when I sleep.”

He narrowed his gaze on her. There was something she wasn’t telling him, but he’d let it go. For now. “Does it ease when I touch you?”

She backed away from him only to stumble over her own feet. He tossed the paintbrush on her already chaotic table, grabbed her hand, and led her to his side of the room. After picking up his tablet, he moved them to the sofa. “Sit.”

When she did as he said, he sat next to her. She curled up to his side and laid her head on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he whispered back, but she had already begun to snore lightly.

Smiling, he clicked on the tablet and searched through phone directories for Rayna Winters, the next female on Garrick’s list.

Zavier worked his jaw at the thought of his brother and his evil plot to build an army of demi-gods to stand against Zeus and the other Olympians. In recent months, Z, Markus, Drake, Ty, and Seth had discovered that Garrick’s plan wasn’t to start a war, but to take the god king’s throne.

They couldn’t let him do that. Life on Earth would be forever altered. Humans would become slaves to Garrick’s commands.

As much as he hoped his brother could be redeemed, that he’d come to his senses and be the loyal, kind soul he once was, Zavier knew better. Garrick had gone to great lengths to prove to everyone that he had indeed lost his humanity. He had to be stopped, and possibly killed. Although Zeus would probably banish Garrick to Tartarus for an eternity of suffering.

The soft sound of bare feet against the concrete floor of the basement drew his attention to the opened door to his office and Elle’s studio. A small smile tugged at his lips and his heart warmed at the sight of Gwen, Markus’s mate and Elle’s best friend. The physical reaction to her wasn’t sexual. Zavier had no such feeling for anyone except Elle.

No, Gwen was the granddaughter of Aphrodite, goddess of love and desire. The feeling of peace and love had always settled over him whenever Gwen was around. The emotion had only grown since the female became pregnant.

She wore a long, pink gown that reminded him of something the goddesses wore in Olympus. He guessed that Aphrodite had given it to her. Her long, blonde hair was braided over one shoulder. But it was the worry in her gaze that made him frown. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. I’m just worried about Elle.” Gwen sighed and rubbed her slightly swollen belly. “Do you know what it would do to her if she took your blood?”

He stilled, not at all surprised that Gwen would know he and Elle were mates. The goddess of love always knew those things before the couple did; therefore, it wasn’t surprising that her granddaughter would, as well. Besides, Gwen was also a descendant of one of the Fates. It was possible that she’d known before her grandmother.

Releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he held, he answered her question. “I’m not sure, really. I’ve been researching Nyx and even asked Ash what she knew about the goddess. Since Nyx is the night, and her powers extend to every aspect of it, it’s hard to tell what Elle’s powers will be. Then there is the question: will her powers come to her gradually, or all at once?”

Gwen nodded but remained quiet while she watched Elle sleep, cuddled next to him.

Unsure what to say, Zavier asked, “Have Markus or Drake found anything on Zander?”

“No. And I’m afraid the clock is ticking. I suggested to Markus that Blair and Rayna should be the number one priority.”

“I told him the same thing. I know Ares wants the Dagger, but if Zander has it, he’s not giving it up.” He glanced down at his tablet and there it was. Out of what must be three-dozen or so R. E. Winters in California, there was only one Rayna E. Winters. It had to be her.

Tapping on the name, he pulled up her public record and found an address. After a copy and paste, he sent the address to Markus.

“You found her?”

He glanced to Gwen and nodded. “I believe so. It’s possible she’s moved since the listing. Or it isn’t her at all.”

Gwen stared back at Elle. “I know. But it’s more than we had a moment ago.”

Zavier sensed Markus a moment before he moved in behind Gwen and wrapped his arms around her waist. “My mate worries too much.”

Gwen rolled her eyes and said, “It’s the hormones.”

“You going to take her to her room to sleep?” Markus nodded toward Elle.

Zavier shrugged, but Gwen spoke with a frown. “No, better not. She’d just wake up and be annoyed. Besides, she’ll be more comfortable down here anyway.”

Gwen drew her brows together, and Markus scooped her up in his arms. “That’s it. I’m taking you to bed and pleasuring you until you stop worrying.” Before leaving, he added, “Get with Drake about the address.”

Zavier shook his head as his brother took his mate upstairs. Although he was overjoyed that Gwen and Markus had one another, he was sad at the same time. Not sad, really. Maybe a little bit jealous. He and his dragon were attracted to Elle, but they were unsure whether it was just chemistry or fate.

Elle’s breathing came quicker a moment before she jerked awake, sitting straight up beside him. She glanced around as if dazed. After a few moments, she glanced to him and frowned. “How long was I asleep?”

“Not long. Maybe twenty minutes.”

After scrubbing a hand down her face, she stood and walked to her side of the room. He let out a sigh at her attempt to put space between them. There was no amount of space that could stop him from smelling her, sensing her strength and passion for painting. He was betting she’d had another dream. What worried him was that he couldn’t tell how bad it was because she’d shut him out emotionally.

“I’m going upstairs to talk with Drake and Seth. I think I found Rayna.” He waited for her response, which was immediate.

“Really? That’s great.” She spoke through the curtain. Her silhouette moved toward the table, and a few moments later, she picked up her paint palette and a paintbrush.

“Did you need me to bring you anything?” he stood and moved to the door.

She sighed. “No. Just need some time alone.”

He almost argued that she spent too much time alone, not eating like she should and not sleeping. But he let it go, for the moment anyway. However, his dragon wasn’t going to wait much longer before the beast insisted they claim her.

But he couldn’t do that. Not yet.

Without another word, he forced himself to leave her and crossed the basement to the stairs. He’d work in Markus’s study for the rest of the afternoon so he wouldn’t be tempted to drag Elle up to bed. They’d only end up arguing. Elle clung to her independence like a security blanket. Every time he tried to help her, she got mad and they ended up in a fight.

How in Hades was he supposed to woo her into a mating?

Once on the first floor, he sent a telepathic request to Drake and Seth to meet him in the study. He wasn’t surprised that the males were already there. What did shock him was Seth’s hair standing on end. When Seth glanced up at him, Zavier narrowed his gaze. The male had dark circles under his eyes. Eyes that held his dragon in them. “You all right?”

A low growl rumbled from Seth, then he cursed and threaded his hands through his hair, fisting handfuls along the way. “No.” He stilled and cocked his head as he stared at Zavier. “You found her.”

Holding up a hand, Zavier said, “Possibly. What’s wrong with you?”

Seth was the playful one. Next to Zavier, the male was the calmest of the five of them. However, in that moment, he made Ty seem like the gentle dragon. Power fueled by his emotions swirled in the room and thickened the air around him. Seth got up from his seat at the small, round table next to the window and advanced toward him. “Give me the address. I have to go to her now. Before it’s too late.”

Zavier stood his ground. He didn’t like to be ordered around. And he typically liked to avoid conflict, but Seth clearly needed—or wanted—an ass kicking. “It might not be her. Then what? We waste time chasing a ghost?”

“Show. Me. The. Address.” Seth growled out each word, his eyes going complete dragon.

Snarling back, Zavier stepped forward, only to have Drake step between them and grab the front of Seth’s shirt. “Get your shit together. Don’t let your dragon think for you. It’s a lonely life having to hide from others because you let your dragon rule your emotions.”

Seth stared at Drake, blinked once, and then focused on Zavier. “Fuck.” He stepped back with his hands raised. He dropped his shoulders and paced the room, his body still tense and a little twitchy.

Glancing at Drake, Zavier raised a brow. That was the most the male had spoken at one time while not actively searching for Garrick. Drake especially didn’t talk about his past. Ever.

With a shake of his head, Drake returned to the armchair a few feet from Markus’s desk. “I found Gary’s latest hiding place.”

Zavier advanced to Drake, the desire to find where Garrick hid Blair rushing through his veins. Though not as strongly as it did in Seth, apparently. Seth beat him to Drake’s side to hover over their brother’s shoulder.

Drake held up his hand then growled at Seth in warning. “Seth, so help me… I’ll nail your wings to the side of the mansion if you don’t calm the fuck down.” After taking a deep breath as if he were trying to rein in his own dragon, Drake looked at Zavier and continued. “The idiot—Garrick, not Seth—did exactly as I’d hoped he’d do.”

Just then, Markus, Ty, and Ash entered the study. Markus nodded to them as he spoke. “Garrick has a facility in the Rocky Mountains. Aphrodite just popped in to let Gwen and I know. I swear the goddess has the worst timing.”

Amusement made Zavier’s lips twitch until he noted the location Drake pointed to on his tablet. His anxiety rose several levels; worry for the teenage girl Garrick held in hopes of luring her sister to him escalating. “That’s too close to where I believe Rayna is.”

“That’s why Ty and Seth will go check out the address you got for Rayna, and you and I will go after Blair. Ash and Drake will watch the house. I want this to be an in and out, no fighting with Gary right now. I hate being away from Gwen for long periods of time.” Markus worked his jaw.

The tension in the room spiked. Each of them hated to leave the pregnant goddess. Gwen had wormed her way into each of their hearts, as had Ash and Elle. They were family now, and no one messed with the Sons of War and their family.

Not even one of their own.



In 2008, Lia Davis ventured into the world of writing and publishing and never looked back. She has published more than twenty books, including the bestselling A Tiger’s Claim, book one in her fan favorite Ashwood Falls series. Her novels feature compassionate yet strong alpha heroes who know how to please their women and her leading ladies are each strong in their own way. No matter what obstacle she throws at them, they come out better in the end.

While writing was initially a way escape from real world drama, Lia now makes her living creating worlds filled with magic, mystery, romance, and adventure so that others can leave real life behind for a few hours at a time.

Lia’s favorite things are spending time with family, traveling, reading, writing, chocolate, coffee, nature and hanging out with her kitties. . She and her family live in Northeast Florida battling hurricanes and very humid summers, but it’s her home and she loves it! Sign up for her newsletter, become a member of her fan club, and follow her on Twitter @NovelsByLia.